Clan McKinloch: Stars, Stripes & Xmas Bells

by Kaitlin Maitland

  The earth moved.

  It had, true, but it had first moved back in July when he’d met Ashton. That was six months ago, plenty long enough to get over a one-night stand. Yet being with Ashton less than an hour before in the garden below had been like coming home. He’d been waiting for that moment, for that woman, ever since he’d left her on that night in July.

  “I think I love her,” Trip admitted. “Has she said anything to you?”

  “Ah, ah, ah, that’s not how it works.” Ossian lounged in the opposite corner of the couch like a wise old lion. “For starters, she isn’t the tell type, but I think you already knew that deep down. And anything she has said is between her and me. Besides, things said in confidence to a friend mean nothing when the bullshit that goes on between a man and a woman is involved.”

  Trip knew his brother was right. Love didn’t follow predictable patterns. It didn’t conform, and you couldn’t shove it a neat package and put it under the Christmas tree. He looked at Ossian, relaxed and silent. “How are you not married? You get this crap better than the rest of us.”

  “That’s why I’m single.”

  Chapter Four

  December 23—11:00 p.m.

  Ashton felt like a teenager waiting for her prom date to show. She’d taken forever trying to find some kind of sexy pajamas to wear. Eventually she’d given up and went with warm. It was just too cold to wear some kind of flimsy, sexy baby-doll sleep set, even if she owned one. Which she didn’t.

  The sort of curves that made up her body didn’t conform to the stuff they sold at Victoria’s Secret. Her butt was just a little too round, her hips a little too full, and her boobs a little too generous. It was the curse of her life.

  Trip doesn’t seem to mind.

  She didn’t get that. He was so gorgeous he should’ve come with a warning label. The guy was a pilot in the air force. She’d never even seen him naked, and she could tell he was built like a god. How could someone like him be attracted to someone like her? Gavin was more her usual type.

  Ash curled up in her padded window seat, staring at the snowy garden lit by her neighbor’s white-and-blue Christmas lights. She tucked an afghan around her feet and let her forehead rest against the cool sill.

  Gavin was good-looking in a plain, safe way. He was studious and introverted, and there was nothing wrong with that. He lacked Trip’s confidence and joie de vivre. Ashton was an introvert. She got it. What she didn’t get was Gavin’s lack of desire to step outside the sphere of St. Louis. He wasn’t unusual in that regard. There were lots of locals who never left and thought those who did were insane.

  Ashton wasn’t one of them.

  She wanted to travel. She wanted to see as much as she could and experience whatever life had to offer. She’d been saving for a trip to Europe before her career tanked in spectacular, federally induced fashion. She’d been Dr. Fellers’s office manager for six years. She’d run his practice. When the whole thing went down, her reputation had suffered right alongside his. It wasn’t fair, but that was the way of things. She’d been attached to the DEA investigation, a witness, and subpoenaed to boot.

  That wasn’t the type of excitement she’d been longing for. She’d been thinking castles, the Eiffel Tower, the Coliseum, and maybe the Alps. Then fate had nudged a certain airman in her direction, and she’d discovered what it was like to be kissed beneath the rockets’ red glare.

  She grinned at her fanciful remembrance of her Fourth of July. It was hard to imagine that hot, sultry night taking place when there was a thin blanket of white across her garden.

  The gate squeaked, drawing her attention. Her stomach twisted into an elaborate knot when she saw Trip materialize from the darkness. The desert camouflage didn’t make him invisible, but it blurred his outline enough for her to see how the material worked in the proper terrain.

  Ash was back to her preprom jitters. She waited until he’d climbed the three steps to her front door before she climbed out of the window seat. Her red, white, and silver plaid pajama bottoms were rolled at the ankle to keep her from stepping all over them, and her matching button-down top didn’t do anything for her figure.

  This is as good as it gets.

  There was a flutter in her belly when she answered his soft knock. She’d intended to say something worldly or flirty, but all that came out was, “I wasn’t sure you were coming.”

