Taking the recently baked cinnamon rolls out of the oven, where she’d kept them warm, Abbie popped one onto a plate and set it before Colt. “I hear cinnamon rolls are cold killers.”
Looking up at her, he saw a grin playing across her full lips. The twinkle in her eyes gave away the fact that she was teasing him. Warming to her, Colt picked up the fork and knife she’d placed beside the plate. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
“Better than vitamin C?” He cut into the warm roll, and the scent made his mouth water. The teakettle began to whistle shrilly and Abbie left his side. Colt felt the sunshine leave with her.
“Absolutely. My kids tell me candy and junk food are the best thing for colds and flu,” she said with a laugh as she poured them each a cup of tea. Abbie turned for a moment to look at him. Colt was enjoying the huge cinnamon roll immensely. Good. He looked like he needed something positive in his life, even a small thing. Placing a teabag into each cup of hot water, she brought them over to the table and sat down opposite him. Moving a half-made pine swag to one side, she spooned a bit of sugar into her tea. When she lifted her head, she met his hooded gaze. Her heart pounded momentarily. The pupils of his eyes were large and black as he studied her. Now she knew what a bug felt like under a microscope. Being a biology teacher, she would have new compassion for them in her class.
“Cinnamon roll okay?” she asked lightly, holding his frank stare.
Blinking, Colt realized he was staring like a starving wolf. What was it about this petite woman with the wild, riotous hair? When she smiled at him, he felt that sunny warmth embrace him. She was so honest and unassuming in an emotional sense that it rocked him. “Oh...the roll. Yeah, its good. After where I just came from, food tastes damn—I mean darn—good.” Colt had to remind himself he was back in the real world once more, not undercover, and not with military types where cursing was as much a part of daily life as breathing air.
Abbie’s heart expanded with joy. Colt was trying so hard to be nice. “You’re really tired, aren’t you? Maybe if I made you a fortifying breakfast, you’d get some energy back?”
He shook his head and polished off the rest of the roll. “I just came off a rough mission,” he muttered in apology, “and I’m sleep deprived. I’ll catch up in the next few days and be okay. Thanks, though...” Taking the cup of tea, he dipped the bag up and down a few times and then put it on a saucer. After adding a spoonful of honey and a bit of lemon juice, he found himself thirstily drinking it down. Abbie was right. Within moments, his sore throat disappeared.
She fingered her cup and chose her words carefully. “When my husband was alive, he worked for Morgan as an operative.”
Frowning, Colt lifted his head. He heard carefully concealed pain in Abbie’s soft voice. She was frowning, too, her thin red brows bunched as she stared down at her cup of tea.
“I’m sorry...I didn’t know....” he began. How stupid of him. He looked at her left hand. There was no wedding band on it. “So...you know what we go through....” He found himself giving an inner sigh of relief because Abbie understood.
She lifted her head and nodded slightly. “Yes, I do.”
Shifting the cup in his large hands, Colt murmured, “How long ago?”
“Two years.” She gave him a game smile. “Ted was in the Marine Corps. A Recon. He quit and came to work for Morgan. I’m a schoolteacher, and I loved moving here to the Rocky Mountains.” Her eyes grew bleak. “I always worried about him when he went on a mission. You know how it is, I suppose?”
“My wife divorced me five years ago because of what I did,” Colt told her bluntly. Not that he blamed Christine. He was gone nine months at a time, sometimes longer. No marriage could survive those conditions. The distress in Abbie’s eyes touched him unexpectedly. “I know the person left behind worries a lot. It leaves you feeling pretty helpless,” he added gruffly.
“It does,” she agreed. “But Ted didn’t get killed on a mission, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Abbie grimaced. “He died in a car accident during a blizzard. An eighteen-wheeler spun out of control and hit him head-on about ten miles from here.”
Shaking his head, Colt said, “Damn, I’m sorry.”
Taking in a deep breath, Abbie gave him a sad smile. “Yeah, isn’t it a sick joke? All along, I thought Ted might die on a mission. Instead he gets killed this way. Go figure... Well, that was two years ago. Laura says I need to start living again.”
