Fall in love with the Navy!

And with Debbie Macomber’s series of Navy romances… These popular stories, most of them published in the 1990s, are still relevant in today’s world. Maybe even more relevant. They salute the men and women in the U.S. Navy, and the families and friends who support them. Each is an emotional story, a dramatic romance featuring Debbie Macomber’s always-believable characters, as well as her trademark touches of humor. Each is highly enjoyable on its own, but together they create a memorable reading experience!

Navy Blues
Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Copy

Title Page

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Copyright

One

Seducing her ex-husband wasn’t going to be easy, Carol Kyle decided, but she was determined. More than determined—resolute! Her mind was set, and no one knew better than Steve Kyle how stubborn she could be when she wanted something.

And Carol wanted a baby.

Naturally she had no intention of letting him in on her plans. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Their marriage had lasted five good years, and six bad months. To Carol’s way of thinking, which she admitted was a bit twisted at the moment, Steve owed her at least one pregnancy.

Turning thirty had convinced Carol that drastic measures were necessary. Her hormones were jumping up and down, screaming for a chance at motherhood. Her biological clock was ticking away, and Carol swore she could hear every beat of that blasted timepiece. Everywhere she turned, it seemed she was confronted with pregnant women, who served to remind her that her time was running out. If she picked up a magazine, there would be an article on some aspect of parenting. Even her favorite characters on television sitcoms were pregnant. When she found herself wandering through the infant section of her favorite department store, Carol realized drastic measures needed to be taken.

Making the initial contact with Steve hadn’t been easy, but she recognized that the first move had to come from her. Getting in touch with her ex-husband after more than a year of complete silence had required two weeks of nerve building. But she’d managed to swallow her considerable pride and do it. Having a woman answer his phone had thrown her for a loop, and Carol had visualized her plans swirling down the drain until she realized the woman was Steve’s sister, Lindy.

Her former sister-in-law had sounded pleased to hear from her, and then Lindy had said something that had sent Carol’s spirits soaring to the ceiling: Lindy had claimed that Steve missed her dreadfully. Lordy, she hoped that was true. If so, it probably meant he wasn’t dating yet. There could be complications if Steve was involved with another woman. On the other hand, there could also be problems if he wasn’t involved.

Carol only needed him for one tempestuous night, and then, if everything went according to schedule, Steve Kyle could fade out of her life once more. If she failed to get pregnant … well, she’d leap that hurdle when she came to it.

Carol had left a message for Steve a week earlier, and he hadn’t returned her call. She wasn’t overly concerned. She knew her ex-husband well; he would mull it over carefully before he’d get back to her. He would want her to stew awhile first. She’d carefully figured the time element into her schedule of events.

Her dinner was boiling on the stove, and Carol turned down the burner after checking the sweet potatoes with a cooking fork. Glaring at the orange-colored root, she heaved a huge sigh and squelched her growing dislike for the vegetable. After she became pregnant, she swore she would never eat another sweet potato for as long as she lived. A recent news report stated that the starchy vegetable helped increase the level of estrogen in a woman’s body. Armed with that information, Carol had been eating sweet potatoes every day for the last two weeks. There had to be enough of the hormone floating around in her body by now to produce triplets.

Noting the potatoes were soft, she drained the water and dumped the steaming roots into her blender. A smile crowded the edges of her mouth. Eating sweet potatoes was a small price to pay for a beautiful baby … for Steve’s baby.

* * *

“Have you called Carol back yet?” Lindy Callaghan demanded of her brother as she walked into the small kitchen of the two-bedroom apartment she shared with her husband and Steve.

Steve Kyle ignored her until she pulled out the chair and plopped down across the table from him. “No,” he admitted flatly. He could see no reason to hurry. He already knew what Carol was going to tell him. He’d known it from the minute they’d walked out of the King County Courthouse, the divorce papers clenched in her hot little hands. She was remarrying. Well, more power to her, but he wasn’t going to sit back and blithely let her rub his nose in the fact.

“Steve,” Lindy insisted, her face tight with impatience. “It could be something important.”

“You told me it wasn’t.”

“Sure, that’s what Carol said, but … oh, I don’t know, I have the feeling that it really must be. It isn’t going to do any harm to call her back.”

Methodically Steve turned the page of the evening newspaper and carefully creased the edge before folding it in half and setting it aside. Lindy and Rush, her husband, couldn’t be expected to understand his reluctance to phone his ex-wife. He hadn’t told either of them the details that had led to his and Carol’s divorce. He preferred to keep all thoughts of the disastrous relationship out of his mind. There were plenty of things he could have forgiven, but not what Carol had done—not infidelity.

As a Lieutenant Commander aboard the submarine USS Atlantis, Steve was at sea for as long as six months out of a year. From the first Carol hadn’t seemed to mind sending him off on a three-to-four month cruise. She even used to joke about it, telling him all the projects she planned to complete when he was at sea, and how pleased she was that he would be out of her hair for a while. When he’d returned she’d always seemed happy that he was home, but not exuberant. If anything had gone wrong in his absence—a broken water pipe, car repairs, anything—she’d seen to it herself with barely more than a casual mention.

Steve had been so much in love with her that the little things hadn’t added up until later— much later. He’d deceived himself by overlooking the obvious. The physical craving they had for each other had diluted his doubts. Making love with Carol had been so hot it was like a nuclear meltdown. Toward the end she’d been eager for him, but not quite as enthusiastic as in the past. He’d been trusting, blind and incredibly stupid when it came to his ex-wife.

Then by accident he’d learned why she’d become so blasé about his comings and goings. When he left their bed, his loveless, faithless wife had a built-in replacement—her employer, Todd Larson.

It was just short of amazing that Steve hadn’t figured it out earlier, and yet when he thought about it, he could almost calculate to the day when she’d started her little affair.

“Steve?”

Lindy’s voice cut into his musings, and he lifted his gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were round and dark with concern. Steve experienced a small twinge of guilt for the way he’d reacted to his sister and Rush’s marriage. When he’d learned his best friend had married his only sister after a dating period of a mere two weeks, Steve had been furious. He’d made no bones about telling them both the way he felt about their hurry-up wedding. Now he realized his own bitter experience had tainted his reasoning, and he’d long since apologized. It was obvious they were crazy about each other, and Steve had allowed his own misery to bleed into his reaction to their news.

“Okay, okay. I’ll return Carol’s call,” he answered in an effort to appease his younger sibling. He understood all too well how much Lindy wanted him to settle matters with Carol. Lindy was happy, truly happy, and it dismayed her that his life should be at such loose ends.

“When?”

“Soon,” Steve promised.

The front door opened, and Rush let himself into the apartment; his arms were loaded with Christmas packages. He paused just inside the kitchen and exchanged a sensual look with his wife. Steve watched the heated gaze and it was like throwing burning acid on his half-healed wounds. He waited a moment for the pain to lessen.

“How’d the shopping go?” Lindy asked, her silky smooth voice eager and filled with pleasure at the sight of her husband.

“Good,” Rush answered and faked a yawn, “but I’m afraid it wore me out.”

Steve playfully rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and stood, preparing to leave the apartment. “Don’t tell me you two are going to take another nap!”

Lindy’s cheeks filled with crimson color and she looked away. In the past few days the two of them had taken more naps than a newborn babe. Even Rush looked a bit chagrined.

“All right, you two,” Steve said good-naturedly, reaching for his leather jacket. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

One glance from Lindy told him she was grateful. Rush stopped Steve on his way out the door and his eyes revealed his appreciation. “We’ve decided to look for a place of our own right away, but it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to move until after the first of the year.” He paused and lowered his gaze, looking almost embarrassed. “I know this is an inconvenience for you to keep leaving, but …”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve countered with a light chuckle. He patted his friend on the back. “I was a newlywed once myself.”

Steve tried to sound casual about the whole matter, but doubted if he’d succeeded. Being constantly exposed to the strong current of love flowing between his friend and his sister was damn difficult, because he understood their need for each other all too well. There’d been a time when a mere look was all that was required to spark flames between him and Carol. Their desire seemed to catch fire and leap to brilliance with a single touch, and they couldn’t get to bed fast enough. Steve had been crazy in love with her. Carol had appealed to all his senses and he’d ached with the desire to possess her completely. The only time he felt he’d accomplished that was when he was making love to her. Then and only then was Carol utterly his. And those times were all too brief.

