Red-Hot Santa

It took her a moment to realize he was talking about the ride he was giving her to her aunt’s house. Not her secret Santa wish. Damn.

“Oh. Yes.” She smiled.

As he got their coats from behind the bar, she was aware of the bar owner’s attention on them.

“Good night,” she called.

“Good night, Maxi. Nice to see you again. Will you be back here tomorrow night?”

She waved noncommittally and led the way out.

The early morning air was still and cold. She couldn’t remember a time she’d experienced such quiet. Perhaps because it contrasted so greatly with the riotous emotions roiling inside of her.

Her brief contact with Jax earlier, when she’d realized he wanted her—at least physically—left her breathless … and more than a little scared.

It was one thing to mentally decide on a course of action; quite another, indeed, to actually embark on it.

She started toward where his truck was parked in the lot but found he wasn’t behind her.

“I need to see to Cleo first,” he said.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Cleo?

He grinned at her. “I rent the place above the bar.”

“I don’t understand. This is where you live?”

“Most nights. When I have a day off, I go out to Gram’s, but this …” He gestured toward the wooden stairs leading up to a second story door. “This is my home away from home.”

She followed him up. “And Cleo?”

“You’re going to love her.”

Max winced. She was sure whoever Cleo was, she was not going to love her. She’d hated everyone Jax had dated before. What would make this one any different? Especially since she appeared to live with him.

Double damn.

“Why did you agree to take me home if you weren’t going that way?” she asked, trying to figure out what her options were. Truly, she’d preferred not to be stuck in a truck with him for a half hour if his heart already belonged to someone else.

“I haven’t seen you in two years. Did you really expect me to say no?” He took keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. “Besides, it’s no big deal. I’ll just crash at Gram’s tonight.”

A soft breeze brought the tang of his aftershave to her nose. She took a deep breath; she’d always loved the way he smelled.

He held out a hand to stay her. “You may want to step back for a minute while Cleo greets me.”

Great. She was going to have to watch another woman throw herself into his arms.

He squared his stance and then opened the door. Max watched a female throw herself into his arms, all right. Or, rather, climb up into them.

She laughed as a black feline, more kitten than cat, climbed Jax like a tree, not stopping until she was safe in his arms and nudging her chin against his.

“Cleo,” Jax said, “I want you to meet Max. Max …” He turned and smiled at her even as he scratched the cat behind the ears. “This is Cleo.”

Max leaned forward, wondering if her relief was obvious, but not really caring. She was just happy Cleo wasn’t a six foot blonde with model good looks she’d have to add to the top of her Most Hated list.

“Hey, Cleo,” she said softly, holding her hand palm down so the cat could take a whiff of her. Then just as sweet as you please, Cleo rubbed up against the digits, her rumbling purr audible. Max ran her hand along her soft, warm fur.

“I would never have figured you for a cat person.”

“I’m not.”

Jax walked inside the apartment and Max followed. He switched on a light and closed the door behind them before placing the cat on the back of a chair.

“Long story short, Cleo is Gram’s. She’s just visiting while Gram takes a vacation.”

“Vacation?”

He grimaced. “Yeah. She went on a cruise and won’t be back until next week.” He walked toward the back and switched on another light to what looked like the kitchen.

“I’m surprised she didn’t leave her in the barn.”

“Yeah, well, Cleo isn’t a barn cat, exactly …” He adjusted what appeared to be a thermostat on the wall. “The heat shouldn’t take but a minute.”

“I’m fine. I’ve been through worse.”

He looked at her. “Yeah. We both have, I think. Easy to forget that sometimes.”

He disappeared into the other room. Max stared at Cleo who stared back, at least until she heard the sound of food hitting a bowl. Then she was off like a shot, skidding to a stop on the kitchen tile.

Max unzipped her leather jacket and looked around the place. Hell, it was neater than hers. And while the black, contemporary furnishings may have come with the place, the small touches did not. There were books in the case, a plant on the floor and photos in frames on the shelves. She stepped nearer, easily recognizing Jax’s grandmother and brother Jason in the pictures. And then she spied one of herself …

Her heart skipped a beat as she picked up the simple four-by-six-inch frame of a photo shot taken about five years ago while they were serving together. They were both in desert fatigues and Jax had draped his arm casually over her shoulders.

There was nothing casual, however, about the way she smiled at him.

She squinted at her expression. How was it possible he never knew?

Then it occurred to her he had known. He just hadn’t returned her feelings.

“Long time ago, huh?” he asked, coming to stand beside her.

“Huh?” She awkwardly put the frame back down. “Um, yeah. A different lifetime, it seems.”

He ran his hand over his hair. “Yeah.”

She stared into his face, wondering if she was just being stupid or if she’d been made that way. She started to ask if he was ready, when she noticed he’d taken off his coat, most likely leaving it in the kitchen.

“Maxi?”