Unlike with Percy, she didn’t keep up a running commentary as she continued to work, slipping instead into silence. But it wasn’t an awkward quiet. While he cleaned up, she made garland for the mantle and around the door from fresh evergreen boughs. The brightly wrapped packages she’d brought became their own form of garland over some of the windows. It should’ve looked weird but was actually pretty amazing. Bright and happy, like something out of Santa’s workshop. By the time they were down to the last box, the house had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Janie’s nutcrackers were nestled around the house with ribbon and greenery, and the Christmas village he remembered from his childhood was displayed in a place of honor on the far side of the den. Every room held the touch and scent of the holidays.
“Not bad, Miss Wheeler. Not bad at all.”
Her lips curved in satisfaction as she surveyed her handiwork. “It did come out pretty well, if I do say so myself.”
“Is there some official celebration of a finished tree?”
Her dimples flashed. “As it happens, there is. I’ll make the hot chocolate.”
He didn’t follow her into the kitchen. Instead, he dug through Percy’s record collection, wanting more music as a backdrop to whatever was left of their evening. She came back a few minutes later, as he was slipping another album on the turntable.
“It’s too hot to drink yet, but I added extra marshmallows. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I feel like extra marshmallows on hot chocolate is a rule.”
She grinned. “Now you’re catching on.”
Music began to spill quietly from the speakers. Jazz piano gave way to the familiar, moody brass of Miles Davis. Ryan held out a hand. “Will you dance with me?”
Surprise flashed across her face. But she hesitated only a moment before setting the mugs down and placing her hand in his. He pulled her in, settling his hand at the small of her back as her arm curved around his shoulder, her fingers just brushing his nape. A shiver of arousal worked its way down his spine. He liked how she fit in his arms, liked the easy way her body curved into his. He liked pretty much everything about this woman.
“Thank you for doing this for my uncle. It definitely seems to have improved his spirits.”
She tipped her head. “What about yours?”
The question seemed serious rather than flirty, so he answered honestly. “I concede my spirits are lifted, too.” And wasn’t that a surprise? He hadn’t even been aware they needed lifting. Maybe the job was wearing on him more than he’d realized.
“Then I’d say my mission has been a success.”
“Is that what this is for you? A mission? Operation Christmas?” The idea of it had a mental image unfolding in his brain of her in some kind of camo elf uniform, marching through the base to pass out cookies and holiday cheer. That’d be a helluva thing to see.
“Percy was my mission. You’re…something else.”
He circled them in the glow of the twinkle lights, considering his words. “I’m probably a bad idea.”
“Why?”
“I’m only here for a little while. I’ll be back overseas before you can blink, and I won’t be home again for—honestly, I don’t know how long. My deployment means I’m often out of contact for days or weeks at a time. I’m not in any kind of position to start something.”
“Which one of us are you trying to convince?”
He huffed a soft laugh. “I’m just saying, I know this isn’t ideal.” And there was the out if she wanted it.
Her eyes didn’t stray from his. “But?” The hopeful note had his fingers flexing against her.
He searched her face, not finding any reluctance or concern. “But if I don’t kiss you, I think it’s going to haunt me, wondering what you taste like.”
She shifted closer, her hand curling around his nape and stroking the fine hair there until he wanted to purr like some giant cat. “I’d say you have enough ghosts without adding that to the mix.”
Hallelujah.
He bent his head until it was just a whisper away from hers and held there, right at the edge of temptation.
She pulled back a fraction. “What are you waiting for?” she whispered.
“Percy’s interruption.”
It was her turn to laugh. “He has had pretty crap timing today. But I think he’s really gone to bed. And if he hasn’t, he’s invested enough in his matchmaking effort to stay out of the way.”
“Caught that, did you?”
“He’s not subtle.”
Ryan winced. “Sorry about that.”
“I think it’s sweet.”
“Sweet is not the word I’d use.”
“Ryan?” Amusement glittered in those big blue eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Stop thinking.” To make sure he did, she rose to her toes and touched her lips to his.
His mind emptied of everything but her. He’d imagined she’d be tentative, with a soft mouth ready to be coaxed. But she kissed like she did everything else—with a sweet enthusiasm. She was soft in all the best ways, pliant and willing as he wrapped her tighter in his arms and better angled his head to taste her. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue and she opened for him with a sexy little moan that shot his body temperature up. She tasted of gingerbread, sweet and a little spicy. He wondered if she’d be like that in bed.
When he caught himself calculating the distance to the sofa, he tugged hard on the reins of his control. They weren’t alone in this house and that was a lot further than he’d meant to go. Ruthlessly throttling his arousal, he gentled the kiss, sifting his fingers through the silk of her hair to stroke down her back. She arched into the touch, fraying his hard-won control. When he could manage it, he set them swaying again to whatever new song played and eased back just enough to rest his brow against hers.
“Did that satisfy your curiosity?” Her breathless voice had a whole host of other needs rearing up and demanding satisfaction.
“I’m pretty sure that was a potato chip kiss.”
“A what?”
“You know that whole tagline? You can’t have just one.”
A delighted giggle burbled out of her, and it was the cutest damned thing. “You won’t hear me complaining.”
As the music shifted yet again, she relaxed into him, settling her head against his shoulder with a sigh. A quiet contentment seeped through him. It had been so long since the rest of his ghosts were quiet. That was a seduction of itself, whether she meant it to be or not. Was this what Percy had felt dancing with Janie after dinner? It would be easy, so very easy to fall into the appeal of this woman. To pretend he had more time, more…everything to give her. But he didn’t. And he could already tell that walking away from her was going to be harder than he’d imagined. His hands tightened around her.
“Hannah—”
“What did I say about thinking?”
“I know but—”
She pulled back enough to meet his gaze and cupped his cheek. “You were clear about the boundaries of this, and I’m still here. I like you, and you like me. Can’t we just roll with that?”
It wasn’t in his nature or training to simply accept things as they came. Everything in his life was carefully planned, with contingency plans and protocols for when things went off the rails. He survived by always considering the possible outcomes and alternatives. Looking ten steps ahead but being ready for a disaster to come out of nowhere anyway. Every single variation he could think of where he actively pursued things with Hannah ended the same way—with one or both of them hurt when he went back to war. Was it worth taking what she was offering when that was the consequence?