Christmas with a SEAL

by Tawny Weber

  She walked over to the tree, her fingers dancing over the ornaments. His and hers, side by side.

  She’d fixed Phillip’s outlook on Christmas.

  She could fix this, too.

  Taking a deep breath, her chin up, expression bright, she turned to face him. Seated on the couch, he had one leg crossed over his knee and a patient look on his face.

  She almost melted at the look in his eyes.

  Love. She was sure that was what she saw there.

  “Look, um...” She wet her lips. This was hard. Just blurt it out, she told herself. “I changed my mind.”

  Phillip gave her a narrow stare, clearly looking for the catch.

  Frankie knew what it was, but she wasn’t saying. Not yet.

  “You’ve changed your mind,” he repeated, drawing the words out. “About my proposal?”

  Frankie twisted her hands together, and her rings cut into her flesh, she was gripping so tight. But she was afraid to let go.

  “Yes. About that.”

  “That...” Phillip leaned back on antique couch, looking as casual as if he were talking about the weather. But the expression in his eyes told her that the weather had the potential to quickly turn very unpredictable.

  She waited for him to explode.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he gave a friendly nod and smiled.

  “And the list of reasons we’re completely unsuited that you shared yesterday?

  “It’s still valid.” She frowned. “Of course, it was valid when we first met. And when we first slept together. And it’ll still be true one year from now or ten.”

  “So you admit it was pure bullshit?”

  Frankie’s mouth dropped.

  “Well, not pure, I mean...” She grimaced.

  Phillip grinned.

  It was that smile that did it. It was as if he’d opened the floodgate, and suddenly everything she’d promised herself she wouldn’t tell him started spewing from her mouth.

  “I was afraid, okay. I was terrified I’d ruin this, ruin us. You have no idea what it’s like to feel like a failure,” she shouted. “To want something so badly you can taste it, to see it so clearly in your head you swear you could touch it. But when you reach out for it? Nothing. Because you’ve blown it.”

  Frankie shoved her hands through her hair, tugging to relieve some of the pressure building inside her head.

  “I spent years perfecting my craft. I gave up dates, blew off friends, lived on ramen noodles and peanut butter to build my business. I busted my ass, Phillip. I wanted that more than I wanted my next breath. It was everything to me.” She had to stop. The tears were coming so fast her words were a blur. She took a shaky breath, determined to finish this. “The dream wasn’t stolen from me. Nobody lied or cheated or screwed me over. I couldn’t make it work. No matter how much I wanted it, no matter how important it was to me, I couldn’t hold on to it.”

  She finally looked at him again, and then wished she hadn’t.

  His expression was about the same as she’d expect if she’d dropped a grenade in his boxer shorts. Horrified disbelief combined with a hefty shot of fear and a whole lot of irritation.

  Phillip got to his feet, obviously about to say something. Frankie held up her hand to stop him.

  She had to finish.

  He deserved that.

  Poor guy.

  “As much as my career meant to me, as important as that dream is, it’s nothing compared to how I much I love you,” Frankie confessed quietly.

  Staring at the polka dots on her rain boots, Frankie waited. The urge to cry was gone.

  Replaced by an urge to throw up.

  “Say something,” she muttered when she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “I’m trying to decide where to start.”

  Before she decided if that was a good thing or a bad thing, he was right there in front of her. Her stomach jumped. Damn, he moved quietly.

  Frankie lifted her gaze, but before she could check his expression, he kissed her. Hot and sweet, his lips moved over hers. The fear that had been knotted, tight and painful, in her belly broke loose. Frankie had no idea what the kiss meant, but she knew it had to be good.

  Didn’t it?

  Unless it was a pity kiss.

  Frankie groaned.

  Phillip leaned back.

  “That wasn’t a sound of pleasure,” he observed. “Did you think up more reasons why we’re wrong for each other?”

  “Well—”

  “I think it’s my turn,” he interrupted, brushing his lips over hers before stepping back. “You’ve laid out the obstacles. I’ll cover our advantages.”

  “We have advantages?” Setting her nerves aside—not too far in case she needed them again—Frankie dropped onto the couch from hell, ready to be convinced.

  “I’d say we do.” Phillip faced her, legs spread and hands clasped hands behind his back. “For every difference you stated that we have between us, I can counter with a similarity.”

  She tried to school the “yeah, right” out of her expression, but she wasn’t that good of an actress.

  “We both like cookies. We enjoy the same music and sports, and while we haven’t watched a lot of the same movies, experience tells me that once we do, our tastes there will mesh, as well.”

  He paused, arching one brow.

  Frankie shrugged. Those were “go on a first date” similarities at best.

  “To continue,” he said, doing just that, “we both have affection for my sister and your grandmother. We dance well together, and we’re incredible in bed.”

