The Spy Who Saved Christmas. Dana Marton
as a single mother. She looked at their sweet baby faces. They were the most important things to her in the world. She would do anything to give them a happy, normal life, to keep them safe.
There was a time when she’d wanted to be wild and free. She’d been that, for a single night. Then the man she’d been infatuated with had died, her business had burned down and she’d become a single mother of twins, struggling to survive. She’d learned her lesson. She was done with adventure. All she wanted was an average, safe life. There was great comfort to be found in mediocrity.
She shored up the edge of the bed with pillows so the babies wouldn’t roll off, then walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Reid was sitting on the couch, legs apart, head back. Only one small light in the corner of the room was on, leaving his face shadowed and mysterious. He wore biker boots and faded jeans with an unbuttoned black shirt over his black T-shirt. She had a sudden flashback to the day she’d first seen him, appearing out of nowhere in the door of her shop, leaning against the frame and watching her, looking at her like no man ever had, before or since.
She’d been so stunned by the sight of him that she’d dropped ground pork into the ground beef bin. She should have turned tail right then and run for the hills. Except, then she wouldn’t have Zak and Nate, and she couldn’t regret them, not ever, not for a second.
“Someone will bring us food.” Reid stayed sprawled on the couch. “If you give me a list of what you need for your boys, I’ll call it in.”
“Our boys,” she corrected.
He looked up at her with his cinnamon eyes narrowed, his thick lashes shading them. He had a chiseled face and lips that could… Lips that said he’d been born to be wild. “I don’t think so.”
Anger spread through her veins. “You think I’m lying about this?”
“I know you are. Look, I was going to give it some time and figure out why you’re doing it, but I’m tired. There’s a lot going on right now. I’ll be leaving in a little while, handing you over to someone else. So let’s cut through the games, and you tell me what you’re up to.”
“We slept together.” She still thought about that night nearly every day. The possibility that he might have forgotten was humiliating.
But he said, “Believe me, I remember that part,” his voice dropping a notch.
Heat crept into her face.
“But I’m telling you, honey, I can’t have kids.”
“Well, I’m telling you that you can, and you have,” she snapped.
He watched her for a good long time, those piercing eyes doing their best to unnerve her. “I can’t figure out the angle. Best I can come up with is that you had someone shortly after me, got pregnant, he took off and you told everyone the kids were mine since I was dead and I couldn’t argue. Was he married?”
Anger progressed to cold fury. She strode into the kitchen for a glass of water. “Go to hell,” she called back.
He came after her, turned her around by the shoulders, held her gaze and pulled up his T-shirt all the way to his neck.
Her throat went dry. She wanted to look away. She couldn’t.
“Been there.” His voice rasped. “And got the burn marks to prove it.”
She swallowed a gasp at the sight of his mangled flesh. Blinked hard when she thought of the pure male perfection that he’d been the last time she’d seen his chest. All of that was gone now, angry, violent welts crisscrossing his skin.
For a moment, she forgot how mad she was at him for faking his death, for leaving her alone to deal with everything that came after, for denying their children. Her gaze slipped higher. “What’s that on your shoulder?”
“This?” He flicked his thumb over the scar. “This is where my collarbone came through. The bastards broke a couple of bones before they set me on fire.” He pulled his shirt down, covering it all.
And yes, he was still an unfair jerk for questioning her word about the twins, but the fight went out of her all of a sudden. This day and age, if he really wanted to know, paternity could be easily proven. But from what she’d seen of him so far, she didn’t think she would want him in her life, in her babies’ lives. She wanted safe and normal.
The good news was, he didn’t look like he wanted to be part of her life either. He wouldn’t even acknowledge their babies. One second she felt disappointment in that, the next she felt relief. She suspected she’d settle into relief once her mind calmed a little.
“The boys should be fine for a couple of days,” she said. “I packed enough food and diapers for them. How long do you think we have to stay here? Tomorrow’s Sunday so the shop isn’t open, but if I can’t come in Monday, I’ll have to make arrangements.” She had two part-time employees who could hold down the fort until her return.
“Make arrangements.”
The unfairness of it all slammed into her. She’d done nothing wrong here. And yet, suddenly, her carefully built life was being ripped away. “So this is what you do?” she asked, full of resentment.
He nodded.
“Maybe you should have stuck with popovers and country bread. Couldn’t you go back to something like that?”
“No.”
Too bad. “You were better at that than this.” She knew she sounded bitchy, and she didn’t care.
He looked at her with interest. “How so?”
“Back in Hopeville, your cover got broken and you were nearly killed. The same thing happened tonight.” And both times, her life had changed as a result.
He gave a rueful smile. “Believe it or not, that’s the only two times this ever happened to me. When you show up, everything falls apart. Maybe you’re my personal bad luck charm.” He gave a lopsided smile. “In fact, in the future, I’m planning on running in the opposite direction if you appear.”
That stung. She stuck her chin out. “How about you start now?”
“Would be the smartest thing to do.” He leaned closer, reached out and rubbed his thumb along the line of her jaw. “In fact, I’m planning on it as soon as backup gets here.”
When he pulled away, she took a few nervous gulps of water. “Maybe you’re my bad luck charm,” she said as she set her glass down on the counter. “The first time you showed up in my life, my business burned down. Tonight I was shot at, and I had to go on the run with the boys because my home is no longer safe. I should run when I see you coming.”
The way his gaze was focused on her lips made her warm all over. He moved back into her personal space again. “Run.” His voice was a raspy whisper.
She couldn’t have moved to save her life.
He grabbed her by the hips, lifted her onto the countertop effortlessly, settled his lean body between her legs. The sharp bolt of desire that shot through her took her breath away. What was it with them and food preparation surfaces?
“I’m not a sentimental person,” he started, “but damn if memories aren’t washing all over me. I can’t say I like it.”
“You could, uh, think about something else.” She tried to get a grip on her hormones, which suddenly came awake after two long, exhausting, celibate years. “We were—that was so long ago, I already forgot all about it.”
“I don’t think so. I was your first,” he whispered against her lips.
Awareness skittered across her skin.
“You must have had others since,” he murmured, his lips a fraction of an inch from hers.
She turned her head, looked away.
He