These men in uniform can be counted on to deliver presents…all night long

I’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS by Leslie Kelly

Rafe and Ellie have always had sizzling chemistry and horrible timing. Being stranded together in a blizzard may be Rafe’s opportunity to prove that this Christmas, his timing is perfect.

PRESENTS UNDER THE TREE by Joanne Rock

The sexy air force captain Arianna foolishly married four months ago is coming home, and Ari knows they have to fix their mistake. But she had forgotten just how convincing Dylan’s kisses can be….

IF ONLY IN MY DREAMS by Karen Foley

When Aiden is ordered home after an illness, he’s thrilled the sexy medic he’s been having X-rated dreams about is on the same flight. When they’re unexpectedly grounded, Aiden wonders if this is their chance to be deliciously naughty….

Praise for New York Times Bestselling Author

Leslie Kelly

“Sexy, funny and a little outrageous,

Leslie Kelly is a must read!”

—New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips

“Kelly succeeds with this sexy story,

keeping the tension high.”

—RT Book Reviews on Waking Up to You

Praise for Joanne Rock

“Rock’s lighthearted story [tosses] in some hot forbidden fantasies, and it’s icing on a delicious cake.”

—RT Book Reviews on My Double Life

”Joanne Rock puts her own personal magic into the pages…giving us a story that defines romance.”

—Cataromance on Highly Charged!

Praise for Karen Foley

“Guaranteed to keep you turning the pages.”

—RT Book Reviews on Devil in a Blue Dress

“The romance is…intense and sure to please.”

—RT Book Reviews on Hot-Blooded

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Leslie Kelly has written dozens of books and novellas for Mills & Boon Blaze, Temptation and Mills & Boon HQN. Known for her sparkling dialogue, fun characters and steamy sensuality, she has been honored with numerous awards, including a National Reader’s Choice Award, a Colorado Award of Excellence, a Golden Quill and an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award in Series Romance. Leslie has also been nominated four times for the highest award in romance fiction, the RWA RITA® Award. Leslie lives in Maryland with her own romantic hero, Bruce, and their daughters. Visit her online at www.lesliekelly.com or at her blog, www.plotmonkeys.com.

Joanne Rock is a three-time RITA® Award nominee and veteran of the Mills & Boon Blaze series. When she’s not writing for Blaze or Mills & Boon Historical, Joanne is dreaming up YA books with her sister-in-law writing partner and fellow Mills & Boon author, Karen Rock. Joanne’s books have been reprinted in twenty-seven countries and translated into twenty languages. She has a master’s degree from the University of Louisville and is still coming to terms with sending her oldest son off to college this year. As the mother of three teenage boys, Joanne has perfected the arts of baking chocolate-chip cookies, removing grass stains from football pants and giving opinionated advice on writing brilliant essays for English class. Look for Joanne online at www.joannerock.com or at www.facebook.com/JoanneRockAuthor.

Karen Foley is an incurable romantic. When she’s not working for the Department of Defense, she’s writing sexy romances with strong heroes and happy endings. She lives in Massachusetts with her husband and two daughters, an overgrown puppy and two very spoiled cats. Karen enjoys hearing from her readers. You can find out more about her by visiting www.karenefoley.com.

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

Leslie Kelly

Presents Under the Tree

Joanne Rock

If Only in My Dreams

Karen Foley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

Presents Under the Tree

If Only in My Dreams

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

Leslie Kelly

For Brenda.

I would never have made it without you.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

1

Three Years Ago

“HAPPY NEW YEAR.”

The shrill laughter and boisterous conversation at the crowded party should have made it impossible to notice even if a fire alarm went off, but Ellie Blake still had no trouble hearing those words, whispered by someone standing directly behind her.

Oh, yes, she most definitely heard.

What woman wouldn’t immediately tune in to a sexy, throaty, male voice that seemed created solely for the purpose of saying I want you? Especially when the pounding of her heart and the shocked pleasure racing through her said she recognized that voice. Worse—made her remember when that same voice had once said those very words to her? I want you.

But no, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t just come up to her and sound so casual, so normal. Not after everything.

“It’s been a long time, Ellie,” the man added.

Dear God, it was him.

She could no longer deny that she knew that voice. Knew it and reacted to it, her heart flipping and her stomach churning and her feet wanting to spin around so she could either throw herself in his arms or slap his handsome face.

Standing with her back to the dance floor, she’d been laughing with her friend and classmate Jessie over some of their typical New Year’s resolutions—lose ten pounds, lay off the chocolate, stop spending money on shoes. Despite the crowd, she’d been minding her own business, feeling happy and content as she envisioned the coming year. And, of course, looking forward to the major changes the year would bring.

Now, all of a sudden he had shown up and kicked her whole steady world out from under her. Rafe Santori.

It was Rafe, of that she had no doubt. It had to be. Nobody else had ever sounded like that. Like heat. Like heaven. Like sin. Like strength. Like temptation.

Unfortunately, temptation was one thing Ellie Blake could not afford.

“El?”

She swallowed hard, watching as Jessie’s eyes rounded to the size of dinner-plates as she saw the man who’d interrupted them. That was further confirmation of his identity. Rafe was the kind of guy women gaped at, with a face and body that were the perfect match for that sexy, throaty, I-want-you voice.

Taking a steadying breath and ordering her heart to go back into standby mode and quit the heart-attack-in-progress thing, she released her death grip on her friend. Jessie, apparently realizing this was the guy Ellie had talked about one sad, wine-filled evening, mumbled an excuse and scurried away. Ellie was left alone to deal with this hot blast from her past. Telling herself she was going to have to kill her best friend later, she glued a noncommittal smile on her face and bit into it, determined to keep it there if she had to bloody the insides of her cheeks.

Finally, when she felt as ready as one could to leap into a human volcano, she slowly turned around to face him.

“Hello, Rafe.”

Wow. That had sounded so normal. So unaffected. So “I didn’t cry over you for months when you finally said goobye, really I didn’t.”

“It really is you,” he murmured as if he’d been uncertain.

“In the flesh.”

She shouldn’t have mentioned flesh because it made her think of skin, which made her think of naked skin, which made her think of Rafe’s naked skin.

Oh, Lord, allowing the words Rafe and naked to enter her brain at the same time was seriously dangerous. Like crossing the streams in Ghostbusters, the-end-of-all-things dangerous.

Especially now, when she realized he’d grown even more handsome since she’d last seen him. When he’d left Chicago to go to boot camp, he’d been a breezy, smiling, dark-haired Italian-American fresh out of college. His deep-set, thickly lashed, dreamy brown eyes had dominated his handsome face, though the sexy mouth had definitely drawn a woman’s attention, as well. The body had been something to see, too—big, lean and hard. He’d maintained the build of the quarterback he’d been in high school, with a wiry masculinity and ease of movement that hinted he’d been racing wildfire on the football field.

But the past four years had made his handsome face even more handsome, if that were possible. He appeared more mature now, fully grown into his looks, that rugged jaw outlined with the faintest rasp of dark beard.

And oh, he was bigger. He no longer had a younger man’s wiry leanness but was instead rock solid with thick arms, a powerful chest and broad shoulders. He’d always made her feel delicate, as he had at least six inches on her. Now she felt positively petite beside him; he’d packed on a good thirty pounds of solid muscle.

Wow. She wished she had a cold drink in her hand because she definitely needed to cool off. Though, to be honest, even walking out of this club into the snowy Chicago night and dunking her head in a snowdrift probably wouldn’t be enough.

“You haven’t changed at all,” he said.

“You have.”

He shrugged, a small frown tugging his brow down over those dark eyes. “I guess I’m carrying a few more scars.”

She hadn’t even noticed the damn scars until he’d pointed them out. One was on the side of his neck just below his right ear, another barely visible beneath the stubble on his jaw. She wondered if that’s why he’d gone with the whole unshaven look, to cover it up. As if a small scar could make the man anything less than mouth-watering? Good grief, adding the faint beard just made him that much more sexy; any woman would instantly be wondering how that sandpapery skin would feel brushing against the most sensitive parts of her body.

Some of her most sensitive parts woke up and did back flips to try to get her attention, ordering her to find out.

Not happening.

“You just look...older.” Harder. Hotter. Sexier. “More mature.” She tapped the tip of her finger on her lips and studied him more closely and admitted, “And a little weary.”

Despite her determination to steel her emotions against Rafe, she couldn’t stop her heart from twisting a little as she noted the faint, haunted quality in his eyes and the shadows beneath them. There was also a hint of gauntness in his cheeks. She wondered about the life he’d been leading that had both aged him into an even more spectacular man, but had also left its mark on him, a glimmer of sadness he couldn’t disguise.

Rafe had been in Iraq for the past few years, she knew. Every time she saw a news story about soldiers being killed there, she went into a frenzy to find out the names, dreading the day she would recognize one. Thankfully, she never had.

He nodded. “Weary. That’s probably a good word for it.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice low. She didn’t want him to know how much she cared about the answer to that question. But she cared too much about the answer to not ask it.

“I’m fine. Really.” He forced a smile. “I can’t believe it’s been over four years since I’ve seen you.”

“Not quite,” she said. “The video chats, remember?”

“Of course. But they hardly counted. I mean, they only made me more frustrated because I couldn’t be with you in person.”

She understood the frustration. She’d shared it.

Rafe had been her lover for such a brief time. It had indeed been four years ago, during the first semester of her senior year of college. She hadn’t even started applying to vet schools yet. She’d been young and inexperienced, he a little older, cocky, with killer looks, an easy wit and a ton of confidence.

