Free Letters from Home (Entangled Flirts) by Bethanne Strasser Page A

mirror of the front hall. The doorbell rang. He checked his watch. Eighteen hundred hours. He didn’t have time for carolers or, heaven forbid, a door-to-door salesman. He yanked the door open and froze.
    “Lena.”
    He couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. She looked incredible. The soft, black dress hugged her like a second skin, draped over her well-toned shoulders, slim waist, and hips that promised heaven. The deep cut of the v-neck exposed smooth skin and made his entire body tense with need. With her hair twisted up at the back of her head, the black stones that hung from her neck and ears sparkled in the soft glow of the porch light. And she wore heels— holy moly…heels —at least three inches tall.
    “Hello.” Her mellow voice drummed against his sensual haze.
    He swallowed. “I could have picked you up.”
    When she laughed, her head tilted back, exposing the line of her neck. Her eyes shone with good humor and a spark of something else, something challenging. She leaned in, her smile an invitation he would have no problem accepting. “I live four houses down.”
    “But it would be proper.” Zack felt an undeniable need to loosen the tie around his neck. “Why don’t you come in? We don’t need to leave for another fifteen minutes.”
    “Thanks.” She swept through the doorway, the scent of her wafting in and surrounding him. Good God, if he wasn’t careful they would never get out of this house. Not that he wanted to… Every day closer to the end of her leave was another strike against him.
    What more could he do?
    Lena had moved into the living room. “It’s so different.” She waved a hand at the room. “Yet it’s the same, too. You’ve only been here since June, right?”
    He nodded slowly, detecting an edge to her questioning. A fishing trip? “That’s right. Last year, when my dad’s health started deteriorating, we both decided he should move over to the assisted living on Luther Street.”
    “Wow, nice arrangements. Not cheap.”
    “Yeah, well. One day at a time, right? Anyway, the house was empty until I finished my commitment and came home.”
    Nerves wracked his stomach. Why was she here? What made her come to his house? They’d arranged for him to pick her up. But it was more than the nerves wreaking havoc on his body. He wanted her even more today than he had a week ago, more than he had as a randy teenager. “Can I get you something to drink?”
    “Glass of wine?” She suggested, and his heart fell.
    “Oh, actually, I—” He rubbed a hand over his mouth to cover his laugh. What an idiot. He should have wine and flowers and all the things women loved. “Uhm…Beer?”
    “Sure.” She followed him to the kitchen. “You seem nervous.”
    The beer from the fridge was cold, and he wanted to take the damn thing and roll it over his forehead. “Not nervous, just…you look beautiful, by the way. And tomorrow’s Christmas. You’ve got that thing in the morning.”
    “I saw your friend today.” She changed the subject, throwing him for a loop.
    “Friend?”
    “Mark?” She took a pull from the beer he handed her. “I was dropping a pile of cards at the Post Office.”
    “Oh.” Oh. Zack cleared his throat. “How’s he doing?”
    “He’s fine, I guess. I never did get a chance to talk to him. He was busy, you know, working .”
    The way she spoke was enough to break him, as if she knew. But she couldn’t… Mark wouldn’t have told her he’d been writing the letters. There had to be a Federal law against that or something.
    “Anyway,” she went on with a smile. “It made me think of the letters again. Think about who had written them. Someone who knows me quite well. I was always surprised by the insight in those letters, the true depth of this man’s compassion for what I was going through. He seemed to know exactly what I needed.”
    Zack circled the table and approached her. He was not going to give up his surprise so close to the end of the game. He