  He considered that for a moment, and amended it to, “We’re mind-blowingly in sync, totally in tune and perfectly suited for each other sexually. Be that in bed, the kitchen, the backseat of the car or a shower. I have no doubt that as time goes on we’ll prove that there isn’t a single location that we have sex in where we’re not amazing.”

  A giggle bubbled in her throat, but Frankie swallowed it back.

  “We haven’t had sex in the backseat of a car,” she pointed out.

  “We can remedy that after we finish this discussion.” The promise was made with a look so hot that she could only hope the car was in the garage. Otherwise, anyone who glanced out one of the front windows of the house was going to get a show.

  “Phillip...”

  “We have similar world views, enough differences to keep things interesting and enough stubbornness to ensure that whatever choice we make, we’ll stick with it.”

  Frankie’s heart ached for him. He was trying so hard and she knew he’d never had to work—let alone work this hard—to convince a woman of his interest.

  But she was afraid it was only because of that stubbornness he spoke of. And she knew firsthand that when something wasn’t working, stubborn simply wasn’t enough.

  “And I understand failure,” he said quietly. “I’ve tasted it up close and personal. It can eat you alive if you let it. Or it can be, well, a setback. Something you deal with and move on from.”

  Frankie wanted to reach out, to press her hand against his cheek and give him an understanding kiss. She wanted to assure him that he wasn’t a failure—he was a hero.

  But as usual, seeing her intention, he gestured for her to wait.

  “As important, or unimportant, as all of that may be,” he said quietly, “the bottom line is I love you.”

  “Ooh.” Her eyes filled. Pleasure rushed through her with fear sliding in right behind. Frankie bit her lip. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to assure him that she believed they had a chance. She lifted her chin and opened her mouth to say just that.

  “Is that what they call standing at attention?” she asked instead. She added a bright smile to the question as an apology.
<
br />   “No, this is at ease.”

  “And are you?”

  “At ease?” At her nod, he shrugged. “I’m trained to handle high pressure, to excel under duress and to only react after careful consideration of the circumstances.”

  “So that’s a no?” Frankie’s smile turned real.

  “That’s a no,” he confirmed.

  And that was all it took to convince her that whatever challenges they faced, however many differences they had, they’d make it work.

  “Good,” she told him, getting to her feet. “Because I love you, too.”

  His eyes widened before he closed them and gave a relieved sigh. When he opened them again, Frankie was right there, ready to dive into his arms.

  He drew her close.

  “You know, the first time a guy says I love you to a girl, he shouldn’t say it as though he’s issuing a command,” she told him, brushing kisses over his face between words.

  “No? Well, I’ve never done this before. What’s the protocol?”

  “He should wrap her in his arms.”

  Phillip’s arms tightened around her shoulders and her waist, his hands warm on her back.

  “He should look deep into her eyes, give her a mind-blowing kiss and then he should say it.”

  His brows arched as he considered her instructions and then nodded.

  Settling on the couch with her comfortably in his lap, he cupped her face in his hands, lifted her chin slightly and stared into her eyes.

  Frankie’s heart melted at the sweet sincerity in his green depths.

  “I want to spend my life with you,” he told her, brushing a gentle kiss over her mouth.

  Oh, there was the catch. Frankie’s pleasure dimmed a little.

  “You want to spend your life here?” she asked.

  His expression didn’t change. But she felt the slight shift in his body. As if he was bracing himself.

  “I’m a SEAL. I belong with my team. I want you to come to Coronado with me. We’ll keep this place.” He tilted his head to indicate the house. “Your grandmother can retire, or semiretire, or move into my parents’ room. Whatever you want. But you and me, we’re going to be together.”

  Oh. He was so perfect. Her eyes filled with tears of joy. This was so perfect.

  “I love you,” she whispered through the tears. Frankie cupped her hands over his, turning her head to kiss one of his palms.

  “I love you, Francesca. You are like sunshine, brightening my days, filling my heart with warmth. I need you. In my life, in my bed, in my heart.”

  “Yes,” she said, laughing and crying at the same time. “Oh, yes. I love you so much.”

  His eyes filled with the same joy she was feeling, Phillip grinned. Then he leaned forward.

  “Never let it be said that I can’t follow orders,” he murmured just before his mouth took hers again.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from OH, NAUGHTY NIGHT by Leslie Kelly

  Ten years ago one devastating night changed everything for Austin, Hunter and Alex. Now they must each play their part in the revenge against the one man who ruined it all.

  Austin Treffen has the plan… Hunter has the money… Alex has the power!

  Read each of their stories in the captivating Fifth Avenue trilogy, only from Harlequin Presents:

  Avenge Me by Maisey Yates

  Scandalize Me by Caitlin Crews

  Expose Me by Kate Hewitt

  And don’t miss the Fifth Avenue prequel that started it all, Take Me, by Maisey Yates!