She hadn’t understood what he’d seen in her, why he’d pursued her after a chance meeting at his cousin’s restaurant. She’d figured it was simple chemistry. But the attraction, purely physical at first, had evolved into much more, at least on her part.

As for him? Well...whatever his feelings had been for her, they hadn’t been as strong as his desire to go off to war. He’d joined the army, his goal to become a ranger. Before leaving, he’d told her that since his military obligation would last a minimum of eight years, he thought it best if they just remained friends. She should move on with her life and not wait for him.

She’d waited. Of course she’d waited.

But after a year, his letters had grown scarce, the video chats even more so. Until finally he’d said he didn’t feel right about keeping the lines of communication open at all. She suspected he’d realized that even those tenuous strings had bound her to him, making it impossible for her to even look at another guy, much less give one a chance. And Ellie, knowing in her heart that he meant it, had done what he’d suggested and moved on.

So how rotten was it for Rafe to come back into her life now, of all times, when she’d just made a serious commitment to another man?

“Happy New Year.”

“You said that,” she replied.

“Are you going to say it back?”

“Sure,” she mumbled.

He laughed softly. “You still didn’t say it.”

“Happy New Year, Rafe,” she said, meaning it, hoping he had a lovely, wonderful, safe year—far away from her.

“You look great.”

“Thank you.”

Silence. What did one say in a moment like this? Other than, What the hell are you doing here? Are you intentionally trying to mess up my life again?

“No, not great,” he said, that intense stare never leaving her face. “Beautiful.”

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“Can’t help it.”

“Yes, you can. And you have to. It’s been years, Rafe, you can’t just stroll up to me at a party and act as though we saw each other last week.”

“I’m sorry. I just...I guess I’ve thought about you so often, it feels like we did see each other last week.”

He thought about her? As much as she thought about him?

Damn him for saying that. For suggesting she might have made a mistake and given up too soon. For waiting to tell her until it was far too late.

“Would you like to dance?”

She shook her head.

“Come on, El,” he said, and she knew he was asking for more than a dance. He wanted her to give him a chance. To do what, she wasn’t sure. Nor was she going to let herself find out.

“I can’t dance with you.” She swallowed and stiffened her spine, staring directly into his eyes. She knew what she had to say, knew she had to nip this whole unexpected reunion in the bud before she made the mistake of doing something like dancing with him. Rafe Santori’s arms might be the most wonderful place in the world...but she had no business being in them.

“Why not?”

A moment’s hesitation. There would be no going back from this. But of course there was no other way to go.

“Because my fiancé should be here soon. He got called away on an emergency but I expect him any second.”

His whole body stiffened and the small amount of color he had fell out of his face. She saw those dark eyes flash with emotion, saw him physically withdraw a half step, as if his feet had forced him to move away even before his mind had caught up with the new reality of this situation.

“You’re engaged.” His voice was toneless, his expression completely unemotional.

She nodded.

“Who is he?”

“Nobody you know. He’s a vet.” His brow furrowed, and she immediately clarified. “I mean a veterinarian.”

“When did you...”

“We met last year and got engaged last month.” It had been a happy day, and saying yes had been the right decision. She had believed it then, she believed it now.

But noting the shock and possible dismay on Rafe’s face suddenly had her asking questions a newly engaged woman had no business asking. Like, Why didn’t you come back sooner? Why didn’t you stay in touch? Why wasn’t I enough...why was the army so much more important?

Why did you come back into my life when I’d finally gotten over you?

“When’s the happy day?”

“September.”

“I see.”

Rafe’s whole body, already so tall and strong, went even straighter, and his jaw pushed out. He was putting up a wall, respecting her status, ready to back away. She wasn’t surprised. Rafe’s sense of honor had been one of the things she’d found most attractive about him.

“I suppose he wouldn’t be happy if you were dancing with another man.”

She replied without thinking. “He wouldn’t mind. Denny is the most easygoing, laid-back person I’ve ever known.”

Her fiancé was a good guy. A very good guy with a big heart, a great sense of humor and a genuine love for animals. Most of all, he was here. He was stable. He wasn’t half a world away, putting up barriers between himself and anyone who loved him, refusing to allow anyone to get close...or to wait.

“Oh. So you just don’t want to dance with me?”

“You mean the invitation’s still open?”

“Of course.”

A sigh escaped her mouth. “It’s not that I wouldn’t...”

“Ahh, I get it.” The tiniest of smiles appeared on those lips. “You don’t trust yourself, huh?”

“I see that ego of yours hasn’t gotten any smaller.”

“For old times’ sake, Ellie,” he said, lifting a hand and brushing the tips of his fingers across her cheek. “I’ve dreamed about having you in my arms again. Spent long, miserable nights clinging to that dream.”

She closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. He dropped his hand, as if realizing he wasn’t playing fair.

“Now that you’re engaged, one dance is the only chance I’ll ever have to make my dream come true. For auld lang syne, and all that. Whaddya say?”

She tried to resist, but that sexy voice, the need in his eyes and the hint of true emotion—as if he were mourning for something they’d had and lost—made her finally lower her guard.

One dance. One more time in Rafe’s arms.

Then she’d put him out of her mind—and her heart—forever.

“All right, Rafe,” she said, breathing the words out through closed lips. “For old times’ sake, I’ll dance with you.”

* * *

HE SHOULD HAVE let it go. Should have let her go.

The minute Ellie Blake had told him she belonged to another man, Rafe should have swallowed his disappointment, ordered his heart to go back into the hibernation in which it had existed for the past few years and walked out of the party.

But he just couldn’t do it.

He hadn’t planned to seek her out during his holiday leave, which would end the day after tomorrow. His situation hadn’t really changed. He had another four long years in the army, several of which would be in active combat. Iraq had been hell, but his next stop on his round-the-world tour of war zones, Afghanistan, was going to be even worse. So when his cousin’s wife had told him she’d run into Ellie, he should have just ignored the information. Should have pretended Noelle hadn’t mentioned Ellie was attending a New Year’s Eve fundraiser for abused animals at a downtown Chicago hotel.

He just wished his cousin’s wife had heard the tidbit about Ellie’s engagement.

But it was too late to retreat now. One and done. He’d dance with her, build up the memory bank and then get out of here, spending the next two days with his family and returning Ellie Blake to the deepest corners of his mind and of his past.

He turned toward the dance floor, placing the tips of his fingers against the small of her back. Even through the shimmery fabric of her dress, he could feel the tiny protrusions of delicate bone, and couldn’t help remembering how it had felt to drop his hand lower and cup the soft curves of her ass. Her whole body had always been so perfectly fitted for his, those curves driving him crazy whether she was wearing casual jeans or nothing at all.

The nothing at all was especially nice to remember.

God, he’d been crazy about her. Physically and emotionally. What kind of idiot had he been to let her slip away?

“I was wrong. You have changed a little,” he told her.

“Oh?”

“You don’t look like a co-ed anymore.”

“I’m all grown up now. Eighteen months left of vet school, then I’ll be out there doing what I’ve always dreamed of doing.”

Saving living creatures. That’s all she’d ever wanted to do. What a funny couple they’d made, considering he’d wanted to go off to fight and kill.

He pushed that out of his head, not wanting dark thoughts to intrude on what might be his very last moments with Ellie.

He looked down at her, staring intently, saving the vision for all the days to come when he’d have to rely only on memories to conjure her face. She was, indeed, all grown up. Her auburn hair was pulled back, a few long strands dangling around her pale, bare shoulders. He remembered scraping his lips across that collarbone, inhaling her sweet fragrance, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her skin as they moved through the crowd.

He and Ellie hadn’t been involved for long, just a couple of months, but she’d been the one woman he had never gotten out of his system. The sex had been explosive—they’d been insatiable for each other, and no woman he’d been with, before or since, had ever made him lose his mind and be willing to give up his very soul to have her.

It had been about more than sex, though. She’d been the first woman he’d really loved. Make that the only woman. She’d been his rock when they’d been together, and his steadying fantasy once he’d forced her away. He couldn’t count the number of times the thought of her had calmed him in a moment so tense he’d been sure he’d snap.

And now, she really was out of his life. For good. Forever. No going back, no changing things, even though he wished he could erase that last conversation, when he’d told her he wouldn’t be calling again.

He’d done his job all too well and she’d taken him at his word. That was probably the best thing for her. Unfortunately, acknowledging he should be happy for her, that she was better off, didn’t stop his gut from churning or his muscles from clenching.

“Good band,” she said.

“I guess. If you enjoy this kind of music.”

He didn’t, usually, preferring classic rock to the jazzy, blues-type stuff the musicians had been playing tonight. But he had to admit, this was a lot better to dance to...if the object of the dance was getting as close as possible to a woman who drove you crazy.

“I do,” she said, turning to face him as soon as they reached the edges of the swaying crowd, though neither started to dance. “I guess I’m old-fashioned. Remember? We went to that techno club one night and I ended up getting a migraine and we had to leave?”

He remembered. A smile tugged at his lips. “I believe that was because of the Long Island iced teas.”

Her brow furrowed as she remembered. “Oh. Right.”

She sounded sheepish and appeared embarrassed by the memory. Not to mention cute as hell.

“How many was it...six? Seven?”

“Four,” she snapped. “They tasted just like regular iced tea.”

“You were such an innocent.”

“You weren’t. You let me drink them.”

“Sorry. I regretted it when I realized how sick you were.”

“You regretted it more when I threw up on the way home.”

He lifted a hand to her hair, unable to resist fingering one of those flaming strands. “I held your hair out of the way.”

“Not one of my finest moments.”

