by Seton, Cora
Minutes later he heard the shower. He kept thoughts of her naked, water sluicing down her slender curves, at bay. Damn, it was hard but he managed.
By time the bathroom door opened he was nearly sweating from the battle with his libido. Cloe walked out, now wearing a pair of drawstring shorts and tank top, her feet bare. Her hair hung in loose, damp strands over her shoulders, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. Bruises marred her arms and legs, more yellow now, but still there.
“I’m going to turn in now,” she said.
“Can’t tempt you with dessert and a movie, huh?” For some reason he didn’t want to let her go. He had Tiramisu in the fridge. Courtesy of his brother’s wife.
Her steps faltered. She glanced at the bedroom door, then back at him. “All right, but nothing scary.”
He grinned. “Deal. You sit while I get dessert.”
It didn’t take long to serve up the Tiramisu. Cloe sat on the sofa, covered in his mother’s quilt. Those long, gorgeous legs of hers were tucked beneath her. Too bad. She had magnificent legs. They would look really good wrapped around him while he slid slowly inside her.
Giving himself a mental shake, he handed a bowl to her and sat on the end of the sofa. Close enough to smell her apple-scented hair and spicy soap, but not so close he could run his hand over that silky flesh.
“This is delicious,” Cloe said after taking a bite of the sweet dessert. Pleased, Donovan dug into his own bowl, clicking on the television and finding a movie.
A little over an hour later his eyes were drifting closed. Cloe had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Without disturbing her, he leaned forward just enough to get the remote and turn the television off.
Her soft breathing filled the room. Part of him wanted to stay like this all night. He liked the way she felt against him. The other part knew she needed a good night’s sleep to rid the dark circles under her eyes.
“Cloe.” Gently, he shook her shoulder.
She came awake with a start, her head lifting off his shoulder. Her sleepy gaze turned from the TV to him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Is the movie over?”
He rose to his feet and held out a hand. “It is. Come on, off to bed. You’re exhausted.”
Without hesitation she put her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet. He didn’t let go as he led her to her room, and she didn’t pull away.
At her bedroom door, he stopped. “Goodnight, cara.”
Something flared in her eyes before she looked away. “Goodnight.”
He waited until she’d closed the door behind her to turn off the lights and head to his own room. Just in case, he kept his door open.
All he needed to do now was try and get some sleep knowing a beautiful woman slept twenty feet away.
*
“I set you up in my office,” Donovan said, leading Cloe to the small room off the living room. He opened the door and let her in. It wasn’t much, but it would give her privacy to work. After she went to bed he could do his own work, or he’d bring his laptop out and watch a game while he worked.
Cloe scanned the old mahogany desk that had belonged to his grandfather, the file cabinets, and bookshelf. “This is perfect.”
Pleased, he pointed to the file cabinet. “Feel free to use the bottom drawers if you need to.”
A sound at the front door prevented her from answering. What the hell? He’d been careful on the drive over, taking extra streets to get to his house. They hadn’t been followed, he knew that for certain.
He put up a hand, silently telling her to stay put. She nodded, eyes wide. Leaving her in the safety of his office, he moved into the living room in time to see the front door swing open. In came his mom and sisters, their arms loaded with boxes. When they saw him they stopped short.
“What are you doing here?” Angela asked, kicking off her heels.
“Where’s Cloe?” his mother asked at the same time. “You’re supposed to be staying with her.”
Donovan rushed over to take the boxes from them and set them on the floor. “Cloe’s here with me. What is all this?” He kissed his mother’s cheeks in reassurance. She patted his back.
“We came to decorate your house for Christmas,” Francesca explained, brushing a stray curl out of her eye. “I could use a hair tie. Ang, do you have one in that gigantic purse of yours?”
Angela rolled her eyes and opened her purse. “You know I do.”
Donovan’s chest swelled. This is what he missed when he was away. Usually, he came home to his house already decorated. This year he would be part of it.
