A Proposal for Christmas: State SecretsThe Five Days of Christmas

by Linda Lael Miller

  “Colt...let me help....” she whispered. The line of his mouth softened as she grazed his lips with her own. He groaned, and the sound reverberated through her like the roll of a drum. Feeling bolder, she pressed closer and felt some of his tension dissolve beneath her tender ministrations. Repeatedly, she feathered her mouth across his, begging access, asking silently for him to give her the overwhelming pain he was barely holding at bay.

  Then his arms came around her and captured her hard against him. The air rushed out of her lungs as he stood up, dragging her with him, her breasts and hips melding hotly against his own. His mouth opened and his lips crushed hers in a ravenous kiss. Fire erupted through Abbie as his arms wound around her back and he rocked her into his embrace. Automatically, her hands opened, and she found them sliding up around his thick shoulders and neck.

  Colt smelled of evergreens and his own unique scent, making her respond to his questing mouth with equal ardor. Running her fingers through his short hair, Abbie moaned a little as his hand ranged down from her shoulder, across her rib cage toward her aching, taut breast. Oh, how she wanted this man! Her heart spun with joy. Her pulse throbbed and her lower body melted against his narrow hips, on fire. She felt his desire for her, and more flames sizzled through her, making her knees go weak with need. Need for Colt.

  His mouth was bruising and hungry against hers. Abbie felt him tremble savagely as she allowed him open access, his tongue laving her lower lip. As she pulled him tightly against her, his mouth commanding and needy, Abbie relaxed completely within his powerful embrace. She knew that her surrendering to him had triggered something else within him. Abbie felt it, lost as she was in a swirl of joy, hunger and need. She wanted to take his pain, transmute it in order to release it. Love had a way of doing that—of healing even the worst hemorrhaging wound within a person’s heart and soul.

  Willingly she offered herself—all of herself—to Colt in this magical moment outside of time. His skin was sandpapery against her softer flesh, his punctuated breath warm and moist against her face. She moved her lips against his mouth, and in that instant became aware of the taste of salt clinging to the corners. For a moment she was confused, and then she realized it was from Colt’s tears. Tears of pain. Tears of agony. Tears he’d suffered and carried silently for so long by himself.

  The salty tears met and mingled beneath their wet, searching mouths. She shifted her hands to his face, framing it as her tongue moved deep within him. Again he trembled, like a bull being shaken by an earthquake. Abbie held him with her womanly strength, guided by her heart, which told her this was healing him, helping him, and helping her, too. Never in all her life had she shared such a kiss with a man. Not ever. Euphoria enveloped her as she felt the last of Colt’s tears ease. Drowsily opening her eyes, she burned beneath his stormy green gaze as he voraciously absorbed her into himself. She was small compared to his power and size. Yet as she caressed his cheek and smiled tremulously up at him, the taste of his tears still on her lips, she understood the healing power of one person’s love and what it could do to unlock another’s armored heart and soul.

  Colt stood there, his senses screamingly alive, his lower body aching with a knot of fire and need. Gently, he eased his grip from around Abbie and set her carefully on her feet. He didn’t want to let her go—not yet. Not ever, his heart whispered. There was such a thunderstorm of emotions raging through him right now that he found it impossible to find words to tell her. Hell, he couldn’t even begin to define them himself. Part was rage and frustration over the missions. Another was grief over the people he’d seen die. And just as insistent were the new emotions exploding in his pounding heart—emotions about Abbie. Sweet, soft, strong Abbie. As he gazed wordlessly down into her lustrous eyes, Colt threaded his fingers through the silky, coppery hair that framed her blushing features.

  “You’re so sweet, Abbie. You’re like a dream I’ve always had, but was afraid to believe in....”

  4

  December 23—Day 3

  Colt had cried—the first tears he’d ever shed over his life-altering missions. In fact, he never cried. The last time he recalled even getting close to it was when his ex-wife had walked out on him. Even more disturbing to him, he realized as he slowly got dressed the next morning, was the fact that he’d cried in Abbie’s arms. It had been unexpected, the last thing on his mind.