  “A little snow isn’t going to keep me away.” Trip stomped the snow from his combat boots and stepped inside her tiny foyer.

  Ash was suddenly aware of his frank perusal of her home. She’d lived alone for so long and invited members of the opposite sex over so rarely that she’d forgotten how it might look to a man.

  Her square front room had a fireplace at one end. It hadn’t functioned since the days when the building had been a single-family home. She kept candles inside the arched stone facade. Their sweet cinnamon scent filled the air.

  The window seat was by far her favorite aspect of the room. Two brown-and-white-striped chairs flanked the matching loveseat, all strewn with bright pillows in bold jewel tones. A flat screen hung above the fireplace because she hadn’t known where else to put a TV in the narrow room. The sound dock sitting beneath it got far more use. It was currently cycling softly through a playlist of her favorite Broadway tunes.

  He stooped to take off his boots, making short work of the elaborate laces. “The thing about combat boots is that you get used to how comfortable they are. Eventually you just sort of stop taking them off.”

  “That would most definitely make for some stinky feet,” Ash blurted.

  “I showered this morning. I promise. Although it was a long transatlantic flight on a pretty basic C-130. So I suppose they could be stinky.” He lifted one off the floor. “Want to check?”

  The ridiculous question got rid of the rest of her jitters. She laughed like a giddy schoolgirl as the tension drained out of her body. Whatever his reasons, Trip was there in her house.

  “We could solve the stinky factor with a shower,” he suggested.

  “Or you could just walk around barefoot in the garden for a while until the cold killed any lingering odors.” She’d been apprehensive enough about her choice in sleepwear. There was no way she was stripping naked in the glaring bathroom lights.

  He unbuttoned his uniform jacket and took it off. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that one.”

  She had little to no experience with military uniforms. Her father had been out of the navy for years before her birth and hadn’t worn an official uniform as a merchant marine. Trip’s uniform top was crisp, though he’d obviously been traveling all day in it. He laid it carefully over the arm of a chair. Underneath he was wearing a light brown T-shirt. The cotton stretched taut across his chest muscles. Her mouth went dry at the thought of him stripping bare.

  “What?” He cocked his head. “Would you rather I keep my uniform on?”

  The jitters were back in full force. “No, of course not. I’ve just never seen anyone get in and out of one of those.”

  “Ah.” He picked up the top he’d laid aside. “We started wearing these when they phased out that green-and-black camo stuff that had been around forever. It’s called an Airman Battle Uniform. The digital pixels in the print help keep you hidden from satellite imagery.”

  The hunger for knowledge about anything outside her own sphere was a welcome distraction from her nervousness. “So do they issue all of it?”

  “Down to the tightie whities. Or I guess I should say tightie brownies. The standard-issue underwear is hideous. They’re like birth-control underpants.”

  “Birth control…” He was so matter of fact. It seemed so natural for him to just walk in and strip off his clothes. Why? “Do you always strip naked when you walk into someone’s house?”

  “No.” The sensual heat in his gaze was enough to resurrect her nerves. “Just yours.”

  “Shouldn’t we talk first or something?” What was the protocol when the only thi
ng her body seemed to care about was how long it had to wait to feel him skin to skin? Did that make her one of those girls?

  “Do you want to talk?”

  Yup, I want to talk about how much I want to see you naked.

  “Ashton, nothing about you and me fits into the usual mold. I’ll go as slow or fast as you want, but I want you so bad I’m not certain I could hold down my end of an intelligent conversation. Your scent has been on my skin for hours, and it’s driving me insane.”

  His words made her knees weak with erotic excitement. The way he talked about her scent, about wanting her. Wasn’t that what she’d always wanted? That “thing,” that moment when she knew a guy wanted her more than anyone else. That was worth throwing caution to the wind. Wasn’t it?

  “What’s it going to be, darlin’?” He held his hands out from his sides, giving her the chance to say yes or no.

