They bumped into a middle-aged woman. She turned around, looked at Cloe, then down at the gun digging into her side and let out a scream. All hell broke loose.
Someone shouted, “Gun!”
The crowd pulsed. Before Cloe could make a move to free herself, the guy wrapped an arm around her neck and aimed the gun at the crowd.
“Stay back or I’ll shoot!” he yelled.
Phones went up. Some recorded what was happening, some, she hoped, called 911.
“Put down the gun.”
Cloe looked over to see Donovan standing a few feet away. The only thing at odds with his calm demeanor was the muscle jumping in his jaw.
“Stay back,” her captor warned, his arm tightening around her neck until it became difficult to breathe.
Donovan put his hands up. “I’m not moving. But you need to think about what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing. She ruined my life. She needs to suffer like I am.”
“She isn’t responsible for your life.”
Cloe sent Donovan a hard look. Was he trying to push this guy over the ledge?
“The hell she isn’t. She crossed on a yellow. It wasn’t my fault. And because of that I missed an important meeting with a client. My boss fired me because I lost that client.”
She felt the anger radiating through his body, damp with sweat.
“Maybe I can talk to your boss and get your job back,” Donovan said in that calm, everything’s-okay tone.
The guy jerked her back a step. She coughed when his arm hit her windpipe. “You just love playing the hero, don’t you? Well, this time there isn’t anything you can do to stop me.”
Sirens sounded in the distance, drowning out the Christmas music still playing as the parade marched on.
Thank God. Someone had called the cops.
Dots began to dance in front of her eyes as the guy’s grip tightened. Donovan took a step closer and the guy went postal. Waving the gun around, making threats. Suddenly his grip released and the sweaty body holding her disappeared.
Cloe stumbled into Donovan’s arms, dragging in deep breaths. She looked back to see a muscular, dark haired man wrestle the man to the ground. He handed the gun to Donovan, who leaned around her to take it.
The cops busted through the crowd, ordering everyone not to move. In a blur, she watched them take the gun from Donovan and cuff the man on the ground. When she saw him being hauled away in handcuffs she wilted. Donovan wrapped his arms around her, safe and protected.
“You’re safe,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner.”
She shook her head. “No. You saved me.”
“Actually, I saved you,” an amused male voice said behind her.
Cloe turned, not leaving the security of Donovan’s arms, to the handsome man who had grappled the guy to the ground and freed her. “Thank you,” she said.
Donovan clapped the guy on the shoulder. “Thanks, man. Knew you had my back.”
She looked between them. “You know him?”
The man held out a hand. “Jack Taggart. I’m on the team with Deuce.”
Of course. Only a Navy SEAL would know how to get a gun away from a criminal without hurting anyone. She shook his hand as Donovan’s family descended upon them. A gorgeous brunette threw herself in Jack’s arms, holding on for dear life.
Jack laughed, kissing her. “I’m fine. Had it handled the whole time, babe.”
The pieces clicked into place. Jack and Darci. This must be Jack’s wife. The one throwing the Christmas Eve party.
Everyone spoke at once, asking if she was all right. Still stunned, she could only nod. One of the cops interrupted, saying they needed to come make a statement at the station. Donovan promised his family he would call when they got home, so they let him go.
He led her to his car and helped her in, since her body didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Once inside, she wrapped her arms around her middle to stop her trembling. Donovan climbed in beside her, his hand covering hers briefly before he started the car and maneuvered onto the street.
“Oh, I found this,” he said, reaching into his pocket.
He handed her the turtledove ornament. Shaking, she took it. She held it against her chest and the last piece of ice shattered. Like it or not, she’d fallen in love with this charming Navy SEAL.
****
“The guy crumbled like a piece of crumb cake,” Deputy Sanders said.
Donovan tightened his hand around Cloe’s cold one. They’d given their statements, but Cloe refused to press charges. The police were charging him with felony assault and a handful of other charges.
“What did he say?” Cloe asked, her voice wavering slightly. “Why does he hate me so much?”
Deputy Sanders gave her a compassionate look. “This really had nothing to do with you. Except you were the last straw for this guy. His wife took out a restraining order a month ago when she filed for divorce. Guess he’s got debts he can’t pay and started getting rough with the wife, so she left him. When his boss fired him he went over the edge. He just blamed you because you happened to be the unlucky one there when he cracked.”
“He lost everything,” Cloe murmured.
“Appears so. And all within a couple months. Not your fault he ran a red that day and got himself fired. I talked with his boss and he’d been on the short list already. Acting out at work. Not bringing in clients as promised. Showing up late or not at all. He was a man on a ledge, Miss Carter. You did nothing wrong.”
A shudder ran through Cloe. Donovan rose to his feet, bringing her with him. He held out a hand to shake the deputy’s hand. “Thank you, Deputy.”
The deputy let go of his hand and said to Cloe, “I hope you don’t let this ruin your holiday.”
She gave him a jerky nod as Donovan led her from the room.
At his house, he suggested she take a long, hot bath. Cloe didn’t argue. He took the time to call his family and let them know everything was fine. Hopefully, Cloe would be too.