Outside the apartment, the sky was dark with thick gray clouds. Steve walked across the street and headed toward the department stores. He didn’t have much Christmas shopping to do, but now appeared to be as good a time for the task as any.

He hesitated in front of a pay phone and released a long, slow breath. He might as well call Carol and be done with it. She wanted to gloat, and he would let her. After all, it was the season to be charitable.

* * *

The phone rang just as Carol was coming in the front door. She stopped, set her purse on the kitchen counter and glared at the telephone. Her heart rammed against her rib cage with such force that she had to stop and gather her thoughts. It was Steve. The phone might as well have been spelling out his name in Morse code, she was that sure.

“Hello?” she answered brightly, on the third ring.

“Lindy said you phoned.” His words were low, flat and emotionless.

“Yes, I did,” she murmured, her nerves clamoring.

“Do you want to tell me why, or are you going to make me guess? Trust me, Carol, I’m in no mood to play twenty questions with you.”

Oh Lord, this wasn’t going to be easy. Steve sounded so cold and uncaring. She’d anticipated it, but it didn’t lessen the effect his tone had on her. “I … I thought we could talk.”

A short, heavy silence followed.

“I’m listening.”

“I’d rather we didn’t do it over the phone, Steve,” she said softly, but not because she’d planned to make her voice silky and smooth. Her vocal chords had tightened and it just came out sounding that way. Her nerves were stretched to their limit, and her heart was pounding in her ear like a charging locomotive.

“Okay,” he answered, reluctance evident in every syllable.

“When?” Her gaze scanned the calendar—the timing of this entire venture was of primary importance.

“Tomorrow?” he suggested.

Carol’s eyes drifted shut as the relief worked its way through her stiff limbs. Her biggest concern was that he would suggest after the Christmas holidays, and then it would be too late and she would have to reschedule everything for January.

“That would be fine,” Carol managed. “Would you mind coming to the house?” The two bedroom brick rambler had been awarded to her as part of the divorce settlement.

Again she could feel his hesitation. “As a matter of fact, I would.”

“All right,” she answered, quickly gathering her wits. His not wanting to come to the house shouldn’t have surprised her. “How about coffee at Denny’s tomorrow evening?”

“Seven?”

Carol swallowed before answering. “Fine. I’ll see you then.”

Her hand was still trembling a moment later when she replaced the telephone receiver in its cradle. All along she’d accepted that Steve wasn’t going to fall into her bed without some subtle prompting, but from the brusque, impatient sound of his voice, the whole escapade could well be impossible … this month. That bothered her. The one pivotal point in her plan was that everything come together quickly. One blazing night of passion could easily be dismissed and forgotten. But if she were to continue to invite him back one night a month, several months running, then he just might catch on to what she was doing.

Still, when it had come to interpreting her actions in the past, Steve had shown a shocking lack of insight. Thankfully their troubles had never intruded in the bedroom. Their marriage relationship had been a jumbled mess of doubts and misunderstandings, accusations and regrets, but their love life had always been vigorous and lusty right up until the divorce, astonishing as it seemed now.

* * *

At precisely seven the following evening, Carol walked into Denny’s Restaurant on Seattle’s Capitol Hill. The first year she and Steve had been married, they’d had dinner there once a month. Money had been tight because they’d been saving for a down payment on the house, and an evening out, even if it was only Saturday night at Denny’s, had been a real treat.

Two steps into the restaurant Carol spotted her former husband sitting in a booth by the window. She paused and experienced such a wealth of emotion that advancing even one step more would have been impossible. Steve had no right to look this good—far better than she remembered. In the thirteen months since she’d last seen him, he’d changed considerably. Matured. His features were sharper, clearer, more intense. His lean good looks were all the more prominent, his handsome masculine features vigorous and tanned even in December. A few strands of gray hair streaked his temple, adding a distinguished air.

His gaze caught hers and Carol sucked in a deep, calming breath, her steps nearly faltering as she advanced toward him. His eyes had changed the most, she decided. Where once they had been warm and caressing, now they were cool and calculating. They narrowed on her, his mistrust shining through as bright as any beacon.

Carol experienced a moment of panic as his gaze seemed to strip away the last shreds of her pride. It took all her willpower to force a smile to her lips.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, and slipped into the red upholstered seat across from him.

The waitress came with a glass coffeepot, and Carol turned over her cup, which the woman promptly filled after placing menus on the table.

“It feels cold enough to snow,” Carol said as a means of starting conversation. It was eerie that she could have been married to Steve all those years and feel as if he were little more than a stranger. He gave her that impression now. This hard, impassive man was one she didn’t know nearly as well as the one who had once been her lover, her friend and her husband.

“You’re looking fit,” Steve said after a moment, a spark of admiration glinting in his gaze.

“Thank you.” A weak smile hovered over her lips. “You, too. How’s the Navy treating you?”

“Good.”

“Are you still on the Atlantis?”

He nodded shortly.

Silence.

Carol groped for something more to say. “It was a surprise to discover that Lindy’s living in Seattle.”

“Did she tell you she married Rush?”

Carol noted the way his brows drew together and darkened his face momentarily when he mentioned the fact. “I didn’t realize Lindy even knew Rush,” Carol said, and took a sip of the coffee.

“They were married two weeks after they met. Lord, I can’t believe it yet.”

“Two weeks? That doesn’t sound anything like Rush. I remember him as being so methodical about everything.”

Steve’s frown relaxed, but only a little. “Apparently they fell in love.”

Carol knew Steve well enough to recognize the hint of sarcasm in his voice, as if he were telling her what a mockery that emotion was. In their instance it had certainly been wasted. Sadly wasted.

“Are they happy?” That was the important thing as far as Carol was concerned.

“They went through a rough period a while back, but since the Mitchell docked they seem to have mended their fences.”

Carol dropped her gaze to her cup as reality cut sharply into her heart. “That’s more than we did.”

“As you recall,” he said harshly, under his breath, “there wasn’t any fence left to repair. The night you started sleeping with Todd Larson, you destroyed our marriage.”

Carol didn’t rise to the challenge, although Steve had all but slapped her face with it. There was nothing she could say to exonerate herself, and she’d given up explaining the facts to him more than a year ago. Steve chose to believe what he wanted. She’d tried, God knew, to set the record straight. Todd had been her employer and her friend, but never anything more. Carol had pleaded with Steve until she was blue with exasperation, but it hadn’t done her any good. Rehashing the same argument now wasn’t going to help either of them.

Silence stretched between them and was broken by the waitress who had returned to their booth, pad and pen in hand. “Have you decided?”

Carol hadn’t even glanced at the menu. “Do you have sweet-potato pie?”

“No, but pecan is the special this month.”

Carol shook her head, ignoring the strange look Steve was giving her. “Just coffee then.”

“Same here,” Steve added.

The woman replenished both their cups and left.

“So how is good ol’ Todd?”

His question lacked any real interest, and Carol had already decided her former boss was a subject they’d best avoid. “Fine,” she lied. She had no idea how Todd was doing, since she hadn’t worked for Larson Sporting Goods for over a year. She’d been offered a better job with Boeing and had been employed at the airplane company since before the divorce was final.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Steve said with a soft snicker. “I suppose you called this little meeting to tell me the two of you are finally going to be married.”

“No. Steve, please, I didn’t call to talk about Todd.”

He arched his brows in mock consternation. “I’m surprised. What’s the matter, is wife number one still giving him problems? You mean to tell me their divorce hasn’t gone through?”

A shattering feeling of hopelessness nearly choked Carol, and she struggled to meet his gaze without flinching. Steve was still so bitter, so intent on making her suffer.

“I really would prefer it if we didn’t discuss Todd or Joyce.”

“Fine. What do you want to talk about?” He checked his watch as if to announce he had plenty of other things he could be doing and didn’t want to waste precious time with her.

Carol had carefully planned everything she was going to say. Each sentence had been rehearsed several times over in her mind, and now it seemed so trite and ridiculous, she couldn’t manage a single word.