Gabriella pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, big brother. Nice you can help us this year.”
He smiled. “Yeah.”
“Well, get Cloe out here,” his mother ordered. “The more the merrier.”
“Hey, where do you want the tree?” His youngest brother, Shane, strode through the door dragging a seven-foot Christmas tree. “Oh, hey, bro. Didn’t know you were here.”
“You’re getting pine needles all over the place,” Francesca tisked, picking up the trunk. “In the living room in front of the window where it always goes.”
Donovan saluted his brother, who grinned and followed his sister’s instructions to set the tree up. They disappeared into the living room.
“I’ll put on a pot of tea. You girls get started. Donovan, you get Cloe so she can be part of this tradition.”
Everyone jumped to do his mother’s bidding. Including him. As he strode to his office he thought, this may be just what Cloe needs.
*
Bing Crosby’s Silver Bells drifted past Cloe as she waited for Donovan to give her the all-clear. She’d heard voices, but didn’t dare go out until he said it was okay. After the destruction of her house she definitely trusted Donovan to know what to do in case the guy found them again. How he would, she didn’t know. Donovan had taken an extra five minutes to get to his house by taking streets that made no sense. Evasion tactics. His SEAL skills certainly did come in handy.
The scent of cloves and cinnamon filled her nose. She frowned. What was going on out there?
Donovan popped his head in, startling her. She clapped a hand over her chest and glared at him.
Sheepish, he grinned. “Sorry. You can come out now.”
“I’m going to put bells on your shoes,” she threatened, following him into the living room. The sight in front of her made her chest tighten. Donovan’s sisters were digging decorations out of boxes, his mother made tea in the kitchen, and a man she hadn’t seen before was busy setting up a huge Christmas tree.
“Oh,” she said, coming to a halt. “Your family is here. I’ll just go work until you’re finished.”
She turned to go, but Donovan captured her elbow and brought her around to face him. “Not so fast. This is the first Christmas I’ve been able to decorate my own house. I’d be honored if you’d help.”
Damn him and his charming self. He had no idea what he was asking of her. How much pain it caused her to see the tree, the decorations. His family so happy. Together.
“I can’t,” she whispered when another Christmas favorite came on the stereo.
Donovan cupped her shoulders, turning her so she faced him. “I don’t know what happened to you, cara, but you can’t let it destroy you. Trust me, it will if you let it.”
His comment had her wondering how breaking up with Jill had destroyed him. The haunted look that passed across his handsome face told her something had.
She didn’t have time to ask because Angela interrupted, grabbing her by the hand. “Come on. You can help us trim the tree.”
This was happening too fast. Her nerves were on end already. Now Donovan’s family wanted her to help decorate his house. How could she do that without remembering everything she’d lost? This brought it all to the forefront and made her want to run.
Angela wouldn’t let her. She dragged her to the tall pine tree and handed her an ornament. Cloe stared at the fragile glass ball, taken
back to when she’d helped her mother decorate the tree. The excitement she felt over each memento as it went on the branches. The scent of Christmas cookies baking in the oven. Her dad reclined in his favorite chair, reading the paper and drinking coffee while advising on where each ornament should go with a proud smile. She and Lance hadn’t ever decorated together. They were both too busy.
“Are you going to put that on the tree or hold it all day?” Angela teased, nudging her.
Brought abruptly out of the past, Cloe forced a smile. Her hand shook as she hung the keepsake on a branch. The colorful lights blinked at her, beckoning her into the past.
Angela handed her a hat box filled with ornaments. “These are Donovan’s favorites. You can put those on.”
“Maybe I should go help with the tea.” Someone help her, she couldn’t do this.
Help did come. In the form of a tall, dashing Navy SEAL who must have sensed her distress. Donovan took the box from her and lifted one out. A clothes pin reindeer missing an eye.
“I made this in the third grade.” His gaze searched hers and she knew he could read her suffering because his eyes softened. Which almost did her in.
He reached up and hung it, his masculine scent drifting past her nose.