  Her mouth was so dry. She managed a nod, and he began unbuttoning his pants. A tingle started in her fingertips before whizzing all over her body. He was getting naked. Wait, is he really wearing tight brown underpants?

  He swept the canvas fabric down over his hips with a flourish to reveal…snug black boxer briefs with the Tommy Hilfiger logo just below his navel. Surprised, she glanced up at his face.

  “I said they issue them. Not that I wear the damn things.” He pulled off his pants and draped them over his top. “I like these better.”

  “So do I.” It slipped out before she could stop it, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling like an imbecile.

  Beautiful didn’t even cover it. Trip McKinloch was a study in classical Greek sculpture. She could see every muscle beneath the dusting of dark hair in his long legs. His broad shoulders were tanned a rich honey color, his arms strong, and his hands gentle. She knew that, because a few hours ago those hands had brought her immeasurable pleasure.

  She tried not to stare at his torso, but she couldn’t help it. His chest was smooth, his nipples hard and a shade darker than his skin. His belly was taut with a six-pack of abdominal muscles that would’ve looked good on a billboard. He had narrow hips outlined by twin grooves that arrowed down his abdomen until they disappeared into his boxers. Boxers that weren’t doing all that much to hide the fact that his cock was standing at attention.

  “I’ve always heard that male equipment shrinks in the cold,” she said conversationally. “You don’t seem to have that problem.”

  His expression turned predatory. “My equipment has been near boiling-point temperature since I felt you come a few hours ago.”

  God, she was so nervous! She’d had sex with him already. It wasn’t as if she should be experiencing performance anxiety or something. He’d obviously liked it, because he was back for a repeat performance.

  But he’s never seen me naked.

  She swallowed and tasted real fear. What if he took one look at her big-boned body and started pulling his clothes back on? How would she ever live with that humiliation? She’d have to quit her job at McKinloch’s just to avoid ever coming face-to-face with him again.

  “Darlin’, what’s wrong?” His expression softened, and she could actually see him take a mental step back.

  “I’m just…” Her heart beat erratically. “There’s this huge gap between you and me.”

  He frowned. “How so?”

  “The attractiveness-quotient thing. You know?” She wished there was a less embarrassing way to explain what usually happened in relationships when one person was so much more attractive than the other.

  “No, I don’t know, Ashton. Could you please enlighten me?”

  She was going to have to spell it out. Her humiliation was now complete. “You’re built like a god, Trip. Look at you! You look like an underwear model.”

  “And this is important how?” His lips twitched, and one elegant brow lifted in question.

  “Because if the two of us ever went out in public, people would look at you and look at me and think you were crazy.” Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. “Because you’re so hot, and I’m a cow carrying around the freshman twenty plus the baby fat I never lost before college, and probably a few pounds bequeathed to me by every woman in my genealogy.”

  Her heart stopped beating. He looked mad, really mad. She didn’t feel intimidated by it, more like disappointed. He’d probably realized she was right and decided getting laid wasn’t worth the lasting humiliation.

  “Of all the bullshit ideas,” he muttered. “Attractiveness quotient? Really?”

  Before she could explain how she and Luce had come up with that concept, Trip closed the distance between them in two strides and swept her up into his arms. He plucked her right off her feet and cradled her against his chest like a hero in some romance novel.

  Instant dismay set in. “Put me down! Seriously. Men don’t pick me up like this. I break them. You’re going to throw your back out or something.”

  He carried her out of the living room, bypassing the kitchen on his way toward the back of the house. “Where the hell is your bedroom?”

  “Second door on the left. I don’t think—”

  “No, you don’t.” Her door was ajar, and he shoved it the rest of the way open with his foot. Odd, but he didn’t seem to be out of breath. “Obviously you don’t think at all about the men you date. I don’t know where or how you’ve been meeting them, but I think I’m glad you’re done doing it. Honest to God, woman, what kind of asshole told you that you were a cow? Did it happen in the bar?”