“Well?” he demanded. “Since you don’t want to rub my nose in the fact that you’re marrying Todd, what could you possibly have to tell me?”

Carol gestured with her hand, her fingers trembling. “It’s Christmastime,” she murmured.

“Congratulations, you’ve glanced at a calendar lately.” He looked straight through her with eyes as hard as diamond bits.

“I thought … well, you know, that we could put our differences aside for a little while and at least be civil to each other.”

His eyes narrowed. “What possible reason could there be for us to have anything to do with each other? You mean nothing to me, and I’m sure the feeling is mutual.”

“You were my husband for five years.”

“So?”

She rearranged the silverware several times, choosing not to look at Steve. He wore his anger like a tight pair of shoes and sitting across from him was almost too painful to bear.

“We loved each other once,” she said after a drawn-out, strained moment.

“I loved my dog once, too,” he came back. One corner of his mouth was pulled down, and his eyes had thinned to narrow slits. “What does having cared about each other have to do with anything now?”

Carol couldn’t answer his question. She knew the divorce had made him bitter, but she’d counted on this long time apart to have healed some of his animosity.

“What did you do for the holidays last year?” she asked, refusing to argue with him. She wasn’t going to allow him to rile her into losing her temper. He’d played that trick once too often, and she was wise to his game.

“What the hell difference does it make to you how I spent Christmas?”

This wasn’t going well, Carol decided—not the least bit as she’d planned. Steve seemed to think she wanted him to admit he’d been miserable without her.

“I … I spent the day alone,” she told him softly, reluctantly. Their divorce had been final three weeks before the holiday and Carol’s emotions had been so raw she’d hardly been able to deal with the usual festivities connected with the holiday.

“I wasn’t alone,” Steve answered with a cocky half smile that suggested that whoever he was with had been pleasant company, and he hadn’t missed her in the least.

Carol didn’t know how anyone could look so damned insolent and sensuous at the same moment. It required effort to keep her chin up and meet his gaze, but she managed.

“So you were alone,” he added. The news appeared to delight him. “That’s what happens when you mess around with a married man, my dear. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Todd’s wife and family will always come first. That’s the other woman’s sad lot in life.”

Carol went still all over. She felt as though her entire body had turned to stone. She didn’t breathe, didn’t move, didn’t so much as blink. The pain spread out in waves, circling first her throat and then her chest, working its way down to her abdomen, cinching her stomach so tightly that she thought she might be sick. The whole room seemed to fade away and the only thing she was sure about was that she had to get out of the restaurant. Fast.

Her fingers fumbled with the snap of her purse as she opened her wallet. Her hands weren’t any more steady as she placed several coins by the coffee cup and scooted out of her seat.

* * *

Mutely Steve watched Carol walk out of the restaurant and called himself every foul name that he could come up with from his extensive Navy vocabulary. He hadn’t meant to say those things. Hadn’t intended to lash out at her. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself.

He’d lied, too, in an effort to salvage his pride. Lied rather than give her the satisfaction of knowing he’d spent last Christmas Day miserable and alone. It had been the worst holiday of his life. The pain of the divorce had still ached like a lanced boil, while everyone around him had been celebrating and exchanging gifts, their happiness like a ball and chain shackling his heart. This year didn’t hold much prospect for happiness, either. Lindy and Rush would prefer to spend the day alone, although they’d gone out of their way to convince him otherwise. But Steve wasn’t stupid and had already made other plans. He’d volunteered for watch Christmas Day so that a fellow officer could spend time with his family.

Gathering his thoughts about Carol, Steve experienced a healthy dose of regret about the way he’d behaved toward his ex-wife.

She’d looked good, he admitted reluctantly—better than he’d wanted her to look for his own peace of mind. From the moment they’d met, he’d felt the vibrant energy that radiated from her. Thirteen months apart hadn’t diminished that. He’d known the minute she walked into Denny’s; he’d felt her presence the instant the door opened. She wore her thick blond hair shorter than he remembered so that it fell forward and hugged the sides of her face, the ends curling under slightly, giving her a Dutch-boy look. As always, her metallic blue eyes were magnetic, irrevocably drawing his gaze. She looked small and fragile, and the desire to protect and love her had come at him with all the force of a wrecking ball slamming against his chest. He knew differently, but it hadn’t seemed to change the way he felt—Carol needed him about as much as the Navy needed more salt water.

Sliding out of the booth, Steve laid a bill on the table and left. Outside, the north wind sent a chill racing up his arms and he buried his hands into his pants pockets as he headed toward the parking lot.

Surprise halted his progress when he spied Carol leaning against the fender of her car. Her shoulders were slumped, her head hanging as though she were burdened by a terrible weight.

Once more Steve was swamped with regret. He had never learned the reason she’d phoned. He started walking toward her, not knowing what he intended to say or do.

She didn’t glance up when he joined her.

“You never said why you phoned,” he said in a wounded voice after a moment of silence.

“It isn’t important … I told Lindy that.”

“If it wasn’t to let me know you’re remarrying, then it’s because you want something.”

She looked up and tried to smile, and the feeble effort cut straight through Steve’s resolve to forget he’d ever known or loved her. It was useless to try.

“I don’t think it’ll work,” Carol said sadly.

“What?”

She shook her head.

“If you need something, just ask!” he shouted, using his anger as a defense mechanism. Carol had seldom wanted anything from him. It must be important for her to contact him now, especially after their divorce.

“Christmas Day,” she whispered brokenly. “I don’t want to spend it alone.”

Two

Until Carol spoke, she hadn’t known how much she wanted Steve to spend Christmas Day with her—and not for the reasons she’d been plotting. She sincerely missed Steve. He’d been both lover and friend, and now he was neither; the sense of loss was nearly overwhelming.

He continued to stare at her, and regret worked its way across his features. The success of her plan hinged on his response and she waited, almost afraid to breathe, for his answer.

“Carol, listen …” He paused and ran his hand along the back of his neck, his brow puckered with a condensed frown.

Carol knew him well enough to realize he was carefully composing his thoughts. She was also aware that he was going to refuse her! She knew it as clearly as if he’d spoken the words aloud. She swallowed the hurt, although she couldn’t keep her eyes from widening with pain. When Steve had presented her with the divorce papers, Carol had promised herself she would never give him the power to hurt her again. Yet here she was, handing him the knife and exposing her soul.

She could feel her heart thumping wildly in her chest and fought to control the emotions that swamped her. “Is it so much to ask?” she whispered, and the words fell broken from her lips.

“I’ve got the watch.”

“On Christmas …” She hadn’t expected that, hadn’t figured it into the scheme of things. In other words, the excuse of Christmas wasn’t going to work. Ultimately her strategy would fail, and she would end up spending the holiday alone.

“I’d do it if I could,” Steve told her in a straightforward manner that convinced her he was telling the truth. She felt somewhat less disappointed.

“Thank you for that,” she said, and reached out to touch his hand, in a small gesture of appreciation. Amazingly he didn’t draw away from her, which gave her renewed hope.

A reluctant silence stretched between them. There’d been a time when they couldn’t say enough to each other, and now there was nothing.

“I suppose I’d better get back.” Steve spoke first.

“Me, too,” she answered brightly, perhaps a little too brightly. “It was good to see you again … you’re looking well.”

“You, too.” He took a couple of steps backward, but still hadn’t turned away. Swallowing down her disappointment, Carol retrieved the car keys from the bottom of her purse and turned to climb into her Honda. It dawned on her then, hit her square between the eyes. If not Christmas Day then …

“Steve,” she whirled back around, her eyes flashing.

“Carol.” He called her name at the same moment.

They laughed and the sound fell rusty and awkward between them.

“You first,” he said, and gestured toward her. The corner of his mouth was curved upward in a half smile.

“What about Christmas Eve?”

He nodded. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Carol felt the excitement bubble up inside her like fizz in a club soda. A grin broke out across her face as she realized nothing had been lost and everything was yet to be gained. Somewhere in the distance, Carol was sure she could hear the soft, lilting strains of a Brahms lullaby. “Could you come early enough for dinner?”

