Her Christmas SEAL (When SEALs Come Home Book 7) Read Online Free Page A

He’d probably look and feel even better naked, and my imagination went into overdrive as I drank in the glorious heat of him seeping through his clothes. My inner hussy insisted we declare him our own personal space heater and wrap ourselves around him. Knowing Jacks, he wouldn’t mind. He’d be perfectly fine with holding me—or with having sex. As his dating record made clear, it was all the parts that came before and after—the relationship parts—that he didn’t do.
    “That one.” He jerked a thumb toward an enormous pine tree. I was pretty certain he’d given the tree a one-second look before settling on it. Still, it was a tree, it was for sale, and it was just within the realm of possibility that I could drag all eight feet of it back to the cash register. Sold.
    “You got it.” I held out a hand. My chainsaw. My job.
    All I got for my trouble was a grin. A big panty-melting, wicked grin. “I’ve got this,” he said. “I know how to run a saw.”
    God. His mouth . I might be very (very) happily divorced, but my hormones were still in fine working order, and his lips provided plenty of stimulation. Jacks had firm lips, the kind that could kiss a girl rough or sweet, depending on her mood. He’d never kissed me, not really, because who kissed his frenemy?
    Snagging the safety glasses from my pocket, he dropped them in place, yanked the chain, and the motor ground to life.
    “You do know I cut down really big trees for a living, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer his question, just motioned for me to stand back. Cutting down trees wasn’t all he did. He also jumped out of planes, landed in the middle of a raging forest fire, and pretty much did anything he could to stop the flames from advancing. Kind of like playing chicken with Mother Nature.
    I’d once heard one of the Donovan brothers describe the job as digging in a really big, really hostile sandbox. Apparently they hacked six-inch ditches into the ground, and that somehow stopped the fire. I had no idea how it worked, but I was plenty clear on one thing. Being a Christmas elf was far less complicated.
    “You got kids?” He yelled the question over the chainsaw’s roar. Great. Not only had he taken over my job, but now he wanted me to scream my personal details loud enough to be heard in the next state over? Of course, maybe it was his idea of small talk. God knew, Jacks wasn’t easy to figure out.
    “You need to know that in order to cut a tree with me?”
    He shrugged and made the first cut with the same confident ease he did everything. The blade chipped into the wood, and the air filled with the sweet tang of pine sap. I inhaled deeply because no candle, no air freshener, had ever come close to the real deal. This was liquid Christmas, and I loved it. I leaned in closer, and he gave me a look.
    Poor baby. Was I in his space? It wasn’t like the chips from his itty-bitty tree could hurt me unless I stuck my face right up close, and I wasn’t that kind of stupid. It was cute though, the way he insisted on keeping me safe.
    Not that I needed it. I’ve got this . Totally got this.
    He made the second cut on the other side of the tree trunk, angling the blade in. The tree started to fall over, and he finished the cut. Of course, the man was a natural.
    “You didn’t yell timber .” I smacked him on the ass just a little harder than was strictly friendly.
    Which was a huge tactical mistake on my part. Jacks had an amazing butt. His faded jeans sported those yummy white stress lines that pointed to various parts of his anatomy like a to-do list for my mouth. When he wasn’t talking, he was gorgeous. Too big and rough around the edges for pretty, but something better.
    No more men , I reminded myself. It was just that it had been a while, kind of like week two of a no-sugar diet, or halfway through Lent. Giving up men was the prudent thing to do. My taste was crap, and I couldn’t afford to backslide—or lick Jacks—no matter how