No, she’d have to find a way out of it. Tell Donovan she couldn’t go because…well, she’d come up with something.
Damn the part of her that wanted to go. Her hormones would just have to deal. They didn’t understand how painful it would be for her. How she had promised her mother they would throw the annual Christmas Eve party together, even when Cloe knew she’d be too busy to help. How this party should be at her parents’ house and they should be opening presents at midnight surrounded by friends. Her friends. The friends she grew up with. Her family and fiancé.
Not as a date with a man she’d just met who knew nothing of what had happened to her last Christmas.
A man she desperately wanted to get to know better. Who had a big, wonderful family that reminded her of those Christmas Eve parties because those people had felt like her family. She’d grown up with them. Dated the neighbor boy, found her best friend three doors down.
Then she’d dropped her best friend like she’d never existed after the accident. She’d dropped everyone. Now she had no one and it was all her fault.
“We can discuss the details later,” Donovan said. “For now, I need to get to my place.”
“I’ll get changed.”
Thankful for the excuse to escape her thoughts, she hurried to her bedroom and closed the door. She’d find a way to get out of her date.
Somehow.
Remorse replaced the ache in her chest as she changed into a pair of jeans and short-sleeved shirt. It wasn’t until she looked in the mirror that she realized the dark blue of her blouse matched Donovan’s eyes.
Yep. She was in trouble. The man occupied her thoughts day and night. Proof, by the dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep last night. As much as she’d tried, she couldn’t rest peacefully knowing a handsome man slept on her couch. Add to that the stress of everything since the accident. She was a mess.
She looked it too. The bandage on her forehead stuck out like a sore thumb. Her skin too pale. Not even makeup would cover what she’d suffered.
With a groan, she slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops. Then ran a brush through her hair, touched up her eyes and lips with a little makeup to help cover the effects everything was taking on her.
And to think she’d once rolled with the punches so gracefully, she’d earned a huge promotion at the ad agency she worked for. One of the biggest in New York. Her ads for a nation-wide supermarket chain were still being used, haunting her every time she turned on the television or entered the store.
Donovan waited for her when she came out. His eyes ran over her, slowly, as if he enjoyed looking at her. Even in jeans. Did his gaze linger a little long on her legs?
Breathless, she said, “My car is this way.”
She grabbed her keys off the hook by the door leading into the garage and handed them to Donovan. She hadn’t driven since she parked the car in the garage, and with her jittery nerves she didn’t want to drive now.
What was it about Donovan that made her so nervy?
Maybe because the man was pure, gorgeous male with good manners and the grace of a king? Or because when he touched her little sparks shot through her. Whatever it was, she had to steer clear of it. Losing another person she loved would end her.
Cloe stumbled on the step leading to the garage. Love? She was getting way ahead of herself here.
Donovan reached out and cupped her elbow to steady her and lead her down the last step. “Okay?” he asked. “Not feeling dizzy, are you?”
She shook her head. “Just missed a step, thanks.”
He led her around to the passenger side and opened the door so she could climb in. To her relief the sedan started right up.
It only took a few minutes to reach his house, which wasn’t at all what she expected. A one-story Victorian on a quiet street of houses decorated for Christmas. All except his.
As he pulled into the paved driveway she murmured, “You haven’t decorated for Christmas.”
“Just got home from deployment,” he said as he came around to help her out of the car.
His hand was on her back again, guiding her up the three steps to his beautiful front doors. Mostly glass, with a stained glass window above.
He let her go in first. His home definitely belonged to a man. Black leather furniture and recliners, flat screen TV and hardwood floors without rugs. The floors looked original, as did the wood trim. Surprisingly, he had plants thriving all around the house. How did he keep them with his career and restaurant?
“How do you keep your plants alive?” she asked as he closed the door behind them.
“I don’t. My mom and sisters water them while I’m gone.”
A green thumb she didn’t have, but the fact his family helped him out made her long for her mother. Before the feeling overtook her, she pushed it down.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll go pack a bag quick.”
He disappeared through the closed door to the left and seconds later reappeared and held out a small gold pin. She took it, intrigued by the golden eagle clutching a U.S. Navy anchor, trident, and some kind of pistol.
“My trident. Proof I’m the real deal. I received it after completing BUD/s.”
“BUD/s?”
“Basic Underwater Demolitions/SEAL. Hardest six months of my life.”
She ran a finger over the eagle. This badge represented honor and strength. Like the man who earned it. He’d stepped up to protect her, knowing nothing about her, and she couldn’t deny that unwavering sense of duty attracted her.
Before she got in over her head, she handed it back. “Thank you.”
He winked at her and her belly fluttered.
“Happy to serve. Be right back.”
Within minutes they were back in the car, returning to her house. After being in Donovan’s house, she realized how lonely her house really was. No family pics. No reminders of the past and the biggest mistake of her life. She had a box of keepsakes; she just hadn’t been able to find the courage to open it.
“I need to get some work done,” she said, needing a distraction from her thoughts. And from the gorgeous man standing next to her.