“Here, why don’t you hang this one?”
The glass bulb was painted green with glitter splashed all over it. She took it from Donovan’s hand.
He leaned down to say quietly in her ear, “It’s going to be all right, cara.”
She met his gaze and the ice that had frozen her heart a year ago cracked just a little. Another small fracture this charming man caused. That bit of warmth, of peace, in those words and in his eyes made her turn to the tree and hang the ornament next to his clothes pin reindeer.
Breathing deep, the scent of pine replacing Donovan’s sexy scent, she glanced up to see Angela watching them with brows raised and a tiny smile on her lips. Embarrassed that she’d witnessed their intimate moment, Cloe quickly grabbed another ornament and hung it.
Donovan stayed at her side until the box was empty, sharing with her the memories behind each ornament from his childhood. She didn’t realize Angela snuck away, leaving just them to decorate the tree, until it was all finished.
As she stepped back to admire their work, she realized she hadn’t had another blast to the past since Donovan came over to help. And she’d actually hummed White Christmas. Which this wasn’t. It would be a green Christmas. Part of the reason she stayed in California. To avoid the pain snow would bring to the holiday season. And here she’d been so engrossed in sharing Donovan’s memories, she’d forgotten her own.
For the first time in a year she wasn’t paralyzed by grief.
The sounds of Donovan’s family chatting and laughing as they decorated the rest of the house surrounded her. Instead of upsetting her, it filled her with nostalgia.
“Hey, none of that.”
Donovan stepped in front of her, the pad of his thumb wiping a tear off her cheek. Startled, because she hadn’t realized it was there, she reached up and touched her face. Before anyone noticed, she blinked and swiped her cheeks.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Tonight, after everyone leaves, I want to know your sad story. You can trust me with it.” With that Donovan planted a kiss on her forehead and went to join his sister who was hanging a wreath over the fireplace.
Cloe watched him order his sister off the ladder, saw her swat at him but climb down anyway. He climbed up, wreath in hand, and secured it above the mantle. Something in her chest shifted. Another tiny fracture. If she wasn’t careful, Donovan just might break the ice surrounding her heart. Opening her up for more heartache.
A cup of tea appeared in front of her. Maureen stood there, a knowing expression on her face. “You look like you could use this,” she said.
Cloe accepted the cup and took a sip of the strong brew. Cinnamon and cloves burst on her tongue. “Delicious,” she said. “Thank you.”
Maureen slid her arm through hers. “You know, this is the first Christmas Donovan has been home in time to decorate. I’m pleased you’re here to share it with us.”
“I am too.” Her voice hitched against her will. God, she was turning into a sappy mess. Christmas always had done that to her.
“You make him smile,” Maureen continued, watching her son. “It’s been a while since he has truly smiled.”
After what Jill did to him she could understand that. Very well, in fact.
Maureen stepped away. “Bíonn dea-chúram an ceann droch-luck,” she said before walking away to join Gabriella in the kitchen.
Angela came to stand beside her. “She’s right, you know.”
Cloe glanced at her. “What did she say?”
“Good care takes the head off bad luck. It’s an old Irish proverb.”
“Oh.” She really didn’t get it, but she didn’t say so.
Angela patted her arm. “Don’t worry, it’ll make sense soon if things go the way I think they’re going.”
“What way is that?”
The beautiful young woman simply smiled and walked away. Cloe huffed. What was it with the women in Donovan’s family and their knowing looks and smiles? What did they know that she didn’t?
Donovan laughed at something his sister said, the sound deep and rich, and Cloe’s stomach tightened. This was the first time she’d heard him laugh. It did all kinds of things to her. Made her want to walk over there and kiss him.
Her stomach tightened even more at the prospect. She could spend the rest of her life being kissed by that man.
Uh-oh.
Reality hit her hard. He had done more than crack the ice. He’d slipped through.
Her head spun. How did this happen? She couldn’t be falling for a Navy SEAL whose career put him in more danger than the icy roads that had taken away her family.
