Christmas Hearts: In the Company of Snipers Page 2

  His fingertips tapped faster. He could afford to buy Kelsey anything. His business for snipers coming back from the war was unexpectedly successful. He had the money to whisk her off to Paris for the holiday, and he’d love to spoil her like that. Or Hawaii…

  Hmmm. His fingertips moved to his chin, then his lower lip, still tapping. That was actually an excellent idea. They could get married at Waikiki. On the beach. At sunset. She’d look gorgeous with the sun in her face and the wind in her hair. He knew a Navy chaplain stationed at Pearl/Hickam. It would be a helluva surprise. Kelsey would be thrilled. She already wore his engagement ring. It would be the perfect Christmas present. If anyone on the planet deserved that kind of a surprise for Christmas, it was Kelsey. By hell, a wedding on the beach just might solve his problem. Only…

  No. That won’t work. Any show of his superior wealth to her pittance of a kindergarten teacher’s salary would minimize whatever she was giving him. Alex couldn’t show her up just because he had the means to do it. It would hurt her feelings if, on Christmas morning, she gave him something smaller. Less extravagant. Less showy. As solid as he knew their love was, there were still days their relationship faltered. There were still moments it was a minefield of regrets and memories of lost children and angels and butterfly wings, of little boys with their mama’s chocolate eyes.

  So…

  Christmas. Yeah. What was a guy to do?

  Chapter Two

  Yes! It’s here! Kelsey hurried to the door to intercept the UPS man before he could make his getaway. That guy was so busy at this time of year, he ran when he delivered. She was afraid she’d miss him.

  “Thank you,” she called after him, her fingers clutching the package he’d left tucked inside her storm door. “Merry Christmas!”

  Already at his truck, the young man turned with a grin, the brightly wrapped box of milk chocolate orange sticks tucked in his hand. “Thanks for thinking of me, ma’am. Merry Christmas!”

  She stood there for a moment, her palm against the lovely glass inset that Alex had made for her. The day he’d rescued her from herself and brought her to his home in Alexandria, Virginia, was also the day he’d methodically, and very thoughtfully, rescued every last fingerprint of her sons from that nightmare she’d lived through in Lakewood, Washington. Somewhere, he’d located an artist to transfer those fingerprints to this new door glass. The artfully smudged hand and finger prints made it look as if Tommy and Jackie had been there, as if she could step through this magic portal and have them back again.

  Alex was her knight in shining armor. Her savior. He’d literally picked her up that day and spirited her away to a land where monsters didn’t lurk around corners. Where men didn’t slap their wives around. Where men protected their children above all others.

  Here in his home, she’d learned about safety and honor. About love and passion. She’d healed, but this glass inset would always be her portal back in time. Those sweet fingerprints brought the pain back, yes, but they also brought all the good times. She clung to them.

  Alex hadn’t known when he’d searched out an artist who could etch little-boy fingerprints on glass, but those small reminders of better days had inspired in her a need to be strong—for him. He had his demons and she had hers, but together, they could fight through the hard days. They could win.

  Kelsey closed the lovely door against the brisk December weather and her tender memories with it. Shivers of anticipation raced up her spine making her wiggle. Finally! It came!

  She’d always loved Christmas. It used to be the one day of the year when the whole world stopped and took a breath and people were truly kind to each other. But this Christmas had to be special enough to really make him smile. Alex was not by nature a cheerful man. He tended to brood, to hold things too close to his heart. He’d been so somber lately. Preoccupied.

  Kelsey understood. Christmas wasn’t a day he cared to celebrate since he’d lost his family, but this one was different if only because—it had to be. They’d survived the most horrendous murder attempt only six months earlier. The whole ugly thing went down at Alex’s cabin in the Northwest, and he’d been in the hospital over a month afterward, but the important thing was—they had survived. More than that, Alex still loved her, and she loved that crotchety Marine with every beat of her silly, pounding heart.