Again, he nodded. “Six?”

“Perfect. I’ll look forward to it.”

“I will, too.”

He turned and walked away from her then, and it was all Carol could do to keep from doing a war dance, jumping up and down around the car. Instead she rubbed her bare hands together as though the friction would ease some of the excitement she was feeling. Steve hadn’t a clue how memorable this one night would be. Not a clue!

* * *

“Your mood has certainly improved lately,” Lindy commented as Steve walked into the kitchen whistling a lively Christmas carol.

His sister’s words stopped him. “My mood has?”

“You’ve been downright chipper all week.” He shrugged his shoulders, hoping the action would discount his cheerful attitude. “‘Tis the season.”

“I don’t suppose your meeting with Carol has anything to do with it?”

His sister eyed him skeptically, seeking his confidence, but Steve wasn’t going to give it. This dinner with his ex-wife was simply the meeting of two lonely people struggling to make it through the holidays. Nothing less and certainly nothing more. Although he’d been looking for Carol to deny that she was involved with Todd, she hadn’t. Steve considered her refusal to talk about the other man as good as an admission of guilt. That bastard had left her alone for Christmas two years running.

If Lindy was right and his mood had improved, Steve decided, it was simply because he was going to be out of his sister’s and Rush’s hair for the evening; the newlyweds could spend their first Christmas Eve together without a third party butting in.

Steve reached for his coat, and Lindy turned around, her dark eyes wide with surprise. “You’re leaving.”

Steve nodded, buttoning the thick wool jacket.

“But … it’s Christmas Eve.”

“I know.” He tucked the box of candy under his arm and lifted the bright red poinsettia he’d purchased on impulse earlier in the day.

“Where are you going?”

Steve would have liked to say a friend’s house, but that wouldn’t be true. He didn’t know how to classify his relationship with Carol. Not a friend. Not a lover. More than an acquaintance, less than a wife.

“You’re going to Carol’s, aren’t you?” Lindy prompted.

The last thing Steve wanted was his sister to get the wrong impression about this evening with Carol, because that’s all there was going to be. “It’s not what you think.”

Lindy raised her hands in mock consternation. “I’m not thinking a single thing, except that it’s good to see you smile again.”

Steve’s frown was heavy with purpose. “Well, don’t read more into it than there is.”

“Are the two of you going to talk?” Lindy asked, and her dark eyes fairly danced with deviltry.

“We’re going to eat, not talk,” Steve explained with limited patience. “We don’t have anything in common anymore. I’ll probably be home before ten.”

“Whatever you say,” Lindy answered, but her lips twitched with the effort to suppress a knowing smile. “Have a good time.”

Steve chose not to answer that comment and left the apartment, but as soon as he was outside, he discovered he was whistling again and stopped abruptly.

* * *

Carol slipped the compact disk into the player and set the volume knob so that the soft Christmas music swirled festively through the house. A small turkey was roasting in the oven, stuffed with Steve’s favorite sage dressing. Two pies were cooling on the kitchen counter—pumpkin for Steve, mincemeat for her. To be on the safe side a sweet-potato-pecan pie was in the fridge.

Carol chose a red silk dress that whispered enticingly against her soft skin. Her makeup and perfume had been applied with a subtle hand. Everything was ready.

Well, almost everything.

She and Steve were two different people now, and there was no getting around the fact. Regretting the past was an exercise in futility, and yet Carol had been overwhelmed these past few days with the realization that the divorce had been wrong. Very wrong. All the emotion she’d managed to bury this past year had seeped to the surface since her meeting with Steve and she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been more confused.

She wanted a child, and she was using her ex-husband. More than once in the past week, she’d been forced to deal with twinges of guilt. But there was no going back. It would be impossible to recapture what had been between them before the divorce. There could be no reconciliation. Even more difficult than the past, Carol had trouble dealing with the present. They couldn’t come in contact with each other without the sparks igniting. It made everything more difficult. They were both too stubborn, too temperamental, too obstinate.

And it was ruining their lives.

Carol felt they couldn’t go back and yet they couldn’t step forward, either. The idea of seducing Steve and getting pregnant had, in the beginning, been entirely selfish. She wanted a baby and she considered Steve the best candidate … the only candidate. After their one short meeting at the restaurant, Carol knew her choice of the baby’s father went far beyond the practical. A part of her continued to love Steve, and probably always would. She wanted his child because it was the only part of him she would ever be able to have.

Everything hinged on the outcome of this dinner. Carol pressed her hands over her flat stomach and issued a fervent prayer that she was fertile. Twice in the past hour she’d taken her temperature, praying her body would do its part in this master plan. Her temperature was slightly elevated, but that could be caused by the hot sensation that went through her at the thought of sharing a bed with Steve again. Or it could be sheer nerves.

All day she’d been feeling anxious and restless with anticipation. She was convinced Steve would take one look at her and instantly know she intended for him to spend the night. The crux of her scheme was for Steve to think their making love was his idea. Again and again, her plans for the evening circled her mind, slowly, like the churning blades of a windmill stirring the air.

The doorbell chimed, and inhaling a calming breath, Carol forced a smile, walked across the room and opened the door for her ex-husband. “Merry Christmas,” she said softly.

Steve handed her the poinsettia as though he couldn’t get rid of the flower fast enough. His gaze didn’t quite meet hers. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding looking at her, which pleased Carol because it told her that the red dress was having exactly the effect she’d hoped for.

“Thank you for the flower,” she said and set it in the middle of the coffee table. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I remembered how you used to buy three and four of those silly things each year and figured one more couldn’t hurt.”

“It was thoughtful of you, and I appreciate it.” She held out her hand to take his coat.

Steve placed a small package under the tree and gave her a shy look. “Frangos,” he explained awkwardly. “I suppose they’re still your favorite candy.”

“Yes. I have a little something for you, too.”

Steve peeled off his heavy jacket and handed it to her. “I’m not looking for any gifts from you. I brought the flowers and candy because I wanted to contribute something toward dinner.”

“My gift isn’t much, Steve.”

“Save it for someone else. Okay?”

Her temper nearly slipped then, but Carol managed to keep it intact. Her smile was just a little more forced when she turned from hanging his jacket in the hall closet, but she hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“Would you like a hot-buttered rum before we eat?” she offered.

“That sounds good.”

He followed her into the kitchen and brought the bottle of rum down from the top cupboard while she put water on to boil.

“When did you cut your hair?” he asked unexpectedly.

Absently Carol’s fingers touched the straight, thick strands that crowded the side of her head. “Several months ago now.”

“I liked it better when you wore it longer.” Gritting her teeth, she managed to bite back the words to inform him that she styled her hair to suit herself these days, not him.

* * *

Steve saw the flash of irritation in his ex-wife’s eyes and felt a little better. The comment about her hair wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear; she’d been waiting for him to tell her how beautiful she looked. The problem was, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her from the moment he entered the house. The wisecrack was a result of one flirtatious curl of blond hair that swayed when she moved. He hadn’t been able to look past that single golden lock. Neither could he stop staring at the shape of her lips nor the curve of her chin, nor the appealing color of her china blue eyes. When he’d met her at Denny’s the other night he’d been on the defensive, waiting for her to drop her bombshell. All his protective walls were lowered now. He would have liked to blame it on the Christmas holidays, but he realized it was more than that, and what he saw gave him cause to tremble. Carol was as sensuous and appealing to him as she’d always been. Perhaps more so.

Already he knew what was going to happen. They would spend half the evening verbally circling each other in an anxious search for common ground. But there wasn’t one for them … not anymore. Tonight was an evening out of sequence, and when it had passed they would return to their respective lives.

When Carol finished mixing their drinks, they wandered into the living room and talked. The alcohol seemed to alleviate some of the tension. Steve filled the silence with details of what had been happening in Lindy’s life and in his career.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” Carol admitted, and there was a spark of pride in her eyes that warmed him.

Steve didn’t inquire about her career because it would involve asking about Todd, and the man was a subject he’d sworn he would avoid at all costs. Carol didn’t volunteer any information, either. She knew the unwritten ground rules.

A half hour later, Steve helped her carry their meal to the table.

