A Proposal for Christmas: State SecretsThe Five Days of Christmas

by Linda Lael Miller

  “The only difference,” Colt said gruffly, releasing her hand, “is that you’ve survived your run through that gauntlet and I’m not sure I can or will...and I don’t want to put you in the line of fire, either. You don’t deserve to be hurt, Abbie. That’s what really bothered me about all this—hurting you. You’re innocent.”

  Whispering his name, Abbie risked everything and stepped up to him. She placed her hands on his cheeks and looked deeply into his distraught eyes. Right now, Colt was hurting so much that she couldn’t stand there and not do something to try and help him. “You’re innocent, too, Colt. Bad things happen to good people all the time, I’ve discovered.” Her voice grew husky with unshed tears. “What matters is that you know I’m here for you in whatever way is comfortable for you. Okay? I don’t expect anything from you, Colt. Let me be your friend? A shoulder to lean on...maybe cry on if you feel like it? I don’t run when things get bad. I’ve weathered plenty of storms. I feel like I can help you with your storm—if you’ll let me?” She held her breath.

  Gently, Colt took her hands in his. Her face was open and incredibly trusting. “You’re a brave woman, Abbie. The way I feel right now, I don’t know anyone who’d make the same offer to me that you have.”

  “I can stand the heat in the kitchen, Colt. Just try me.” Abbie gave him an uneven smile that she didn’t feel, because inwardly she was weeping for all the pain and grief he was carrying.

  Shrugging back his shoulders, he gave her a warm look. “Okay...you’re on, pardner. But if I get out of hand, just tell me. I’ll slink back to the condo and nurse my wounds alone. Fair enough?” The last thing Colt wanted to do was hurt Abbie. She was putting herself out for him and he was going to try and keep her out of his line of fire.

  “Great,” Abbie whispered unsteadily. She eased her hands from his and stepped away. “I think I could use your help in getting my orchid girls over to Morgan and Laura’s house. Care to help?” She forced her voice to become bright and cheery. It was not how she felt, but it was what Colt needed. Right now he was raw and unsure of himself, of the boiling emotions that seethed just below the surface.

  She hurried to the table and placed one well-wrapped pot of orchids in his large, steady hands. Hands that she wanted to have touch her, love her and draw her tightly against his hard male body. Swallowing, Abbie tried not to pursue that desire. Right now, Colt was hurting. She was sure sex was the last thing on his mind, judging from the unaccustomed brightness she saw in his eyes as he stood there like an awkward little boy, holding the orchid so carefully in his big, pawlike hands.

  Looking at the framed picture on the wall opposite the stove, he asked, “Is this the orchid in the photo?”

  Abbie looked up as she carefully balanced a clay pot in her hands. “What? Oh, that orchid? No, that’s another Cattleya rex, like the photo in the living room. Remember? I told you about it on the first night we were together?” She laughed gaily. “I wish I had one!”

  Colt did remember now. All his memories were centered on Abbie and how good she’d looked and felt in his arms when they had danced together. “So why don’t you have it in your collection?”

  She smiled wistfully. “Colt, that particular orchid costs a thousand dollars for just one plant! I can’t possibly afford it.” She gently patted the newspaper wrapped around the orchid she held. “All these girls cost anywhere between twenty and fifty dollars apiece. I have an orchid budget—where I save my pennies for months on end, and then buy one that I want. No, I’m afraid Cattleya rex, my most favorite orchid in the universe, is not one I’ll ever own.”

  “A thousand dollars?” Colt frowned. “They cost that much?”

  Abbie grinned and opened the door. “Some orchid fanciers have specimens that cost upward of ten to fifty thousand dollars each.”

  “Wow,” he muttered, following her out into the bright sunlight.

  Hurrying to her heated van, Abbie took her girls and put them in the back in special boxes, where they would be protected during the short trip. She watched as Colt shut the door to keep the orchids warm. The plants could not survive cold temperatures for long. Anything below fifty-five degrees would kill an orchid.

  As he walked back with her to retrieve more plants, his shoulder brushing hers as they trudged through the snow, he slanted a glance down at her. “Knowing the shape I’m in, would you like to go to the dinner with me tonight? Or do you want to put this snarly bear out to pasture so he won’t bite you?”

