Captive at Christmas Read Online Free Page A

more.
    “Turkey, ham or chicken?” Hannah asked from the fridge.
    Mac raised his brows, staring at her in disbelief. “You brought three kinds of cold-cuts?”
    Her face fell with a sigh. “Yes, I did. My ex teased me enough about food and weight, so please don’t pick up where he left off.”
    A growl tore through the room and at the stunned look on her face, Mac realized that it came from him. “Sounds like you’re better off without him. And I would never be so disrespectful as to insult anyone regarding their weight, even if they did have a problem.”
    “That’s easy to say when you look like you do.”
    She left him gaping after her and poured two measured cups of soup into a pan on the stove. While he tried to come up with a response, Mac knew there was nothing he could say to that. Sure, his body was hardened from years of excessive physical exertion, a necessity due to his former profession. But what she didn’t see were the mutilations, proof of his past.
    If she saw his body without his clothes on, Hannah might not be so quick to put herself down.
    After nearly two years as a prisoner where the only rule was that there were no rules, he had his fair share of battle scars. Mackenzie endured almost every torture known to man and some that only the devil himself would commit.
    The flesh of his back crisscrossed with long purplish welts that were still healing.
    Burn marks covered his chest and abdomen.
    It would take a long time for them to properly heal, but he would bear those marks for the rest of his life.
    At least he could always cover them with clothing. And, just one more reason why he preferred to live in colder climates, where more clothes meant less chances for them to be seen by anyone.
    Not that he had many visitors.
    He honestly didn’t see a damned thing wrong with Hannah and it annoyed him that she had such a terrible view of herself. If the situation allowed for it, he might have pursued a physical relationship with her. His body certainly seemed to respond to her, hell even now while she bustled around the kitchen, Mac was glad of the counter in front of him. If only he thought to bring a pair of sweatpants, he might be more comfortable.
    “Did you decide which meat you’d like on your sandwich or should I put a little of each on?” Hannah turned to face him, waiting for the answer.
    His eyes were drawn to the delicious curves of her body, curves that he shouldn’t be staring at. “Uh, yeah that sounds fine.”
    She continued to prepare their dinner, never forgetting to stir the soup. It smelled heavenly. The last time he enjoyed a home-cooked meal prepared by someone other than himself, Mac was visiting an old friend, Jeff and his wife – over a year ago now.
    Usually he just ate a freezer meal or something from a can.
    That, or stored up ration packs.
    Mac shuddered.
    “Do you want a glass of wine?” Noting his hesitancy in responding, Hannah went on to say, “Don’t feel obligated to, especially since you might want to remain alert while I enjoy some with a slice of cake while reading in front of the fire.”
    Despite the fact that she appeared non-threatening and hadn’t attempted anything – even with the ten inch knife in her hand – Mac forced himself to decline. “I’ll help you eat the cake, but no wine for me.”
    “Of course.”
    After stirring the soup, she poured herself a glass of his favourite red. Damn, if only he could trust her, let himself relax for a few minutes then he could enjoy it with her. It would take a long time for him to have enough trust to do so and he had a feeling that, if she proved to be as innocent as she appeared, Hannah wouldn’t like the man he was.
    They ate in silence, sitting at the island counter on stools. The woman sure knew how to cook and the rolls were amazing. After dinner, he settled himself in the armchair again and checked his phone while she snuggled up under a throw with her book.
    No new e-mails regarding Hannah,