  She’d worried she’d never be able to show him how much he meant until the idea came to her in class one morning. Her kindergartners were dutifully occupied with tiny plastic cups of white glue, glitter, and sheets of red and green and white construction paper. Some were bossing others. Some had never been allowed to play with so much glue before, but all were busily engaged in tearing the paper into small pieces to make Christmas collages for their parents.

  Kelsey had moved from table to table, praising and offering ideas to get them started, laughing along with the outrageous ideas five-year-olds came up with. Sam made what he’d proudly declared was Santa, but resembled a leprechaun. All green. How cute!

  Chesney had covered a white sheet of paper with tiny pieces of more white paper and called it a snowstorm, because she declared, “I love snow.”

  While most of the other children had made a hodge-podge of Christmas trees or snowmen, serious little Mary had quietly pieced together a big green heart with her carefully torn pieces. In the center of the green heart was a smaller, red one. Her daddy wasn’t coming home for Christmas. He was a soldier deployed to Iraq. Those hearts were all of her love for her daddy, she’d said. Every. Last. Bit.

  Kelsey knew then what Alex was getting for Christmas. She just had to cut it and shape it, expertly and carefully. She had to hurry because…

  There were only three days left until Christmas!

  But wouldn’t you know? That man of hers had just turned his black GMC pick-up into the driveway, its diesel engine clattering to announce his earlier than usual arrival. She’d barely stuffed the UPS package behind her back when Alex opened the outer storm door, stamping the fresh, early snow off his shoes at the welcome mat on the stoop.

  Her mind stuttered at sight of the man she adored. Her breath whooshed out of her lungs, and her lips went dry just looking at him. Just watching. Just knowing he was home safe and within reach. He hadn’t spotted her yet, but he soon would. Electricity sizzled up her spine.

  Alex was by far the sexiest man she’d ever encountered. The noblest. The fiercest. The kindest. And sometimes the scariest. She often felt she had a tiger by the tail, a beautiful but wild beast in her bed, one that had been tortured and scarred by life. A wild animal only she could gentle. She didn’t know why her touch worked, but she’d seen the way the ice in his eyes melted when they were together. If he was a glacier, then she was that intrepid mountaineer, determined to keep on climbing that rugged man’s muscular body until he smiled all the time.

  Her fingers clenched his gift even as heat pooled low in her belly. She could’ve stood there all day drinking the sight of him in, watching the impatient way he flicked the few snowflakes off his broad shoulders with long, manly fingertips, the way he cocked his head annoyed at the weather, the corner of his jaw, sharp and demanding, the dark shade of blue in his sharpshooter eyes. He towered a good foot over her, lean and athletically built, strong with brown hair, premature gray at his temples, but what an incredible alpha male.

  And he was all hers.

  Most of the time, Alex looked angry, as if the world had irritated him once too often, but today he looked… restless.

  Ah, that man. He’d given up his military uniform for a business suit and a belt with a buckle she liked to undo on her way to the rest of him. Kelsey drew in a quick breath, on fire for his touch. Molten lava coursed through her veins, and he hadn’t even made eye contact yet. But when he did, she knew what she’d see. An assessing, approving stare. A command. A compulsion. She swallowed hard. He could turn her boneless with one come-hither chin lift and a rumbling, “Hey Kelsey.”

  Alex had a lethal presence abou
t him. He had the carefully crafted, arrogant mask of a master warrior, a stone cold USMC scout sniper, down to a fine art. That Marine Corps stare of his could make grown men take a step back and rethink their futures. She’d seen him in action. Alex was a powerful predator of the highest order, unafraid of the world or the evil men in it. He truly could take on the world alone, whip its ass, and still come up fighting.

  But it was the stamp of sorrow forever in his eyes that she’d always connected with, the terse cut of an injured man’s jaw. His far-off gaze, as if he were looking for the people he’d lost in life.

  She took an involuntary step to him, needing with all of her heart to vanquish those tense lines at the corners of his eyes. Her breath caught. What was she doing? She had a Christmas secret in her hands. She couldn’t let him see her. Not yet!