  He kicked the door shut behind him and set her in the middle of her bed. “Because if that happened in our bar, and Ossian didn’t give that fucker the smackdown, I’m going to beat my older brother within an inch of his life right after I track down the lowlife who made you think you were fat.”

  It was hard to follow his angry tirade. She was a little shell-shocked by the trip to her bedroom and the fact that there was a hot mostly naked guy in there with her.

  Her queen-size antique sleigh bed was covered in a cream-colored down duvet. She was fond of pillows, and her bed was peppered with them. Somehow having all the pillows made the bed feel less empty.

  “So who told you that nonsense?” Trip demanded.

  “Nobody—everybody—it’s just something you grow up knowing, okay?” She so didn’t want to discuss her childhood insecurities with him.

  He climbed into the bed beside her, lounging on his side as if he was perfectly comfortable hanging around in his underwear. He probably was. Military life couldn’t be very tolerant of modesty.

  “Ashton, I’m getting a little nervous here.”

  What on earth could he possibly have to be nervous about?

  He looked down at his hands so she couldn’t see his face. “I really like you. In fact—but this isn’t the time for that—I thought we had a real connection, but what I’m getting is that you’re just with me because I have a great body. And I have to admit that it bothers me to think you don’t respect me as a person.”

  For all of two seconds, her mind went totally blank. Then she got it, and she fired back. “That’s my line. Isn’t it? Doesn’t the girl usually moan about the guy not respecting her as a person? Something about him only liking her for her tits or her ass.”

  “I do like your ass, and I’m practically obsessed with your tits.” He lifted his face and gave her a hard, unyielding stare. “I’m not sure what it’s going to take to make you believe me, but I’m willing to put some time and effort into it.”

  TRIP WOULD HAVE been lying if he’d claimed he hadn’t known about her erroneous self-image. She’d made mention of it a few times in passing. It just didn’t make any sense at this juncture. He’d picked her. Surely she understood that meant he liked the whole package.

  He was utterly comfortable inside her house. It was the first time he’d ever walked into a strange place and felt like he was coming home. Strange didn’t bother him. He’d crashed in all sorts of unsavory places over the years, but he d
idn’t let his guard down while he was there. This was different. Probably because he could feel her essence stamped into the very walls.

  “You’ve got too much clothing on,” he told her.

  “It’s cold.”

  “I’ll keep you warm.”

  “Then turn the lights off.”

  “Hell no, I want to see my present when it gets unwrapped,” he argued.

  Trip watched her fight her shy nature and respected her more. She wriggled a little bit and pulled off her pajama bottoms. She was lying on her side like he was. He didn’t miss the fact that her long top covered almost everything but her shapely legs.

  “Satisfied?” She gave him an arch look.

  “Not hardly, but it’ll have to do for the moment.” He leaned over and kissed her bare hip just below the hem of her pajama top.

  Her swift inhale told him she liked what he was doing. Smoothing one hand down her leg, he gently grabbed her ankle. He bent her leg at the knee, which gave him access to her inner thighs. She made a tiny noise in her throat, and his cock jumped in instant response. He remembered that sound. It was a good one.

  Her pale skin was silky beneath his fingertips. He got to his knees and nudged her onto her back. Using both hands, he caressed every curve and dimple of her legs. He leaned down and kissed her knees one at a time. She giggled at first and then stopped when he went higher.

  Brushing his lips over her inner thigh was almost his undoing. He inhaled and caught the scent of her pussy. Clamping down on his libido was harder than it should have been at this point, but his control was already threadbare after their earlier loveplay.

  “I’m going to take your panties off.” He could see her about to argue, and he fought back with logic. “You’ve still got your shirt. It goes practically all the way to your knees.”

  He didn’t wait for her to come up with another protest. Snagging the elastic of her panties, he drew the scrap of pink cotton over her hips and down her legs and tossed it to the floor.