“I’m going to change and go for a run. Will you be all right by yourself for a little bit? I’ll carry my cell in case you need me.”
“I’ll be fine. Take your time.”
She’d spent the last year alone. She could handle an hour.
Cloe walked over to her desk in the corner of the living room and sat down. Donovan changed in the bathroom while she booted up her computer. Her situation had changed drastically and she didn’t know how to process it.
Hoping work would ground her, she logged on and focused on her newest account instead of the handsome man sharing her home.
Chapter Six
A knock on the door brought Donovan’s head up from where he lounged on the sofa watching a replay of yesterday’s football game. Felt good to sit back and relax and watch a game. He missed the day-to-day benefits of being a civilian.
Cloe started to rise from her chair where she’d been most of the day. He didn’t mind. Work seemed to relax her so he let her be.
Figuring it was the tow company returning his car, he rose from the couch. “I got it.”
She nodded and sat back down, her attention once again turned to her computer screen. He unlocked the door and opened it after a cursory glance out to see who was there.
“Máthair,” he said, leaning down to kiss his mother’s cheek.
“Dia duit, son. I’ve brought tea and biscuits.”
“Come in.” He stood aside so she could step inside. She looked around before saying, “Where are the Christmas decorations?”
“Mrs. Demarco,” Cloe said, joining them. “What a surprise.”
“Dia duit, Cloe.”
Cloe glanced at him with a slight frown.
“Mom brought tea and biscuits and she said hello,” he translated.
“Oh, how nice. Please, come in and have a seat.”
<
br /> His mom handed her bags to him and followed Cloe to the dining room table. He trailed behind, hearing his mother ask again about the decorations. At Cloe’s lost expression he broke in.
“Cloe’s been busy with work. Like me, she hasn’t had time to decorate.”
Relief crossed Cloe’s face as she sat down across from his mother. His mother nodded in understanding.
“Donovan, will you brew the tea, please?”
He went into the kitchen to make the tea the way his mom had taught him, keeping an eye on the women at the table. Cloe looked uncomfortable even though his mother had a way of putting people at ease.
“So tell me what kind of work you do,” his mom said.
Neutral ground. Good.
“I’m a freelance copywriter. I work on marketing materials, such as writing brochures, direct mail, press releases, ads, things like that.”
Donovan put the kettle under the tap and filled it with cold water, then set it on the stove to boil.
“You know, dear, Roman—that’s my husband. I think you met him at the restaurant.”
Cloe nodded and his mother continued.
“We have been talking about giving our menu a makeover. Roman, see, he likes to keep everything authentic, from the old world. But, my son, Luciano, who does most of the cooking with his wife Camila, prefers to add a more modern touch to his dishes.” She waved her hands. “I’m forever breaking up arguments between the two of them about what should be served on our menu. Maybe you could help solve our problem.”
“I’m not sure how I can help,” Cloe said, shifting in her chair.
“Well, if I give you a menu, maybe you could put your talent to work and design something new that accommodates both my husband and my son.”
Donovan found three mugs and dropped a tea bag in each one. His mother’s intentions were good, but his dad and Luciano had been at each other for years about the future of the restaurant. His dad had an iron grip on the past and Luciano was stubborn as a bull. They had yet to find a happy middle.
The ‘menu’ issue had been a thorn in everyone’s side ever since Luciano started sneaking his own dishes onto the daily specials. The customers loved everything his brother made, but his dad just wouldn’t take that step into the modern world.
“If you brought me the old menu and the changes you’d like made, I might be able to come up with something.”
The teapot whistled. But Donovan was too busy staring at the beautiful woman who’d agreed to help solve a family issue. The genuine look in her eyes made his chest swell with pride. She didn’t say yes because she felt pressured. She wanted to help.
“Donovan, dear, the tea pot is ready,” his mother reminded him with a smile.
At his mother’s prompt, he lifted the kettle off the burner and turned the stove off. He met Cloe’s amused gaze briefly before pouring the water over the tea bags. He let them steep for one minute before stirring.
As his mom always said, “If you can see the bottom of the cuppa through the tea, it isn’t real Irish tea.”
“Well, thank you,” his mother said, turning her attention back to Cloe. “I’ll put together a folder and bring it over. How much do you charge for such a thing?”
“I’m happy to do it. No charge. You’ve all been so kind to me it’s the least I can do.”
Donovan grabbed the milk from the fridge, poured a splash into each mug and returned it. Then he carried the mugs to the table and set one in front of each woman before sitting across from them.
“Please bring the biscuits, son.”
His mother hid a smile behind her mug as he jumped up to get the dessert. His focus wasn’t exactly sharp today. He blamed it on the sexy blonde and a long deployment.
He carried the tin of biscuits to the table and set it in the center. Cloe stared at the small, round cookies for a moment before his mother urged her to try one while he helped himself to two. His mom’s homemade biscuits were the best. She soaked the raisins before adding them, which made them plump and delicious.
