Christmas with a SEAL

by Tawny Weber

  Instead, she meandered along, sipping cocoa and playing back their interrupted kiss in her head. Whatever that commander guy had said had seemed pretty innocuous to her. Maybe it was code. Maybe that was why Phillip was in such a hurry. He had to rush back to save the world. That was the kind of thing he did, wasn’t it?

  She put the cap back on the Thermos with a frown. It didn’t taste good anymore. Either that or the idea of Phillip donning camouflage and facing down dangerous situations was putting a bad taste in her mouth. Her stomach clenched, just like it did each time she imagined what kind of memories were tormenting him.

  Not going to think about it, she mentally chanted. Not even going to wonder. That scary military stuff didn’t fit anywhere in her Phillip-fantasy file.

  But he was hurting.

  Frankie’s brow creased when she reached the parking lot and saw that Phillip had not only paid for and tied the tree to the vehicle but was waiting in the driver’s seat with the engine running.

  A part of her wanted to scurry back into the woods.

  She didn’t know how to handle this. How to handle him. Should she try to comfort him? Should she pretend nothing was amiss? Did she ask who Donovan was, why the program being extended was a bad thing?

  Nerves jangling, she climbed in the passenger seat.

  “Lucky you keep an SUV in the garage,” she observed brightly, twisting the Thermos around and around in her lap.

  “Right. Lucky,” he agreed, pulling out of the farm and heading for the highway. His tone was pleasant and his expression mild.

  “I’m here if you’d like to talk,” she suggested quietly. “I’m a good listener.”

  “I don’t need to talk, but thank you for the offer.”

  Frankie wrinkled her nose. He sounded like a robot.

  “I figure we should put the tree in the gardener’s shed for now, then bring it in tomorrow morning. What do you think?”

  “I can take care of it.”

  “I know you can, but a fresh tree has to be—”

  “I’ll follow the farmer’s instructions and soak the tree. It’ll be fine,” he interrupted.

  She didn’t know if he was assuring her or blaming her.

  Frustrated and heading toward irritated, Frankie crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

  He didn’t seem impressed. Of course, he didn’t even look her way so it was hard to tell.

  “I’d like to help,” she offered through clenched teeth.

  “It’s a simple process. Take the tree out of the vehicle, put water in a bucket and add the tree. I don’t need help.”

  Apparently not. Frankie swallowed against the tears clogging her throat.

  He pulled into the circular driveway.

  “What about decorating?” she asked quietly. “What time tomorrow is good for you?”

  She saw the answer on his face, so she lifted her hand to stop him before he could blow her off.

  “Decorating the tree won’t take more than an hour,” she assured him as he pulled into the driveway. “We can’t just leave it naked. Not only would that be inappropriate for the Banks house, it would be a huge waste.”

  “Decorate it whenever you’d like,” he suggested.

  “Not without you.” Frankie lifted her chin and gave him her hardest look.

  With slow, precise moves, Phillip killed the ignition and turned to face her. He didn’t get all flamed up when he was angry like she did. Instead, he turned to ice. His eyes frosted and his expression chilled.

  It was kinda sexy.

  “I’ve indulged your whims enough today, Frankie. Now I have things to do.”

  So much for sexy.

  “Whims?” she repeated, her ears ringing.

  He sounded so much like his father talking to Lara that Frankie was tempted to look around the vehicle to see if they’d been joined by an uptight prig of a ghost.

  “You know, I’m trying to be understanding because you’re obviously upset,” she said, proud of how calm she could sound while spitting the words through clenched teeth.

  “I’m not upset,” he contradicted in that same all-important, prissy tone of his. “I am busy, though. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to be going.”

  Translation: “Get your butt out of the vehicle already. I’m done with you.”

  Who was this man?

  Too pissed to care, Frankie threw the door open and hopped out. She was about to storm off, let him shut his own damned door, and then she stopped.

  Turning, she gave him her biggest smile. The one she practiced on snotty saleswomen and her obnoxious cousin.

  “After you’re finished soaking the tree, you might want to try the same process with your head. That is, if you can find a big enough bucket.”

  With that and her best flounce, Frankie stormed off.

  She didn’t make it two feet before she was swept off her feet.

  Her scream was drowned out by Phillip’s mouth on hers. Gripping her tight, his tongue plunged, plundered and pleasured.

  “I’m still pissed,” she told him between kisses.

  “Okay.”

  “You were a total jerk,” she said as he knotted his fist in her hair.

  “Sure.”

  “This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” she gasped when he gripped her butt with one hand and pulled her against his erection.

  “Nope.”

  “Let’s go inside,” she panted. “We can take care of the tree later.”

  12

  CURLED IN PHILLIP’S arms, Frankie didn’t know if it had been minutes or hours since he’d carried her up the stairs.

  It was all a blur.

  One big, sensually overloaded, deliciously orgasmic blur.

  She was pretty sure the blur had involved a wall, a dresser and finally the bed. She knew it had included at least three orgasms.