  He wondered now if she thought he was a wimp. Frowning, he shrugged into his bright red flannel shirt and tucked the tails into his jeans. Outside the picture window of the condo, the sky was a bright blue, the sun sparkling off the tops of the snow-covered evergreens that surrounded the small valley. The storm had passed.

  “Yeah...right,” he muttered, picking up his white silk scarf and, out of habit, throwing it around his neck. He’d worn the scarf while flying as a helicopter pilot, as the silk protected his neck from chafing as he rubbernecked around, while looking for the bad guys.

  He was meeting Abbie at 9:00 a.m. to help her move her beautiful cattleya orchids, which were all in bloom in her greenhouse, to Laura and Morgan’s home for the upcoming family dinner planned for the third day of Christmas.

  Halting in the middle of the room, his leather bomber jacket in hand, he scowled, and his gut clenched. He was feeling such pain, such uncertainty, that he really didn’t want to face Abbie, Colt realized. He was afraid. There, he’d admitted it. Afraid of what she might think of him crying during their heated, beautiful, healing kiss there in the shack yesterday. What must she think of him? Did she see him as weak? Probably.

  Undecided, Colt slowly shrugged into his bomber jacket and straightened the collar. He’d never cried in front of a woman. Ever. But he had with her. What the hell was going down here? Rubbing his recently shaved jaw, Colt scowled darkly out the window. The world was beautiful here in the middle of winter. He didn’t feel beautiful inside. Not at all.

  Ruthlessly examining himself, which was not something Colt did often, he realized he had to get a grip on his escaping feelings when he was around Abbie. He didn’t want to become a blubbering wuss in front of her again. Cringing over that possibility, Colt sensed that was why he was so damned scared and unsure this morning: Abbie just sort of unconsciously catalyzed his feelings—good and bad. He’d never met a woman who could do that. It was like magic, only it was dark magic and he had no interest in having his own private hell of a Pandora’s box spontaneously opened without his permission or knowledge. Hell, he’d been kissing her, and enjoying it like an eagle on wing flying directly into the sun’s warmth. Then, out of nowhere, Colt had felt warmth leaking out of the corners of his closed eyes and drifting down his cheeks to where their mouths clung wetly to one another.

  At first, he’d been shocked by the taste of salt between their lips. And when he realized what it was, and where it was coming from, he’d torn his mouth from Abbie’s and taken a step away from her, as if he’d been burned.

  He couldn’t bear remembering the hurt look on her face as she’d stood there, her lips wet and parted, her eyes huge with desire and, at the same time, shock over his unexpected action. What else was he to do? Cry some more? Weep his heart out in her slender but strong arms? What if someone had come up to the shack at that time and seen him crying? What would they think? Colt knew something like that would be bound to travel very fast in the tight circle of Perseus families. It was a closed community, and everyone knew everyone else’s business. He didn’t need it getting back to Morgan that he’d been crying like a hurt little boy in Abbie’s arms. If anyone had come up and seen them kissing...well, that was acceptable to Colt. But not being discovered crying.

  “Damn,” he growled, his voice echoing around the living room as he dropped his hand from his chin. What was he going to do? The fact that he had been so vulnerable in front of her was making him feel like hell. And the fact that he’d abruptly turned on his heel and left Abbie alone in that shack, tore him up even more. He’d walked away. He’d run. Like a coward. He had hitched a r
ide home with another family and hadn’t spoken to Abbie since.

  “You’re a damned coward,” Colt muttered. He’d left her in the lurch; left her to move all the stuff back to her van to transport to Morgan’s home. Worse, after that life-giving kiss had seared his broken soul, he’d left her without explanation. She probably thought she’d done something wrong. But he was the one who had.

  As he lifted his chin and glared out at the sunny morning, Colt knew he had to go over to Abbie’s and talk to her. And if she was pissed off at him and his antics, so be it. He wouldn’t blame her for her righteous anger over his immature, knee-jerk actions. The least he owed her was an explanation. And in his anguished heart, Colt hoped Abbie would not only understand, but would allow him back into her life. He was frightened by how easily she touched his emotions and freed them. Colt wanted her in every way, but he didn’t want to pay the entry fee.

