Red-Hot Santa

by Tori Carrington

“Come in.”

  “Thanks.”

  After leaving her aunt’s house, with no destination in mind other than to drive as far away as fast as possible, she was surprised to find herself ultimately parked in the lot of The Barracks. All things considered, she supposed she should’ve expected it. Jackson had been on her mind so heavily it was probably natural she would unconsciously seek him out, look for answers to questions that haunted her like the winter wind blowing behind her back.

  He closed the door behind her and she realized she was standing in nearly the same spot she had been the first night he’d taken her up there. The night he’d reached to take her coat…and had stripped her of much, much more. And given her more than she would have ever dared dream.

  This time, she shrugged out of her coat on her own volition rather than pretending it protected her from anything.

  She caught her gaze plastered to his hard abs and swallowed hard again, her fingertips itching to reach out and touch him. He stood so close, the soap from his shower filled her nose. Yet he remained so far away, the frigid cold outside had nothing on him.

  Jackson Savage had always been hotly attractive. Her mother had liked to say he was like a blazing fire to the chilled female masses. They would always be drawn to his heat. She’d seen that firsthand, beginning with the dating candidates that lined up, giving him a neverending selection of companions.

  And now she felt as if she’d gotten so close to the fire, she’d been burned.

  “I’m, uh, just going to go get dressed,” he said.

  Max didn’t realize her gaze had dropped lower, taking in what was hidden beneath the towel, until he spoke.

  She blinked up at him. “Oh. Yeah.”

  Though he said he was leaving, he still stood in front of her.

  Was that need she saw in his eyes? Or was it her own need reflected in the blue depths.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded. “I heard you the first time.”

  He offered a shadow of a smile and then he finally turned.

  She made no secret of watching him go because there was no reason to. Not only because no one was looking, but because it was obvious how she felt about him. It was useless to hide it now.

  The question was, what did she do with it?

  “You can make some coffee if you want. There are grounds in the fridge, filters above the sink.”

  It took her a moment to register the words coming from the bedroom.

  “Sure.”

  She went into the kitchen and readied a pot to brew, then turned toward the dining room. The black cat she’d seen earlier was in the middle of the table, giving herself a tongue bath. She spared Max a long, questioning gaze, then dismissed her and returned to her previously scheduled activity.

  Max mentally shook her head. She’d had pets growing up, but they’d been relegated to outdoors. Seeing one sitting in the middle of the kitchen table took some getting used to.

  In an effort to do that, she moved closer and reached out to scratch—it was Cleo, right?—Cleo behind the ears. The cat purred so loudly she smiled.

  Then her gaze caught on a bit of familiar letterhead. As she scratched the cat, she leaned closer to read it. Pegasus.

  Jackson couldn’t possibly still be working for them? Not after all they’d been through? Not after telling her he wouldn’t be returning.

  The cat forgotten, Max sifted through the papers, trying to make sense of them. Cleo jumped down from the table and sprawled out across her feet, her meow capturing Max’s attention.

  Max looked over her shoulder to find Jackson standing barefoot, wearing jeans and buttoning a denim shirt, his hair still damp.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  He moved to stand next to her. Again his scent nearly overwhelmed her.

  “A project I’m working on.”

  “Project?”

  He started gathering the documents together but said nothing.

  “You’re not still working for them?”

  “What?” He paused. “No. No, I’m not.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t understand, then.”

  “I’m contacting the family members of our fallen teammates,” he said so quietly she nearly didn’t hear him.

  A heartbeat of silence passed. Then another.

  Wow.

  “I stopped by Pegasus on a hunch yesterday and was proven right. They hadn’t contacted next of kin yet and had no plans to do so until after the holidays.”

  “What?” Max’s voice was a whisper.

  He stacked the papers neatly and then moved them out of the way. “Yeah.”

  They both stood for long moment, neither of them saying anything.

  Max couldn’t fathom anyone not telling her mother and aunt that she had died during combat as soon as the news was available. What were they thinking? She’d like to believe their motives were well-meaning, that they didn’t want to cast a dark cloud over the holidays, but she suspected their motivation was much more selfish.

  She was having a hard time wrapping her mind around the information. She dropped into the nearest chair and sat staring at the papers. The past two days she had been so wrapped up in herself, her own selfish emotions, she hadn’t even thought about taking up what Jackson was doing.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked.

  “What?” She hadn’t realized he’d moved until she saw him taking cups out of the cupboard. “Oh. Yes, please.”

  “Still cream, no sugar?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  She brought the pile of documents closer, staring at a list of names she’d committed to memory. “Have you spoken to anyone yet?”

  He placed a cup at her elbow then took the seat across from her. “No.” He took a long sip of his coffee. “I wanted to make sure everything was in order first. I want to be able to tell them what insurance would be covering and to what degree, as well as how long the process would take.”

