She rocked him gently back and forth. Tears squeezed from her tightly shut eyes. “We all feel like that, Colt. Life doesn’t always deal fair hands to everyone.”
He knew she was referring to her husband’s death. Yet Abbie had survived it and was flourishing. “I wish I had whatever it is you have....” he said gruffly.
“What?” Abbie choked back a sob as she felt Colt reaching out to her.
“You’ve survived the hell of losing your husband, and yet you’re whole and can move on. Me? I’m nailed by what I saw during those missions over in Kosovo. Today...that letter... Damn it, Abbie, Charlie has a son, an Army M.P. over there.... The letter...” Colt couldn’t go on. All he could do was hold her tightly and bury his face against her neck. Violently, his feeling surged upward. Tears leaked from his eyes no matter how hard he tried to force them back.
Abbie opened her eyes and saw the streaks glistening down his hard, taut cheek. Opening her hand, she caught them on her fingertips. “Its all right, Colt. Let it out...all of it. I’ll just sit here and hold you.... Please...you’re safe with me, darling....”
Abbie knew her words were healing to him. She felt a powerful shudder work through Colt. His arms held her like steel bands and the air rushed out of her lungs from his sudden, hard embrace. The first sob worked up and out of his tormented mouth, and then another. Her entire body shook as he buried his head against her and sobbed again. Oh, why did men fight so hard to run away from their feelings? She closed her eyes, rocked him and held him with her womanly strength for a long, long time.
Finally, the storm within Colt passed. It seemed like a miracle to him as he eased away from Abbie at long last. He had no idea what time it was and he didn’t care. Feeling cleaner and more steady than he had in weeks, Colt gave her a burning look of silent thanks. Abbie’s expression remained tender and caring. Her lips were parted, and he could see the remnants of tears drying on her own flushed cheeks. How beautiful she looked to him. Raising his hand, Colt grazed her tear-stained flesh with his fingers. “You are so incredible, so strong, Abbie...and I feel like a limp dishrag emotionally in comparison.” He forced a one-cornered smile.
She caught his hand, kissed the top of it and held it in her lap. “Part of caring for another person is being there for them, Colt. I knew you needed this—to be held...to be listened to. I saw how much you were hurting.”
Nodding, he sagged back against the couch, eased his arm around her shoulders and brought Abbie against him. She came without resistance, her hand resting in the center of his chest, over his heart. “Thank you...” he murmured gruffly. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her unruly red hair. “You’re strong, Abbie. I’m so in awe of you. You’re small, yet mighty.”
She laughed a little and closed her eyes, reveling in his tenderness toward her. This is what she needed, whether he realized it or not. Now that Colt was unafraid to show his emotions to her, he was completely vulnerable with her, too. It was a Christmas gift she thought she’d never share with another man. Ever. Not even in her wildest dreams had Abbie thought there could be another man with Ted’s sensitivity or ability to share with her. But there was: Colt Hamlin. “You’re such a gift to me, Colt...in all ways....”
“Yeah,” he griped good-naturedly, “a crybaby.”
She looked up at him. Although his eyes were bloodshot, his gaze was clear now. No longer did Abbie see the murky storm of emotions that had been there before. “I happen to like men who can cry. Crying doesn’t make you weak, it makes you look strong to me, Colt. Look how much crying helped Charlie....”
Lifting his hand, Colt cupped her small face and studied her shining blue eyes. “I wanted to cry with him, Abbie, in the worst way. But I fought it like hell itself. That letter...well, it was enough to rip the hardest-hearted man apart. It did me.”
“It helped to heal you,” Abbie said gently. “Like cures like sometimes.” She turned her cheek and pressed a kiss into his open palm.
“You’re healing to me,” Colt rasped unsteadily as he guided her face upward for a kiss. “You look at me, and I feel my heart opening. Your laughter makes me feel hope again, Abbie.” He hesitated before he kissed her parting lips. Drowning in her slumberous blue eyes, he whispered roughly, “It’s you...all of you, the way you are, that’s helping me, supporting me in a way I’ve never experienced before. I can’t explain it.... And whatever it is, sweetheart, I want more of it. I want more of you....”