They enjoyed their tea and biscuits, the conversation light. His mom knew how to entertain, making small talk effortlessly. Little by little, Cloe relaxed, having not one, but two biscuits. She even finished her tea, much to his mother’s delight. Strong Irish tea wasn’t for everyone, but Cloe seemed to like it.
By time his mother got up to leave, Cloe actually looked the most at ease he’d ever seen her. She walked to the door with them and returned his mother’s hug.
“I’ll stop over in a day or two to deliver those papers,” his mother promised before pulling him in for a bear hug. In his ear she whispered, “Take care of her, my son.”
He walked her to her car, kissed her cheeks, then waved her off. When he turned, he saw the soft look in Cloe’s eyes from where she stood in the doorway. It made him want her. To be inside her with those long legs wrapped around his thighs.
Ah, damn.
What was it about this woman that sent his thoughts into the gutter every time he looked at her?
She deserved better from him.
Not wanting to stay exposed for too long, he strode up the walkway and across the porch. Cloe stepped aside so he could enter.
He closed and locked the door.
“You’re very lucky to have such a close family,” Cloe said quietly.
“I am. How about you? Do you have any family?”
That shuttered look crossed her face. He’d tread on dangerous ground.
“No. I don’t have any family,” she said. “Not anymore.”
Didn’t that raise hundreds of questions? Questions he bit back because the look on her face told him whatever the reasons were, they were painful. Pushing her to talk about them would only bring that misery to the surface.
Damn it. He wanted to push past her barriers, dig deeper into who Cloe Carter was, but he refused to cause her pain. She’d had enough of that the past couple days. And, he suspected, long before that.
“I’m here to listen if you need a shoulder,” he offered. Actually, he’d offer more than that if she wanted.
Her head lifted and their eyes met. He didn’t bank his attraction and she drew in a tiny, sharp breath. What would she do if he kissed those red lips?
She swayed toward him.
Hell, yes.
A knock on the door brought his head up. Cloe jumped back, blinking as if she’d been in a daze.
Instantly alert, he put up a hand telling her to remain in place, and checked the door. A man in a blue service uniform stood on the porch, clipboard in hand.
Giving Cloe the thumbs-up sign, he opened the door and spoke to the technician. His car had been returned to the curb with four brand new tires. He signed, retrieved his keys from the man, and bid him a good day.
“All clear,” he said turning around to face her.
Cloe nodded and rubbed her palms on her jeans. “I think I’ll go get some more work done.”
Mentally, he cursed the interruption. More than anything, he wanted to kiss her. Taste her. But, the moment had passed.
For now.
“How about I dig through the fridge and make us something to eat?”
“You probably won’t find much in there. I was on my way to the market when…” She cut off with a small shudder.
When that bastard hit her. Anger ripped through him. If he ever got his hands on the guy he’d rip his head off. Especially now he had threatened Cloe’s life. An innocent woman.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He gave her a nudge toward her computer. “Go. Work. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”
After casting him a skeptical look, she returned to her desk. Donovan went into the kitchen and started digging for ingredients to make dinner.
****
Cloe glanced toward the kitchen where Donovan whistled a Christmas tune while doing amazing things with whatever ingredients he’d found in her cupboards. Which couldn’t be much. She’d never had time to cook before she moved here and she did
n’t take time now. Who did she have to make meals for? Why waste the time and energy just for herself? If she could even cook. Her mother had been the chef in the family and that gene had definitely not been passed down to Cloe. Her dad used to tease her that she could burn water.
Already, she could smell wonderful scents drifting from the pot he’d set on a burner. Not hers—the house had come fully furnished. Donovan seemed to know exactly where to find everything and somehow had found food in her kitchen to make a meal with. Miracle of miracles, because she hadn’t stocked the cupboards since she moved in.
Her gaze traveled over Donovan’s broad shoulders, trim waist and oh-so-awesome backside cradled in stylish jeans. The man truly gave hot a new definition. He looked good in anything. Or without.
Heat crept up her cheeks and she tore her gaze back to her computer screen. Imagining him naked would do no one any good. Especially her, in case he looked over and found her staring—lusting over him.
Good Lord, she needed to stop this train of thought before she got herself in deep. Been there, done that. Not doing it again. Too risky. Her heart couldn’t take another break. And this man would certainly break her heart if given the chance.
She wasn’t giving him the chance.
Focusing her attention on the account due by New Year’s, she tried to work. It had been no trouble earlier, but now, with an attractive man cooking up something delicious in her kitchen she couldn’t concentrate. At all.
What was this man doing to her?
How had he slipped past her defenses so easily?
Five minutes later she let out a sigh and shut her computer down. With the wonderful scents filling her house there wasn’t any way she would get any more work done today. Best to throw in the towel and see if she could help.
Cloe rose from her seat and joined Donovan in the kitchen. He was filling another pot with water.
“Can I help?” she asked.
He glanced over his shoulder from where he put the pot on the stove and turned on the burner. “I’ve got things handled here, but you could set the table if you like.”
“I can do that.” Secretly, she was relieved he hadn’t asked her to help. With her lack of culinary skills she’d only be a hindrance.
A SEAL for Christmas (Novella) Page 6