  “Maybe there’s something to this Christmas thing after all,” he’d uttered just before slipping into sleep.

  She’d done it. Campaign Christmas was working. Frankie sighed with pleasure.

  Even as she slid her thigh along his, reveling in the differences in their bodies, a part of her screamed a warning. This was too much. What he made her feel, how deeply he made her want? It was going to hurt so much when he was gone.

  She ran her fingers through the hair on his chest. Phillip’s deep, even breathing didn’t change.

  She wasn’t going to worry about it. Not now. She wasn’t going to let her fear of tomorrow stop her from enjoying today. She had too much to be grateful for. She had her creative mojo back, was having great sex and enjoying the best holiday of her life.

  She was still a little worried about Phillip selling the estate. But no Realtors had come through, no assessors, nothing. He’d even left the reindeer in the foyer. No way he’d let that funky eyesore stay if he was planning to sell.

  Frankie smiled, breathing in the subtle scent of Phillip’s cologne.

  They were making cookies, watching movies and picking out Christmas trees.

  Living in the now had some pretty sweet rewards.

  Frankie shifted. Before she could slide her body over the delicious hardness of Phillip’s, he tensed.

  His face tightened, his brow cutting a line through his forehead. She could actually hear his teeth grinding together.

  “No. No.” His muttered words were filled with excruciating pain, beyond anything she’d ever heard.

  Her stomach pitching, Frankie drew back. She wanted to comfort him, but she was afraid to touch him. She wanted to help, but she was terrified that whatever was haunting him would be too much for her to handle. Like a child standing in front of a closet filled with monsters, she wanted to hide under the bed, but knew they wouldn’t go away
if she did.

  Swallowing hard, she tried to steady her shaking hand, then gave up and simply pressed her palm to his chest.

  With an anguished howl, Phillip shot into a sitting position, fists up and fury etched on his face.

  Frankie screamed, almost falling in her haste to get out of the bed.

  What had she done to him?

  His eyes glazed, his breath harsh, Phillip hissed through his teeth, then blinked. Frowning, he looked around. When he saw her, he closed his eyes, dropped his face to his hands and groaned.

  “Phillip...” she whispered. But she didn’t know what to say next.

  It was just as well, since he held up one hand to stop her, then slid from the bed to storm into the bathroom. Should she leave before he came out? She was naked, for crying out loud. Her clothes were strewn all over the room and her grandmother was downstairs.

  Besides, she couldn’t leave him. Not like this.

  With a shaky breath, she pulled a blanket off the bed to wrap around her and waited.

  She heard water run.

  Then he came out.

  His hair was wet, water sliding down the side of his neck and over his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot and his jaw tense. Like her, he’d covered his vulnerability a little by wrapping a towel around his hips.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice like gravel as he stared out the French doors.

  “That’s what I was going to say,” Frankie told him, keeping her tone light.

  He didn’t take her invitation to lighten up. If anything his glower deepened and tension filled the room.

  Frankie stared at her fingers as they folded perfect pleats into the sheet. She should let it go. She knew he wanted her to. With anyone else, she would. She’d make a joke, maybe drop the sheet and make a proposition.

  Ready to do one or the other or both, she pasted on an upbeat smile and lifted her head.

  Before she could say anything, her fingers halfway to the knot of her sheet, she froze.

  He hadn’t moved.

  His gaze was locked on the door, but she knew he didn’t see the trees beyond. His expression was closed.

  His body was so tight he looked like a statue. One of those gorgeous Greek gods, all sleek muscles and tempting lines. Except those statues didn’t have scars crisscrossing their backs or climbing from their hands to their shoulders.

  Frankie knew he was completely healed.

  But Phillip radiated pain. So much pain.

  Her eyes filled, but Frankie blinked back the tears. She didn’t know what he needed, but she knew it wasn’t her bawling.

  “I know this is probably one of those top-secret situations that if you told me you’d have to kill me,” she said with a shaky smile. A bad joke was better than no joke, right? Since his expression didn’t change, she couldn’t tell.

  “I’m here, though,” she said, sliding from the bed. “I’m a good listener.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I’m fine.”

  His tone said, Back off.

  Frankie wet her lips.

  He didn’t want her help. They were a temporary fling, a good time. Neither of them wanted this heavy emotional stuff between them. Hell, she didn’t even know how to do heavy emotional stuff.

  So she said the only thing she could think of....

  “I love you.”

  * * *

  SHE WHAT?

  If Frankie had pulled a gun from under that sheet and shot him, Phillip couldn’t have been more shocked.

  Reeling from the emotional overload of battling the nasty hangover effects of his nightmare, he was tempted to ask her to repeat herself. But he had excellent hearing.

  And then there was the look on her face.

  As soon as the words had left her mouth, she’d turned so white her freckles almost glowed. Her eyes were huge and her hand slapped over her mouth as though she couldn’t believe what she’d just said.