His words fell around her like a warm blanket of love. Abbie leaned forward, her lips grazing the hard set of his mouth. Colt’s eyes were alive once more with tears, and she understood how open and raw he was feeling right now. Lifting her arms, she eased them around his neck and deepened her kiss, her lips sliding tenderly across his until his mouth melted and opened to receive all that she could give him with her heart and soul.
As Abbie swirled in a golden haze of light and desire, wrapped in Colt’s arms, she knew that somehow, through the fires of his anguish and pain, she was falling in love with this modern-day warrior who’d been so deeply wounded by what he’d seen and experienced. Abbie hadn’t expected to be able to love again. She drank headily of his kisses, moving her lips tenderly against his.
Colt finally eased away. He didn’t want to, but knew he had to or else. He saw Abbie’s brows knit momentarily, saw the question in her eyes as he slid his hands across her shoulders.
“If I don’t stop, sweetheart, I’m going to lift you into my arms, carry you off into your bedroom and never let you go.” He gave her a humorous look. “And I need your okay to do that, first. It has to be mutual.”
Her heart pounding with joy, Abbie caressed his cheek. Colt’s eyes were alive with raw, burning desire—for her. “I feel like I’m coming back to life, Colt. I never thought...well, I never thought I’d ever feel again after Ted’s death, but I am. Its a miracle....” And it was, Abbie thought as she gazed wonderingly up into his eyes. Just the way his mouth crooked, that confidence and strength in his smile, sent a flash of longing coursing through her.
“You’re my miracle,” he whispered roughly, not wanting to let her go. “And it’s all happening so fast that I’m spinning from it. I really didn’t want to help you. Morgan persuaded me, and now I’m glad he did.” Brushing his fingers across her unruly hair, he smiled lopsidedly. “I’m scared, Abbie. I need to know how you feel about me...us...if there is an us or not....”
Sighing, Abbie gave him a tender look and snuggled back into his arms, her head in the crook of his shoulder. “There is an us as far as I’m concerned, Colt. And like you, I’m bowled over by our attraction to each other. What you do to me, how you make me feel—it’s...wonderful, unexpected.”
Was it love? Colt wondered, sinking back against the couch with her in his arms. It had to be, yet he was unwilling to speak those words yet. He was afraid Abbie might run or turn him down. “It is for me, too,” he confided in a gravelly tone as he ran his fingers slowly across her upper arm. “This is turning into a Christmas I’ll never forget,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head.
Abbie opened her eyes and stared off through the living room. She felt the solid, heavy beat of Colt’s heart beneath her palm. “Do dreams come true, Colt? Or am I a dyed-in-the-wool romantic who doesn’t have a prayer?”
Chuckling, he rasped, “We have a chance, Abbie. Wanting a relationship is the first step.”
Her heart thudded. “Do you?”
He felt her grow still in his arms. Fear sizzled through him. He forced the truth out. “Yes.” And even more fear shot through him. “Do you?”
Abbie whispered, “Yes...but I’m afraid, Colt. I don’t know of what, I just am.”
“Maybe because things have been happening so fast. Maybe because of your loss of Ted...”
She sat up and eased away just enough to look deeply into his hooded eyes, which still regarded her with desire. “Do we have the time? Are you going back on the merc schedule soon?” Inwardly, Abbie was fearful. Would she
lose Colt, too? Oh, she knew Ted had died in a stupid automobile accident, not on a mission. But every time he’d gone on a mission, there was a chance he’d never return. Abbie knew she couldn’t put herself through that emotional gauntlet again and survive. Did she have the right to tell Colt that? Anguished, Abbie searched his vulnerable face. Her heart, her body, responded wildly to his look. How badly she wanted to make love to Colt. But to do that, there had to be something of substance, something lasting, between them. She waited painfully for his answer.
Searching her eyes, Colt sensed her trepidation about the possibility of his returning to mission status. “Right now, the way I’m stoved up from the last one, I’m not going back on the roster, Abbie. I have to leave after Christmas to go visit my dad in Florida, to make sure he’s okay and see if he needs anything. Then—” he shrugged, “—I was going to come back here in hopes that we could pick up where we left off.”
