My Kind of Christmas

can’t stand that you’re so sad on the morning that I’m so happy.”
    “Ange, I’m not going to want to leave you.” He dropped his chin, looking down. “And I have to.” He looked up. “Tell me you understand that.”
    “Wow, another revelation in the emotional growth of Angela LaCroix. I thought men handled flings effortlessly.”
    He was quiet for a long moment. “Not necessarily,” he finally said. “So, a fling? That’s how you look at this?”
    “Well, you’ve made it clear that you aren’t available for the long haul. You have your ‘commitments.’ But I’m a grown woman who happens to have really enjoyed our night together. I don’t see why it can’t continue on just like this.” She looked right into his eyes, hoping she could convince him—convince herself—that she could be nonchalant about all this.
    “Listen,” Patrick said, his face a little red, “we should try to be discreet.”
    “Are you embarrassed?”
    “Not even slightly,” he replied quickly. “But there’s no point in upsetting or worrying people. I mean, I doubt anyone would be worried about me. But you…”
    “Please, I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m a big girl.” She took a sip from her cup. “Hmm. You know, I think having fresh coffee delivered to me in the morning is almost better than sex.”
    He smiled at her then. Relaxed again. “I’ll have to work on my technique.”
    “I appreciate the gentlemanly overtures, but I believe it was consensual. I wasn’t ambushed.”
    “I didn’t think that was likely to happen when we’d known each other for about two days. I thought maybe eventually, but…”
    “I knew in the first five minutes. Besides, it was three days.” She ran a hand through her hair and it practically stood up, full of static electricity. “God, I must look like the wrath.”
    “You look like dessert.”
    “You’re not dumping me, then?”
    He shook his head. “I think it would be easier to give up an arm. But, Angie, I have no choice about leaving. I already have my plane ticket. I booked round trip.”
    “When will you go?”
    “The twenty-third. My leave is up on the twenty-seventh. And I promised… Well, you know. I’m checking on Marie at Christmas. I promised.”
    “You’re a good man, Patrick,” she said. And even though she thought she might be losing him to that woman, to Marie, she meant it from her heart.
    “And do you realize your uncle Jack is going to kill me?”
    “Patrick, let it go! Do you think I tricked you into sex to get some kind of promise out of you? Seriously?”
    “I don’t know everything about you, Ange, but I’d bet my life there’s not an ounce of cunning in you. I’m having a little trouble getting over the fact that you’re… Well, you’re twenty-three.”
    “And life is damn short, even for old guys like you,” she said, getting to her feet without dropping the quilt or spilling her coffee. “I promised to help in the clinic and I’m going to keep my promise. I’m headed for the shower.” Since she was naked, she dragged the quilt with her. At the door to her bedroom, she turned. “By the way, I’m free this evening.”
    She loved that he grinned hugely. “Are you now?”
    Alone in the shower, with the hot water washing away the scent of him around her, she let down her guard a little bit. Despite her bravado, she knew she had loved him almost instantly. She had been extremely curious and fiercely attracted. He was brave, she could see that. He was loyal—even planning to marry his best friend’s widow, believing he could make her happy, keep her and her son safe. Angie didn’t exactly like those plans, but she certainly admired them. There was something about a selfless, giving man…
    But she was going to have to fake it from now on, since there was no way of knowing how a situation like this would play out. Her heart felt raw and open, but she wasn’t about to let him see that. When she stepped out of the shower, she listened. There wasn’t a sound coming from the little living room. She wasn’t surprised that he’d left. That’s how casual flings were meant to go. Now that they’d had their morning-after talk, cleared up a few things, he would go.
    While she dried her hair and dressed, she couldn’t help but think about their night together. It drove her right up the mountain again—she’d never in her life had a night like that. In point of fact, she’d never even had a whole night. There had