Maybe not. But what he most remembered about that night was how strangely good it had felt to take care of her. He’d never experienced that with a woman before, that desire to make sure she was safe and healthy.

That night, he’d made a resolution to never do anything to hurt her, if he could possibly avoid it. And stringing her along while he was in Iraq...that had hurt her, and would continue to hurt her. Which was why he’d forced himself to let her go.

“Well?” she said, holding her hands up. They’d been standing there talking as dancing couples moved around them.

He hesitated, aware that taking her in his arms would simply cement his certainty that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life in letting her go.

The song fell somewhere between slow and fast. And this wasn’t the type of place for the arms-around-neck, hands-on-butt, bodies-crammed-together type of movement he was used to from the old days, when he’d done things like going to parties or clubs and finding a hot girl to hook up with.

Christ, those days seemed to belong to somebody else’s mental scrapbook. They were so far removed from the life he lived now.

Ellie, though? Ellie was connected to just about every good thought he’d had during the long, lonely, dangerous years he’d spent in a far-off land where everyone was either friend or enemy and there was often no real way of telling them apart until it was too damned late.

“I’m not the best dancer,” she said, as if noticing his hesitation and interpreting it as a lack of confidence in his dancing ability. Not in his own sanity at having shoved aside the one perfect relationship he’d ever had.

“You’re talking to the king of two left feet, remember?”

“I suppose you must’ve gotten more nimble.” Her smile was faint, but there was a searching concern in her pretty green eyes.

“I suppose.”

Yeah, he’d done some dancing in Iraq. Considering it seemed the entire country was mined, any soldier who wasn’t quick on his feet risked losing them.

He thrust off those thoughts. He only had the length of one song to build up a lifetime of memories with the woman he’d never been able to forget. And what he’d feel in those moments seemed worth any lingering regrets later.

He drew her close, resting one hand on her hip, the other twining with hers at their sides. They began to sway, and he found it easier than he’d figured. Maybe because he wasn’t concentrating on his feet or even on the music. Only on how it felt to finally be pressed against her soft body, remembering the first time he’d made love to her, in his crappy old apartment. They’d been insatiable, locked together, naked, hot and hungry...for hours. He’d buried himself inside her body, sure he’d never felt anything as good as being wrapped tightly in all that heat. He’d lost himself in her, and hadn’t ever wanted to find his way back out.

Now, looking down into those eyes, into that sweet, heart-shaped face, he lost himself again in those moments, as if the past four ugly years hadn’t even happened.

“I’m glad to see you, Ellie,” he murmured, meaning it. He couldn’t regret finding her, even if it meant coming face-to-face with the reality that he’d never be with her, that she really had moved on and fallen in love with another man. That she would wear someone else’s ring and have someone else’s babies.

Rings and babies hadn’t been on his mind when he’d left Chicago four years ago. War had. Fighting and adventure and adrenaline and patriotism. Living up to some standard of manhood that Hollywood and boasting friends said every guy should.

Tonight...holding her in his arms, knowing she’d never be there again—he didn’t think he would ever stop wondering if he’d made the wrong decision.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” she finally replied, her voice soft, hesitating, as if she was unsure what to say. Maybe she figured admitting she was glad to see him, too, would have been disloyal to her fiancé.

Her fiancé. His stomach churned at the word and every muscle in his body tensed.

He was envious of a man he’d never met, and would never meet. Envious of the years that man would have with Ellie, of the future they’d build. Jealous as hell of the nights they’d sleep side by side and the mornings they’d wake up bathed in sunlight as they listened for the little footsteps of their children.

Around them, the voices of the crowd began to swell. The announcer was saying something, the band had segued from smooth jazz into a raucous celebration. He faintly heard someone calling off the numbers, counting down from ten. The revelers were ticking off another year, consigning to the past everything that had come before this particular minute in time.

He and Ellie stopped dancing, remaining very still in the middle of the floor, staring at each other. He saw so much in those aquamarine eyes—from love to anger to fear to longing—that part of him wished he’d left her alone, just walked away when she’d told him there was someone else.

“Happy New Year!”

Voices rang out, happy shouts, and the band began to play “Auld Lang Syne.” All around them, couples stopped to kiss in the New Year, expressing hope for a wonderful, happy future.

This was the end of all he and Ellie had ever been and all they would ever be. He’d never see her again after tonight.

He had to say goodbye forever.

So without asking, without warning, he bent and brushed his lips across hers in a kiss as tender as it was fleeting. Then, his face close to hers, he whispered, “Happy New Year, Ellie. I wish you nothing but happiness.”

Watching her through eyes that might have held the tiniest hint of moisture—though he’d deny it with his dying breath—he began to back away, melting into the throng. She watched him go, step by step, not lifting a hand to stop him, even though her tears said a part of her wanted to.

But it was too late. Far too late. You couldn’t go back to the past. Couldn’t recapture something that you’d intentionally let slip away.

All that was left for both of them to do was move on.

Without each other.

2

Present Day

“ARE YOU TELLING ME there is not one single flight leaving from this city today?”

Ellie Blake stared at the clerk behind the airline counter, who appeared as exhausted and frazzled as the streams of irritated travelers swarming around her. People yelled from farther back in the line, angry travelers vented their frustrations on their cell phones, babies cried in strollers and fights seemed ready to break out at other stations.

Acknowledging this wasn’t the woman’s fault, Ellie tempered her disappointment and added, “I’m sorry, I realize you don’t control the weather. But isn’t it possible some airline is still getting out of here? Send me south, send me anywhere. I’ll fly to Florida and change planes to get to Chicago by tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Christmas Eve.

She had to be home. Damn it, she just had to. She couldn’t bear to miss the baby’s first Christmas.

Plus Denny would be all smug because he’d warned her she shouldn’t risk traveling so close to the holiday.

“I’m terribly sorry, ma’am. Every person here feels exactly the same way,” the woman said. “But the winds are just too severe, and with blizzard conditions expected later tonight, all the airlines are canceling flights.”

Why on earth did this have to happen now? Why did a major winter storm have to hit New York City the very day she was supposed to fly home to Chicago?

She should never have come here for the conference on new surgical trends for canines. She shouldn’t have risked traveling right before the holidays with, not only Denny and Jessie, but also her sister, her parents and her friends also waiting for her back home. She’d never missed a Christmas in Chicago, not even when she’d left the country to volunteer at a wild animal preserve in Africa two years ago. She’d been gone almost an entire year, yet she’d still managed to be there with her family, drinking eggnog at midnight on Christmas Eve and waking up the next morning to an orgy of presents and goodwill.

“I wonder if I could catch a train?” she mused, speaking more to herself than to the airline clerk.

“The lines are already shut down. The tracks are freezing up; it’s much too dangerous.”

Ellie swiped a frustrated hand through her hair, knocking loose the ponytail that had begun to give her a headache. Actually, the whole afternoon had given her a headache. She’d arrived at the airport early this morning, having watched the weather reports and gotten the warnings that travel would be difficult today. Only to be told her flight had been canceled and the airport was going to close altogether within a couple of hours.

“I gave up my hotel room and there’s no way I’ll get another one. Great way to spend Christmas—on the floor of JFK.”

“You’ll have a lot of company,” the woman said unhelpfully.

“I can’t believe I’m not going to make it home for the baby’s first Christmas,” she whispered, imagining the disappointment she’d be sure to see in Denny’s face and, of course, in Jessie’s. The new parents had been planning for ten-month-old Annie’s first holiday with all the fervor of elves training for sleigh duty, and as the child’s godmother, she’d fully intended to spoil the baby rotten.

Funny that she should be so anxious not to disappoint her ex-fiancé and her best friend, who’d realized during Ellie’s own engagement that they were far too attracted to each other. Ellie was sure they hadn’t betrayed her; they both cared far too much about her for that. But she wasn’t blind; she recognized serious attraction when she saw it. What Jessie had with Denny was something Ellie’d never shared with her fiancé.

And after Rafe had shocked her with that New Year’s Eve visit, she hadn’t been very successful at hiding the fact that she still cared far too much about her ex. It hadn’t been fair to Denny to be angry about his obvious feelings for Jessie when Ellie had been a little less than subtle about her own for Rafe.

So she’d let Denny go, gracefully, calmly, and had been right there in the front pew when her ex-fiancé and best friend had gotten married the very same month Ellie and Denny had intended to say “I do.”

The woman reached over and patted her hand, as if hearing the genuine misery in Ellie’s voice. Or maybe it was the mention of a baby. Ellie didn’t point out that it wasn’t her own child’s holiday she’d be missing; right now, she’d take whatever help she could get.

“Listen, you may not have any luck at this point, but a lot of people have gone to the car-rental counters hoping to get an SUV or something so they can drive out of the city ahead of the worst of the storm.”

Hope blossomed in her chest. Yes, it was a long way from New York to Chicago. But if she got on the road within the next hour or so, she should, indeed, be able to get ahead of the storm. Driving through the night, she ought to be able to find clear roads all the way home and arrive by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.

It was worth a try, anyway.

“Thank you so much,” she said, meaning it. “I’ll go there right away.” She glanced at the queue behind her, which had edged closer and closer as people pushed for their chance to hear the same bad news in person. “And good luck tonight. I hope you make it home to your family for Christmas.”

Hurrying away, she followed the signs through the terminal, searching for the car-rental area. As she came down the escalator and saw it, she also saw that the lines were probably at least double what they were upstairs.

Hell.

There weren’t enough SUVs in all of Manhattan to service this many people. Or even standard rental cars. Still, she wasn’t going to give up yet.