Relief flooded through her. Wetting her lips, Abbie whispered, “Yes...I’d like that, Colt. I really would....”
His grin was boyish. “Yeah?”
She giggled a little. “Oh, yes.”
He touched an errant curl near her cheek and twisted it gently around his index finger. “I gotta get going now...got some stuff that needs taking care of....”
Abbie tried to hide her disappointment. She wanted Colt to stay, but lacked the courage to ask him. Okay...”
“Tomorrow we have brunch over at the Trayherns, and then the kids get to open up their Christmas presents. May I escort you?”
Sometimes he was so achingly formal. Abbie gave him a tender smile and grazed his stubbled cheek, which felt like sandpaper beneath her sensitive fingers. “Of course you can. It’s my favorite day, Colt. The kids—” she laughed excitedly “—oh, the kids love it! Morgan and Laura buy everyone a gift, including the adults. They’re such generous people—almost to a fault. But the children just go crazy. I love to watch them digging for their own gift in the pile under the Christmas tree.”
Colt absorbed the shining quality in Abbie’s eyes. “You were made to be a mother,” he told her quietly. And she was. The unexpected thought that he could give her the greatest gift of love—a baby—filled him with a sense of power that set his heart pounding. There was no question that he was falling helplessly in love with this sunny woman with red hair and an incredibly giving heart.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he promised with a growl. There was something very, very special he had to do first....
6
December 25, Christmas Day
Abbie sat on one end of the couch with Colt’s arm around her shoulders as they waited for Morgan and Laura to begin passing out the gifts from beneath the huge, sparkling Christmas tree. Sighing happily, Abbie felt a contentment that she’d never thought she’d feel again. With snowflakes twirling lazily outside the huge picture windows of the Trayherns’ massive living room, Christmas was as beautiful as a picture postcard.
It had snowed all night, so the evergreens surrounding the cedar home, the rounded hills embracing it and the massive Rocky Mountains in the distance all had a new layer of glistening powdered sugar. The sky was a leaden gray and hung low, promising more snow throughout the day. That was all right with Abbie.
Her heart, her thoughts, were centered on Colt, and she was enjoying his nearness. She hadn’t slept much last night because her feelings churned from giddy joy to abject terror. Colt’s ability to shed his hard warrior mask and be incredibly human with her had forced her to look at what she really wanted out of life.
Giving Colt a tender look, she watched one corner of his mouth crook in a grin as he met and held her gaze. Abbie felt him squeeze her shoulders gently. All around them, the volume of noise was rising as the children sat in a semicircle around the tree, squirming eagerly as they waited for the gifts to be handed out. The adults had cameras or videocams ready to record the exciting event.
“You think these kids are going to make it?” Colt asked her, his lips near her ear.
Abbie giggled. “They look like they’re going to burst with excitement, don’t they?” The littlest children, beaming with barely contained anticipation, had scooted up to within inches of where Morgan and Laura stood in front of the tree. The older children sat back with more decorum and patience. It was the littlest tykes, the ones who believed fervently in the spirit of Santa Claus, who kept crowding right up to the gift givers’ feet.
“Yeah, they do. It’s nice to see that kind of innocence,” Colt replied, gazing down at Abbie. She looked beautiful this morning. He had learned that she loved velvet, and today she wore a violet-colored velvet turtleneck along with some very sensual looking black satin jeans that were driving him crazy. A spray of white Dendrobium orchids with red lips, which hailed from Australia, was fastened expertly into her gleaming, curly hair, which she’d tamed and clipped up at the back of her head. The resulting cascade of curls shone gold and copper in the light of the chandeliers above them.
Abbie absorbed his words and saw the happiness in his eyes. Colt looked so handsome this morning. He wore a white cowboy shirt with pearl snaps, a tan-colored corduroy sport coat, dark brown slacks and his black cowboy boots. She had the maddening urge to tame that slight, rebellious curl that dipped over his brow back into place, but she stopped herself. When she was around Colt, Abbie found herself wanting to touch him all the time. From the moment they’d arrived this morning for brunch, Colt had kept his arm either around her waist or around her shoulders, and it had raised some eyebrows. Abbie had seen many of Colt’s friends nod and smile at them, as if approving of their newfound closeness. Especially Laura, who practically beamed like the rising sun.