“You must have been cooking all day.”

She grinned and nodded. “It gave me something to do.”

The table was loaded with sliced turkey, creamy potatoes, giblet gravy, stuffing, fresh broccoli, sweet potatoes and fruit salad.

Carol asked him to light the candles and when Steve had, they sat down to eat. Sitting directly across the table from her, Steve found he was mesmerized by her mouth as she ate. With all his might he tried to remember the reasons he’d divorced Carol. Good God, she was captivating—too damn good to look at for his own peace of mind. Her hands moved gracefully, raising the fork from her plate to her mouth in motions as elegant as those of a symphony director. He shouldn’t be enjoying watching her this much, and he realized he would pay the price later when he returned to the apartment and the loneliness overtook him once more.

When he’d finished the meal, he leaned against the shield-back dining-room chair and placed his hands over his stomach. “I can’t remember when I’ve had a better dinner.”

“There’s pie …”

“Not now,” he countered quickly and shook his head. “I’m too full to down another bite. Maybe later.”

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

Carol carried their dishes to the sink, stuck the leftovers in the refrigerator, and returned with the glass coffeepot. She filled both their cups, returned it to the kitchen and then took her seat opposite him. She rested her elbows on the table, and smiled.

Despite his best intentions through a good portion of the meal, Steve hadn’t been able to keep his eyes away from her. The way she was sitting—leaning forward, her elbows on the tabletop—caused her breasts to push together and more than amply fill the bodice of her dress. His breath faltered someplace between his lungs and his throat at the alluring sight she made. He could have sworn she wasn’t wearing a bra. Carol had fantastic breasts and Steve watched, captivated, as their tips beaded against the shiny material. They seemed to be pointing directly at him, issuing a silent invitation that asked him to fondle and taste them. Against his will, his groin began to swell until he was throbbing with painful need. Disconcerted, he dropped his gaze to the steaming cup of coffee. With his hands shaking, he took a sip of his coffee and nearly scalded the tender skin inside his mouth.

“That was an excellent dinner,” he repeated, after a moment of silence.

“You’re not sorry you came, are you?” she asked unexpectedly, studying him. The intent look that crowded her face demanded all Steve’s attention. Her skin was pale and creamy in the muted light, her eyes wide and inquiring, as though the answer to her question was of the utmost importance.

“No,” he admitted reluctantly. “I’m glad I’m here.”

His answer pleased her and she smiled, looking tender and trusting, and Steve wondered how he could ever have doubted her. He knew what she’d done—knew that she’d purposely destroyed their marriage—and in that moment, it didn’t matter. He wanted her again. He wanted to hold her warm and willing body in his arms. He wanted to bury himself so deep inside her that she would never desire another man for as long as they both lived.

“I’ll help you with the dishes,” he said, and rose so abruptly that he nearly knocked over the chair.

“I’ll do them later.” She got to her feet as well. “But if you want to do something, I’d appreciate a little help with the tree.”

“The tree?” The words sounded as foreign as an obscure language.

“Yes, it’s only half decorated. I couldn’t reach the tallest limbs. Will you help?”

He shrugged. “Sure.” He could have sworn that Carol was relieved, and he couldn’t imagine why. The Christmas tree looked fine to him. There were a few bare spots, but nothing too noticeable.

Carol dragged a dining-room chair into the living room and pulled a box of ornaments out from underneath the end table.

“You’re knitting?” Steve asked, hiding a smile as his gaze fell on the strands of worsted yarn. Carol had to be the worst knitter in the world, yet she tackled one project after another, seeming oblivious of any lack of talent. There had been a time when he could tease her about it, but he wasn’t sure his insight would be appreciated now.

She glanced away as though she feared his comment.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tease you,” he told her, remembering the time she’d proudly presented him with a sweater she’d made herself—the left sleeve had been five inches longer than the right. He’d tried it on and she’d taken one look at him and burst into tears. It was one of the few times he could ever remember Carol crying.

Carol dragged the chair next to the tree and raised her leg to stand on it.

Steve stopped her. “I thought you wanted me to do that?”

“No, I need you to hand me the ornaments and then stand back and tell me how they look.”

“Carol … if I placed the ornaments on the tree, you wouldn’t need the chair.”

She looked at him and sighed. “I’d rather do it. You don’t mind, do you?”

He didn’t know why she was so determined to hang the decorations herself, but it didn’t make much difference to him. “No, if you want to risk your fool neck, feel free.”

She grinned and raised herself so that she was standing on the padded cushion of the chair. “Okay, hand me one,” she said, tossing him a look over her shoulder.

Steve gave her a shiny glass bulb, and he noted how good she smelled. Roses and some other scent he couldn’t define wrapped gently around him. Carol stretched out her arms and reached for the tallest branch. Her dress rose a solid five inches and exposed the back of her creamy smooth thighs and a fleeting glimpse of the sweet curve of her buttocks. Steve knotted his hands into fists at his sides to keep from touching her. It would be entirely plausible for him to grip her waist and claim he was frightened she would tumble from her perch. But if he allowed that to happen, his hands would slip and soon he would be cupping that cute rounded bottom. Once he touched her, Steve knew he would never be able to stop. He clenched his teeth and inhaled deeply through his nose. Having Carol standing there, exposing herself in this unconscious way, was more than a mere man could resist. At this point, he was willing to use any excuse to be close to her once more.

Carol lowered her arms, her dress fell back into place and Steve breathed normally again. He thought he was safe from further temptation until she twisted around. Her ripe, full breasts filled the front of her dress, their shape clearly defined against the thin fabric. If he’d been guessing about the bra before, he was now certain. She wasn’t wearing one.

“I’m ready for another ornament,” she said softly.

Like a blind man, Steve turned and fumbled for a second glass bulb. He handed it to her and did everything within his power to keep his gaze away from her breasts.

“How does that one look?” Carol asked.

“Fine,” Steve answered gruffly.

“Steve?”

“Don’t you think that’s enough decorations, for God’s sake?”

His harsh tone was as much a surprise to him as it obviously was to Carol.

“Yes, of course.”

She sounded disappointed, but that couldn’t be helped. Steve moved to her side once more and offered her his hand to help her down. His foot must have hit against one leg of the chair because it jerked forward. Perhaps it was something she did, Steve wasn’t sure, but whatever happened caused the chair to teeter on the thick carpet.

With a small cry of alarm, Carol threw out her arms.

With reflexes born of years of military training, Steve’s hands shot out like bullets to catch her. The chair fell sideways onto the floor, but Steve’s grip on Carol’s waist anchored her firmly against his torso. Their breathing was labored, and Steve sighed with relief that she hadn’t fallen. It was on the tip of his tongue to berate her, call her a silly goose for not letting him place the glass bulbs on the tree, chastise her for being such a fool. She shouldn’t put herself at risk over something as nonsensical as a Christmas tree. But none of the words made it to his lips.

Their gazes were even, her haunting eyes stared into his and said his name as clearly as if it were spoken. Carol’s feet remained several inches off the floor, and still Steve held on to her, unable to release her. His heart was pounding frantically with wonder as he raised a finger and touched her soft throat. His gaze continued to delve into hers. He wanted to set her back on the carpet, to free them both from this invisible grip before it maimed them, but he couldn’t seem to find the strength to let her go.

Slowly she slid down his front, between his braced feet, crimping the skirt of her dress between them. Once she was secure, he noted that her lower abdomen was tucked snugly in the joint between his thighs. The throbbing in his groin began again, and he held in a groan that threatened to emanate from deep within his chest.

He longed to kiss her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, and only the greatest strength of will kept him from claiming her sweet mouth with his own.

She’d betrayed him once, crippled him with her deceit. Steve had sworn he would never allow her to use him again, yet his arguments burned away like dry timber in a forest fire.

His thumb found her moist lips and brushed back and forth as though the action would be enough to satisfy either of them. It didn’t. If anything, it created an agony even more powerful. His heart leaped into a hard, fast rhythm that made him feel breathless and weak. Before he could stop himself, his finger lifted her chin and his mouth glided over hers. Softly. Moistly. Satin against satin.

Carol sighed.

Steve groaned.