Heading for the counter that she gauged to have the shortest line, she didn’t notice that someone had stepped into her path. Not until she came within a step of walking right into a broad, camouflage-wearing chest.

“Ellie? Is it really you?”

That voice. Oh, God in heaven. Could this really be happening?

She looked up and saw The Face.

What did they say about déjà vu all over again? How many times in her life was she destined to run into this man at a moment and in a place where she least expected him?

It was Rafe. Older—pale, visibly exhausted—but still so handsome her heart forgot to beat and her brain cells began to leap and spark. He was dressed in rumpled fatigues and appeared unshaven, with eyes that were faintly bloodshot and a few fresh scars that immediately carved themselves into her soul.

“It is you.”

“Hello, Rafe.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Ditto.”

“Small world, huh?”

“Very.”

“What are you doing here? You don’t live in New York now, do you?”

She shook her head. “No, I was here for a conference. I was supposed to fly home this afternoon, but that didn’t work out too well.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Are you stranded, too?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m heading over to that rental counter to try to get a vehicle capable of getting me back to Chicago.”

He glanced over and slowly began to shake his head. “I’m sorry, you’re not going to have any luck.”

She frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I just came from there. That was the last counter I tried...and they just rented me their very last vehicle. It wasn’t even supposed to be rented in this weather, but the company apparently likes to help soldiers out, so they let me have it.”

That was great for him. But not for her.

“I’m not sure if it’s capable of getting me home for Christmas, but I’m damn sure going to give it my best shot.”

Uncertain, she glanced up at him, hearing something in his voice, something that both excited and confused her.

An invitation, perhaps?

He made it clear. “Want a lift?”

She gulped, swallowing so hard her throat wobbled. “Are you serious?”

He nodded, that intense, dark-eyed gaze never leaving her face. Her heart twisted as she noted the circles beneath those eyes, the almost bony leanness of his cheeks, the stubble, the scars, the...the sadness. There was no other word for it.

If Rafe had appeared weary the last time she’d seen him, after he’d been in the military for four years, now, after seven, he seemed almost broken. As if he’d been to the edge of the world, witnessed the worst it had to offer and only barely managed to crawl his way back toward sanity and civilization.

Of course, she wasn’t entirely sure you could call the day before Christmas Eve at a snowed-in airport either sane or civilized. Still, it had to be better than where he’d been living.

Outwardly, she maintained her poise, but deep inside, she wept for him, for what he’d seen and what he’d done and what he’d missed.

What they’d missed.

Damn it, how could he always affect her this way?

“What do you say, El?” he asked.

“You’re seriously going to drive all the way to Chicago?”

A faint grin widened that sexy mouth, but it didn’t seem entirely natural, as if he wasn’t used to smiling much anymore. “I haven’t been home for Christmas in three years—since the last we ran into each other. I promised my folks I’d be there this Christmas, and I intend to keep that promise.”

He shifted his heavy pack from one powerful shoulder to the other, and she couldn’t help appreciating the way the soft fabric of his fatigues hugged every ridge of muscle, from flexing arms down to thick, strong legs. He might be tired and careworn, but oh, God, was he still hot. The most masculine man she’d ever seen in her life.

This is not a good idea.

Being closed up in a car with him as they drove halfway across the country? It could take a whole day to reach their destination, and that was if they were lucky and got ahead of the worst weather. And every minute of the trip, she’d be trapped in a confined space with the one man she’d never been able to forget—the one whose very memory had cost her so much and had made her so drastically alter her plans for her life.

Could she really put herself through it?

“Come on, El. I could use the second pair of eyes, not to mention the company to keep me awake. Coffee might not cut it. I’ve been traveling for almost forty hours.”

“Couldn’t get them to fly you those last three, huh?”

“Don’t I wish. Military transport got me all the way from Kabul. I never imagined a bunch of damned snowflakes would stop me from getting the last eight hundred miles home.”

“Me, neither.”

“So, are you in?”

Another pause, another second to realize she would be making a huge mistake. But then there was one more thing. One more crazy thought whizzing through her head.

Maybe this was, instead, the luckiest moment of her life. It could be the chance she’d been waiting for...the one she’d feared she’d never have again.

The chance to discover if, after all these years, after time and distance and other relationships, she and Rafe Santori really were meant to be together after all.

She’d have to protect her heart from making the same old mistakes. She couldn’t let her guard down right away. For all she knew, he had moved on, had totally forgotten about her. Maybe he’d even changed and was no longer the tender, noble man she’d once loved. War could certainly alter people. So it wouldn’t do to let him get too close, too quickly. She had to keep up some walls, had to be cautious and go slowly. Mostly she had to avoid falling hard and fast and irrevocably in love with the man again.

Until she figured out whether she could trust her feelings for him, her heart was under lock and key. And the future remained as uncertain and elusive as it had since the day they’d said goodbye all those years ago when he’d gone off to war.

But for the first time since that New Year’s Eve three years ago, she began to feel something that resembled hope. Hope for a future she’d been absolutely certain was forever lost to her.

“Okay, Rafe,” she finally said. “I’m in.”

* * *

RAFE WASN’T SURE what he had been thinking to offer Ellie a ride to Chicago. He’d never been a masochist, never enjoyed testing himself with pain the way some of his fellow soldiers did. So why on earth would he inflict emotional torture on himself for a good eighteen hours? Because sitting in this small car—they called it a subcompact, but considering the way it skidded and slid all over the damned highway, it should have been called a sleigh—with her for eight hundred miles was sure to be torturous.

You can’t abandon her in an airport so far from home. Not on Christmas.

Maybe not. But did he really have to suggest she ride with him? The last time he’d seen her, Ellie had been engaged and happy, planning her September wedding with her nice-guy fiancé. Rafe had spent the past three years picturing her at that wedding, dressed in white lace, smiling and joyous. He’d tormented himself with mental images of her and her perfect, nice husband. Had mentally seen her painting their house in the burbs, adding a nursery when she became round and pregnant.

He had kicked himself whenever he let his imagination go down that road. But in the darkest nights, when he was bone tired and missing life in the States so bad he swore he’d go crazy if he had to inhale another mouthful of sand, she was all he thought about.

Conjuring up a vision of Ellie always brought him coolness, quiet, comfort. Which was really funny, considering he’d always been so hot for her. Like, seriously, couldn’t-keep-his-hands-off-her hot for her, when they had first gotten together.

He still was. Of that, there was no doubt. Just sitting in the car with her, hearing her tiny gasps whenever they hit a particularly icy patch of road, or her soft sighs when they found a smooth stretch, was agony. Watching the dashboard lights play across her beautiful face, physically pained him. He wanted her so badly he would be willing to drive the rental into the nearest snow bank if only he could pull her over onto his lap and kiss her until the taste and feel of her mouth were imprinted on every cell of memory he owned.

She was lovelier than ever, if that was even possible. Marriage apparently agreed with her. Gone was the girlish roundness to her face. Those blue-green eyes seemed bigger than before, her lush mouth more mature and so much more alluring. Her body was all curve and slope, begging for a man’s hands and mouth. His hands and mouth.

No. She’s off-limits.

He might have done some things he wasn’t proud of in his life, but he had his own code. And stealing another man’s wife was strictly forbidden.

“It’s going to be a very long night, isn’t it?” she mumbled as he spotted a patch of black ice just a second before it was too late to ease off the gas to avoid fishtailing all over the road. Get your head in the damn game, man.

“Yeah.” He sighed heavily, reaching for the foam coffee cup in the holder next to his seat. The coffee was cold; they’d grabbed it on the way out of the airport. Since then, they’d driven for four hours but hadn’t even made it out of New Jersey. At this rate, the bloody blizzard would be ahead of them by the time they got to Pennsylvania.

“I’d be happy to drive. I don’t imagine you’ve had much snow-driving experience lately.”

“You might be surprised.”

“But you’ve been in Afghanistan, haven’t you?”

“It gets cold as hell in some parts of the country in the winter. And hotter than Satan’s frying pan in the summer.”

She shuddered in distaste. “I can’t wait for you to get out of there for good.”

Finally a subject he could smile about. “It’s done.”

“What?”

“That’s why I’m so anxious to get home to Chicago. My Christmas present is telling the family that I’ve finally rotated out of active duty. My last year in the rangers will be spent training recruits, stateside.”

God knew he’d earned it. His visits home over the past seven years had been few and far between, every rotation out of a hot zone quickly rescinded when violence flared up again. But this time, it was official, signed and sealed. He was to report to Benning after the first of the year. One year in Georgia, then he’d be free to return to his real life.

What his real life was, he had no idea. He just knew it would include home and family. Maybe not the one he’d once dreamed of having, considering the woman beside him was married to another man. But he couldn’t deny he was looking forward to being a Santori again, rather than a captain in the rangers.

“I can’t believe it. I’m so happy for you...and for your family. This will be the best Christmas present your parents could have asked for.”

“It’s the best one I’ve ever gotten, believe me.”

“I see them sometimes, you know.”

“My parents?” He glanced over, surprised. Although they’d only been together a few months, he’d brought her around the clan enough to show them she’d really meant something to him. Funny that none of his family’s letters or emails had hinted that they’d seen her.

Maybe because the family was big on fidelity. She was a married woman now. He needed to keep reminding himself of that.

It could also be because all anybody wanted to talk about lately was the fact that Leo was going to be a father. His kid brother apparently had a new fiancée and a baby on the way. Their mother might be big on marriage and fidelity, but she was out of her mind with excitement over being a grandmother. She wasn’t complaining one bit about the fact that Leo hadn’t yet wed this Madison woman he’d met just a few months ago.