“May I have your attention for just a second?” Morgan called out in his deep baritone voice. He held up his hands, a grin on his face. Dressed in a bright red sweater, comfortable Levi’s and cowboy boots, he looked down at his wife.
Laura laughed. Gazing down fondly at the eager three-, four-and five-year-olds gathered anxiously around their feet, she said, “You’d better hurry, darling, or these kids are going to overwhelm your position, tactically speaking.” Today Laura had chosen a gold lamé long-sleeved top with a glittering red-green-and-white scarf around her neck. Since satin jeans were the rage, she wore a pair of wine-colored ones with her sensible black loafers. Smiling down at the excited, squirming children, she said, “Better hurry, Morgan, they’re going to overrun us any moment now!”
Everyone laughed.
Morgan chuckled and gave the children at his feet a warm look. Off to his right was his son, once again in his dark blue uniform with shining brass buttons down the front.
“Well, I guess if I don’t want to get swarmed, I’ll make my thirty-minute speech very, very short.”
There was a collective groan from the crowd. No one wanted a long speech at this point, particularly the antsy, eager children.
“How about a two-minute speech?” he asked, grinning.
Everyone clapped and cheered.
Laughing, Morgan slid his arm around his wife and drew her near. “Everyone, we’re glad you were here to celebrate Christmas with us.” He gave Laura a look of love and pride. “This was her idea, not mine, but over the years I’ve come to see that it’s a great one.”
Again there were claps and cheers.
Laura laughed. “We want to thank all the hard workers behind the scenes who helped bring this off. You know who you are. And we hope that you have a wonderful Christmas Day. Morgan? Should we start handing out the presents?”
The children leaped to their feet, screeching and clapping loudly. The adults broke into laughter.
Morgan raised his thick, black eyebrows. “I think we’d better, Laura, or they’re going to charge us.”
Abbie watched as Laura and Morgan went to the massive tree and began pulling out the bright, colorfully wrapped presents. She knew that Laura had gone to great lengths to contact the mothers to find out what each child would like to have f
or Christmas. Because Perseus was top-heavy with money, the Trayherns spared no expense on the many charities they funded around the globe, nor did they stint on holiday gifts for the kids.
Colt sat there, Abbie beneath his arm, her warm body leaning against him while he watched the children’s faces light up with anticipation as the gifts were quickly distributed. Giving her a glance, Colt saw that her cheeks were suffused with pink. Her hands clasped on her knees, she was raptly watching the children, a soft smile playing across her lips.
How badly he wanted her. All of her. Colt had done a lot of thinking last night, and he’d had a long talk with Morgan earlier this morning before everyone had come to brunch. Would Abbie approve of his new plan?
He noticed that when they’d strolled into the living room earlier, before everyone settled around the U-shaped table for brunch, she’d spotted the three-foot-tall, gold-foil-wrapped gift with a huge, bright red ribbon on top, at the rear of the Christmas tree. She’d commented that some lucky little kid was going to get a really big gift. Colt had smiled and said nothing. Little did she know that gift was for her!
Although the Trayherns gave everyone a present, parents included, no one else was exchanging gifts at this party. However, Laura had enthusiastically endorsed Colt’s idea that he give his gift to Abbie after all the others had been distributed. His heart hammered briefly with anxiety. Would Abbie like it? Would she see the symbolism behind it? Realize what he hoped for them? Or would she be horribly embarrassed? Angry at him? Colt wasn’t sure. However, when he’d talked to Laura about it, she’d been over-the-moon enthusiastic. Her blatant approval had convinced Colt to go ahead with his wild plan. Now, if only Abbie would approve of what he’d done....
Morgan stood amid the torn Christmas paper, bows and ribbon. Laura stood with him, a satisfied expression on her face. The children were already raptly playing with their new toys, lost in their own happy world.
A Proposal for Christmas: State SecretsThe Five Days of Christmas Page 28