Abbie gazed fondly around the small, cozy kitchen. “Laura persuades me every year to help her with the Five Days of Christmas celebration, and I love it. It’s helped me a lot over the last couple of years.” Running her fingers in a caressing motion across the swag of pine boughs and red and silver ribbons she was weaving among the branches, Abbie added, “Family means everything to me, and I know it does for Morgan and Laura, too. Have you ever attended this celebration? Or were you always on a mission when it happened?”
“I was always on a mission.” Colt watched, almost mesmerized by Abbie’s continued stroking of the thick green swag. For a crazy moment, he wondered what it would be like if she stroked him the same way. What would it feel like? Good. Damn good. Hungry for a woman’s touch, he found himself lost in a haze of heat and desire for her. She was a complete stranger to him, yet somehow she’d gotten under his skin without trying. Stunned, Colt admitted he was tired and stressed out. He also told himself Abbie was guileless and open, unlike many of the women he’d met. So how could she become so much a part of him in such a short space of time? It had to be the PTSD, he warned himself. He was raw and hurting, and her natural warmth and vulnerability had opened up his heavily armored heart because right now he needed to be held, to be cared for and nurtured.
Abbie’s lips parted as she saw the heated look in his hooded eyes. Her entire body responded violently to Colt’s smoldering glance. She was old enough to know what that look meant. Yet she was shocked by it. In the last two years of grieving for her husband, Abbie had never given one thought to the possibility that another man might be interested in her. After all, she was no raving beauty.
“W-well...” Abbie stammered, breathless with the discovery of his attraction, “they throw a huge five-day party for all the Perseus employees who work here. Any mercs coming in off missions and who are staying at the condos outside of town to rest and recoup are invited, too. This year we have fifty people coming.” She gulped and added, “It’s fun because the whole family is invited. The children have a great time. Laura plans everything for the kids, and we adults magically turn into children ourselves during the process.”
She smiled a little as she watched Colt’s perennial scowl begin to ease and disappear. Did she have that much of an affect on him? Before, he’d been so dark and snarly. Maybe he was more cheerful because he had some food in his stomach now, or maybe the hot tea had soothed his sore throat. Or maybe it was she who had changed his demeanor.
Her conscience prickled her, reminding her smartly that she was only twenty-eight years old and in her prime as a young woman. Laughing to herself, Abbie realized suddenly that she had changed since he’d arrived, too. She’d been so mired in her grief for so long that hadn’t realized how down she had been until just now.
For whatever reason, Colt was making her forget the past for a moment as he sat in her tiny kitchen, which was warmed with a wood-burning stove. Her rapid pulse suggested something was happening between them, that on some level at least he was drawn to her. Her of all people! She was not beautiful. She did not have a stick-straight model’s body, but was all curves. Stymied as to why he was interested in her, Abbie gazed at him in puzzlement. As she sat there, however, it felt very good to be with such a ruggedly handsome man—a man she sensed was drawn to her, too.
“I told Morgan I’d work with you behind the scenes. I’m not going to the actual celebration,” he said. Then he saw how crestfallen she looked.
“But,” Abbie protested, “it might make you feel better....”
/>
Shrugging, Colt set the empty cup aside. “I’m not good company, Abbie.” Her name slipped off his tongue like hot, smooth honey. He liked the intimacy they shared right now; it was unexpected, and healing to his tangled emotions. “I nearly ripped your head off a little while ago at the door. Think what kind of damage I could do at a party.” One corner of his thinned mouth hitched upward as he attempted to make a joke out of his present condition. He saw her eyes grow tender. His heart opened even more.
“I understand, Colt. I really do.” Without thinking, Abbie reached out and touched his thick, hairy hand, which was resting on the table. “Its okay. You do what you can and don’t apologize for the rest.” Her fingertips tingled where she’d grazed his taut, hard flesh. There was such a dangerous quality to him. Yet Abbie felt protected and secure in his presence, not scared. Colt Hamlin, even if he was bleeding emotionally from his last mission, had a big enough heart to reach out to her, human to human. And in Abbie’s book, that was something she needed and rarely received.