  “Everything Pegasus should be doing.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Essentially.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “What I’m trying to figure out is whether I should do it today, or I don’t know…”

  Whereas Pegasus’s motives where in question, Jackson’s heart was in the exact right place. Of course, it always had been.

  “Just after Christmas is soon enough.”

  His eyes lifted to meet hers. In them she saw deep gratitude, along with relief mixed with grief. “Yeah.”

  “I talked to Taylor this morning. She goes home from the hospital today.”

  He nodded, but she wondered if he heard her. Still, she was sure he was aware of their fallen member’s recovery.

  She put the papers back down. “Would you like some help?”

  Again, he didn’t appear to hear her.

  “You know, notifying the families? If we split it up, we can be doubly effective. And everyone will know as soon as possible.”

  He sat back. “Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks.”

  “Sure.”

  Silence fell between them.

  “Max, about what happened—”

  “Jackson, I was hoping you might be able to answer—”

  They spoke at the same time and then laughed awkwardly, avoiding each other’s gaze.

  “You first,” he said.

  She shook her head. “You know how I feel about that ‘ladies first’ crap.”

  “It has nothing to do with you being a lady.”

  She stared at him.

  “Okay, maybe just a little.” His smile was a bit warmer. “But it’s mostly because I’m a coward.”

  “Coward? That’s one word I’d never use to describe you.”

  “Maybe it should be the first.”

  She squinted at him, more than a little concerned. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

  He shifted uncomfortably, then pushed from his chair altogether. “More coffee?”

  “I
have yet to take a drink from this one.”

  He moved to the kitchen. She pinpointed the avoidance technique for what it was. But she wasn’t about to let the subject drop.

  He came back to the table but didn’t sit down.

  “Explain, please,” she said.

  He slowly unbuttoned his left cuff and began rolling the sleeve up his corded forearm. “Isn’t there a question you wanted to ask me?”

  “It can wait.”

  He seemed overly concerned with rolling up his other sleeve.

  “Jax?”

  He began to turn from her and she got to her feet, stepping into his path.

  “Uh-huh. I need for you to answer the question.”

  His gaze was hard and she nearly flinched from the change. She forced herself to hold her ground. “Leave it, Max,” he said.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  They stood like that for long moments, the sound of the cat lapping water out of a nearby bowl and the refrigerator humming the only things breaking the silence.

  She wasn’t going to leave it. It was out of the question.

  “Then leave me…”

  18

  JACKSON REGRETTED THE WORDS the moment they were out. But once they were, he couldn’t bring himself to retract them.

  Max looked like someone had just pulled a weapon on her. And he supposed he had, in a manner of speaking.

  He wanted, no, he needed her to take a step back. Leave him be. Let him figure out what in the hell was going on inside his head and then map a way out.

  “No,” she said, point blank.

  He squinted at her.

  “I’m not going to leave. I’ve—” She gestured with her hands, as if trying to find the words to best express her thoughts. “These past two days I’ve done this your way. I’ve allowed you to take the lead, set the pace, decide what was or wasn’t said.” She shook her head. “No more.”

  “Max…”

  “No. You’ve said quite enough already, thank you.” She resembled a lit match, her red hair seeming even brighter as sparks ignited her green eyes. “What you don’t understand is that you’ve said plenty by saying nothing at all. But I know you, Jackson Savage. Probably better than anyone else in the world…”

  He’d give her that.

  He crossed his arms, finding his mood lightening as he watched her give herself over to a good fit.

  “You say you’re a coward. I say you’re one of the bravest men I’ve ever met. It’s because of you that all of your team members made it out. It’s because of you that any of us did.”

  He grimaced and looked away. She knew he was thinking about those who didn’t.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, buster. Don’t you dare tune out on me again. I won’t have it.”

  They both glanced at where her hand rested against his arm in order to redirect and maintain his attention.

  And boy did she ever have it.

  He glanced up into her eyes to find the emotion in them had shifted…but not lessened.

  Damn, but she was beautiful. Everything about her was so alive, so intriguing, so very, very sexy…

  Jackson’s gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth, then down to where her breasts heaved under her clingy cotton top.

  “I’m up here, Savage,” she said.

  If there was a slight wispiness to her voice, her steely expression didn’t show it. But he could tell she wasn’t angry at him; she felt their chemistry as intensely as he did.

  And boy did he ever feel it. Merely being this close to her made him want to kiss her senseless, slide his hand up her top and down her pants, stroke her until she gasped in pure bliss…?.

  He swallowed hard.

  Whatever Max felt, she’d always felt to the max. Maximum Maxine is what the guys had called her. And they were right. You didn’t mess with Max unless you expected to get beaten, or to fight to the death…?.

  The stupid, off-the-cuff thought shifted his thoughts back to Africa.

  And brought him right back to where this all started…?.

  He leveled a loaded gaze at her. “Forget it, McGuire. It’s not going to work.”

  “Work? What are you talking about? What, is this some sort of game? Is that what you think?” She squinted at him. “Oh, wait. Is that what it was? You. Me. Us. A game?”