  So where did that leave them? Leave Abbie? She didn’t deserve this adolescent behavior of his. No, what he was proposing to do was steal the honey from the hive, but not feed the bees who made it. He was like an interloping bear, all he wanted to do was eat dessert and walk away, sated. Glowering as he moved slowly toward the door, keys to his car in hand, Colt didn’t like himself at all. Abbie didn’t deserve to be hurt like this. And yet he’d done a spectacular job of it. What would she think when she saw him on her porch? Scream? Curse at him? Tell him to get the hell out of her life? Worse? As Colt shut and locked the condo door, he had no hope that Abbie would allow him back in her life.

  * * *

  Abbie gulped as she opened the door. Colt stood there, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his bomber jacket. He looked like hell warmed over—his skin pasty, dark shadows beneath his narrowed, bloodshot eyes, and his mouth twisted in a line of pain that sent a shaft of hurt through her heart.

  “Come in,” she invited softly, stepping aside. On her table were ten carefully wrapped pots of orchids, which she was about to carry out to her car and transport over to Laura’s place for the dinner party tonight.

  Abbie’s heart beat hard in her chest as he gave her an anxious look. Then, with hesitation, Colt moved woodenly through the door. She shut it and looked up at him. The tension swirled between them.

  “I guess...” Colt began awkwardly, his voice sounding like sandpaper, “I shouldn’t have invited myself over here this morning, Abbie.” Shrugging his drooping shoulders, he saw her eyes grow warm with compassion—for him. He couldn’t help but absorb her beauty in that moment. She was wearing a plum-colored angora shell with a white cotton blouse beneath it. Her hair was wild and free around her face and shoulders. A pang of longing shot through Colt. How badly he wanted to sift those red-gold strands through his fingers as he had yesterday afternoon. Her hair was so soft, and yet so strong and resilient...like her.

  Wrapping her arms against her breasts, she clung to his every word. Feeling horribly vulnerable, she managed to answer in a strained tone, “I’m glad you did, Colt. I don’t know what happened yesterday between us. You just left...”

  Smarting despite her gentleness toward him, he pulled his hands out of his jacket pockets. “I, uh...damn, this is hard, Abbie.” Opening his hands toward her, he muttered, “I’m sorry. It was me yesterday, not you. You did nothing wrong.”

  “I see....” Abbie’s senses took over. She saw such vulnerability in Colt’s face right now. His eyes were wide and pleading, his hands open in supplication. He was hurting so much even now that Abbie could almost taste his salty tears from yesterday. Her first instinct was to open her arms, step forward, throw them around Colt’s neck and hold him. Hold him, rock him and let him know that he could find safe harbor with another human being.

  The silence strung tautly between them.

  “If I’m overstepping my bounds with you, Colt, let me know,” Abbie whispered. She unlocked her arms and let them fall to her sides. Colt dropped his hands, too. They stood three feet apart, yet it seemed like the Grand Canyon stretched between them. “I feel you’re more embarrassed over crying yesterday than anything else. Is that right?” Abbie searched his furtive gaze. At first Colt wouldn’t look at her. He stared down at his boots for a long time, his mouth working. Finally, he lifted his head and tentatively met her eyes.

  “I...well, I was...but it was more than that, Abbie.” Colt nervously cleared his throat. “Well...men just don’t cry. At least, I don’t. And I enjoyed the hell out of our kiss.” He closed his eyes momentarily and then reopened them, looking up at the rafters, which were hung with swags of fresh pine and red ribbons. “I didn’t see it coming. One moment I was kissing you and enjoying every second of it. The next thing I realized, this stuff was running down my face.”

  Gently, Abbie said, “Do you know what the tears were about?” She thought she knew, but wasn’t going to say. Colt had to give voice to his trauma, not her.

