My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(29)

“Ah, I don’t know. I want other things, too. When you deploy a lot, spend a lot of time on a ship, it’s hard to keep a handle on the other things in life. Like a family. The woman who takes on a Navy fighter pilot spends a lot of time alone. It’s not fair. It takes an amazing commitment and a special kind of woman....”

“Like Marie.”

“She would be a good example.”

“No wonder you think of her as the ideal wife. I have a friend, Connie—I’ve known her since junior high. She’s always loved firemen. She chased fire trucks and went to firefighter bars. No surprise she married one eventually. Now she still loves firemen but she hates their hours. Her husband is gone a good third of every month and it’s driving her crazy. She’s stuck alone while he’s out pulling women from burning buildings. She wants him to quit and go to work for her father. Now why would you marry a guy in a job you find powerful and sexy and then not want him to do that job? Or how about all the girls who want a doctor and then find out how hard it is to be married to a doctor? The way I see it, you pick the whole person. You have to look him over really carefully. If he has the qualities you need in a partner, you sign on. And he looks you over, making sure of the same things. If you do that, there’s only one option—you support their career choice because there’s no other choice. You can’t remake people, for God’s sake. You have to love them for who they are.”

Patrick stared at her. His mouth might’ve been open a little bit. How had Leigh put it? I don’t think we’re going in the same direction. I’m not going to compete with the Navy. I need a full partner. In other words, she was looking for someone who could dedicate himself to her goals. And here was Angie, talking about choosing a partner based on the whole package, not on how well you can mold them to suit you.

“Are you sure you’re twenty-three?” Patrick asked her.

“My sisters and I are not very much alike,” she said. “We’ve always enjoyed different things. We sometimes throw in with one another when it’s not our number-one choice. Baby girl is an athlete—I go to as many games and meets as I can because it shows support. I’m not going to dump her because her athletic events bore me or are inconvenient—she’s my sister! But sometimes I read while she’s running track or playing basketball and even that makes her think I don’t love her.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask—but the middle sister?”

“Piano and violin. Concert ready. I enjoy that a little more than basketball, track and other sports. But, hey, these are the same sisters I sent to the emergency room when I started experimenting with mixing household cleaners. I think I owe them.”

He laughed at her. “I think you do. A piece of advice—before you have children, be sure you can afford full-time watchdogs.”

“I know, right?”

He leaned toward her and kissed her briefly, looking into her eyes. “Your lips are soft,” he whispered. “And perfect.” He kissed her again, this time deeper. He slipped an arm around her waist and gently lowered her to the floor. He could feel her body responding to his, her hands reaching up to wrap around him, to encourage him. As much as he wanted to keep going, a small part of his conscience tugged at him. “Listen,” he said, pulling back slightly, “we shouldn’t. We’re just passing through.”

She simply looked up at him with those sweet, pretty eyes and, against his better judgment, he kissed her again. This time he tongued open her lips and played inside her mouth, moaning low in his throat. Her fingers tangled in his hair, as though trying to pull his mouth even closer to hers. Against her lips he whispered, “Why do you have to taste so damn good, feel so good. Angie, I want you and you’re the last person I should be wanting.” He leaned over her, his hands busy with her torso, running up and down her sides, grazing a breast, devouring her mouth with his. “My ears are ringing. Tell me to stop before this—” But Angie shook her head, her lips red and swollen from his deep kisses, her eyes filled with longing. “Stop me,” he whispered. “Push me away. This is such a bad idea. Before I go completely deaf, tell me no....”

“Patrick,” she whispered. “Paddy…”

“Yes?” he asked, his eyes sleepy and sexy and gazing into hers.

“Do you always talk this much?”

He smiled for just a second before he took her mouth by storm and rolled with her on the floor until his body covered hers. His lips on her neck, her ear, her temple, her mouth again, always looking for a better, even deeper taste of her. When he broke away for a moment she said, “I like that.” She was a little breathless.

“We’re going to go real slow, just take our time getting to know each other. Nothing happens that you’re not ready for. All you have to do is put one hand on my chest, like this,” he said, taking her hand and placing the palm against his chest. “You don’t even have to say anything. This is all about you, Ange. I don’t even have to kiss you again unless you feel like it.”

She was still for a second. Then she grabbed the front of his shirt in her fists and pulled his mouth against hers.

Patrick took full advantage of her decision, moving along her with sweet passion. She moaned against his lips; her urgency thrilled him. Mouths open, tongues playing, lips sliding, tilting right, then left, he devoured her. He couldn’t get deep enough into her mouth. This response from her had him hard in an instant, but he was determined to move slowly even though her body felt tight with needy determination.