Picking up the swag, she began to weave the red ribbon through the boughs, which had been bound together with copper wire. “Whatever help you can give me, I’ll be grateful for,” she whispered. “Right now, you need to take care of you—first.”
Colt studied another bough, on his side of the table. He laid it aside and then scooted the chair back and rose. Picking up the empty cups, he walked over to the drain board and set them down. Turning, he gazed back at Abbie as she worked effortlessly with the swag. There was high pink color in her cheeks. She looked beautiful to him, like a red-haired fairy princess, with nature all about her. And she was a biology teacher to boot. Moving back to the table, he sat down. As Abbie lifted her head, he said, “Why don’t you show me how to weave this thing?”
“Oh, Colt, you don’t have to! I just need some help moving the boxes filled with finished swags to the car.”
He gave her a slight, one-cornered smile. Picking up a swag, he rasped, “I want to help you, Abbie. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to cash in my chips and slink back to the condo.”
Brightening, she grinned. “A glutton for punishment.”
“Maybe...” But he didn’t think so. No, for better or worse, Colt craved Abbie’s sunny presence in his dark pit of a life. She made him feel hope when he’d believed he had nothing to hope for ever again.
2
December 21—Day 1
Abbie tried to still her fluttering heart as Colt Hamlin drove them expertly through the slushy, snow-covered streets, heading toward Morgan and Laura’s huge cedar home outside of town. The snow was thickening, turning the sky a gunmetal-gray color. All around them rose the Rocky Mountains, silent and clothed in white, with dark evergreens at their base. It was a beautiful sight. Glancing distractedly out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Colt was paying strict attention to his driving. The roads had been salted earlier to melt the ice, but they were still messy.
Pushing her fingers through her unruly hair, Abbie said, “Laura said you fly for a living?”
Nodding, Colt glanced at Abbie for a moment, taking in her dark green wool coat, her hands in brown leather gloves, as she sat in the passenger seat of the van. “Yeah, I’m a chopper pilot.”
Abbie didn’t want to pry, yet her curiosity about this stalwart, silent warrior was eating away at her. They were leaving the town limits and heading down a small dirt road covered with slush. “You know Jason Trayhern, their firstborn son, is at the Naval Academy right now? Well, he wants to be a pilot in the worst way. A Marine Corps fighter pilot.” She smiled fondly and settled her hands in her lap. “His grandfather, Chase Trayhern, was a pilot in the Korean War. I guess Jason got the flying genes from him.”
“The Navy has set tough standards for jet fighter pilots,” Colt warned heavily. “Marines go to naval flight schools to be trained. When I was in the Marine Corps, I went for the same thing.” His mouth quirked as he slowed the van down. The road was now enclosed by huge Douglas firs that stood like silent sentinels around them. Colt had been to the Trayhern home before and knew the way. He noted that someone had dumped gravel on the well-traveled dirt road, improving driving conditions. “Only I didn’t make the grade, so they gave me helicopter duty instead.”
“You were disappointed?”
“Sure I was.” He maneuvered the van deftly around a slight curve. “I hope young Trayhern doesn’t have his sights set too high. I’ve seen a lot of guys ruin their lives because they didn’t get jet fighters. Sometimes you have to adjust to what life gives you versus what you think life owes you.” He grinned tightly and glanced over at Abbie. She was watching him raptly, her wide, trusting eyes luminous. There was something so incredibly gentle and nurturing about her. He found himself wanting to blather on to her about anything and everything that flitted through his mind and lay in his tightly guarded heart.
“Jason is a very troubled young man,” Abbie admitted slowly. Her thin, arched brows fell momentarily. “That kidnapping wounded him in a way that Morgan and Laura just can’t manage to heal.”
“I heard from some of the other mercs coming through the office here that Jason was in trouble in high school. You were his teacher, right?”
“Yes, and Jason was very rebellious. His parents, of course, were hoping he would get A’s in everything so he could make a run for the Naval Academy appointment. You know only two people from each state are chosen to go to the academy every year?”
