Have Yourself a Marine Christmas (Always a Marine) by Heather Long

on the sight of her stripping off her jacket. She wore a familiar set of scrubs and her hair had been pulled into a ponytail—and it glittered. “You’re late.”
    Draping her jacket over a chair, she slid into the seat next to him. He’d picked a sub shop for their lunch date . “I thought I was supposed to pick you up so I ran over to your apartment first.”
    “I texted you that I’d meet you here,” he reminded her. Damn she looked good. A pink flush warmed her caramel skin and her eyes were bright. She didn’t wear makeup, but she’d never needed it.
    “I realized that after I got to your apartment. Did you get someone to drop you off?”
    Before he could answer, one of the staff delivered a tray with two sandwiches, chips and cups of coffee. At Noel’s quizzical look, he grinned. “You order the exact same kind of sandwich all the time, so I took a guess.” When she lifted her eyebrows in challenge, he nudged the wrapped sub toward her. “Check.”
    Lips pursed, she peeled open the wax paper and her eyes lit up. A thrill skated up his spine at her unabashed delight, just like a kid at….
    “Turkey and spinach with avocado. Reb—you even got whole wheat bread.” Her expression grew more delighted. “I’ve dated guys for months who couldn’t figure out how I took my steak or that I even liked coffee before.”
    “Well, you’re not dating anyone stupid this time.” He sorted out the rest of the food, sliding over one of the bags of chips and setting her Styrofoam cup in front of her. Hooking a finger into the sugar bowl, he tugged it over to right in front of her. He’d already made sure it had Splenda. Catching her staring at him, he paused. “What?”
    “Nothing.” Shaking her head, she glanced down at the sandwich. The glitter in her hair sparkled in the weak sunlight filtering through the window.
    “It doesn’t look like nothing.” The sparkle shimmered again and he reached over to pluck a thread of tinsel from her ponytail.
    Touching her hair, she gave a half-grin, half grimace. “Sorry, I was decorating before I came in this morning and then I helped the kids get some of the trees on the run ready.”
    “Okay.” He dropped the tinsel onto the now-empty tray and twisted to put the tray on another table.
    “Rebel, we’re not dating.” She had that uneasy, worried look. The one that signified a difficult discussion or bad news—one she worried would hurt him.
    He patted her hand. “Yes we are, now eat your sandwich. I bet you haven’t stopped to eat all day, have you?” Based on his own experience with her, she came in early and paid a call on all the patients she was the case nurse for. And then, based on their state of mind, regimen, or needs, she spent time with each of them. Half of her job, he swore, had to be that of cruise director. She listened, she cajoled, she ordered, and she made things happen.
    Damn, she was great.
    “Rebel, we’re not. I am still your case nurse. It’s a conflict of interest to date a patient.”
    “But it’s not to kiss one?” He dared her to deny it, because while he may have initiated the kiss—she’d damn well returned in kind.
    Noel blew out a breath, but the color in her cheeks deepened. It might have been the cold adding the rosiness to her face earlier, but this was a blush. “About that….”
    “Yeah?” He took a bite, better to eat something than say anything he might regret. He’d spent two days planning how to get her to his apartment for another round of those delightful, long mouth-watering sets of kisses.
    “I like you,” she admitted, and then he had to wait for her to finish a bite of her sandwich. “A lot. But I am your case nurse.” Washing down the bite with a swallow of coffee. “It’s complicated.”
    “No, tax law is complicated. You and me? We’re not complicated.” Pushing his sandwich to the side, he covered her hand with his. “We’re dating .”
    “When did you get so pushy?” Open challenge