  Phillip didn’t know what to do with these new emotions racing through him. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to identify them. Not when he knew they were the result of a mistaken comment.

  She’d been trying to offer comfort. The words didn’t mean anything. Not to her.

  But to him?

  Phillip squared his shoulders, lifted his chin and did the manly thing. He ignored his feelings.

  “I’m sorry,” Frankie murmured, dropping her hand and scrunching her face. “You sure you don’t want to talk about your nightmares?”

  Phillip’s lips twitched.

  He was quite certain this was the first time he’d ever felt like smiling about anything connected to his capture.

  “I never confirmed I had nightmares,” he said, allowing the subject change. It was the least he could do.

  Her grateful smile was like sunshine, chasing away the heavy gray cloud that hovered over his shoulder.

  “Alleged nightmares?” she offered, leaning against the bed. The evening light danced across her bare shoulder, her red curls waving over the sheet. Her expression was sweet, but he could see the worry, the concern in her eyes.

  He wasn’t an emotional man. As he stood in the warmth of that smile, he tried to figure out what it was about Frankie that touched him so deeply. He felt things—things he couldn’t label. Things that—like Santa Claus—he knew didn’t really exist.

  He couldn’t address her claim of...well, that claim she’d made, he decided to call it. He wasn’t able to repeat her words, even in his head.

  But he could assuage her worry.

  “They aren’t nightmares, simply memories,” he told her with a shrug. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

  “From when you were captured?” she asked in a tiny voice.

  “What do you know about that? Did I say something in my sleep?” He was skilled enough to keep his expression calm, his voice even. But his guts were in knots and his heart was tripping as though he’d just stepped on a land mine.

  “No,” she assured him. “You never talk in your sleep. Heck, you barely even move. Usually the only way to tell if you’re having a bad dream is to watch your face. You get this little frown—” she indicated a spot between her brows “—and your body tenses up. Don’t worry. You’re not giving away military secrets.”

  “You watch me sleep?”

  Her eyes widened. “Sometimes. It’s not like I make a habit out of it or anything,” she assured him with a wave of her hand. “It’s just that I sometimes think about waking you up for a little, you know, sexy time. And I tend to stare a little while I’m imagining how I’ll do it.”

  Damn, she was adorable. Grinning, Phillip dropped onto the bed, patting the mattress next to him. Frankie gave a relieved sigh and sat, cross-legged, to face him.

  He arched his brow and waited.

  For a moment, she held his gaze, her expression innocent. Then she sighed and shrugged.

  “Lara told me. Don’t be mad at her, though. She was just venting over something having to do with Dominic. This was after he’d kidnapped her—her words, by the way—and hauled her off to California. I just remember her saying that the reason behind his rude behavior was that he was protecting her because you’d been grabbed by some bad guy while on a mission.”

  He hated that his sister’s life had been put in danger. That her life had been disrupted, could have been destroyed, because of him. He’d lied to Frankie. Not all of his dreams were memories. Some were nightmares in which Lara was the prisoner instead of him.

  But he’d never give voice to that horror.

  “Rude behavior?” he asked instead.

  “I’m paraphrasing,” Frankie admitted. “Her actual words were something along the lines of him being a dimpled jackass with a god complex who needed to be taught a thing or two.”

&n
bsp; “That’s Castillo, all right.” Phillip laughed. Then, seeing Frankie’s smile fade, he sobered, too.

  “The mission went bad. We didn’t have a contingency plan in place for what happened, and I was grabbed,” he admitted.

  “How long were you held?” she asked, her words as soft as the fingers she was gently sliding over the back of his hand to trace the paths of his scars.

  “Three days. Due to complications, it took the team another two to complete the extraction.” For two days, the team had carried his mess of a body through the jungle because they didn’t know who the traitor was, couldn’t risk a full-scale battle causing an international incident.

  A tear slipped down Frankie’s cheek.

  He wanted to look away, to distance himself from her reaction. He might be able to ignore his emotions, but he couldn’t ignore hers.

  He turned his hand, joining their fingers together and squeezing.

  “Three days...” she whispered. “I can’t imagine what it was like, how you felt.”

  It had been like hell, and beneath the pain and terror, he’d felt the righteous fury of a man who had been sent there unjustly.

  But he’d never say that aloud.

  “I’m fine. My team is the best.”

  Phillip gave in to a brewing headache and pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve some of the pressure.

  “And yet everything that happened, being captured, being sent here to teach, which you hate... You’d do it all again, wouldn’t you?”

  There was no judgment in her gaze, no recrimination.

  But there was a change. He wanted to ask what she was thinking, why the light in her big brown eyes had dimmed. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Instead, he simply answered her question.

  “Yes. I’d do it again.” He’d do it differently, though. He’d listen to his gut instead of relying on intelligence reports. He’d rely more on his team and less on reports.

  He thought back to the meeting in the woods that had set him off this afternoon. If the commander pulled enough strings, Phillip wouldn’t have to worry about making those kinds of choices.