The Parting Gift(26)

It was painful to look, but it was absolute torture not to. Like a moth drawn to flame, his eyes drew back to hers. The room stood still around them, and silence hung heavily in the air. Blaine realized he was holding his breath and let it out slowly.

“Mara.” He exhaled her name before he knew it was even on his tongue.

Her eyes widened suddenly as if his use of her first name had snapped her out of a trance. She slipped her hands from his grasp and shot to her feet, almost knocking the chair over. “Tea!” she bellowed. Rushing to the cupboard, she threw the doors open and began rummaging through the contents wildly.

Although the sudden mood change took Blaine by surprise, a strange calm settled through him. The urge inside him brought him to his feet, and he acted before he had time to change his mind.

He stepped behind Mara as she fumbled through the cabinet. Gently grasping both of her flailing hands in his own, he twisted her around to face him. Her eyes darted apprehensively between his darkened gaze and his mouth.

Slowly he lifted his hand to her chin, tilting her face toward him. Then wrapping his other arm around her waist, he pulled her closer. He leaned toward her in deliberate movement, steadily closing the distance between them until her soft lips brushed his. Her sudden gasp of breath spurred him forward and his mouth possessed hers hungrily, as if she was the source of life itself.

Mara’s once tentative lips immediately gave way, fully participating in the earth-shattering kiss. Her once clenched hands loosened under his grip, then smoothly moved to the back of his neck pulling his body closer to hers. Sighing against his mouth she relaxed in his hold, bringing Blaine’s thoughts back to the present. The attraction between them was impossible to deny. His body hummed with desire as he reluctantly drew back to look into her eyes.

Beautiful green eyes, widened in shock as black dewy lashes blinked several times back at him. Mara held her lip captive between her teeth – in thought or frustration, he wasn’t sure – yet he couldn’t fight the craving; he had to taste her again.

“Captain, I –”she began, but he lifted a finger to her lips to quiet her.

“I think,” he whispered breathlessly, resting his forehead against hers, “you should probably call me Blaine.”

He wanted to hold her like this forever. Forever. A foreign concept for someone like Blaine who had lost everyone close to him. Her warmth filtered through him, awakening every part of his being, and his brain struggled to regain control of his senses, which were rapidly descending again into a fog of desire.

“It’s getting late,” she murmured.

He nodded and closed his eyes, willing himself to snap out of it. “Do you…?” His voice squeaked, so he cleared his throat and started again in a deep tenor, “Do you want me to walk you to your room?”

She shook her head, still propped against his forehead. “Probably not such a good idea,” she whispered, then blew a slow, quiet breath through pursed lips and stepped back, pushing herself away from his chest.

An audible groan escaped his lips as if his body mourned the loss of hers.

Her green eyes were hazy too, mirroring his clouded mind. She smiled at him softly and raised a tender hand to caress his cheek. “Good night, Cap—um, Blaine.” He closed his eyes momentarily allowing the sound of his name on her lips to seep through him, but when he opened them again, she was gone.

In desperation, he reached for the stability of a nearby chair, and he crumpled into it. His offer to walk her up the stairs was perfunctory, if not hopeful – but at the moment, he was certain his legs were permanently paralyzed.





Chapter Ten





The morning of Christmas Eve broke quietly. It had been his mother’s custom to awaken before dawn and steal into the kitchen to make his father’s favorite breakfast, so when the smell of crackling maple smoked bacon drifted into his room, Blaine’s heart leaped and he wondered if it was a figment of his imagination.

Only a hint of morning light was glowing around the edges of the small window’s curtain. He slowly sat up on the cot and reached for his shirt. The salty aroma of bacon lay heavy in the air; he drew in a deep appreciative breath. It wasn’t his imagination.

He grabbed his jeans from the sewing chair and pulled them over his long-handles hurriedly. There was no way he was going to spend Christmas Eve lounging in his room. This would be the first good Christmas in years, and he wasn’t going to waste any of it.



****



In spite of her efforts to be as quiet as possible this morning, she heard the door to the sewing room squeak open and knew Blaine was watching her from the doorway. “Good morning, Mara.”

The use of her first name set her senses tingling. Not even Michael had ever had that effect on her – a thought which briefly flooded her with guilt. She had loved Michael, but it was a comfortable love, and she had known him her whole life.

“Good morning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“It was the bacon.”

“Your father requested it.”

“He remembered,” Blaine said. “I didn’t think he would.”

“What’s that?”

“Christmas Eve. My mother always made his favorite breakfast. The smell of it would wake us.”

Mara’s back was still to him, but she smiled wistfully. The relationship between the two men was mending before her eyes. Blaine’s voice didn’t carry the same bitter tone when he spoke of his father. Instead, it was replaced by a nostalgic appreciation for the old days – the days they had been a loving, close family.