She weakened in his arms and closed her eyes. Steve kissed her a second time and thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, his need so strong it threatened to consume him. His hand was drawn to her breast, as if caught by a vise and carried there against his will. He cupped the rounded flesh, and his finger teased the nipple until it beaded and swelled against his palm. Carol whimpered.

He had to touch her breasts again. Had to know for himself their velvet smoothness. Releasing a ragged sigh, he reached behind her and peeled down her zipper. She was as eager as he when he lowered the top of her dress and exposed her naked front.

Her hands were around his neck, and she slanted her mouth over his, rising to her tiptoes as she leaned her weight into his. Steve’s mouth quickly abandoned hers to explore the curve of her neck and then lower to the rosy tips of her firm, proud breasts. His moist tongue traced circles around the pebbled nipples until Carol shuddered and plowed her fingers through his hair.

“Steve … oh, I’ve missed you so much.” She repeated the sentence over and over again, but the words didn’t register in his clouded mind. When they did, he went cold. She may have missed him, may have hungered for his touch, but she hadn’t been faithful. The thought crippled him, and he went utterly still.

Carol must have sensed his withdrawal, because she dropped her arms. Her shoulders were heaving as though she’d been running in a heated race. His own breathing wasn’t any more regular.

Abruptly Steve released her and stumbled two paces back.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” he announced in a hoarse whisper.

Carol regarded him with a wounded look but said nothing.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” he said, expelling the words on the tail end of a sigh.

Carol’s gaze widened and she shook her head.

“Carol, we aren’t married anymore. This shouldn’t be happening.”

“I know.” She lowered her gaze to the carpet.

Steve walked to the hall closet and reached for his jacket. His actions felt as if they were in slow motion—as if every gravitational force in the universe was pulling at him.

He paused, his hand clenching the doorknob. “Thank you for dinner.”

Carol nodded, and when he turned back, he saw that her eyes had filled with tears and she was biting her bottom lip to hold them back. One hand held the front of her dress across her bare breasts.

“Carol …”

She looked at him with soft, appealing eyes and held out her hand. “Don’t go,” she begged softly. “Please don’t leave me. I need you so much.”

Three

Carol could see the battle raging in Steve’s tight features. She swallowed down the tears and refused to release his gaze, which remained locked with her own.

“We’re not married anymore,” he said in a voice that shook with indecision.

“I … don’t care.” Swallowing her pride, she took one small step toward him. If he wouldn’t come to her, then she was going to him. Her knees felt incredibly weak, as though she were walking after being bedridden for a long while.

“Carol …”

She didn’t stop until she was standing directly in front of him. Then slowly, with infinite care, she released her hold on the front of her dress and allowed it to fall free, baring her breasts. Steve rewarded her immediately with a swift intake of breath, and then it seemed as if he stopped breathing completely. Carol slipped her flattened hands up his chest and leaned her body into his. When she felt his rock-hard arousal pressing against her thigh, she closed her eyes to disguise the triumph that zoomed through her blood like a shot of adrenaline.

Steve held himself stiffly against her, refusing to yield to her softness; his arms hung motionless at his sides. He didn’t push her away, but he didn’t welcome her into his embrace, either.

Five years of marriage had taught Carol a good deal about her husband’s body. She knew what pleasured him most, knew what would drive him to the edge of madness, knew how to make him want her until there was nothing else in their world.

Standing on the tips of her toes, she locked her arms tightly around his neck and raised her soft lips to gently brush her mouth over his. Her kiss was as moist and light as dew on a summer rose. Steve’s lashes dropped and she could feel the torment of the battle that raged in his troubled mind.

Slightly elevating one foot, she allowed her shoe to slip off her toes. It fell almost silently to the floor. Carol nearly laughed aloud at the expression that came over Steve’s contorted features. He knew what was coming, and against his will, Carol could see that he welcomed it. In a leisurely exercise, she raised her nylon-covered foot and slid it down the backside of his leg. Again and again her thigh and calf glided over his, each caressing stroke moved higher and higher on his leg, bringing her closer to her objective.

When Steve’s hand closed, almost painfully, over her thigh, Carol knew she’d won. He held her there for a timeless moment, neither moving nor breathing.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and the words seemed to be ground out from between clenched teeth.

Although Carol had fully intended to comply with his demand, she apparently didn’t do it fast enough to suit her ex-husband. He groaned and his free hand locked around the back of her head, compelling her mouth to his. Driven by urgency, his kiss was forceful and demanding, almost grinding, as if he sought to punish her for making him want her so much. Carol allowed him to ravage her mouth, giving him everything he wanted, everything he asked for, until finally she gasped for breath and broke away briefly. Steve brought her mouth back to his, and gradually his kisses softened until Carol thought she was sure her whole body would burst into flames. Sensing this, Steve moved his hand from the back of her head and began to massage her breast in a leisurely circular motion, his palm centering on her nipple. Her whole torso started to pulsate under his gentle touch.

Carol arched her spine to grant him easier access, and tossed back her head as his fingers worked their magic. Then his hand left her breast, and she wanted to protest until she felt his fingers slip around her other thigh and lift her completely off the carpet, raising her so that their mouths were level, their breath mingling, moist and excited.

They paused and gazed into each other’s eyes. Steve’s were filled with surprise and wonder. Carol met that look and smiled with a rediscovered joy that burst from deep within her. An inner happiness that had vanished from her life the moment Steve had walked away from her, returned. She leaned forward and very gently rubbed her mouth across his, creating a moist, delicious friction. Gently her tongue played over the seam of his lips, sliding back and forth, teasing him, testing him in a love game that had once been familiar between them.

Carol gently caught his lower lip between her teeth and sucked on it, playing with it while darting the tip of her tongue in and out of his mouth.

The effect on Steve was electric. His mouth claimed hers in an urgent kiss that drove the oxygen from her lungs. Then, with a strength that astonished her, he lifted her even higher until his mouth closed over her left breast, rolling his tongue over her nipple, then sucking at it greedily, taking in more and more of her breast.

Carol thought she was going to go crazy with the tidal wave of sensation that flooded her being. She locked her legs around his waist and braced her hands against his shoulders. His mouth and tongue alternated from one breast to the other until she was convinced that if he didn’t take her soon, she was going to faint in his arms.

Braced against the closet door, Steve used what leverage he could to inch his hand up the inside of her thigh. His exploring fingers reached higher and higher, then paused when he encountered a nylon barrier. He groaned his frustration.

Carol was so weak with longing that if he didn’t carry her voluntarily into the bedroom soon, she was going to demand that he make love to her right there on the entryway floor.

“You weren’t wearing a bra,” he chastised her in a husky thwarted voice. “I was hoping …”

He didn’t need to finish for Carol to know what he was talking about. When they were married, she’d often worn a garter belt with her nylons instead of panty hose so their lovemaking wouldn’t be impeded.

“I want you,” she whispered, her hands framing his face. “But if you think it would be best to leave … go now. The choice is yours.”

His gaze locked with hers, Steve marched wordlessly across the living room and down the long hallway to the bedroom that had once been theirs.

“Not here,” she told him. “I sleep there now,” she explained, pointing to the room across the hall.

Steve switched directions and marched into the smaller bedroom, not stopping until he reached the queen-size bed. For one crazy second, Carol thought he meant to drop her on top of the mattress and storm right out of the house. Instead he continued to hold her, the look in his eyes wild and uncertain.

Carol’s eyes met his. She was nearly choking on the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her. Tentatively she raised one hand and pressed it to the side of his face, her eyes wide, her heart pounding so hard she was sure the sound of it would soon bring down the walls.

To her surprise, Steve tenderly placed her on the bed, braced one knee against the edge of the mattress and leaned over her.

“We aren’t married…. Not a damn thing has been settled between us,” he announced, as though this should be shocking news.

Carol said nothing, but she casually slipped her hand around the side of his neck, urging his mouth down to hers. She met with no resistance.

“Make love to me,” she murmured.

Steve groaned, twisted around and dropped to sit on the side of the bed, granting her a full view of his solid back. The thread of disappointment that wrapped itself around Carol’s heart was followed by a slow, lazy smile that spread over her mouth as she recognized his frantic movements.

