Holiday Heroes
Page 8The door swung open to reveal a dark-haired man wearing corduroy pants and a heavy cardigan. “Will-kommen! Gruss Gott!” He welcomed them with a thick German accent, puffing away on a pipe. “We’ve only just started to decorate the tree.”
He pulled them both into a hug before lumbering lazily down the walkway to pay off the sleigh driver.
Seemingly in no hurry, their “host” escorted them into the small abode, tugging the door closed behind him. In one of those odd quirks she should have been used to by now, the agent seemed to shed years from his age as he rid himself of his role as quickly as he pulled the pipe from his mouth and tossed it in an ashtray.
The man’s smile faded. “General, Senator Landis, thank God you’re both safe.” He extended his hand, his German accent vanishing to be replaced by a nondescript mid-American-broadcaster-type voice. “I’m Special Agent Rodriquez. Let’s step into the briefing room to catch you up to speed on the National Security issues at hand.”
Twenty minutes into the brief, Ginger sagged back in one of the kitchen table’s wooden chairs. She could hardly believe her ears even as computers with the best world intelligence hummed all around them.
Could things have wrapped themselves up this neatly in the hour while she and Hank had been driving? “And you’ve questioned them thoroughly?”
Special Agent Rodriquez refilled the three coffee mugs, pulling down a couple more for the pair of agents in the back room. “It’s an ongoing investigation, but the People’s Revolutionary Council is claiming full responsibility for the attack. The Germans have two leaders of the local cell in custody.”
“Then I guess that’s it then.” Ginger took her refilled mug from the agent, her world still strangely off-kilter despite the thaw in her veins and the safety in her new surroundings. Was it because of what she’d shared with Hank? An unsettling thought that he could hold such sway over her emotions beyond just friendship because of a look, a kiss.
A night in his arms.
Hank tipped his chair back, arms crossed over his chest. “There are more people in their group.”
“Very low risk. They’re disorganized with their leaders out of commission, and they’re not likely to strike in the same place so soon.”
Hank rocked his kitchen chair back and forth. “Fair enough.” Still he didn’t appear satisfied. “What about our cancelled appearances?”
“We told everyone the stress from the attack had aggravated the senator’s ear infection, and she was under doctor’s orders to rest. Since you’re in safely, we would like to invite those who missed meetings to attend the Christmas Eve dedication service, provided you’re still up to making the event, ma’am.” The agent reclaimed his seat at the table.
“Absolutely.” Ginger couldn’t fault how things had been handled. Everything seemed perfect, which meant there was no reason not to continue with the rest of her plans. “The chapel dedication is the most important part of this whole trip. Make whatever security arrangements are necessary.”
“Ginger…” Hank’s chair thudded to the floor with an ominous thud. A stubborn thud.
“Hank, we can’t leave the country on this negative note. It taints all the progress we made in the weeks prior.” She stared him down, her mind set in spite of the fact she felt the same unsettling sensation inside of her that she saw echoed in his eyes.
So she locked on Hank’s gaze and held until he blinked first and shifted his attention to the special agent at the table with them.
“I want damn impenetrable security measures at that dedication ceremony, Rodriquez. No screw-ups this time. I want her wrapped in a fortress of protection.”
Hank couldn’t miss the irony of his wish as he stood at the medieval castle window, looking out over the historic fortress’s grounds. He’d wanted Ginger well protected and now he waited with her in an alabaster stone citadel that had withstood centuries of sieges and attacks.
He continued his perusal of the outlying snow-capped land as Ginger bustled behind him, settling into the room, putting away her clothes that had been brought over by the secret service. His room connected through a small sitting area. They’d been assigned the lord and lady of the castle’s quarters. He’d been placed close to her for protection, practical, but hell on the willpower since he would be spending the night here with her before tomorrow’s Christmas Eve dedication ceremony.
Even with his back turned, he couldn’t help but be tuned in to her every movement, his awareness of her pleasure or frustration over the smallest details of the room. Her sigh at the bathroom door meant there wasn’t enough elbow room. Her harrumph over the closet stated she didn’t approve of the musty scent. A quiet humming noise while she filled the dresser drawers relayed that she liked the flowery smelling pillowy things they’d put in there to scent up the clothes.
God knows how he understood all of that since no one had ever accused him of being Joe Sensitive. But there it was.
And he would damn well lose his mind thinking about how much had shifted between them since he’d held her in his arms last night. Or kissed her this morning.
Better focus on the outside.
His eyes scanned a rocky, icy patch of scarred earth where he suspected there’d once been a moat. An ice-covered lake spread to the right, mountains along the left wrapping behind. Strategically, this had been a well-built home and he couldn’t deny the rush as he thought of all those old battles chronicled on the tapestries covering the walls.