Leo, married. And a father. He had a hard time imagining it. Of course, considering Leo’d had a near miss when he’d almost married a barracuda last year, Rafe could only imagine he was going to love Madison...if only because she wasn’t Leo’s ex.

“My place isn’t far from your cousin Tony’s restaurant,” Ellie was saying. “I get carryout from there all the time.”

Son of a bitch. And Tony had never said a word.

“You and your...husband, do you go in there a lot?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could say anything, the tires hit a slick spot and the car began to slide.

“Damn it,” he snarled. Gripping the wheel in his clenched hands, he steered into the skid, not fighting it and not braking, knowing that would send them spinning wildly. The road might be nearly deserted, but the guardrails wouldn’t do much to keep them from going down a steep embankment on one side if they drifted too close to it.

He managed to get the skid under control and eased the car back into what he figured was his lane. It was nearly impossible to make out the yellow dividing line. The snow was coming down so hard the plows and salt trucks just couldn’t keep up.

“This isn’t going to work,” he told her, cursing himself for bringing her out here in weather this bad. Jesus, he could get them both killed if he kept on. It was crazy to keep driving. “Maybe we should pull off.”

“And go where?”

He’d seen signs for a town called Columbia, and an information billboard indicated there were some hotels at the next exit, which should be coming up within a few miles. “Let’s see if we can get a room....” He cleared his throat. “I mean, a couple of rooms for the night. We’ll try again in the morning after the plows have done a better job.”

“Aren’t we going to be following the worst of the storm then, rather than staying ahead of it?”

“We’re going to be stuck on the highway if we don’t stop,” he said. And while the gas tank was still half-full, no way did he want to spend an entire night out here, stranded, with the gas slowly running out and the heat going right along with it. “I’m really sorry, Ellie. I guess this wasn’t a great idea.”

She reached over and squeezed his leg, just above the knee. The touch shocked him and sent heat rushing through his entire body. It was all he could do not to flinch hard enough to send the car into another skid.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I trust your judgment. Let’s get off the road, Rafe. We’ll get up as soon as it’s daylight and make up a lot of time.”

Right. Early in the morning, which was about eight hours from now. They just had to find a room—two rooms—and get through one night together.

He’d spent seven years in one violent, death-filled pit after another. Surely he could spend one night with the woman he’d once loved beyond reason, who was now lost to him.

One night. And in the morning everything would be much more clear...from the roads to his own head.

3

THEY HAD NO LUCK finding a room in Columbia. Everybody else had apparently gotten off the highway, taking up all the available hotel space. Ellie would bet half the people at these places were the ones who’d rented cars at JFK and hurried out of the city ahead of them.

Although all the restaurants and drive-throughs were closed because of the storm, a clerk at a small hotel where they’d struck out on a room had let them refill their coffee cups. The middle-aged woman had spied Rafe, so sexy and heroic-looking in his fatigues, and almost burst into tears because she hadn’t been able to accommodate a “real American hero.” They’d promised her the coffee would be enough and resumed their room hunt, both of them already doubting things would be much different at any of the nearby places.

“Okay, it appears we’re going to have to white-knuckle this a little longer,” he told her as they got back in the car after striking out at their last motel option in Columbia—a place that had seemed more likely to rent by the hour to locals than to overnight out-of-town travelers. Not that she would have complained if they’d had a vacancy. “Stroudsburg is a pretty big place. We’ll get out of Jersey and try there, okay?”

She nodded, growing more tense as he steered the small car up the exit ramp, which had at least two inches of untouched snow on it. Fortunately, though, as they reached the actual highway, they saw a plow proceed slowly ahead of them, spitting road salt in its wake.

“Follow that truck!” she said, quickly pointing as relief washed over her.

“Done.”

With the New Jersey truck clearing the way, they traveled deeper into the night and closer to home. The combination of freshly brewed hot coffee and the plow truck made the next few hours of their drive a whole lot more pleasant than the last few had been. They didn’t exactly set any speed records, but they definitely put some miles behind them, even after they lost the benefit of the New Jersey truck when they crossed the state line into Pennsylvania. They didn’t have an escort in this state, but they hadn’t missed one by long, because things remained pretty clear.

That was fortunate, considering they weren’t any luckier finding a room in Stroudsburg than they’d been in Columbia. They got off at the next two consecutive exits, asked at every establishment, and continued to hear there was no room. But at least they again got fresh coffee and more gas before they got back on the highway.

Luckily, the snow had lightened up a little. It now fell in large plops rather than nonstop plinks against the windshield. The wipers were actually managing to keep up. Ellie wasn’t quite as afraid they were taking their lives into their hands by plodding on.

But that left her with too much time to study Rafe’s profile, to recall how that mouth had felt against various parts of her anatomy and to realize that she’d made a big mistake by dropping her hand onto his leg. Before that, she’d been doing a pretty good job of telling herself she could resist him and keep up her emotional walls until they got to know each other again.

Now that she’d touched that muscular thigh, though, she couldn’t stop imagining tearing his clothes off and touching every inch of that amazing body.

Think of something else!

“So, where will you be stationed during this next year?” she asked when the roads seemed clear enough to risk a little neutral conversation.

“Fort Benning, Georgia.”

“Georgia, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Do they even allow Chicago Italian boys in Georgia?”

“Guess I’m going to find out in a couple of weeks.”

“And what about after that? After Georgia?”

“After that, I’ll be in the reserves, but considering the amount of front-line duty I’ve pulled, that should be okay. I’ll be free to move home and pick up the pieces of my life.”

“Do you have any idea what you want to do?”

He hesitated.

“Come on, you can tell me.”

“You’ll think it’s crazy.”

“No, I swear, I won’t.”

He waited a little longer before finally admitting, “I’m actually considering teaching in an inner-city high school.”

Of all the things she’d expected him to say—private security, cop, bodyguard—high school teacher had never occurred to her. Her mind was truly boggled. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. My degree’s in mathematics. I could take enough courses to get my teaching certificate in about a year.”

“Wow,” she said, still mentally reeling.

“I’ve experienced enough of the world to realize that American kids are falling behind in math and science. I want to get high school kids into learning. I think I’d be pretty good at it.”

“I have no doubt you’d be good at it,” she said, meaning it wholeheartedly.

No, she’d never imagined such a life for him. And no, most people who saw him in those fatigues, with that haunted look in his eyes wouldn’t be able to picture it, either. But now that he’d said it, she could. She really could.

Rafe had been soaked in blood and violence for many years. He’d seen the worst humanity had to offer. So it made perfect sense to her that he would want to change gears completely, to try to make a difference. Why wouldn’t he long to be around young people who hadn’t yet been completely jaded by life? Why shouldn’t he set an example—help them stay on a path toward learning rather than fall helplessly into the gang culture that so gripped Chicago? She couldn’t imagine many teenagers having the balls to mouth off to him, and instead could easily envision them respecting him.

He could change lives. Of that she had no doubt.

“You think it sounds crazy?”

“No,” she said, hearing her own vehemence. “It sounds absolutely wonderful.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I’ll remember you said that the first time some punk slashes my tires when I fail him.”

“I’ll remind you I said it the first time a valedictorian thanks you for helping him get into Stanford.”

“You’ve got a deal.”

She suspected he might experience both kinds of students if he taught in some of the neediest schools, but she also suspected that was exactly what he wanted out of life. To go somewhere where he could really make things better.

She fell silent, wondering what the Rafe of seven years ago would say if he could hear his future self talking this way. He’d probably have scoffed, never envisioning such a quiet, tame life for himself. The Ellie she had once been might have reacted the same way.

They’d changed. Both of them.

She’d worried that Rafe’s wartime experiences might have altered him—maybe dug away some of his kind, optimistic streak. And perhaps they had. But in its place, had they left an even deeper well of empathy? Maybe the changes she was already sensing were for the better— making him an even more amazing, lovable man than he’d been before.

No. Stop with the love!

She wasn’t going to let herself fall in love with him again so easily. After seven years away—seven years spent in hell—Rafe was still something of a stranger to her. She would never have fallen head over heels for a stranger she’d met today at the airport, and she couldn’t let herself fall for Rafe again, either. Not without making sure of who he was, not without being certain the man she’d once loved still lived within that weary, jaded frame. Or at least making sure the man he’d become was someone she could trust enough to love. And who would love her back.

Finally, figuring he was probably worried at her silence, she said, “So did I mention I spent a year in Africa working on an animal preserve?”

He took his eyes off the road long enough to gape at her. “Seriously?”

“Yep. I enrolled in a special international cooperative—kind of like Doctors Without Borders, but for veterinarians. I spent a year in Kenya, helping the locals boost the elephant population.”

“Isn’t your specialty small animals?”

“They’ll take any help they can get.” She grinned. “And baby elephants are small.”

“Not quite as small as a Chihuahua.”

“No, I suppose not. But they’re just as cute.”

He continued to consider it, seeming genuinely surprised.

“What, you assumed I’d be diagnosing parakeets losing their feathers and neutering strays for the rest of my life?”

“You can do anything you set your mind to, El,” he said, his tone serious—and complimentary. “I’m not at all surprised you wanted to go out and make a difference somewhere.”

“Thank you. I guess I was just trying to say, I really do understand where you’re coming from.”

“I guess you do. What about now?”

“I work for a small-animal hospital in the city. No elephants, but one of my clients has a pretty feisty ferret.”

“Are there any other kinds of ferrets?”

“Good point.”

They’d fallen into an easy conversation, and she remembered that it had always been easy to talk to Rafe. They’d spent hours talking about a lot of nothing in the old days, and she’d never been bored. He was one of those people who listened and never judged or needled. Rafe was easy to be around...a strange quality for a soldier, she imagined.