  Warmed, she laughed and said, “I’d love to, Colt.” Her heart speeded up. The look he gave her was that of a predator hunting its next meal. She absorbed his hungry look and remembered that starved kiss he’d plundered her lips with yesterday. Maybe tonight would be healing to him, as it would be to her....

  * * *

  Colt couldn’t keep his eyes off Abbie at the dinner table that evening. The Trayhern house rang with conversation, laughter and the giggling of children. A number of tables, draped with white linen cloths, had been placed in a U shape. Abbie’s beautiful, colorful cattleyas were arranged among the silver and gold ribbons that flowed down the center of each table like a glittering creek.

  Abbie sat opposite Colt at their table, looking delicious in a fuchsia silk, long-sleeved jacket and slacks. Around her throat she wore a strand of pearls, which she’d told him were a gift from her grandmother, and a set of small pearl earrings. Her eyes reminded him of blue sapphires. The softness of her mouth was permanently branded into his memory, on his lips and within his heart and aching body. She had pulled that wild, curly red hair into a girlish ponytail decorated with a large, pale green cattleya orchid with magenta spots on its lip. She looked exquisitely beautiful.

  They sat next to Jake Randolph, his wife, Shah, and their three children, ages three through ten. The children were like squirming puppies, their laughter and giggles filling Colt with an unexpected joy. To Abbie’s right sat Wolf Harding and his blond-haired wife, Sarah, plus their two children, both girls. Part of what made this night so special to Colt was the fact that the mercs had all brought their families. The smiles, the joking and teasing among them was lifting his dark spirits.

  On Abbie’s left sat Jason Trayhern. Although he wasn’t wearing his Annapolis uniform, he still looked all spit and polish in his casual clothes, and painfully correct in his bearing. Colt could see the young man idolized Abbie, and he also saw their special relationship, the doorway that she had to him. Abbie held Jason’s heart...just as she did Colt’s. That was her gift, Colt realized as he ate the beef Wellington. She knew how to create an opening to people like himself who were closed up and hurting. It was instructional for him to watch her work her natural magic on Jason. Within half an hour of sitting down, Jason was cracking jokes and laughing with her, and warming up to everyone else around him.

  Abbie was so special. An ache built in Colt, so powerful and pulverizing that he wanted once more to feel Abbie’s soft, smiling mouth against his. He wanted to drink in, like the starving mongrel he was, her energy, her sunny disposition, her idealism and hope. On some level, Colt knew Abbie could heal him, just as she was helping to heal Jason of his wounds from the past.

  Later, after coffee served with a dessert of fruitcake smothered with a white vanilla sauce, Colt mingled with the other families in the den, where brandy and Kahlúa and coffee topped with thick mounds of whipping cream were being served to the adults. Many of the children had gone down into the basement, where Morgan had set up a number of games for them to play. Abbie remained at Colt’s side, and he’d taken the bold step of placing his arm around her waist as they moved among the groups and families. When he’d done that, she’d looked up at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with joy over his move. Colt felt like he was walking on air once more.

  When the tinkling of a bell sounded, everyone stopped talking and the room grew hushed.

  “Come on, everyone!” Laura called excitedly from the living room. “Time to trim the tree!”

&n
bsp; Abbie clapped her hands. “I love decorating the tree!” she confided excitedly to Colt.

  He grinned lopsidedly. “You’re a child in a woman’s body, Abbie.” He followed the rest of the merry crowd back to the living room. A number of mercs had helped Laura move the tables out of the center of the room, and they were now against the walls, the dishes and flatwear removed. Abbie’s orchids remained, the silver and gold ribbons still on the tables to accent their color and beauty. Boxes of decorations, tinsel and lights had been set out for those who wanted to take part in the decorating.

  Laughing liltingly, Abbie hurried ahead of him and went to a box of lights that would have to be strung first. How handsome Colt looked in his black slacks and pale pink shirt. He had shrugged off the charcoal jacket he wore, unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves to his elbows.