How ironic that the castle had survived so much only to have the chapel razed by a fluke of nature fifty years ago. Lightning from a storm had sparked a fire, destroying the chapel along with its contents. The village had been devastated. The fundraising drive in this small town to rebuild the chapel had been a heart-tugging story—just the sort that called to someone like Ginger more than any big-city photo op.
One of the many things he admired about her.
As if drawn against his will, he turned on his boot heels to find her warming her toes by the fire. She toyed with the trailing end of the pine bough attached to the mantel, with red bows and silver glass balls. Her sigh of contentment seared right through him.
Their kiss that morning blazed in his mind and through his body as if it had just happened.
She turned to look at him, the flames from the hearth reflected in her eyes. He kept his gaze firmly off the looming four-poster bed with its poufy comforter across the room and a nice little spread of wine with holiday candies, fruit and nuts beside it.
The firelight brought out her blond hair, showcased the shadows of her every sweet curve, of her h*ps in formfitting jeans.
Hell, he could stare at the moon and there was no ignoring the bed’s overpowering presence. In spite of all the danger—perhaps even heightened by the reminder of how easily everything could be taken away—they’d been working toward this moment all day.
His feet carried him to her with a surety he saw in her eyes along with those flames even if the breath she inhaled seemed a little shaky. He stopped in front of her and she dropped her extended legs, her feet resting toes to toes with his.
“So, Ginger, do I take my boots off and stay or not? It’s your call.”
Her face creased in a smile, her breath seeming a bit steadier this time. “Boots off, flyboy.”
She didn’t have to tell him twice. He dropped into the wingback chair opposite hers and slid his shoes off, dropping them to the floor, with a thud and thud, before he extended his hand to her. Without hesitation, Ginger glided up from her chair, sinking into his lap and his arms.
Her mouth met his and confirmed that the attraction, the draw he’d felt when they’d kissed earlier, hadn’t been a one-time thing. This was real. Intense.
Amazing.
He pulled her closer, tighter, her sighs encouraging as much as the press of her sweet bottom against him. His hands roamed over her back, under the hem of her sweater to find warm skin. He caressed higher, exploring and, hell yeah, enjoying.
Ginger cupped his face in her soft hands and eased away an inch. “Why did we never think to do this before?”
“Oh I thought about it.” And much more, but mostly in his dreams. He’d been so set on them as friends.
He’d been an idiot.
She smiled against his mouth. “Why didn’t you say something? Do something?”
“The same reason you didn’t.”
“You’re assuming a lot with that statement.”
He stared at her silently. Waiting. Yeah, he’d gone out on a limb by insinuating she’d been harboring feelings for longer than just this trip as well, but they’d always been honest with each other. He couldn’t see the benefit to either of them in holding back.
“Except you didn’t change things between us either, because we weren’t ready,” he said with a dawning insightfulness.
“And we are now?”
“I’m not sure about that,” he answered as honestly as he could. “At least, readier.”
She laughed low, then sobered. “Sex at our age shouldn’t be this scary. I thought fears about being emotionally prepared were for teenagers.”
“We’re wise enough to know this is serious.” His hands slowed on her back and he took a moment to absorb the feel of her shoulder blades. A simple touch, but the start of learning every nook and nerve. Baring themselves in that way wasn’t something to be taken lightly. “We’ve both been through a lot.”
Her palm fell to rest on his chest, a couple of pine needles from her fingers catching on his sweater. “We’ve both lost a lot.”
And wasn’t that the heart of why he’d held back for so long? The draw between them was intense. Almost too much. Could he—could they both—go through losing something this important again?
All such thoughts needed to take a hike or they would never end up horizontal on that bed together, and he very much wanted to land on that mattress with Ginger. Before he took it further, he needed to hear from her. “What do you want?”
“You.”
Because above all he did trust her, he didn’t need to ask anything more than that. He took her mouth again, not so gentle a meeting this time. No more questions or hesitation.
He skimmed the sweater over her head to reveal a matching bra. He could well lose his mind thinking about how she’d had all this hot lingerie packed away from the start of their trip across Europe. “I never would have guessed you had a weakness for lacy lingerie. You’re so down-to-earth and practical, but then there’s the red camisole, now this.”
“Practical or not, I’m a woman.”
“Believe me, I’ve never been more aware of that than I am at the moment.” He wondered what other luxurious lingerie she’d packed in her suitcase. His pulse hammered hard in his ears as his blood pumped through his veins in double time.
Hank unsnapped her jeans, revealing the top rim of green lace. He growled low, sliding his thumb over the rim of her panties. He grazed his knuckles along the creamy softness of her bare skin, which only served to stir a hunger to feel more of her. All of her.
An urge to have her now warred with the desire to stare at the sexy image of her standing in nothing but her bra and unsnapped pants. Her blond hair was tousled from their kisses, her bare feet with toes still curling and vulnerable, toenails manicured with white tips. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">