She had a million more questions she wanted to ask, mainly about what his personal life had been like for the past three years, but the storm suddenly decided to pick up some steam. The snow that had been falling in thick, lazy plops, returned to its stinging pellets, and the windshield wipers struggled to clear it. Within mere minutes, the road became a slushy, icy mess. Rafe required his full concentration to keep them on the highway and they both fell silent.

There were a few dicey moments when the car tried to fishtail around one poorly marked curve. But he kept things under control.

“There should be a few hotels at the next exit,” she finally said, hoping they’d come far enough that there would be something available. “Maybe we should try again?”

“Good idea.”

They got off at the next exit. They’d already moved well past the Poconos, but judging by the billboards for rooms with heart-shaped beds and champagne-glass hot tubs, this place was competing for the honeymoon crowd, too. She lifted a brow as they passed some signs advertising places with names as dubious as The Little Love Nest.

They struck out at the first two chain places they tried. Then, at the third establishment, a no-name, local motel, they found someone else who spied Rafe’s fatigues—and his fatigue—and wanted to do something to help out a G.I. trying to get home for Christmas.

“You say you’re going to try to make it all the way t’Chicago tomorrow?”

“That’s right,” Rafe replied. “We’re trying our best to get home to our families for Christmas.”

“How long’s it been, young man?”

“I haven’t seen my folks for Christmas in three years.”

The elderly man frowned and shook his head. “Holidays...they was always the worst. I don’t usually do this—rentin’ out our best room without reservations—but I can see when a man’s been about wrung out. I suspect you need a good night’s sleep more than I need that vacant room.”

“Really?” Rafe asked, sounding hopeful for the first time in hours.

“Really. I don’t think anybody’s out there gettin’ married tonight who might want our honeymoon suite.”

Ellie’s eyes rounded. Honeymoon suite? She intentionally turned away, not wanting Rafe to see her reaction.

“I want you to get a decent night’s rest before you go back out into that storm.”

Rafe nodded slowly, eyeing the gray-haired, grizzled man. “So, Vietnam?”

“Korea,” the stranger replied. He walked out from behind the counter, and it was then she noticed his limp. “Left my right leg in the Chosin Reservoir, but got outta there alive.”

She fell silent, sensing an immediate bond of brotherhood arise between the two men. Both of them had been forged in battle, understood things about humanity that she and most civilians never would. The men obviously recognized in each other a kindred spirit.

“Thank you for your service, sir,” Rafe said, his tone utterly respectful.

“And thank you for yours, son.”

The men shook hands, connected in a way that few people ever would be with a stranger. Then the man handed Rafe a room key. “You folks have a good night, you hear?”

Ellie smiled at him and waited until they were back outside, battling the wind to get to the car, before she said, “Only one room, huh?”

She heard the nervousness in her own voice and hated herself for it. She sounded like some kind of hysterical virgin, as if Rafe couldn’t be trusted with her virtue for one snowed-in night. Which was pretty ridiculous, considering she’d spent the past several hours thinking about how desperately she wanted to seduce him. Just sitting beside him in the dark, inhaling his scent, all warm and masculine, made her want to bury her face in his throat and kiss her way down his neck.

Perhaps it was anticipation making her nervous. Because, oh, she did not want to do this wrong. People only had so many opportunities to right the mistakes of the past. If she and Rafe screwed this up again, they might never have another chance.

Of course, she wasn’t sure if he even wanted to try. All her thoughts and car fantasies were well and good, but if he wasn’t interested, she was going to be one disappointed, frustrated woman tonight.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said as he yanked open her door and helped her get into the car. He went around to his own side and got in, the clunky, old-fashioned room key dangling from his fingers. “I didn’t think to ask if you wanted to keep driving to try to find a place with two available rooms.”

“No, I don’t,” she said with a shudder.

“If it’s too uncomfortable for you, I’ll sleep on the floor. Wouldn’t be the worst place I’ve slept, and I’m so tired, I won’t even notice.”

“Let’s check out the room before we decide,” she said.

She didn’t add that the bed would have to be lumpy and disgusting for her to kick him out of it...and that, if it were, she’d go with him and sleep on the floor. It was a little too risky still to make it obvious she was thinking of seducing him tonight.

“I’m not sure about this place,” he said, eyeing the broken floodlight on the roof and the dilapidated sign.

The tired, roadside motel wasn’t going to win any diamonds from AAA, but it was the best they could hope for under the circumstances. The smart people had gotten off the road a few hours ago, when things started to get really bad. It certainly wasn’t Rafe’s fault that there was no room at the inn.

She chuckled.

“Something funny?”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, so it’s somehow appropriate that we’ve found no room at any of the inns...Joseph.”

He caught her reference. “I hope the honeymoon suite isn’t in the stable.”

“Me, too.”

“Just don’t go giving birth tonight, Mary.”

The teasing note in his voice died even as the sentence left his lips. He cast a quick, curious glance down her body, as if checking to see if it had ever thickened with pregnancy. It amazed her that they’d spent so many hours together in a small car, yet she’d managed to avoid revealing much of anything about the life she’d lived during the past few years.

She suddenly wanted to. Needed to if they were to ever have another chance, not just for a sexual reunion but for an emotional one.

He was leaving the military. The wanderlust and hunger for danger and adventure had seeped out of him, along with some of his youth and optimism. He was home. For good. And so far the changes she’d noted in him seemed to have been for the better.

So maybe there would be room for her in his new life, and maybe she could allow him back into her heart. She still wasn’t ready to completely lower her guard and flat-out ask him if he wanted to try again, but she could at least set his mind at ease about a few things.

“I don’t have any kids, Rafe.”

He nodded slowly, steering the car around the building, carefully easing past a long line of cars parked haphazardly between snowdrifts. He never looked over, though. She knew he needed to concentrate, but she suspected it was more than that. In fact, she suspected he hadn’t wanted her to see how much her words had pleased him.

If those had, she couldn’t imagine how he’d feel about the next confession.

“Here we are,” he said as he pulled up outside the squat cement building, the headlights illuminating the door of room number 128. The car shuddered a little as it slid into the parking spot.

She nodded, taking a deep, relieved breath that they really had found a place to weather the storm. Once inside, she could tell him the rest—tell him she hadn’t married Denny, that their breakup had been one of the reasons she’d decided to go off to Africa, seeking some of the adventure he’d been so desperate to find.

“I can’t wait to get into a warm place and stay there,” she said, flexing her feet and her legs. They were practically numb, both from the cramped quarters and the cold, which had seeped in despite the car heater’s best efforts. It was very late. Between the snowy roads and the stops to look for a hotel, they’d been traveling for almost seven hours.

“Be careful, it’s very slippery,” he said. “Wait and let me come around and help you.”

Grabbing her carry-on bag from the backseat, she reached for the door handle. “Don’t be silly, you’re talking to a Chicago girl,” she insisted. “I eat snow for breakfast.”

“Hopefully not the yellow kind,” he said with a grin.

A real one. A sexy, old-Rafe, genuine one.

Oh, God, the man she’d loved really was lurking inside there, just wrapped in a more serious, introspective package.

Opening the door, she stepped out into the night, the icy snowflakes hitting her face in a painful little barrage. She threw a hand up to ward them off, and suddenly lost her balance. Her feet skidded, her warm boots doing absolutely nothing to keep her steady, and she began to fall. Grasping for the car, she tried to stop her descent, but her gloved fingers grabbed only air.

Rafe must have leaped over the hood because he was there, catching her in his arms, before she hit the ground.

“Holy crap,” she whispered, shocked at how quickly it had all happened—within a matter of seconds.

“I’ve got you,” he said, holding her tightly against his body. He’d skidded onto his own knees when he grabbed her, landing hard, but protecting her from harm. There might be several inches of snow on the ground, but it wouldn’t have provided much of a cushion if she’d slammed down on his hip.

“Maybe you should have practiced walking in snow rather than eating it for breakfast,” he said, those sexy lips quirking with humor.

“Maybe. I can’t believe you caught me. You must have flown over the hood.”

“You should have waited.”

“I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Their eyes met, their stares holding, despite the snow and the wind and the crazy location. His body radiated heat through the thick layers of clothes. She was closer to him than she’d been in years, sharing his breath, seeing the steady pulse beating in his neck.

Unable to help herself, needing to taste him to get one last, final confirmation that he really was here, she tilted her head and brushed her lips against his, not sure of where she got the nerve but not questioning the impulse.

He resisted for no more than a second, then drew her even more tightly against his body. He opened his mouth, thrusting his tongue against hers in a deep, hungry exploration that both shocked and thrilled her. Ellie kissed him back with fervor, loving the familiar taste of him, that unique Rafe flavor that she’d never experienced with any other man she’d kissed.

The icy snow pelted them and the wind blew so hard her ears hurt, but they kissed and kissed, turning their heads to take things even deeper, urged on by the desperation of so many long, lonely years.

A horn beeped somewhere, long and low, the sound echoing across the thick night. Startled, Rafe pulled away. He stared at her, opened his mouth to say something. No words emerged. Their stares held. Finally, he merely sighed.

“Let’s go inside,” she said, knowing he was thinking that she was a cheating wife and blaming himself for doing something so dishonorable.

“I’m sorry. I should never have...”

“Please, Rafe, take me inside,” she insisted. “We’ve got some talking to do. You’re going to want to hear what I’m going to say.”

She only wondered what was going to happen once he found out she was not only unmarried...but single and completely available.

Not to mention willing.