  Struggling mightily, Colt looked around. His mouth became a slash. Damn, it was happening again! He could feel that fist of pressure tightening around his heart, and he could feel the heated prick of tears at the back of his eyes. Just Abbie’s voice was triggering all of this. Colt fought his feelings savagely. It seemed like he stood there an hour instead of just a minute grappling with the knot of emotions and tears that so badly wanted to vomit out of him. Finally, he got a handle on himself. Giving her a narrowed look, he rasped, “Yeah...it’s about those missions over in Kosovo.”

  Abbie nodded, feeling as if she were walking on fragile eggs with Colt. He looked unhappy, his eyes burning with unexpressed emotions. How many times had Abbie seen this in Ted’s eyes when he would come home after a traumatic mission? This was no different. Taking a huge risk, she walked up to Colt and placed her hand tentatively on his, which was balled into a tense fist at his side.

  “Sometimes I hate our society, Colt. I see the damage it has done to men and women. Little boys are taught that it’s not okay to cry, to show their feelings or talk about them. And so you go through life believing that if you do have feelings or tears, everyone will think you’re weak and unmanly.” She grimaced. “What a crock. If God hadn’t given you tear ducts and a heart to feel with, that would be one thing. But he did.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I wasn’t surprised at your tears, Colt. I can feel such pain and suffering around you. I figured it probably had to do with those missions you were on. All I could hope for was that you might trust me enough to let all that darkness spill out of you, let me be a shoulder to cry on...a set of ears to listen without judgment to what you went through and survived. That was all I wanted.” Abbie gave him a slight smile and drowned in his stormy looking eyes. “I don’t know about you, but when I cry, it feels so good to get it out of my system. I feel much better afterward. And there’re so many things we should cry over. I felt honored that you’d share your tears with me, Colt. That kiss...those moments were very special to me. And I hoped they were to you, too....”

  Had she said too much? Abbie cringed inwardly, then watched Colt’s face in awe. Her words seemed to have had a profound physical effect on him. His brow, once scrunched, was easing. His eyes were losing that hurt and hardness. Most of all, his mouth was losing that tight look of silent, anguished suffering. She felt his fist relax and he enclosed her hand within his.

  “I’m scared, Abbie.” There. It was out. Colt braced himself. He saw her eyes flare with surprise and then...understanding. Her lips parted and she whispered his name like a prayer.

  “Oh, Colt...you don’t ever have to be afraid of me....”

  Heartened, he rasped, “I figured you’d be royally pissed off at me, running out of there like the coward I was.”

  Shaking her head, Abbie forced back the tears that wanted to rush into her eyes. “I knew something had happened, Colt. I didn’t know what. But I knew it wasn’t me, either. It was something deep within you...and it had caught you off guard, judging by the look on your face.” Taking a huge risk, Abbie leaned upward on tiptoe and placed a warm kiss on h
is cheek, then eased away from him. She saw pleasure replace his pain for a moment at her bold action. Her heart soared with elation.

  “Colt, you were scared. And running from your fear. Well...” Abbie looked fondly around the warm kitchen, where sunlight poured through the Victorian lace curtains over the window above the sink. “I’ve been running for nearly two years, ever since Ted died. When I realized what I was doing, and that it wasn’t healthy for me long-term, I stopped it. I faced the music. I faced the fact he was dead and not ever coming back.” She touched her chest, above her heart. “The miracle was that when I did that, I started to heal, Colt.” Giving him a look of pride, she said, “You came back here...to face me. You didn’t have to—you could have hidden in that condo again. You’re a lot braver than you give yourself credit for Colt.”

  Realizing her wisdom was based upon the harsh experience of losing someone she loved deeply, he nodded. “I hear you. I’m not proud of what I did to you, Abbie. I was scared. I still am. Right now, I feel like I’m in a helicopter that’s tumbling out of my control.” Giving her a long, intense look, he drowned in her shimmering blue eyes. “There’s something about you that’s triggering all this dark stuff in me. It wants to come out. I’m trying to sit on it, but it’s alive, like a monster inside me, eating me up.”

  “I know, Colt. I know....” Abbie wanted to throw her arms around him. She saw his pain so clearly in his eyes. “I’ve been through that same gauntlet you’re going through right now. My trauma wasn’t over missions, but it was about death and loss, and that’s something we share in common.”