Seeing her being held at gunpoint had scared the life out of him. And made him accept that he never wanted to lose her.
The bathroom door opened and Cloe walked out, wearing a silky robe over her shorts and tank top. Her face was still pale, but she looked more relaxed.
“How about a glass of wine,” he suggested, starting to rise from the sofa.
She stopped him with a shake of her head. Her hands twisted in front of her, a frown marring her beautiful features.
“Cloe—”
She talked over him. “Last Christmas I was in a car accident that killed my fiancé and my parents.”
A rock settled in his gut.
“It was my fault. I was driving too fast, trying to outrun the storm. I hit a patch of black ice and crashed into the side of a mountain.” She stopped to draw in a shaky breath. “We shouldn’t have been traveling so late at night. My fiancé warned me about the storm, but I had just gotten a promotion at the ad agency I worked for and I worked late. I was always working late.”
Donovan let her get it out, not interrupting, but feeling her grief from even a few feet away. No wonder his comment about a beautiful girl being already married affected her so much. She’d been engaged. Damn.
“I had booked a ski resort for the weekend. Planned on celebrating Christmas at the resort. Which, if you knew my mom, took some doing. She was Martha Stewart when it came to holiday parties.” A small, sad smile touched her lips. “I actually convinced my mom to skip her annual Christmas Eve party and go on the trip. Trust me, a bigger deal than it sounds. She went all out on Christmas. Baking a month ahead, decorating the yard and house until they glowed with cheer. She was amazing. And my dad, he went along with it. Hanging lights and wreaths. Picking up the biggest, prettiest tree he could find. Taste-testing all the cookies, as he called it.”
He wanted her to sit by him so he could hold her, but she remained standing.
“I woke up i
n the hospital Christmas Day from a two-day coma. And that’s when they told me everyone I loved in the world was gone. I spent Christmas in the hospital. Alone. Grieving. This is my first Christmas without my family or my fiancé and I don’t know what to do. I used to love this time of the year. Now, it reminds me of all I lost. What I did.”
His chest tightened. He knew about survivor’s guilt. Had seen it many times in teammates. Thankfully, had never had to experience it himself, but the risk was always there.
“That’s my story.”
Her gaze met his, searching. He sensed she wasn’t ready for a hug, so he stayed put.
“I wanted to thank you for everything you did to help me tonight. Through this whole thing. But, now that the threat is gone I need to get back to my life.”
The words hit him like a slap to the face. She was leaving.
Reeling, he nodded. “I’ll drive you home tomorrow.”
Something flitted across her face before she lowered her head to hide it. Disappointment?
“Thank you. Good night.”
“Goodnight, cara,” he said softly as she closed the door on him. On them.
Chapter Eleven
With care, Cloe removed the flowered hatbox off her closet shelf and carried it to her bed. Her house felt empty and lonely without Donovan’s presence. As did her heart. She’d chosen to leave him before he left her and not a day went by she didn’t think about him. Or wake up from a sensual dream reaching for him.
It was for the best. At least that’s what she told herself. Her heart wasn’t buying it.
With a hand that shook, she pulled the lid off the box. Her breath escaped in a quiet rush as she stared at the contents. One by one, she took them out, her chest swelling with each memento. Letters from her dad to her mom when they were dating. Her mom’s favorite recipes. A picture of them at the beach when Cloe was young. Her parents’ wedding photo album.
As she unpacked the keepsakes, tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, clutching her parents’ picture to her chest. “Please, forgive me.”
“You have to forgive yourself.”
Her mother’s voice in her head made the tears fall harder. All the grief she’d been afraid to purge let go and she sobbed until there were no tears left.
Drained, she set the picture down and slid off the bed to go into the bathroom and wash her face. When she stood, something dropped to the floor. With a frown, she bent over and picked it up.
In awe, she stared at the turtledoves ornament. Faded with time, a tiny scratch on the wings from being packed so many times. Warmth spread through her, replacing her grief with hope. With a watery smile she said, “Thanks, Mom.”
She knew exactly what she had to do.
Feeling better than she had in a long time, she grabbed the recipes and hurried out to her computer.
Hours later, she parked in front of Demarco’s. Her stomach churned with butterflies at the possibility of seeing Donovan. They hadn’t seen each other in almost a week. He might not even be working today.
Before she lost her nerve, she grabbed the folder from the passenger seat and went inside. The restaurant was crowded like always.
“Cloe.”
She turned to see Angela smiling at her. Marcello stood behind the bar. Donovan’s parents in the kitchen. But no Donovan.
Disappointed, she returned Angela’s smile. “I’m not here to eat. I just need to drop this off for your mom.”
“Why don’t you give it to her yourself? Have a bite to eat while you’re here.”
“No. I have to run.” She thrust the folder at Angela, waved, and retreated. Being so close to Donovan’s family was harder than she’d thought. Made her miss him all the more.
She was almost to her car when someone called her name. She turned to see Donovan’s mother waving at her, the menu in her hand.
“Hi, Maureen,” she said as the petite woman approached.
Maureen tapped her hand on the menu and Cloe waited with bated breath to see what she had to say.
