Page 33 of Sergeant's Christmas Siege

“You were eighteen the last time you were arrested, following your juvenile offenses that landed you in enough trouble that your only choice if you wanted to stay out of jail was to join the army.”

“I considered becoming a priest. But there are some appetites a man doesn’t want forgiven, if you know what I mean.”

She rolled her eyes. And Templeton really couldn’t have said why he found that more of a turn-on than any other woman’s kiss.

“You have a chestful of medals, which they don’t hand out for picnics in the park. We’ve already covered your childhood. But you’re... fine.”

“Is this a competition?” he asked mildly, but he was still too alert. Too ready for the next attack. Or any attack. For a full-on arsenal and an army to wield it. “Because you just finished telling me how fine you are.”

“I said I don’t look back. And I’m fine because I don’t laze around, making sexually charged remarks, grinningand laughing like it’s my job, and acting like life is a party.”

“Maybe you should.”

He could see the exact moment it occurred to his uptight little trooper that she’d veered far, far off course of anything that could possibly be called professional. Her eyes widened fractionally, and then there was nothing between them but the sound of the car’s engine. The sound of her breath.

And the wild sensation it took him long moments to realize was his own pulse, racketing around like he wasn’t a trained professional.

Like he didn’t have rules.

But the rules were in place because once upon a time, he’d gotten involved on a job and it had ended badly.Very badly. That hadn’t kept him from having sex. It had made him very careful about having sex only with women he had no emotional or professional attachment to, so everyone stayed safe.

Now that he considered it, the emotional attachment had been the real problem. That had been what had messed everything up before, because he’d lost his focus. But Templeton was sure he didn’t have that in him anymore. Sex didn’t make him lose his focus these days. It made him better able to focus because he was relaxed.

This thing with Kate was fine, Templeton assured himself. Because tension like this would explode. That was what it did. And once it did, once he tasted her, this madness would subside and he could keep doing what he did best, which was solve unsolvable problems.

It was as good as done.

And he didn’t want to talk about prison. Or any part of the past he’d merrily turned his back on years ago.

So maybe that was why he took his life in his hands—something he happened to be very, very good at—and moved his arm from around the back of her seat so he could slide his fingers lightly over those cheekbones that had been driving him nuts for more than ten days now.

She caught her breath. He thought maybe he caught his, too.

Everything between them tightened. The dark night outside pressed in harder, until there was nothing but her soft skin, her warm flesh. Her wide, pretty brown eyes. That mouth of hers that dropped ever so slightly open.

He traced the faintest pattern. Once, then again.

“Sergeant,” she breathed. “If you do not remove your hand, I will take out my gun and shoot it off.”

He believed her.

But he was also tied up in knots over this woman, which couldn’t go on, and if that wasn’t reason enough to risk a bullet, he didn’t know what was. He risked his life all the time. What was once more, and for a far better reason?

To untie the knots. And fast-forward to the relaxing part.

Among other things.

“If you’re going to shoot me anyway, might as well make it worth it,” he drawled.

And then he bent his head toward her, holding her cheek right there where he wanted it, and got his mouth on his trooper at last.

Eight

This was impossible.

It was unacceptable.

It was—

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