Steve was undressing.

* * *

Feeling deliciously warm and content, Carol woke two hours later to the sound of Steve rummaging in the kitchen. No doubt he was looking for something to eat. Smiling, she jerked her arms high above her head and stretched. She yawned and arched her back, slightly elevating her hips with the action. She felt marvelous. Stupendous. Happy.

Her heart bursting with newfound joy, she reached for Steve’s shirt and purposely buttoned it just enough to be provocative while looking as if she’d made some effort to cover herself.

Semiclothed, she moved toward the noise emanating from her kitchen. Barefoot, dressed only in his slacks, Steve was bent over, investigating the contents of her refrigerator.

Carol paused in the doorway. “Making love always did make you hungry,” she said from behind him.

“There’s hardly a damn thing in here except sweet potatoes. Good grief, woman, what are you doing with all these leftover yams?”

Carol felt sudden heat rise in her cheeks as hurried excuses crowded her mind. “They were on sale this week because of Christmas.”

“They must have been at rock-bottom price. I counted six containers full of them. It looks like you’ve been eating them at every meal for an entire week.”

“There’s some pie if that’ll interest you,” she said, a little too quickly. “And plenty of turkey for a sandwich, if you want.”

He straightened, closed the refrigerator and turned to face her. But whatever he’d intended to say apparently left him when he caught sight of her seductive pose. She was leaning against the doorjamb, hands behind her back and one foot braced against the wall, smiling at him, certain he could read her thoughts.

“There’s pumpkin, and the whipped topping is fresh.”

“Pumpkin?” he repeated.

“The pie.”

He blinked, and nodded. “That sounds good.”

“Would you like me to make you a sandwich while I’m at it?”

“Sure.” But he didn’t sound sure of anything at the moment.

Moving with ease around her kitchen, Carol brought out the necessary ingredients and quickly put together a snack for both of them. When she’d finished, she carried their plates to the small table across from the stove.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked, setting their plates down.

“I’ll get it,” Steve said, apparently eager to help. “What would you like?”

“Milk,” she responded automatically. She’d never been overly fond of the beverage but had recently made a habit of drinking a glass or two each day in preparation for her pregnancy.

“I thought you didn’t like milk.”

“I … I’ve acquired new tastes in the past year.”

Steve grinned. “There are certain things about you that haven’t changed, and then there’s something more, something completely unexpected. Good God, woman, you’ve turned into a little she-devil, haven’t you?”

Carol lowered her gaze and felt the heated blush work its way up her neck and spill into her cheeks. It wasn’t any wonder Steve was teasing her. She’d been as hot as a stick of dynamite. By the time he’d undressed, she’d behaved like a tigress, clawing at him, driven by mindless passion.

Chuckling, Steve delivered two glasses of milk to the table. “You surprised me,” he said. “You used to be a tad more timid.”

Doing her best to ignore him, Carol brought her feet up to the edge of the chair and pulled the shirt down over her legs. With feigned dignity, she reached for half of her sandwich. “An officer and a gentleman wouldn’t remind me of my wicked ways.”

Still grinning, Steve lounged against the back of the chair. “You used to be far more subtle.”

“Steve,” she cried, “stop talking about it. Can’t you see you’re embarrassing me?”

“I remember one time when we were on our way to an admiral’s dinner party and you casually announced you’d been in such a rush that you’d forgotten to put on any underwear.” Carol closed her eyes and looked away, remembering the time as clearly as if it had been last week instead of several years ago. She remembered, too, how good the lovemaking had been later that same evening.

“There wasn’t time for us to go back to the house, so all night while you strolled around, sipping champagne, chatting and looking sedately prim, only I knew differently. Every time you looked at me, I about went crazy.”

“I wanted you to know how much I longed to make love. If you’ll recall, you’d just returned from a three-month tour.”

“Carol, if you’ll recall, we’d spent the entire day in bed.”

She took a sip of her milk, then slowly raised her gaze to meet his. “It wasn’t enough.”

Steve closed his eyes and shook his head before grudgingly admitting, “It wasn’t enough for me, either.”

As soon as it had been socially acceptable to do so, Steve had made their excuses to the admiral that night and they’d hurriedly left the party. The entire way home, he’d been furious with Carol, telling her he was certain someone must have known what little trick she was playing. Just as heatedly, Carol had told Steve she didn’t care who knew. If some huffy admiral wanted to throw a dinner party he shouldn’t do it so soon after his men return from deployment.

They’d ended up making love twice that evening.

“Steve,” Carol whispered with ragged emotion.

“Yes?”

“Once wasn’t enough tonight, either.” She dared not look at him, dared not let him see the way her pulse was clamoring.

Abruptly he stopped eating, and when he swallowed, it looked as if he’d downed the sandwich whole. A full minute passed before he spoke.

“Not for me, either.”

Their lovemaking was different this time. Unique. Unrepeatable. Earlier, it’d been like spontaneous combustion. This time was slow, easy, relaxed. Steve led her into the bedroom, unfastened the buttons of the shirt that she was wearing and let it drop unheeded to the floor.

Carol stood before him tall and proud, her taut nipples seeming to beg for his lips. Steve looked at her naked body as if seeing her for the first time. Tenderly he raised his hand to her face and brushed back a wisp of blond hair, his touch light, gentle. Then he lowered his hands and cupped the undersides of her breasts, as though weighing them in a delicate measure. The velvet stroke of his thumbs worked across her nipples until they pebbled to a throbbing hardness. From there he slid the tips of his fingers down her rib cage, grazing her heated flesh wherever he touched her.

All the while, his dark, mesmerizing gaze never left hers, as though he half expected her to protest or to stop him.

Carol felt as if her hands were being manipulated like a puppet’s as she reached for his belt buckle. All she knew was that she wanted him to make love to her. Her fingers fumbled at first, unfamiliar with the workings of his belt, then managed to release the clasp.

Soon Steve was nude.

She studied him, awed by his strength and beauty. She wanted to tell him all that she was feeling, all the good things she sensed in him, but the words withered on her tongue as he reached out and touched her once more.

His hand continued downward from her rib cage, momentarily pausing over her flat, smooth stomach, then moving lower until it encountered her pelvis. Slowly, methodically, he braced the heel of his hand against the apex of her womanhood and started a circling, gyrating motion while his fingers explored between her parted thighs.

Hardly able to breathe, Carol opened herself more to him, and once she had, he delicately parted her and slipped one finger inside. Her eyes widened at the stab of pleasure that instantly sliced through her and she bit into her lower lip to keep from panting.

She must have made some kind of sound because Steve paused and asked, “Did I hurt you?”

Carol was incapable of any verbal response. Frantically she shook her head, and his finger continued its deft movements, quickly bringing her to an exploding release. Wave upon wave of seething spasms, each one stronger, each one more intense, overtook every part of her. Whimpering noises escaped from deep within her throat as she climaxed, and the sound propelled Steve into action.

He wrapped his arms around her and carried her to the bed, laying her on top of the rumpled sheets. Not allowing her time to alter her position or rearrange the sheets, Steve moved over her, parted her thighs and quickly impaled her.

His breathing was ragged, barely under control.

Carol’s wasn’t any more even.

He didn’t move, torturing her with an intense longing she had never experienced. Her body was still tingling in the aftermath of one fulfillment and reaching, striving toward another. Her whole person seemed to be filled with anxious expectancy … waiting for something she couldn’t define.

Taking her hands, Steve lifted them above her head and held them prisoner there. He leaned over her, bracing himself on his arms on either side of her head. The action thrust him deeper inside Carol. She moaned and thrashed her head against the mattress, then lifted her hips, jerking them a couple of times, seeking more.

“Not yet, love,” he whispered and placed a hand under her head, lifting her mouth to his. Their kiss was wild and passionate, as though their mouths couldn’t give or take enough to satisfy their throbbing need.

Steve shifted his position and completely withdrew his body from hers.

Carol felt as if she’d suddenly gone blind; the whole world seemed black and lifeless. She started to protest, started to cry out, but before the sound escaped her throat, Steve sank his manhood back inside her. A shaft of pure light filled her senses once more and she sighed audibly, relieved. She was whole again, free.