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  1

  “THERE’S NOTHING WORSE than having the hots for a sexy guy, and then finding out he has the personality of a turnip.”

  Lucille Vandenberg—known to her friends and family as Lulu, which wasn’t great, but was certainly better than Lucille—didn’t try to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she griped to her friends, Viv and Amelia. Honestly, a guy who looked as good as the man holding the guitar at the crowded bar should have boatloads of brains and charm to go with his amazing body. But this one? Ugh. She’d had more scintillating conversations with her houseplants.

  “Sorry he turned out to be a disappointment,” said Amelia, her pretty, gentle face full of commiseration and support.

  Viv wasn’t as comforting. “If the turnip’s hung like a porn star, you can handle a root vegetable, Lulu. I mean, it’s not as if you want a life partner here.”

  Lulu wasn’t convinced, mainly because, once again, she’d set herself up for disappointment. For the past month, since she’d moved to Washington, D.C., she’d been on the lookout for an interesting guy to help break her long romantic dry streak. For what seemed like forever, she had been so focused on getting through grad school, and then on her internship in Rwanda, and then on her new job with a local NGO. She hadn’t allowed herself a single date in ages. Of course, that also could have been because her last serious relationship had been with someone who’d been so self-absorbed and career-focused, he hadn’t even known her middle name, her favorite color, or much of anything else about her a year after they’d been together.

  But now she needed sex. Badly. Needed to have it with somebody who would make her forget she hadn’t had it for so long...or at least make her believe the wait had really been worthwhile. She could deal with him not caring about her middle name or favorite colors, at least for one night.

  “I just wanted to meet somebody nice, sexy and smart, and have a welcome-to-Washington adventure,” she mused.

  And when she’d come into this Dupont Circle bar earlier in the week and met the super-hot guitar player, she’d thought she might have found the perfect person with whom to do it.

  But when they’d talked tonight, he’d turned out to be as adventurous as a trip to the dentist. Not even a trip for a filling, or a root canal, just a plain old check-up. Yawn. The monosyllabic conversation they’d shared when she arrived tonight had crushed her fantasies completely.

  “Who cares about his IQ?” Viv added. “It’s his looks and size that matter.”

  “Maybe to you,” said Amelia, her tone a bit disapproving.

  Really, the two former college roommates couldn’t be more dissimilar, and Lulu wondered how they’d survived. They were like Oscar and Felix, only female. One was sexually conservative while the other was a bit of a slut. A definite odd couple.

  “I wish I could be as brutally shallow as you, Viv,” Lulu said. “But I need conversation to go with the pecs and schlong.”

  Viv grinned, impossible to insult. She was the queen of mean. “Fine, forget him. But don’t give up. The night is young.”

  Maybe. But she didn’t want merely smarts, she also wanted a guy who was honest and direct, who didn’t play gam
es with his intentions. Someone who knew what he wanted and went after it...not a wishy-washy dude who couldn’t even speak unless the subject was his favorite band.

  Why the hell was it so hard to find somebody like that?

  Amelia raised her voice to be heard over the crowd, which was growing louder with every costumed body that crammed into the trendy bar. “There will be lots of guys here tonight. You’ll find somebody better.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Have another drink. They’ll all start to look better after three of those things,” said Viv, gesturing toward Lulu’s glass.

  Lulu was already feeling the effects of two. Unfortunately, they were making her more choosy, not less. “I’m not the one-night-stand-with-a-stranger type.”

  Viv raised a brow and gestured toward the guitarist.

  “He wasn’t a stranger,” Lulu insisted. “I sorta knew him.”

  “You exchanged five words with him before tonight,” Viv said with a smirk.

  “But I knew his name.”

  “Only his last one.”

  “Yeah, what’s up with that?”

  Viv shrugged. “Schaefer’s all mysterious about his first name. I bet it’s something stupid like Fred or Homer or Ralph.”

  Amelia, smiling sweetly, said, “Maybe he’s just trying to keep some things private, since he’s in the spotlight.”

  Perhaps. But she suspected the broodiness and first-name mystery were intended to heighten interest in an otherwise pretty uninteresting guy. It had certainly worked on her, at least until she’d heard him say more than “Got a request?”

  Sighing, she swirled her Devil’s Brew—the drink on special for tonight’s big Halloween bash—and sipped it. She was careful not to splash any of the red liquid onto the half-mask that covered her face from mid-forehead down to the tip of her nose. Lulu had gone to a lot of trouble with this costume, having fully intended to look as sexy and wicked as she could in hopes of stirring some naughty thoughts in the guitarist. She was a witch, but her green mask wasn’t the least bit scary—no long nose or warts. She’d gone instead for a Mardi Gras type facial covering, with sequins and cat-shaped eye openings. Beneath her pointy hat, her hair was curled and teased, wild and untamed. She’d also sprayed a coating of glittery red hairspray onto it, making herself even more unrecognizable.