“Yes. It’s by Senate appointment, and your grades had better be 4.0 or better.”
Opening her hands, Abbie said, “Jason started to rebel in his freshman year of high school. He was angry and he was a loner. He was always getting into fights with the bullies, always standing up for kids who had no one to defend them.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Better than being a bully himself.”
“Yes and no. Jason has a strong protective streak for the underdogs, but you can’t go around punching bullies out...which is what he did with great regularity. And in today’s schools, any kind of aggression hits a hot button, so he was in a lot of trouble.”
“Did he get suspended?”
“Yes. It really hurt Morgan, who has so many hopes and expectations pinned on his son. You know, the Trayherns have a proud military tradition that goes back two hundred years or more. Every firstborn son goes to a military academy, if possible. And with Morgan being branded a traitor to the U.S. during the closing days of the Vietnam War, and not being able to defend himself for years after that, or clear his name, the public still remembers the stain on the family.”
“That’s enough of a dark cloud for any teenage kid to be carrying around,” Colt muttered, “much less a parent’s expectations that he make the Naval Academy. No wonder he’s rebellious. I would be, too.”
Sighing, Abbie said, “I love Jason so much. He’s like the child I never had....” She lowered her lashes. “Ted and I wanted kids, but he was sterile. Maybe that’s why I love my kids at school so much—I can mother them, instead.” Abbie gave a strained laugh.
Her laugh sounded hollow to Colt, who divided his attention between driving along the serpentine road and absorbing the pain he saw banked in Abbie’s turquoise eyes. His heart contracted, and that surprised him. In the last year, he’d deliberately hardened his heart and fought against feeling, because of his assignments over in the Kosovo region. The needless, ongoing killing over there had torn him up no matter how hard he tried to remain immune and disconnected from what he saw. Focusing on her soft, trembling lower lip as she admitted the painful secret to him, Colt took his hand off the steering wheel and reached out.
“I bet you’d be a great mother to any kid.” His fingers closed momentarily on her shoulder and squeezed gently before he returned his hand to the steering wheel. “So, did you get hold of Jason and straighten him out?”
Beneath her heavy coat her flesh tingled where Colt had unexpectedly touched her, sending an ache through her breasts and a warm ribbon of he
at down through her body. Surprised by his unexpected and tender touch, Abbie absorbed his craggy profile as he drove. “Yes. Even though I only taught the eleventh grade, I had a biology club for all kids at the high school. Jason has a great interest in anything to do with nature, so I had a parent conference with Morgan and Laura, and presented my ideas to them. They were relieved, really. They were at their wits’ end about how to handle Jason. Morgan was so afraid he was going to blow any chance of getting into the academy. They knew his problems stemmed from the kidnapping. He’d gone through therapy—the whole nine yards—to resolve it, but nothing has helped him.”
Colt’s mouth twisted. “Men have a nasty habit of stowing all their dark crap very deep inside themselves and then sitting on it.”
Up ahead he saw the huge cedar complex and slowed down. There were a number of SUVs, vans and pickups in the gravel parking lot outside the residence, and he swung the van in among them. Snow was falling thickly, and the gold-and-russet-colored log home of the Trayherns looked like a Christmas card, surrounded as it was by evergreens.
“No kidding.” Abbie laughed. She melted beneath his intense, warm perusal for a moment after he parked the van. “I took him under my wing and gave him special projects. He blossomed, and he was able to talk to me about things he wouldn’t to his parents.”
Shutting off the engine, Colt sat back and gazed over at Abbie. She looked more like a wild child than a prim and proper schoolteacher. And he could see why Jason would have naturally gravitated to her; Abbie’s warmth, openness and gentle nurturing qualities would draw anyone starved for those things. Hell, Colt was drawn to her for the same reasons! “And he settled down after that?”
“Mostly, yes. Oh, Jason had his moments. I mean, what teenager doesn’t? I gave him an outlet and a reason to funnel all his energies into something he loved. By the time he graduated, he was carrying 4.0s and received the appointment.”
A Proposal for Christmas: State SecretsThe Five Days of Christmas Page 22