  Chapter Three

  Alex dusted the last white snowflakes off his broad shoulders. That was another thing. If he were bold and thoughtless enough, selfish enough, he could’ve moved Kelsey into a new home by now. She could be cooking the Christmas turkey in a convection oven instead of that old gas range, the one left over from the eighties when he and Sara had moved into this cracker box. He could drag in a twenty-foot tall tree just to see Kelsey’s face light up. Hell, he could order one already decorated from the local florist and hire a team to decorate the house with reindeer and all that holiday stuff—if he had a bigger, better home.

  But no…

  She didn’t need heartless and she didn’t need extravagant or selfish, not after what they’d survived. Kelsey wasn’t like that anyway. Her needs were simple. She actually liked this old house.

  Alex angled his frame through the small front door of a home he’d outgrown the second he’d asked Kelsey to marry him. He lifted his chin and offered the same words that men all over the country were saying, “Honey. I’m home.”

  His starter home smelled just as he’d expected, of cookies and dinner and coffee, three of his favorite aromas. Kelsey loved to cook and bake for him, and he loved to eat. At least the Lord got that part of this damned miracle right.

  But where was she? He looked to his left down the hallway. Their bedroom door stood open. To the right, the bathroom and guest bedroom doors were askance as well. Maybe she was out walking Whisper and Smoke in the snow. She treated his dogs more like kids, and the goofy hounds, both leftover EOD canines, adored her almost as much as a walk in the snow.

  But one glance out the kitchen window into the backyard, and no. Kelsey wasn’t there, either. Only two big goofballs standing at attention at their kennel gate with their ears perked up, their eyes on the kitchen window, and their tails waggling. Just like him. Watching and eager and twitching for Kelsey.

  Funny dogs. Their kennel stood where his daughter, Abby’s swing set used to stand, next to the oak where he’d promised to build a tree house. He’d already sketched out a rough blue print. It would’ve had pink shutters…

  Alex stared at the flood of memories assaulting him. He could almost hear the tinkle of Abby’s little girl giggle, the unconditional love in her excited cry of, “Daddy’s home!”

  That was why he hated Christmas most of all. The highly trained warrior in him could search until the end of time for that sweet little girl. The sniper in his soul could stand and wait on target forever, his hand at the ready to rescue and save, and his heart in his throat. But none of it mattered. It hadn’t then. It didn’t now. Like Kelsey’s boys, she was just as gone.

  He swallowed hard, pushed the memory back into a manageable lump in his throat, and thanked God for Kelsey. He didn’t have to like the guy upstairs to acknowledge that he was damned grateful for the good woman in his life.

  A gentle footfall thumping up the basement stairs brought him around. That was odd, Kelsey downstairs in his woodshop? Breathlessly, she closed the door behind her, her hands still clutching the knob, and if he were a guessing man, he’d say she looked suspiciously like she was up to something.

  She blinked those big beautiful doe eyes at him and said breathlessly, “Oh. Hi Alex. You’re home early. I, umm, I was just making sure the cradles were ready to go.”

  Making wooden cradles and rocking horses for the kids in the hospital were his way of dealing with the twenty-fifth. Of course they were ready. She’d helped him paint the last ones last night. He sensed a tremor in her tone, a hitch in her composure. Was her pulse pounding at the hollow of her neck? She didn’t look at him when she’d spoken. Why not?

  “The cradles?” he asked, deciphering what was really going on.

  Her soft chocolate curls bobbed, and at last, she looked him straight in the eye. “Yes, the cradles. Why else would I be down there?”

  Alex lost the war right then. With her hair shorn as short as it was, Kelsey seemed all eyes. All wide-open innocence. Still holding her breath, her lashes fluttered with some hidden secret. Or fear. The slight tremble in those shiny curls checked Alex’s tendency to control the situation. Kelsey didn’t need to be afraid of anything ever again, certainly not in her own home. There was a time he’d frightened her, but that day was done. Alex let his nature to dominate and control go. He was Kelsey’s one sure, safe place. Her sanctuary. And that was good enough for him.

