A Soldier for Christmas. Jillian Hart

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take the ruby,” Mitch told Holly, behind the counter. “But could you put the other on hold? I’d like to think about it. Christmas will be here before you know it.”

      “Sure.” Holly gladly set the pearl angel aside and took Mitch’s credit card with her over to the cash register.

      They were done. Kelly let out a deep breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding. This was how worked up she was. But now Mitch had found his gift, and he’d be heading back to his base.

      I’ll be back on safe ground.

      She probably wouldn’t see him again. She didn’t want to see him again, right? It wasn’t as if she was looking for a man to love—not anymore. Not ever again. It didn’t make any sense.

      “Mission accomplished.” The way he leaned both forearms on the counter, coming in close to her, made her want to hope—past the ache where no hope lived.

      How impossible was it to start hoping? And for what? That kind of hope, that kind of dream, was not meant for her. She thought of what had happened with Joe, and it felt as if the shadows within her lengthened. No, this was her path and she would not step one foot off it.

      She cleared the thick emotion from her throat. Somehow she managed some resemblance of a normal smile. “Your mom should love the brooch. I bet she’d love anything as long as it was from you.”

      “Well, she’s biased, being my mom. But you, pretty lady, you saved my bacon.”

      “Me? I just pointed you in the right direction.” Why did her heart flutter in her chest? Maybe it was simply the remnants of that old crush. Maybe. She couldn’t let it be anything else.

      “I did nothing. You would have done fine by yourself, but I’m glad I could help. I wish your mother a very happy birthday. And you a safe journey back to the base tonight.”

      She took a step in retreat.

      “What? You’re leaving me? Just like that?”

      “You were the one who said mission accomplished.”

      “Well, maybe there’s another mission scheduled after this one.”

      “Holly gift wraps, so you’re good to go.” She took another backward step to the door. “Bye, Mitch.”

      “Wait.” As if he was going to let her escape. She was wrong, his mission wasn’t close to being completed. Mitch scribbled his signature on the slip the shop owner slid toward him. “Kelly, don’t run off on me.”

      “I’ve got to study.”

      “Flimsy excuse.” Done, he dropped the pen but Kelly was already heaving open the old-fashioned wood-frame door. The cowbell over the door clanked as she tried to evade him.

      Emotion struck him hard in the chest, and he remembered the fear he’d seen in her eyes. “Ma’am, could you wrap this for me? I’ll be back.”

      He hardly registered the owner’s agreement; he was already out the door and into the blinding burn of daylight. He turned toward Kelly instinctively, as if he could feel the tug of her spirit against his.

      She’d gained some distance on him, he had to give her that. She speed-walked in those purple sandals as efficiently as if they were cross-trainers. The hem of her pretty dress swirled around her slender knees, and her long honey-blond hair swung with her gait, like lustrous liquid gold.

      Yeah, she was in definite retreat. What had scared her? He puzzled over that as he bounded after her, cutting around a couple holding hands. She had that strict no-dating outlook on things. Was she bolting because he’d gotten too close? What he needed to know was what had happened with Joe. Otherwise, she was going to run off and he’d never see her again.

      Maybe that was as it should be. Maybe it would be best just to let her go. His chest tightened. The tenderness and confused emotions inside him tangled up into an unbreakable knot.

      What he did was dangerous. There was no denying it. He’d learned the value of making sure to start each day without regrets. To leave nothing unfinished.

      If he let her go, he’d regret it. No doubt about that.

      So he continued after her. He could have closed his eyes and found her by heart and by the cadence of her gait. In the reflection of a coffee-shop window he could see her profile, her soft mouth downturned, her chin set with determination. Then her slim shoulders tensed more as if she, too, sensed him behind her. She kept going.

      There was a clue, but did he get the hint? No. He kept going. “Kelly? Did I do something wrong?”

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