Tonight he wanted her to tell him everything.
And she wanted to do it.
Shocked, she took a sip of her tea, hoping it would calm the tumultuous emotions churning inside her. Because she had no idea how to handle them.
Chapter Nine
‡
The front door opened and a group of gorgeous men filed in. Not Donovan’s brothers. Well, one of them was Shane, but the others Cloe hadn’t met before.
“Look who came over to help,” Shane announced. “Roped them into helping put up the outside lights and stuff.”
A tall, gorgeous man with sparkling blue eyes held up two six packs of beer. “We came for this, but he made us put up plastic reindeer in the front yard.”
Cloe watched a broad grin spread across Donovan’s face and her stomach tumbled. He greeted all three men with a hug and clap on the back.
“I’ll have Luciano send over a couple pizzas,” he said. “Put those beers on ice, then I’ll introduce you to my guest.”
The shaggy-haired man with the blue eyes strode into the kitchen, stopping to give Donovan’s sisters and mom a hug on his way.
When Donovan motioned to Cloe, she walked over to him.
“Cloe, these are my teammates, Brogan Steele and Jace Malloy. Guys, this is Cloe Carter.”
Teammates. No wonder these incredibly handsome men were built like athletes. All muscle. Built from training, not in the gym.
She shook hands with the taller, more serious man named Brogan, her hand disappearing completely in his. “Nice to meet you,” she said at his curt nod.
Jace, she liked immediately with his boyish good looks and friendly smile. He put her more at ease than Brogan did.
“I see the Demarcos roped you into decorating too,” Jace said.
She sent him a small smile as the third man pushed his way to her side, bumping Jace out of the way. His lady-killer grin gave her his number immediately. This one was a player.
“Hi,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Mikey Kreegan. So nice to meet you.”
She took his hand. “Mikey?”
His grin grew even mor
e charming. “My nickname. Short for Michael. The guys thought it would be funny to call me ‘Mikey’ after the kid in the Life commercials from years back because I eat anything.”
The devilish glint in his eye should have had her turning to goo, as she bet it did most women, especially with that double entendre. But it did nothing for her except cement that he was one to steer clear from. She bet he had a trail of broken hearts in his wake.
“Back off, Kreegan,” Donovan said without ire.
Michael winked and let go of her hand. “Place looks great, Deuce. All festive and stuff.”
Deuce? She cast a questioning glance at Donovan. He leaned over to say quietly in her ear, “I’ll tell you later.”
His warm breath sent a shiver down her spine. Hoping no one noticed, she sipped her tea as the guys excused themselves to greet Donovan’s family, leaving her and Donovan alone.
“Tell me now,” she said, her curiosity getting the best of her.
Donovan’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Everyone on the team has a nickname we use in the field. Mine is ‘Deuce’ because of my double heritage. According to the guys, I drink like an Irishman and cook like an Italian.”
She hadn’t seen him drink more than coffee and tea since she’d met him. It suited him more than beer and pizza with the guys. He was more dashing than that. But, as she looked around at his masculine décor, beer and pizza fit him too.
“Do all of you have nicknames?” she asked.
“The guys of Alpha squad do.”
“You’re all Alpha squad?”
He nodded.
“What are Brogan and Jace’s nicknames?”
“Brogan is ‘Doc’. He’s our team medic. Jace is ‘Chameleon’ because he can blend in anywhere without being noticed.”
She could see Jace blending in with his boyish looks and easy demeanor. Imagining Brogan as the medic was more difficult. His demeanor didn’t reassure. Maybe in a combat situation the team preferred tough and silent as opposed to comforting.
“You’ll meet the rest of the team at the Christmas Eve party.”
Her stomach dropped like a rock. The party. She’d forgotten about that. How she was going to get through that? Decorating his house hadn’t been too bad, but she felt the stress of it catching up to her. A headache poked at her temples and her nerves were a bit frayed.
