Because she couldn’t deny it—she did still want Chris. Despite his crappy treatment and seeming abandonment of her, she wasn’t ready to let go. It might be stupid, but she had a feeling about him.
A good one.
“So can I come in?” He waved his hand at the door. “Please?”
Jane opened the door wider and he moved past her, his arm brushing against hers as he walked into the living room where Logan enthusiastically greeted him.
“We’re decorating the tree you cut for us, Captain Nelson!” Logan hopped up and down, pointing at the tree that stood in the corner of the room.
“Yeah, I see that. I like it.” Chris stood with Logan in front of the tree, casting it a critical eye before he glanced in Lexi’s direction. “Hi, Lexi.”
“Hi.” She’d snuck back into the living room, once again focusing on her popcorn stringing task, her mouth screwed up, the tip of her tongue sticking out, a study in concentration.
“Stringing popcorn for the tree?”
Lexi finally glanced up at him. “Yes.”
Chris’s gaze met Jane’s, his eyes golden brown and oh, so warm in the dim light of the room. She only had on a single lamp plus the multi-colored Christmas lights on the tree, wanting an almost magical effect while they decorated. Christmas carols played; Bing Crosby crooned about dreaming of a white Christmas in the background.
“The tree looks great,” he said, reaching out a hand to ruffle Logan’s head. “You look great,” he said pointedly to Jane.
She looked terrible, but she wasn’t going to argue. She wore an old pair of jeans that were so big they bagged all around her and a faded red holiday-themed T-shirt she’d picked up so long ago, she couldn’t even remember where. She was a mess, dressed for decorating and pulling open boxes and creating handmade decorations with her children. Spending an exciting Friday night in with her three kids and cereal for dinner, all of it making her wonder: exactly why was Chris here anyway?
“I guess you should probably go?” She ignored his compliment. Wanted to get rid of him so she could pretend that night had never happened.
Yeah, right.
“Uh, I was hoping I could talk to you,” he said as if he planned on sticking around for a while. She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or irritated at his assumption. “Do you have a minute?”
“Will you help us finish decorating the tree?” Logan tugged on Chris’s hand, desperate to get his attention.
She didn’t want to talk, not yet. To face real feelings and messy emotions…she wasn’t prepared. But she knew she couldn’t avoid the topic—or him—forever.
“I could help out if your mom doesn’t mind.” Chris studied her, didn’t miss a thing with that intense gaze, and she knew he knew he had her squirming.
And he also knew she wouldn’t refuse her children pretty much anything.
“If Captain Nelson wants to help, then I guess we’ll let him.” Nerves made her heart race, her face heat, and she turned away, hunkering down on the floor to go through an old box of ornaments she’d found in her collection.
Handmade ornaments from another time, when Lexi had been so very young and Logan just a baby. Back when Jane had gone through a crafting phase. Hand-painted ceramic ornaments in various Christmas shapes and pinecone owls. Red felt stitched stockings and green felt trees. Stephen hadn’t liked it, said it made the tree look too crass. They’d invited his entire firm to their house for a holiday party and he’d made her take it all down. She’d given Lexi a tree for her room and had used the decorations on it instead.
Well, no more. No more impressing employees or big-deal clients or rich neighbors. Now it was all about a feel good, down home Christmas.
Jane sighed, her fingers clutching so tightly around a pointy pinecone owl it pricked her skin. She sounded so corny in her head, she wondered what was wrong with her.
The big man who’d stopped right next to her was what was wrong. He invaded her space, invaded her thoughts when he had no business to. He’d left her. Left her right after she’d shared with him something she hadn’t shared with anyone else except Stephen. She’d saved herself for her wedding night, much to her husband’s grief and frustration.
Now she’d given it away to the first handsome, sexy man she stumbled upon. Guilt ate her for that still.
Her mama had raised h
er to be a good girl. Right now, she felt like anything but.
“The cogs are moving.” He knelt down beside her, his face so close she could make out the faint lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes, the pale scar just beneath his chin, the seductive softness of his mouth. “You’re thinking so hard I see smoke.”
He was trying to joke, trying to ease the tension between them, and it helped. Just a little. She dropped the owl back into the box. “It’s your fault.”
“Would another, even more sincere ‘I’m sorry’ help matters?” His expression was so earnest, so hopeful. But she didn’t want to make this easy for him. Wanted him to suffer just a little bit more.