  Jackson set his jaw. “Back off, Max.”

  “Or else what? What can you possibly do to me that you haven’t already done?” He blinked at the catch in her voice. “Tell me, because I can’t possibly imagine anything hurting as much as this.”

  Jackson felt as if she’d reached her hand directly inside his chest and tore his heart out.

  “What? Surely you know your silence has been killing me? That the instant you turned away from me in Africa, it was like you had stuck your serated knife into my chest and twisted?”

  He raised his hand. “Max, please…?.”

  “No, Jackson. Answer me.”

  What could he possibly say? That he’d been so wrapped up in his own emotions he hadn’t taken hers into consideration? Besides, what did his knowing now change except to make him feel worse than he already did? Didn’t it just reinforce the decision he’d already made?

  Her expression switched from anger to…was that shock?

  “Oh my God. You didn’t know, did you? You had no clue that I loved you,” she whispered.

  He glanced away.

  She shifted slightly. “Wow.”

  Silence filled the room as he guessed she digested the information.

  “You really had no idea?”

  Jackson grimaced and paced away then back again. “What difference does it make, Max? This, whatever’s happening, happened, between us, it can’t go anywhere.”

  She raised her hand to stop him. “Happening. Not happened. And it’s been happening since the first day we met in your grandmother’s dusty old barn.”

  He stared at her, immediately transported back to that day.

  “You hated my guts.”

  She smiled almost sadly. “No, Jax. I loved you. And I love you still.”

  Was it possible for one man’s heart to hold so much emotion? So much pain? So much confusion?

  He wasn’t sure. And wouldn’t have been surprised if his had burst from what he was feeling now.

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” she said, sighing. “What, you think I like realizing that I’ve wasted so much time.”

  She moved away from him this time, standing with her back to him. His attention was riveted to her.

  “I moved from relationship to relationship, guy to guy, never realizing I unconsciously measured them all against you,” she said quietly. “Not until the last one.”

  She turned toward him.

  “That’s what I’m doing here, Jackson, the reason I came back to Colorado. I had to see if what Matt said was true.”

  The sound of another man’s name on her lips twisted his gut. “Who in the hell is Matt?”

  She gestured restlessly. “Matt, James, Bob, what does it matter? They’re all the same guy. They’re all not you.”

  He tried but failed to follow her bullet train of thought. What was she saying? Was she trying to tell him she’d been with a lot of guys? He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Anyway, about Matt. He was a nice guy. They all were. He loved me. But when I couldn’t tell him I felt the same, you know what he said?”

  He wasn’t sure if her question was rhetorical so he remained silent, trying to oust the image of her lying in bed with another man from his head.

  “He told me he couldn’t think of anything he’d like more than to be with me. Only I wasn’t with him. Not truly.”

  Jackson scratched the back of his head in irritation, then stared at her. The expression on her face was captivating; her pupils were large, her lips were slightly parted, and her breathing seemed shallow.

  “He said I needed to think twice about getting involved with anyone, because obviously, I was still in love with someo
ne else. Someone I had never gotten over. And until I did, well, it was unfair of me to lead on some other poor sucker who’d never stand a chance.”

  “He was good with words, your guy Mark.”

  “Matt.”

  “Whatever.”

  She smiled slightly, which only served to annoy him further.

  “So who’s this guy you never got over then? No, wait, don’t tell me. Joe.”

  “Who?”

  He shook his head, his attempt at humor failing even to amuse him.

  “Seriously?” she whispered.

  He watched her step closer to him, completely mesmerized. What was this woman doing to him? And why was he incapable of stopping her?

  “You really want to know?” she asked, standing so close to him now that when she inhaled, the tips of her breasts brushed his chest.

  He tried to steel himself against her, but failed.

  “No answer?”

  She leaned forward, her breath mingling with his, her scent filling his nose, her mouth so damn tempting he ached with the need to kiss her…?.

  “That man is you, Jackson Savage. The one I’m in love with? The one I never got over? The one I can’t move on from? You, you and…you.”

  Her voice grew progressively softer so the last word was little more than a hush of air.

  As if of their own volition, his fingers curved around her slender neck, the heel of his hand against her jaw, the pad of his thumb rubbing against her full bottom lip.

  Then he kissed her.

  Sweet heaven.

  Torturous hell.

  Her lips were like wine soaked plums, both in texture and potency. He appeared to have caught her off guard and she stood, transfixed as he pressed his lips against hers once, then again, tasting her with his tongue before claiming them more fully, begging for permission to enter the intoxicating depths of her mouth.

  She made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan and leaned into him, her eyelids drifting closed, her hands resting against his hips as if she needed the leverage.

  It was impossible to believe this was the same warrior he’d served with on the front lines. The same girl he’d grown up with.

  He knew her better than anyone else in the world.

  Yet he knew her not at all.

  She shifted against him, rubbing against his rock hard erection and sending his blood rushing to his groin.