A Soldier's Christmas: I'll Be Home for Christmas / Presents Under the Tree / If Only in My Dreams. Leslie KellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
temptation was one thing Ellie Blake could not afford.
“El?”
She swallowed hard, watching as Jessie’s eyes rounded to the size of dinner-plates as she saw the man who’d interrupted them. That was further confirmation of his identity. Rafe was the kind of guy women gaped at, with a face and body that were the perfect match for that sexy, throaty, I-want-you voice.
Taking a steadying breath and ordering her heart to go back into standby mode and quit the heart-attack-in-progress thing, she released her death grip on her friend. Jessie, apparently realizing this was the guy Ellie had talked about one sad, wine-filled evening, mumbled an excuse and scurried away. Ellie was left alone to deal with this hot blast from her past. Telling herself she was going to have to kill her best friend later, she glued a noncommittal smile on her face and bit into it, determined to keep it there if she had to bloody the insides of her cheeks.
Finally, when she felt as ready as one could to leap into a human volcano, she slowly turned around to face him.
“Hello, Rafe.”
Wow. That had sounded so normal. So unaffected. So “I didn’t cry over you for months when you finally said goobye, really I didn’t.”
“It really is you,” he murmured as if he’d been uncertain.
“In the flesh.”
She shouldn’t have mentioned flesh because it made her think of skin, which made her think of naked skin, which made her think of Rafe’s naked skin.
Oh, Lord, allowing the words Rafe and naked to enter her brain at the same time was seriously dangerous. Like crossing the streams in Ghostbusters, the-end-of-all-things dangerous.
Especially now, when she realized he’d grown even more handsome since she’d last seen him. When he’d left Chicago to go to boot camp, he’d been a breezy, smiling, dark-haired Italian-American fresh out of college. His deep-set, thickly lashed, dreamy brown eyes had dominated his handsome face, though the sexy mouth had definitely drawn a woman’s attention, as well. The body had been something to see, too—big, lean and hard. He’d maintained the build of the quarterback he’d been in high school, with a wiry masculinity and ease of movement that hinted he’d been racing wildfire on the football field.
But the past four years had made his handsome face even more handsome, if that were possible. He appeared more mature now, fully grown into his looks, that rugged jaw outlined with the faintest rasp of dark beard.
And oh, he was bigger. He no longer had a younger man’s wiry leanness but was instead rock solid with thick arms, a powerful chest and broad shoulders. He’d always made her feel delicate, as he had at least six inches on her. Now she felt positively petite beside him; he’d packed on a good thirty pounds of solid muscle.
Wow. She wished she had a cold drink in her hand because she definitely needed to cool off. Though, to be honest, even walking out of this club into the snowy Chicago night and dunking her head in a snowdrift probably wouldn’t be enough.
“You haven’t changed at all,” he said.
“You have.”
He shrugged, a small frown tugging his brow down over those dark eyes. “I guess I’m carrying a few more scars.”
She hadn’t even noticed the damn scars until he’d pointed them out. One was on the side of his neck just below his right ear, another barely visible beneath the stubble on his jaw. She wondered if that’s why he’d gone with the whole unshaven look, to cover it up. As if a small scar could make the man anything less than mouth-watering? Good grief, adding the faint beard just made him that much more sexy; any woman would instantly be wondering how that sandpapery skin would feel brushing against the most sensitive parts of her body.
Some of her most sensitive parts woke up and did back flips to try to get her attention, ordering her to find out.
Not happening.
“You just look...older.” Harder. Hotter. Sexier. “More mature.” She tapped the tip of her finger on her lips and studied him more closely and admitted, “And a little weary.”
Despite her determination to steel her emotions against Rafe, she couldn’t stop her heart from twisting a little as she noted the faint, haunted quality in his eyes and the shadows beneath them. There was also a hint of gauntness in his cheeks. She wondered about the life he’d been leading that had both aged him into an even more spectacular man, but had also left its mark on him, a glimmer of sadness he couldn’t disguise.
Rafe had been in Iraq for the past few years, she knew. Every time she saw a news story about soldiers being killed there, she went into a frenzy to find out the names, dreading the day she would recognize one. Thankfully, she never had.
He nodded. “Weary. That’s probably a good word for it.”
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice low. She didn’t want him to know how much she cared about the answer to that question. But she cared too much about the answer to not ask it.
“I’m fine. Really.” He forced a smile. “I can’t believe it’s been over four years since I’ve seen you.”
“Not quite,” she said. “The video chats, remember?”
“Of course. But they hardly counted. I mean, they only made me more frustrated because I couldn’t be with you in person.”
She understood the frustration. She’d shared it.
Rafe had been her lover for such a brief time. It had indeed been four years ago, during the first semester of her senior year of college. She hadn’t even started applying to vet schools yet. She’d been young and inexperienced, he a little older, cocky, with killer looks, an easy wit and a ton of confidence.
She hadn’t understood what he’d seen in her, why he’d pursued her after a chance meeting at his cousin’s restaurant. She’d figured it was simple chemistry. But the attraction, purely physical at first, had evolved into much more, at least on her part.
As for him? Well...whatever his feelings had been for her, they hadn’t been as strong as his desire to go off to war. He’d joined the army, his goal to become a ranger. Before leaving, he’d told her that since his military obligation would last a minimum of eight years, he thought it best if they just remained friends. She should move on with her life and not wait for him.
She’d waited. Of course she’d waited.
But after a year, his letters had grown scarce, the video chats even more so. Until finally he’d said he didn’t feel right about keeping the lines of communication open at all. She suspected he’d realized that even those tenuous strings had bound her to him, making it impossible for her to even look at another guy, much less give one a chance. And Ellie, knowing in her heart that he meant it, had done what he’d suggested and moved on.
So how rotten was it for Rafe to come back into her life now, of all times, when she’d just made a serious commitment to another man?
“Happy New Year.”
“You said that,” she replied.
“Are you going to say it back?”
“Sure,” she mumbled.
He laughed softly. “You still didn’t say it.”
“Happy New Year, Rafe,” she said, meaning it, hoping he had a lovely, wonderful, safe year—far away from her.
“You look great.”
“Thank you.”
Silence. What did one say in a moment like this? Other than, What the hell are you doing here? Are you intentionally trying to mess up my life again?
“No, not great,” he said, that intense stare never leaving her face. “Beautiful.”
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“Can’t