4

RAFE HAD NO IDEA what Ellie planned to tell him. What could she say that would make him feel any worse than he already did?

He’d broken the guy’s code. Decent men didn’t go around kissing other men’s wives. Even wives who had carved out a piece of your heart and held it in their grasp for seven years.

It had been the heat of the moment, that was all. Adrenaline. She’d almost fallen, he’d saved her from a nasty spill, she’d wound up in his arms.

One kiss. No big deal in the scheme of things.

Even if, in his heart, he knew that kiss had been a huge deal, if only because it left him with a hunger for more.

Saying nothing, he rose to his feet, staying grounded with not only his own weight, but hers. He didn’t immediately put her down, not ready to let her risk another fall. Or not ready to let her out of his arms. Which one, he couldn’t say.

Walking carefully, hearing the crunch of his thick-soled boots in the snow, he carried her to the door of their room and then lowered her onto her own feet. Inserting the thick key into the stiff, icy lock, he kept one arm on her shoulder to be sure her feet didn’t slip out from under her. Although there was an awning that extended the length of the building, the snow had drifted and icy flakes attacked them.

“One more second,” he told her as he jiggled the key, which resisted within the lock. He finally got it to disengage, grabbed the handle and twisted. Finding utter blackness within, he reached around the corner, groping for a light switch. Finding it, he flipped it up and the room gained a sickly yellowish tinge.

“Yikes. Maybe you should have left the light off,” she said, eyeing the room dubiously as they walked inside and pushed the door shut behind them.

“Beggars can’t be choosers. It’s better than a stable, isn’t it?”

She snickered, continuing to study the room, which could only be described as roadside-no-tell-motel chic. The worn, shag carpeting was a faded orange color that had probably been cool and hip in the 1960s...when it was installed. The flimsy furniture consisted of a dresser with two sagging drawers, a table and two mismatched chairs.

But the bed. Oh, the bed.

It was huge—California king, he’d say. It was made up with a red velvet spread, and above it, attached to the ceiling...

“Oh. My. God.”

He whistled, mentally echoing Ellie’s exclamation.

Because the ceiling of this entire room was mirrored.

“I guess this is why it’s called the honeymoon suite,” she said, sounding as though she were forcing the words out of a very tight throat.

He understood the reaction. His own throat suddenly clenched, because all he could imagine was the two of them on that bed, all night long. With those mirrors above them, and the door closed to the storm...and the entire world.

“I’m pretty sure this room has been used in every episode of Supernatural,” she said, averting her gaze from the bed. As if she feared Rafe would think she was worrying about sleeping in it with him. Or that she wasn’t. “Sam and Dean always stay in one like it.”

“Even with only one bed and the mirrors?”

“Well, maybe not just like it.”

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Still into that spooky stuff, huh?” he asked as he tossed his duffel onto the dresser. He had also grabbed her carry-on, which had landed in the snow, and now put it beside his things.

“The spookier the better. Still only like to read nonfiction?”

“I’ve expanded my tastes a little,” he admitted. “Believe it or not, one of the guys in my unit has a sister who sends him cases of romance novels every so often. They really make the rounds and are usually worn out from rereading.”

She burst into laughter. “A bunch of tough army rangers reading romance novels.”

Yeah, it sounded pretty strange. Then again, considering the lives he and his squadmates lived, maybe something easy and familiar—something that lifted the spirits and reminded them of the girl back home—was perfectly normal after all.

“Do they read the super sexy ones?” she asked, her tone a little too innocent. Huh. He wondered if she asked because they’d just kissed as if they were about to make use of every inch of mirror above them.

“Those were the most popular ones,” he admitted with a wry grin. “Some of them are damned good. Plus it gets pretty lonely in the field when fraternization is strictly prohibited.”

“So, how long has it been since you’ve...fraternized?” she asked, again, obviously striving for friendly curiosity rather than any kind of personal interest.

He wasn’t buying it. She was interested. She shouldn’t be, he shouldn’t want her to be. But he felt it. Awareness sizzled and crackled in the cold room like sparks jangling off exposed wire.

“A long time,” he admitted.

She stepped closer, eliminating the space between them, and every step she took messed with his head a little bit more, until he could barely remember what the words nice and guy meant.

She licked her lips before asking, “Does that mean you’re not involved with anyone?”

He shook his head, his amusement fading, his jaw growing a little stiff. “No. Unlike you, Mrs...”

“Actually, it’s Doctor, remember?”

“Sorry. Doctor what?”

“Doctor Blake.”

“Didn’t take his name, huh?”

Ignoring the question, she tugged her gloves off her hands. She’d been wearing them all evening, since the heater in the rental car hadn’t quite managed to chase out the cold. Still silent, she brushed her soft fingertips across the small scar on his jaw. It had been joined by another on his temple—one he knew looked newer, rawer—and she gently caressed that one, too.

Rafe literally growled in his throat. “Ellie, don’t.”

“I hate that you’ve been hurt.”

He reached up and grabbed her hand, intending to push it away. But he couldn’t do it. Something within him rebelled at ever pushing this woman away again. He instead squeezed her fingers, turning his face toward her palm and pressing his mouth to her skin. He kissed her, breathed her in, let his head fill with that sweet, light scent she always wore, before growling, “Damn it. You’re a married woman.”

“Says who? Maybe you should take another look at my left hand.”

He froze. Slowly lowering their joined hands, he stared at that left ring finger. It was totally bare. Not only was she not wearing any kind of ring, there was no tan line, no crease indicating she usually wore any jewelry there at all.

His heart spun in his chest and tension coiled low in his belly. But he didn’t allow the emotions to rush through him just yet. She was a veterinarian, maybe she just didn’t wear a ring.

“What, exactly, are you trying to say?”

“I’m not married, Rafe.”

He slowly exhaled the breath he’d been holding. She’s not married? Ellie was free? He couldn’t quite get his mind to wrap around that. He’d drilled the she’s-off-limits message into his mind dozens of times over the past three years, during the many moments he’d longed to reach out to her. But it wasn’t true?

“Are you divorced?”

“No. I never got married at all.”

“Why not?”

“It just didn’t work out.”

His jaw flexed. “Did he hurt you?”

She laughed lightly. “Oh, God, no. Denny and I are still the best of friends—in fact, I work for him at his new animal hospital. He’s married to my friend Jessie now.”

Barely able to take it in, he swiped a hand through his short hair, sure it was a spiky mess. He watched her rub her fingers against her own palms, as if she were dying to reach up and stroke that hair, to twine her fingers in it and pull him down so they could get back to that kiss they’d started three years ago on New Year’s Eve, continued outside and ached to finish now.

She didn’t, though. Rafe was still stunned, and probably looked it, too. He’d been telling himself for hours that he’d blown his chance with her and needed to accept the fact that she would only ever belong in his past.

But he’d been wrong. Everything had been wrong. He still didn’t quite believe it.

“I don’t understand.”

“I haven’t even dated a man since Denny and I broke up almost three years ago.”

“Three years...” The timing couldn’t be coincidental.

“It wasn’t New Year’s Day,” she insisted. She went on to admit, “But it wasn’t too long after that, either.”

“Ellie, what are you really saying?”

“I’m saying, silly man, that after I ran into you on New Year’s Eve, I realized I didn’t love Denny the way a woman should love her fiancé. And I also realized he and Jessie shot a lot more sparks off each other than he and I did.”

Sparks were critical in a relationship, the two of them had shared enough to do more damage to Chicago than Mrs. O’Leary’s cow, the rumored start of the Great Chicago Fire. How she’d thought she could happily marry someone without sparks, he had no idea. Friendship and companionship and common interests were well and good, but a relationship also needed a healthy dose of pure passion. Like the passion he and Ellie had shared once.

And still did, he strongly suspected.

“Running into you that night was the best thing that could have happened to me. It helped me see things more clearly.”

“Running into you wasn’t a coincidence,” he admitted.

“What?”

“I knew you were going to be at that New Year’s Eve party. My cousin’s wife told me.”

She fell silent, evaluating how she felt about his confession. Had he told her then, she might have resented him, especially because he’d sensed she was angry at him for piercing her bubble of boring contentment.

“I’m sorry,” he added.

She slowly nodded, accepting the apology. “It’s okay. It worked out for the best. In the end, I returned Denny’s ring, and by February 14, he had a new Valentine and I couldn’t have been happier.”

He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, still watching her closely, praying he hadn’t caused her any more heartache. Because, after all, wasn’t his need to protect her from hurt the very reason he’d broken up with her in the first place? And hadn’t he cursed his own noble instinct every day since he’d done it?

“I’m all grown up, Rafe. I’ve got a great job, a ton of friends. I’ve traveled the world. I’m happy. I’m successful. But there’s one thing I don’t have—one thing I haven’t had in a very long time.”

“What’s that?”

She stepped close again, until one of her legs slid between his parted ones and their hips brushed. Lifting her hands to encircle his neck, she stared into his eyes and rocked the world beneath his feet with two simple words.

“A lover.”

* * *

ELLIE WATCHED HIM absorb her words and interpret her meaning. She’d issued an invitation—or maybe a challenge. She held her breath, wondering how he’d answer it.

“Ellie, I didn’t offer you a ride so we...”

“Shut up, Rafe,” she said, tightening her arms around his neck. “Don’t analyze it, don’t explain it, don’t talk about it. I don’t expect anything, I’m not asking for anything beyond tonight. Tomorrow will come no matter what happens. So just make love to me like I’ve wanted you to for the past seven years.”

He searched her face, as if memorizing her, making sure this wasn’t another dream.