“Now,” Steve told her. “Now.” He moved eagerly then, in deep, calculated strokes, plunging into her again and again, gifting her with the sun, revealing the heavens, exploring the universe. Soon all Carol knew was this insistent warm friction and the sweet, indescribable pangs of pleasure. Her body trembled as ripple after ripple of deep, pure sensation pulsed over her, driving her crazy as she remembered what had nightly been hers.

Breathless, Steve moved to lie beside her, bringing her into the circle of his arms. An hour passed, it seemed, before he spoke. “Was it always this good?”

The whispered question was so low Carol had to strain to hear him. “Yes,” she answered after a long, timeless moment. “Always.”

He pressed his forehead against the top of her head and moaned. “I was afraid of that.” The next thing Carol was aware of was a muffled curse and the unsettling sound of something heavy crashing to the floor.

“Steve?” she sat up in bed and reached for a sheet to cover her nakedness. The room was dark and still. Dread filled her—it couldn’t be morning. Not yet, not so soon.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You’re leaving?” She sent her hand searching for the lamp on the nightstand. It clicked and a muted light filled the room.

“I’ve got the watch today,” he reminded her.

“What time is it?”

“Carol, listen,” he said gruffly, “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” All the while he was speaking, Steve’s fingers were working the buttons of his shirt and having little success in getting it to fasten properly. “Call what happened last night what you will—the holiday spirit, a momentary slip in my better judgment … whatever. I’m sure you feel the same way.” He paused and turned to study her.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her raised knees. Her heart was in her throat, and she felt shaken and miserable. “Yes, of course.”

His mouth thinned and he turned his back to her once more. “I thought as much. The best thing we can do is put the entire episode out of our minds.”

“Right,” she answered, forcing some enthusiasm into her voice. It was working out exactly as she’d planned it: they would both wake up in the morning, feel chagrined, make their apologies and go their separate ways once more.

Only it didn’t feel the way she’d anticipated. It felt wrong. Very wrong.

Steve was in the living room before she moved from the bed. Grabbing a thin robe from her closet, she slipped into it as she rushed after him.

He seemed to be waiting for her, pacing the entryway. He combed his fingers through his hair a couple of times before turning to look at her.

“So you want to forget last night?” he asked.

“I … if you do,” she answered.

“I do.”

Carol’s world toppled for a moment, then quickly righted itself. She understood—it was better this way. “Thank you for the poinsettia and candy.” It seemed inappropriate to mention the terrific lovemaking.

“Right.” His answer was clipped, as though he was eager to be on his way. “Thanks for the dinner … and everything else.”

“No problem.” Stepping around him, Carol opened the door. “It was good to see you again, Steve.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

He walked out of the house and down the steps, and watching him go did crazy things to Carol’s equilibrium. Suddenly she had to lean against the doorjamb just to remain upright. Something inside her, something strong and more powerful than her own will demanded that she stop him.

“Steve,” she cried frantically. She stood on tiptoe. “Steve.”

He turned around abruptly.

They stared at each other, each battle scarred and weary, each hurting. Each proud.

“Merry Christmas,” she said softly.

“Merry Christmas.”

* * *

Three days after Christmas, Carol was convinced her plan had worked perfectly. Thursday morning she woke feeling sluggish and sick to her stomach. A book she’d been reading on pregnancy and childbirth stated that the best way to relieve those early bouts of morning sickness was to nibble on soda crackers first thing—even before getting out of bed.

A burning sense of triumph led her into the bathroom, where she stared at herself in the mirror as though her reflection would proudly announce she was about to become a mother.

It had been so easy. Simple really. One tempestuous night of passion and the feat was accomplished. Her hand rested over her abdomen, and she patted it gently, feeling both proud and awed. A new life was being nurtured there.

A baby. Steve’s child.

The wonder of it produced a ready flow of emotion and tears dampened her eyes.

Another symptom!

The book had explained that her emotions could be affected by the pregnancy—that she might be more susceptible to tears.

Wiping the moisture from the corners of her eyes, Carol strolled into the kitchen and searched the cupboard for saltines. She found a stale package and forced herself to eat two, but she didn’t feel any better than she had earlier.

Not bothering to dress, she turned on the television and made herself a bed on the sofa. Boeing workers were given the week between Christmas and New Year’s off as part of their employment package. Carol had planned to spend the free time painting the third bedroom—the one she planned to use for the baby. Unfortunately she didn’t have any energy. In fact, she felt downright sick, as though she were coming down with a case of the flu.

A lazy smile turned up the edges of her mouth. She wasn’t about to complain. Nine months from now, she would be holding a precious bundle in her arms.

Steve’s and her child.

Four

With his hands cupped behind his head, Steve lay in bed and stared blindly at the dark ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. For the past hour he hadn’t even bothered to close his eyes. It wouldn’t do any good; every time he did, the memory of Christmas Eve with Carol filled his mind.

Releasing a slow breath, he rubbed his hand down his face, hoping the action would dispel her image from his thoughts. It didn’t work. Nothing did.

He had never intended to make love to her, and even now, ten days later, he wasn’t sure how the hell it had happened. He continued to suffer from a low-grade form of shock. His thoughts had been in utter chaos since that night, and he wasn’t sure how to respond to her or where their relationship was headed now.

What really distressed him, Steve realized, was that after everything that had happened between them, he could still want her so much. More than a week later and the memory of her leaning against the doorjamb in the kitchen, wearing his shirt—and nothing else—had the power to tighten his loins. Tighten his loins! He nearly laughed out loud; that had to be the understatement of the year.

When Carol had stood and held out her arms to him, he’d acted like a starving child offered candy, so eager he hadn’t stopped to think about anything except the love she would give him. Any protest he’d made had been token. She’d volunteered, he’d accepted, and that should be the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Okay, so he wasn’t a man of steel. Carol had always been his Achilles’ heel, and he knew it. She knew it. In thinking over the events of that night, it was almost as though his ex-wife had planned everything. Her red dress with no bra, and that bit about placing decorations on the tree. She’d insisted on standing on the chair, stretching and exposing her thigh to him … his thoughts came to a skidding halt.

No.

He wasn’t going to fall into that familiar trap of thinking Carol was using him, deceiving him. It did no good to wade into the muddy mire of anger, bitterness, regret and doubt.

He longed to repress the memory of Carol’s warm and willing body in his arms. If only he could get on with his life. If only he could sleep.

He couldn’t.

His sister, Lindy, had coffee brewed by the time Steve came out of his bedroom. She sat at the table, cradling a cup in one hand while holding a folded section of the Post-Intelligencer in the other.

“Morning.” She glanced up and greeted him with a bright smile. Lately it seemed his sister was always smiling.

Steve mumbled something unintelligible as a means of reply. Her cheerfulness grated against him. He wasn’t in the mood for good humor this morning. He wasn’t in the mood for anything … with the possible exception of making love to Carol again, and that bit of insight didn’t suit him in the least.

“It doesn’t look like you had a good night’s sleep, brother dearest.”

Steve’s frown deepened, and he gave his sister another noncommittal answer.

“I don’t suppose this has anything to do with Carol?” She waited, and when he didn’t answer, added, “Or the fact that you didn’t come home Christmas Eve?”

“I came home.”

“Sure, sometime the following morning.”

Steve took down a mug from the cupboard and slapped it against the counter with unnecessary force. “Drop it, Lindy. I don’t want to discuss Carol.”

A weighted silence followed his comment.

“Rush and I’ve got almost everything ready to move into the new apartment,” she offered finally, and the light tone of her voice suggested she was looking for a way to put their conversation back on an even keel. “We’ll be out of here by Friday.”

Hell, here he was snapping at Lindy. His sister didn’t deserve to be the brunt of his foul mood. She hadn’t done anything but mention the obvious. “Speaking of Rush, where is he?” Steve asked, forcing a lighter tone into his own voice.

“He had to catch an early ferry this morning,” she said, and hesitated momentarily. “I’m happy, Steve, really happy. I was so afraid for a time that I’d made a dreadful mistake, but I know now that marrying Rush was the right thing to do.”

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