A Soldier for Christmas

A Soldier for Christmas
Jillian Hart

No matter how hard she tried to stop the caring from creeping into her heart, she couldn’t.

She liked Mitch Dalton. She liked him very much.

“Why do you love pearls?” He studied her, waiting.

“Everyone knows that a pearl starts with a tiny grain of sand, but to me, it’s like faith. We are like that grain of sand and it’s God’s grace that can cloak us and make us shine, if we are humble and faithful enough. In the end, it’s a thing of true beauty.”

“Yes, it certainly is.”

He wasn’t looking at the pearl. But at her. Somehow his gaze deepened and there he went, somehow feeling too intimate, as if he could see too much. But how could he look past the layers of defense in which she cloaked herself so carefully?

JILLIAN HART

makes her home in Washington State, where she has lived most of her life. When Jillian is not hard at work on her next story, she loves to read, go to lunch with her friends and spend quiet evenings with her family.

A Soldier for Christmas

Jillian Hart

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,

and in His word I put my hope.

—Psalms 130:5

To Frank Heidt. Thanks for taking the time

to answer my questions about Force Recon,

I’ll keep your family in prayer, always.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Kelly Logan closed the textbook with a huff and blinked hard to bring the Christian bookstore where she worked into focus.

Math. It was so not fair that she, a twenty-four-year-old college student, had to take the required course so she could graduate. She intentionally hadn’t thought about quadratic equations since high school, which was six years ago. Hello? Who would want to have to think about this stuff? Unfortunately, she was paying good tuition money to have to think about this stuff. She rubbed her forehead in the hopes that her equation-induced headache would go away.

No such luck. Pain pounded against her temples as though someone was inside her skull, beating her with a mallet. Lovely. She’d been studying algebra for thirty minutes in the quiet lull of a Friday afternoon. Thirty minutes was all it took for her neurotransmitters to quit working in protest. Not that she blamed them. Definitely time for a study break before her head imploded. She leaned a little to the left over the counter to check on the store’s only customer, busily browsing in the devotionals display. “Do you need any help, Opal?”

“Any more of your help and I’ll break my budget, honey.” Elderly Mrs. Opal Finch wandered away from the decorated table with a small book in hand. “I got this one. The one you recommended. I see one of your bosses put up a written recommendation on it, too.”

“Katherine has exquisite taste.”

Opal slipped the book onto the counter. “Since when have you two steered me wrong? It’s such a pretty cover, I couldn’t resist.”

“Neither could I. I bought it today—payday.” Kelly gestured toward the identical small pink book next to her textbooks before she rang up the sale. “I already took a peek at it. The first day’s devotion is awesome.”

“Wonderful. Are you going to want to see my identification? That new girl did last time I was here.”

“Nope, I know your account number by heart.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Opal’s merry green eyes sparkled with amusement. “So you can verify my senior citizen discount! It’s a hoot, that’s what it is, questioning my age. Oh my, it’s good for the soul.”

“You look eighty-three years young to me,” Kelly assured the lovely octogenarian as she scribbled down the purchase on an in-house charge slip.

“Bless you, dear, I surely appreciate that. And I don’t need a bag, sweetie. Conservation, you know.” She opened her wide paisley-patterned purse, hanging by sturdy straps from her forearm.