“I’m real. I’m here,” she whispered.

“Thank heaven.”

No more words were needed. With hunger that bordered on desperation, he wrapped his arms around her and hauled her up against his chest, covering her mouth with his. His lips parted, his tongue thrusting deeply against hers. She welcomed him hungrily, loving his taste, wondering how on earth she’d survived so long without it. The kiss went on and on, seven years of longing wrapped up in it, and in that kiss she found the answers to so many questions.

Yes, he still cared. Yes, they still had incredible chemistry.

Yes. Oh, God, yes, this was definitely going to happen.

Her arms tight around his neck, she let him pick her up, those strong hands gripping her hips, his fingers squeezing and then cupping her backside. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, groaning deeply as her groin struck directly against his. He was powerfully erect, and she suddenly recalled how generously he was built. She shivered, remembering how that massive shaft had filled her to the brink.

Heat flooded through her, landing between her thighs so hard she had to rub against that huge erection just to gain some relief. He thrust back, and she cooed in delight as that hot ridge hit her clit and sent bolts of pleasure rocketing through her.

“Oh, Ellie,” he groaned against her mouth. “It’s been so long.”

“Forever.”

It hadn’t merely been ages since she’d had sex. But what she’d had with Denny, or with anyone else before him, just didn’t compare with this intense connection she had with Rafe. There was no thinking involved here, it was all instinct and innate understanding and such pure, utter connection. He had understood how to please her the first time he’d touched her. He still knew just how to kiss her, just how to stroke her, just how deeply to plunge and how gently to lick and how firmly to caress. Everything about him seemed tailored specifically to her.

And with him, she never experienced a moment of misgiving, not the slightest hesitation. She wanted to do and to be and to explore and to indulge. She wanted his mouth on her thighs, his tongue on her clit. She wanted to lick all that male heat until he was groaning and helpless, to suck him until he couldn’t remember one single day that they’d been apart.

A single snowy night somewhere in Pennsylvania could never be long enough to make up for all the nights they’d lost. But in case it was all they had—in case the passion was still there, but the emotions were not, or in case they had both changed too much to really work as a couple again—she was going to take whatever she could get tonight and deal with the fallout tomorrow.

They kissed until neither of them could breathe, tongues wild and hungry, their bodies twisting and thrusting, then drew apart to gasp for air. She continued to hold him tightly with her arms and her legs as he carried her to the bed and tossed her down onto it.

Ellie quickly jerked the covers down, pushing them out of the way, but didn’t recline and beckon for him. Instead, she sat up on the edge of the bed. Rafe was bending over to take off his boots, and she did the same, her fingers shaking on the laces, every ounce of her attention on him rather than on what she was doing.

Rafe straightened and was unfastening his belt when he saw her reach for her own waistband and flick the button of her jeans. He froze, staring, and Ellie smiled a little, savoring this heady anticipation. They were both anxious—frantic, really. But, despite the fact that they’d been lovers and had shared incredible intimacies in the past, there was certainly a newness now, as if they were experiencing each other for the first time.

She was no longer a skinny college girl, she had a woman’s curves and a woman’s confidence. So she made sure she gave him something to look at, wanting him out of his mind with need before he so much as touched her again.

Lying back on the bed, she unzipped her jeans and wriggled out of them slowly. She thrust her hips up as if to scoot the fabric out from under her bottom, but she was in truth both issuing an invitation and making a promise.

Rafe continued to stare, his eyes glued to the tiny pink panties that remained in place once she’d pushed the denim out of the way. When she sat up enough to kick the jeans all the way off, letting her legs splay apart, he rubbed his hand on his jaw and opened his mouth to breathe deeply, trying to maintain control.

Silly man. She wanted him to forget the meaning of the word control.

Slowly rising again, she slipped her fingers under the elastic edge of her panties, stroking her hipbone. Rafe watched her closely, then moved his hand to his fly, flicking one button, and then another. He had to tug the material away from his stone-hard cock and she saw the way he stroked himself through his clothes as he studied her.

Rising onto her knees, she beckoned him closer.

“Let me help.”

He did as she asked, saying nothing as she began to unfasten the buttons on his heavy outer shirt. When she’d unfastened it completely and pushed it off him, she stared at the light green T-shirt he wore underneath, marveling at the way the cotton molded to that incredible body.

His chest was so broad, his shoulders massive, the muscles in his arms rippling and intimidating. He seemed fully capable of breaking her in half, though she didn’t have even the tiniest hint of fear. He would never hurt her. Despite what he’d been doing for the past seven years, she’d always known Rafe was a caretaker, a tender, loving protector who would sooner chop off his own hand than lift it in anger against any woman. He could never have changed enough to ever make her fear him.

She slid her hands under the bottom of his shirt, rubbing her palms against that hot, muscular stomach, and began pushing the fabric up. Delight washed through her as she stroked the ripples and ridges of his body, and she marveled at the beauty of every inch revealed.

Her breath suddenly caught in her throat, though, when she found the scars.

One was about three inches wide, on his side, between two ribs. The other was on his chest, below one flat nipple. She pulled away enough to look at them; the raw redness of the one on his ribs said the wound hadn’t been there long.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“Nothing.”

Tears came to her eyes as her mind tried to imagine how these marks had come to be on his body. But even these had a kind of beauty, told a story about the man he had become, so she didn’t press him for details. Rafe brushed the moisture away with his fingertips, just as silent. Finally, she moved on, continuing with the shirt, pushing it all the way up. He took over, yanking it over his head and tossing it to the floor, now wearing just his partly unbuttoned pants.

She sat back on her heels, staring at him, having to remind herself to breathe. He was just so amazingly perfect, so incredibly hot, her brain forgot to work. Her heart was falling down on the job, too; her heartbeat was a staccato jangle, all thuds and leaps. She wanted to kiss and stroke every inch of him, but just wasn’t sure which delicious spot to sample first.

“So,” he said, “one of us is wearing too much up top and the other too much on the bottom.”

She immediately pushed at her panties. “You mean these?” Yanking them down, she heard his hoarse gasp and laughed wickedly.

“Mmm, not exactly what I was referring to, but I definitely like the way you think.”

“Oh, wait, did you mean my shirt?” she asked, pretending to pull the panties back up.

“Forget it,” he ordered, pushing her hands away. He hooked his own thumbs in the nylon and tugged them down. She rose up onto her knees again so he could get them all the way off her, loving that his hands shook as he lifted the small bundle of fabric and shoved it into his pocket.

“Did you just steal my underwear?”

“Yeah. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Are you going to sell glimpses of them to all the other freshmen in the boys’ bathroom?”

“These are for my own personal treasure box,” he promised, those dark eyes gleaming. “When I first went into the service, I spent a whole lot of nights wishing I’d stolen a pair right off you.”

“I wish I’d had the idea to give you some,” she murmured, wondering how long he’d fantasized about her before he’d finally decided to force her to let him go for good. Somehow, she knew he’d thought about her long after he’d made that decision. Just as she’d thought about him long after she’d given up.

“Let’s not dwell on any of that,” he said. “Tonight is like getting the Christmas gift I always wanted but never dreamed I’d actually get. So let’s just be glad for what we have now rather than what we didn’t have then.”

A lump formed in her throat as she heard the emotion in his voice. She swallowed the lump down, knowing he was right, but she was so heartbroken for all those moments they’d never had.

“I want you, Ellie,” he said, hunger chasing away any lingering regrets. “I’m dying for you.”

She considered dragging the anticipation out some more, building it higher, but right now, she just wanted to be naked, wanted him naked, wanted to fill every minute they had with erotic intimacy.

So she wasn’t coy. She didn’t tease. She simply reached for the bottom of her sweater and yanked it up and off.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he said, staring down at her as if he’d never beheld anything so perfect. He couldn’t take his eyes off her breasts. Her nipples were poking saucily against the lace of her bra, both from the cold and from the incredible heat he’d built within her. Remembering how much he’d loved to suck them, she traced her fingers against the puckered tips, very aware he wanted to replace her hands with his mouth.

“Show me,” he demanded.

She unclasped her bra and let it fall off her shoulders. Then she was kneeling on the bed before him, stark naked, her long red hair covering her chest, though her nipples peeked between the strands. He eyed her as though she were a banquet and he couldn’t decide what to taste first.

She flung her hair out of the way and lifted her breasts in her own hands, tweaking her nipples with her fingers.

“Please,” she begged.

Decision made. A deliberate smile on his face, Rafe dropped to his knees on the floor and pulled her closer to him. Her parted thighs went around his waist, and he moved one hand to her breast as he caught her mouth in another kiss. Their tongues thrust and played while he tweaked and stroked her, one breast, then the other, until she was panting and gasping against his lips.

She twisted and thrust, wanting more, wanting him to suckle her, and she realized he was intentionally drawing this out when she heard his deep, evil chuckle.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

“You know very well.”

“Maybe, but I’m just a simple soldier. Give me an order.”

“Don’t tempt me...”

He nuzzled her throat, kissing his way down to the hollow and growled, “I love tempting you.”

She arched her back, pressing her breasts toward him, then gave him the command he’d been determined to wring from her. “Suck my nipples, Rafe, please. Use your mouth on me and don’t you dare be gentle.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, satisfaction oozing from him.

And oh, the man was good at following orders. He kissed his way down her chest, scraping his teeth over her collarbone. Holding both breasts in his hands, he tweaked and plucked her sensitive nipples until she was quivering. When he finally moved his mouth to one breast and licked his way down the upper slope, she whimpered. And when that mouth moved over her nipple and he suckled her, she let out a little scream of pleasure.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.