  Shrugging out of his heavy trench coat, he folded it once to keep it wrinkle free, and laid it over the back of a kitchen chair. That was another thing. He wanted Kelsey to have more than a cheap little dinette set in this kitchen. She deserved a nice big dining room complete with an oak table and enough chairs to entertain anyone and everyone she invited in. But was she going to get that for Christmas? Not this year, damn it.

  “Work was slow. I let everyone go early.”

  She blew out a small breath as a smile blossomed on her face, instantly brightening his world. “Are you hungry?”

  “For you.” He tugged her delicate frame into his arms, her small breasts flat to his chest, and his fingers raking through her short hair. “Christmas is coming,” he said quietly before his recollections got the best of him again. Framing her gentle face in his wide palms, he tilted her chin upward with his thumbs, needing to breathe her breath into his soul again. Funny, he’d only been gone hours, but it always felt longer. He kissed the end of her pert nose. “Any idea what we should do to celebrate that day?”

  “Midnight Mass?” It was hard to miss the hopeful tone in her voice.

  But no. He shook his head. “Sorry. I’d go just to make you happy, but I’d rather not.”

  Her smile didn’t let up. She cocked her head, her gaze not flickering from his. “No problem. I knew you’d say that, but I thought I’d ask. The final performance of Dickens’ Christmas Carole is playing at Ford Theater?” She posed that info-byte as a question.

  “Didn’t we see it last year?” Once was enough in his book. Scrooge reminded Alex too much of himself.

  “Oh, you,” Kelsey chuckled warmly, her arms now twined around his shoulders, her fingers at the nape of his neck and the length of her deliciously lean and tasty body pressed in tight where he could never get enough of it. She’d brought his dark and worthless soul back to life when they’d met, and every last part of him was happy to see her. Some were just more ready to celebrate than others.

  He smoothed both of his hands down her back to her backside, secretly thrilled when her breath hitched the moment he cupped her ass. “I have another idea,” he said, seduction in his mind. “These jeans might have to go, though.”

  Her fingers slid under his suit jacket, tugging his shirt free from his dress slacks, the warmth of her arms skimming over his bare skin and lighting a fire in his veins. This woman got him like no other. If there was one word to describe Kelsey it was ‘giving.’

  “I’m ready if you are.”

  Enough said. Alex was a man of decisive action. Not words. He bent low enough to capture her in his arms and lift her off her feet. “Baby, I’m always ready.”

  Chapter Four

  As quiet as a mouse in this creaky old house, Kels
ey finished her clandestine work. Alex had nearly caught her with it. Honestly! He never came home early. What was up with that man?

  It had taken him a while to fall into a deep sleep before she’d left their bed. It was early morning, and she’d spent half the night working in the basement, but at last the sanding was done, and the pieces finally fit like the instructions said they would, but didn’t really. Not at first.

  After a few panic attacks with the woodworking tools Alex always handled so effortlessly, but were really hard for a novice to control with finesse, Kelsey had managed. After all, what were a couple of sanded fingertips and three broken nails compared to the genuine smile that would brighten his ruggedly handsome face Christmas morning?

  She bundled the pieces to her treasure in a soft, clean cloth and stashed the bundle inside one of the cradles. Beneath that gruff, tough exterior, her former active duty Marine really did have a soft heart. It might not always show, but she’d recognized it the first time they’d met. He’ll be so surprised!

  Silently, she climbed the basement steps to turn on the coffee maker and begin breakfast. She lived to cook for him, to warm his bed at night, and to kiss his cares away. Now, if he went to work today—like he was supposed to—she’d have time to figure out how that fancy, wood-burning iron of his worked. And that Dremel thingee. It wasn’t enough that the pieces to his gift fit, they had to fit perfectly. Thank heavens he was an expert pyromaniac at heart, too. There would’ve been no way to put her plan into action without his tools.

  Ahh. It felt good to be happy again. To be doing something a little bit sneaky for that grumpy Gus snoring lightly in her bed upstairs. To not be dwelling on Christmases past with all their ghosts.