  “Here,” she said breathlessly as she looked over his shoulder at the huge, twenty-foot evergreen, “we need all you tall guys to get up on those ladders and string these lights.”

  Caught up in her infectious enthusiasm for the tree trimming, Colt took the box from her and headed over to one of three ladders that had been placed around the proud tree standing in the living room. Up on the other ladders were Mike Houston and Morgan. Colt climbed nimbly up as other men positioned themselves below to help. Teamwork. Yes, that was what it was all about. As Colt sat perched on the ladder, he gazed across the cheerful crowd of onlookers. His gaze fell on Abbie, who stood near the back of the gathered crowd with Jason. Her eyes sparkled with such life that Colt found himself taking a deep breath. Happiness threaded through him, strong and clean. It helped wash away the darkness still inhabiting him.

  Much later, after the tree had been trimmed and the children had put on the final touches of silver tinsel, Colt stood back with his arm around Abbie’s shoulders to view their handiwork.

  “What a beautiful tree!” Abbie sighed softly, giving him a warm look. The night had been magical for her...and him. Every hour that passed, Abbie saw Colt easing more and more out of his self-imposed shell. By the end of the evening, he was a different man. She absorbed his laughter, enjoyed his easy play with the kids, his joking with the other mercs. This was a side of Colt she had not known existed and she loved him fiercely for sharing it with her. This was the healthy side of him; the part that had not been wounded by those deadly missions. Abbie’s heart still ached for him. Hope bounded through her for Colt, and for the two of them. All night, whenever possible, he’d had his arm around her waist or shoulders. Or he’d reached out to touch her in some small, but meaningful way. She appreciated his reaching out to her, and she knew Colt was entrusting himself to her...especially his raw emotions and his carefully guarded vulnerability. Abbie ached to love him, ached to be one with him and find herself waking up with him on some cold winter morning, warm and well-loved in his powerful arms.

  Was she dreaming? Was it folly? How could she fall so hard for someone so quickly? It frightened her in some ways, but in others, being around Colt felt so natural, as if he were a simple extension of herself. Was this the magic of the five days of Christmas that Laura had always talked about? Christmas was such a healing time of year, anyway, to Abbie. For the last two years, she’d spent them alone, remembering the past. Now, this year, she was fully in the present and looking forward to a future—with Colt. Was she foolish? Crazy? Abbie wasn’t sure, but she was going to take that risk and pursue whatever it was that they had. There was no guarantee of a happy outcome, she knew. Colt was wounded. And although he was showing her in so many small ways that he liked her, she knew it probably didn’t match the power of her own emotions toward him. No, only time would tell, and she trusted herself enough to grant herself that gift.

  “Come here,” Colt whispered dangerously near her ear.

  Abbie grinned and looked up at him as he gently grasped her arm and led her out of the living room, where everyone was singing Christmas carols. “Colt! Where are we going?” She laughed breathlessly as he led her into the den, now empty of people.

  Giving her a wicked look, he placed her beneath the copper lamp that hung suspended in the center of the den. “Right here,” he said, his smile widening.

  Loving his unexpected spontaneity, Abbie looked up. There, suspended beneath the lamp on a bright crimson ribbon, was a huge sprig of mistletoe.

  “Uh-oh,” she murmured. “I’m in trouble.”

  “Are you ever, sweetheart. Come here....” Colt stepped up to her, slid his massive arms around her slender form and brought her fully against him. As he leaned down, he saw joy, like gold flecks of sunlight, in her eyes. She lifted her arms and slid them over his shoulders. Her lips parted. Groaning, he leaned down and captured them, a man starving for light instead of darkness.

  The tune of “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” floated into the room and surrounded them as Katy Trayhern, an accomplished musician, took to the piano. Abbie moaned softly as Colt’s lips grazed hers. How glad she was that he had stolen her away! Had he read her mind? Known that she was desperately hungry and craving another kiss from him? Abbie sighed and fell against him, allowing Colt to take her full weight. With him, she was safe, and she knew it.