“You created this?” Maureen asked.
“I did. If you don’t like it—”
“Like it? We love it. It’s beautiful.”
Relief washed over her. She’d taken a chance with the old-world design mixed with a modern flair.
“Even Roman?”
Maureen smiled. “My husband thought it was very inventive. He said it was a nice upgrade. That’s a huge compliment, my dear.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you liked it.”
“You’ve solved years’ worth of arguing between my boys. You’re a miracle worker, Cloe Carter. And I want to make it up to you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Maureen patted her arm. “It is to me. Come in to the restaurant anytime. Your meals are on the house.”
A knife cut through her chest. See Donovan without being with him? No way could she bear that.
“Thank you. That’s very gracious,” she said.
“Well, I better get back inside before the place falls apart,” Maureen teased. “Will we see you at Darci’s Christmas Eve party tonight?”
She’d forgotten about that. Donovan had asked her to go, but that had been while under his protection. And he hadn’t called about it, so she assumed he didn’t plan on still taking her.
“I don’t think so. But have a wonderful holiday.”
Before Maureen saw the tears shining in her eyes she climbed in her car, waved and drove off. Like last year, she would spend Christmas alone.
****
Donovan rapped his knuckles on Cloe’s door. He hadn’t planned on taking her to Darci’s party, but after seeing the menus Cloe had created with such love and care, he knew he couldn’t let her go.
The door opened and she stood there, surprise on her beautiful face.
“You’re not dressed,” he said. “Party starts in half-hour.”
Her brows drew down. “You’re not protecting me anymore. There’s no need for me to go.”
God love her stubborn hide. She was going to make him say it. He stepped closer. “I want you to go. With me.”
Her gaze lifted to meet his as he crowded her inside.
“Like a date?” she asked.
Damn. She smelled good. He’d rather stay in and make love to her all night, but he’d promised his best friend he’d be at the party. “Yes.”
“What makes you think I still want to go with you?”
He grinned. Sassy. He liked that. He kicked the door closed and heat flared in her eyes. “You’d stand me up?” he challenged.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
Her gaze grew bold. The ghosts that once haunted those gorgeous green eyes were gone.
“On why you want to take me.”
They were toe-to-toe now. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. She didn’t put up any fight and his heart soared.
“God, I love your spirit,” he murmured, cupping her cheek.
“Is that all?”
He couldn’t help but smile. She wanted the words. She’d get them. “I love you, Cloe Carter. I’m sorry about what happened to you in the past. I know I can’t replace what you lost, but I’d like to start fresh. I swear to you, I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.”
A smile lit her face. Her arms went around his neck. “I don’t want you to replace what I lost. But, I would love to spend the rest of my days with you. No one has ever made me feel like you do. And, as scary as it is to take this leap of faith, I’m willing to do it for you. I love you, Donovan. More than I ever thought I could.”
“Looks like Santa brought us both something special this Christmas,” he said before claiming her lips.
****
Cloe opened her eyes slowly to warm sunshine coming through her bedroom window. A smile spread across her face as last night’s events filled her head. Donovan’s vow of love, her ability to return it. Opening that box of keepsakes had helped he
r grieve and move on. Forgiving herself helped too. She would always feel the pain of all she’d lost, but with Donovan at her side it didn’t hurt so much.
They had gone to the party, even though she’d wanted to go to bed and stay there making love all night. She’d met the rest of Donovan’s SEAL team, and Darci. And even though it brought back memories of her mother’s Christmas Eve parties, she’d been able to enjoy herself. Maybe because she was surrounded by family and people she was happy to call friends. Or maybe because she’d finally let herself mourn.
Everything felt right. And, she’d swear she felt her parents smiling down on her. Even Lance. He’d been a good man and he’d want her to be happy. She’d never been happier.
A hand slid down her thigh and her smile broadened. She hadn’t spent the holiday alone after all.
“Good morning,” Donovan said, kissing her shoulder.
She rolled into his arms, cupping his scruffy cheeks. There had been a Santa at the party last night. He’d looked just like the Santa she’d seen after her accident. The one that told her Santa was bringing her something special this Christmas as long as she opened her heart and accepted the gift. He’d simply winked at her and disappeared. When she asked about him, no one knew where he’d gone. Darci said she hadn’t hired a Santa. Cloe wrote it off as too much eggnog. But Santa had brought her something special. He’d brought her a new beginning.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispered.
The End
Jennifer Lowery
NY Times and USA Today bestselling author
Jennifer Lowery grew up reading romance novels in the back of her math book and on the bus to school, and never wanted to be anything but a writer. Her summers were spent sitting at the kitchen table with her sisters spinning tales of romance and intrigue and always with a tall glass of ice tea at their side.
Today, Jennifer is living that dream and she couldn’t be happier to share her passion with her readers. She loves everything there is about romance. Her stories feature alpha heroes who meet their match with strong, independent heroines. She believes that happily ever after is only the beginning of her stories. And the road to that happy ending is paved with action, adventure, and romance. As her characters find out when they face danger, overcome fears, and are forced to look deep within themselves to discover love.
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