The Billionaire's Christmas Son - Leslie North Page 0,20

to make some announcement about Scott, would he do it? That was what it sounded like. But the last thing she wanted was to put fractures in the middle of what could be their last family holiday together.

She closed her eyes against the sunlight streaming through the windows, and took another deep breath, then another. Nothing had to be decided right now. What had to get done was the scrapbook. The first half needed to be in presentable shape for dinner tonight.

“Mama,” Scott said when they came into the room.

Rachel opened her eyes. Jonas stood there, cradling his son in his arms. Scott had his fists in Jonas’s shirt and was playing with his collar, looking as relaxed as she’d ever seen him.

Comfortable. Could their lives really go on without him after all was said and done? Rachel wasn’t so sure.

“Mama,” he said again, and father and son grinned at her, looking so much alike that it took her breath away.

“Come here, buddy.” She held out her arms to her son, and Jonas bent down, putting Scott carefully on the floor and helping him keep his balance. Within seconds, her son started across the carpet toward her. Rachel swept him up in her arms for a hug. He still had his baby sweetness about him, his body warm from the nap, and after a moment, he popped his head up from her shoulder and put his hands on her face.

“Lub you,” he said. It wasn’t the first time Scott had said the words to her, but it had been a while, and it delighted her down to the core.

“I love you too,” Rachel said, catching Jonas’s eyes over Scott’s head.

A thrum went through her, a shimmering, lifted feeling. Oh, no. She couldn’t be falling for him now. Not again. Three years ago, she’d tumbled into bed with him, intoxicated by the sight, scent, and sound of his very essence. And here she was doing it again.

Jonas crossed the room and stood in front of the window, morning light spilling down on his carved features. “What do you say, Rachel? Should we go for a walk?” Her first instinct was to refuse—there was still work to be done on the scrapbook.

“Yep, yep, yep,” Scott said, clapping his hands as he squirmed down from her lap and ran to his father.

Jonas caught the little boy’s hand in his. “Or Scott and I could go for a walk,” he added, “if you wanted more time by yourself, that is.”

“No.” She stood up and grabbed her camera. “The lighting is beautiful outside. Let’s go. I’ll get some shots and combine a little fun with work.”

The three of them bundled up and went out into the snow. Scott’s feet sank into it and he laughed, trying to run ahead and falling. Jonas followed closely, picking him up whenever he needed a lift, and holding his son’s hand as they went down a trail at the side of the ski hill.

The way the sunlight filtered through the trees and landed on the pair called out to Rachel. She lifted the camera to her face and took photo after photo of Jonas and Scott. She knew by instinct they would turn out gorgeous shots, and that they would be priceless. Her throat tightened at the thought that she might not have another chance to get pictures of them together so easily.

It never occurred to her before, not really. All throughout her pregnancy, she had assumed there was no way to ever get in touch with her baby’s father. It had been upsetting and sad, sure, but she’d put those feelings away when Scott was born. With a newborn, there was no time to mope around thinking about the family they didn’t have. Only long nights and long days that were still filled with moments of such deep joy. And wasn’t joy better when it was shared?

Jonas picked Scott up, holding him up in the sun. It was a classic parent-child pose—she used it all the time at family shoots—and she knew that Jonas would treasure this. Rachel could already see it in a frame on the mantel in his living room.

What else, though? What about the three of them? She shook her head, clearing the thoughts away. One spaghetti dinner wasn’t a pact to be together.

Jonas looked back at her. “What about you?”

“What about me what?” she asked.

“Don’t you want some photos?” He put Scott on his hip like he’d done it a hundred times, completely at