  Colt quivered as she brazenly met and returned the fire of his aching kiss. Abbie was bold. She set him ablaze with her lips, caressing his with wantonness. Feeling the soft press of her breasts against his chest, he slid his hands downward across her small, strong spine and wide hips—hips roomy enough to carry a baby someday.

  In those molten moments, with the Christmas music surrounding them and their bodies melting against one another, Colt could only feel desire, happiness and a deep, aching longing in his soul to make Abbie his forever. As he threaded his fingers through her ponytail and eased her away from him, her eyes were slumberous with desire—for him. Her lips were wet and well kissed. He saw her smile drowsily.

  “Wow...” she whispered unsteadily.

  With this woman in his arms who he considered more magical than real, a woman who held his heart so tenderly that he didn’t know what to do or say, Colt could only stand there, grinning. All he knew was that he was looking forward to the fourth day of Christmas with Abbie, tomorrow. His life, his heart, his soul were inexplicably tied to her. And although Colt still tasted the fear of his dark, wounded side, for at least this moment he wanted to pretend it wasn’t there and that Abbie was all that existed in his miserable life. She was light to his eternal darkness. Light.

  5

  Christmas Eve, December 24

  There was no way to gird himself for this Christmas Eve ahead of him. As Colt entered the second floor of the Veterans Hospital, which was located in Anaconda, Montana, his hands full of gifts for those who were bedridden, he was grateful for Abbie’s nearness. She would help him get through this visit.

  Every year, Morgan and Laura, along with the Perseus employees and spouses, took a bus to Anaconda, Montana, a large city southeast of Philipsburg, to visit the Veterans Hospital. The vets there came from all the U.S. military services. Anyone who had served could take advantage of VA hospitals for wounds gained in combat, or if they had no medical insurance of their own, to receive medical help during their civilian years. Veterans hospitals were spread across the states to care for those who had given so much to their country.

  As members of Perseus split up to cover the five floors, Colt and Abbie took the second one, where most of the vets were from the Korean and Vietnam eras. Swallowing hard, he felt his gut tightening with a lot of suppressed emotions as they stepped onto the green-and-white tiled floor. On either side of the huge ward, white-haired men lay in white beds, their faces aged, but their expressions alert and expectant looking. Few of these vets had visitors, and he knew how much they looked forward to anyone who would spend a few minutes with them. Families could be hundreds, even thousands of miles away, so most vets languished alone, without support from loved ones or friends. That’s why visits such as this were so important. It helped their morale and let them k
now that others appreciated their patriotic gift.

  Colt carried two huge wicker baskets containing Christmas sacks for each vet. Abbie and the other women of Perseus had tucked many thoughtful and useful items into gaily decorated sacks to give to each patient in the ward. There was a slice of thick fruitcake in a plastic box, vanilla sauce in another, plus plastic flatware and a bright red napkin. A twenty-dollar phone card was included so that a veteran who was bed-bound could call his family over the Christmas holiday, along with a gold envelope that contained a hundred dollars in cash. Most vets earned meager government stipends and lived below the poverty level, so the money would come in handy.

  His mouth growing dry as they walked past the swinging doors, Colt spotted a number of orderlies, men and women, dressed in white uniforms. One woman, a registered nurse with short black hair and dancing blue eyes, hurried over to them.

  “Hey, were glad you came! The guys here have been waiting for you.” She smiled and gestured toward the ward. “The only one you can’t give fruitcake to is down there at the end—Mr. Charles Langford. Charlie’s blind and has diabetes, so he can’t have sugar products.” The nurse looked up at Colt. “Why don’t you visit with him, sir? He just got a letter from his son, who’s over in Kosovo serving in the army? I don’t have time to read it to him. I’m sure he’d like you to do that for him. That’s a Christmas gift in itself.”

  Nodding, Colt said, “Yeah, be happy to.” Liar. He was scared. Kosovo. He glanced over at the old man named Charlie, who was sitting up in bed, clothed in wrinkled blue pajamas that seemed too large for him. Great. Talking with a man who had a son in Kosovo was the last thing Colt wanted to do, but the nurse had already taken the wicker basket from him and set it on a nearby gurney. Then she gripped Colt by the arm and propelled him down the highly polished aisle to the last bed on the right.