Claustrophobic Christmas (5 page)

He didn’t think he’d have to.

He also wanted to get more than laid for a change. He was man enough to admit that. Silently. To himself.

He ducked his head, deflecting a strong wind full of pellets. “That’s okay, Darce. I’ll come back in a couple hours and scrape off your windshield.”

“Hours?” she squeaked. “Hours alone in my car? Oh God. Seriously?”

He shrugged and turned to go. Slowly. As expected, she stopped him. “Are you not worried about leaving your truck?”

“Nah.” He shone the flashlight between the rows of cars that stretched further than the eye could see even before it had gotten dark. The snowy highway was a parking lot now. “It’s not going anywhere without me.”

She breathed in and out for a minute, blowing like she was doing Lamaze. “Get in the car.”

James smiled. It wasn’t a request; it was an order. She felt empowered, and he hadn’t even begged.

That was fine by him.

Chapter Five

As James walked around the front of her car, Darcy started the motor, rolled up the window and surreptitiously glanced at herself in the rear view mirror. A little pasty, hair fuzzed like a mop, and nothing she could do about it. She swept jelly beans onto the floor and snapped off the interior lights.

The swing of the passenger door released what was left of the warmth. James’s long legs nudged the cooler in the floor. She switched the heater to high. He had to be freezing after tromping around out there.

“What will you do if the traffic jam breaks when you’re here?” she asked.

“It’ll be slow going in this mess. I’ll have time to jog up to my truck.”

Slow. She wished he hadn’t used that word. “It could be any minute now.”

“It’ll be longer than that.” He eyed her with what appeared to be concern. “Darcy, if you’re not comfortable with me being in your car, I can—”

“I want you to stay,” she interrupted, a little high-pitched. It would be better with him here. He could distract her, even if he didn’t realize what he was distracting her from.

“Good, because I want to.”

Neither of them spoke for a minute before he directed his light toward his boots.

“I like a car with leg space. What’s under the hood, a V8?”

“No idea.” She’d chosen this model because it had the roomiest cabin she could afford. “Terrible gas mileage, whatever it is.” She recommended economy cars to clients. This sedan was nowhere on the list.

“My truck’s a guzzler too.” His flashlight illuminated the packages in back. With his big, rangy body in the passenger seat, the space felt three times smaller, like she was sitting in his lap. “You playing Santa this year?”

“I know, I’m crammed in here like a sardine.” There had to be at least six presents she hadn’t been able to wedge into the trunk, plus her jacket and purse. “Home for the holidays, lots of family, blah blah.”

He removed his gloves and clicked off the flashlight. Darkness dropped around them like a net. “Gift cards don’t take up space. That’s what I get most everybody now.”

“Even the kids?”

“You kidding? They love going hog wild at the toy store.”

When she couldn’t see, she could imagine she was in her living room, with cathedral ceilings, an open floor plan and windows galore. Too soon, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she was back in a tin can with a big man. She cracked her window. Then she twisted the ignition off, and the low hum of the motor stilled.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I like fresh air. You know, I think your family’s bigger than mine now.” Darcy was the oldest of four stairstep kids and the only one not married. Men found her high maintenance. Since she found
herself
high maintenance, she tried not to blame them.

“Sal’s pregnant again too. I guess her husband’s trying for a whole football team.” He adjusted his posture, his parka scruffing the leather seat. He seemed to be raising and lowering himself. “Darcy?”

She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Yeah?”

He held something between two fingers, his silhouette mostly distinguishable. “Do I wanna know what this is?”

It shouldn’t be anything gross. Her car was clean. She spent as little time in it as possible.

When she reached, their hands intersected in the darkness. He cupped her fingers and placed a small, round item in her palm. His bare hands lingered on her skin, warm and toasty.

She had to concentrate to sense anything beyond that.

“Another jelly bean,” she said. “I dropped the box. They went everywhere.”

“You’re freezing.” He closed her fingers around the candy and rubbed her knuckles. His breath tickled her hand.

“I’m conserving gas. Some guy warned me we might be here a while.”

“You have a coat and gloves? A blanket?”

“My jacket’s somewhere.” The heat of his skin made her realize how frigid it had grown. The short time she’d run the heater wasn’t enough to offset the twenty-degree weather. She couldn’t see her breath steaming, but she bet it was.

Before she knew what was happening, he’d taken off his parka and wrapped it around her, surrounding her in the scent and feel of his body.

She could melt into his heat like snow would melt on his tongue.

“I can find my coat.” She snuggled deeper and dropped the candy in his pocket. Why did he have to be so damn sexy? “You don’t have to—”

He stretched out, propping his arm on the back of her seat. “I’ve never known a Texan to have a decent winter coat.”

She licked her still-dry lips and tried to relax. His arm and her nerves made it difficult, but she wasn’t going to complain. She was grateful she had company as the cold night marched onward. If he weren’t here, she’d be alone, fretting about gasoline, cell phone reception and urination. Tearing her hair out, bordering on panic, going insane.

Claustrophobia was a bitch on a car trip.

“I’ve only lived in Dallas ten years,” she said, angling her body so she could see him. “Technically I’m a Tennessean.”

It was too dark to see his expression, but his voice sounded amused. “I’m not so sure about that. True Tennesseans remember the ice storm of ’97 and always have a parka.”

“That was awful, wasn’t it?” They’d been on Christmas break, but the ice had lingered so long her return to college had been delayed. “We were out of power forever.”

“The next door neighbors got their power back before we did. We practically camped at their house. Sal’s friend Peter and his mom. I was just getting started as a photographer. Hey, I got some good snow shots.”

“I was ahead of Peter and Sal in school.” Darcy hadn’t known either of them personally. They’d been freshmen when she was a senior. Peter hadn’t been one to talk to girls and Sal had been a cheerleader. “Wasn’t he valedictorian?”

“I think so. His mom sold the house a while back, and he’s some hot shot lawyer now. He married some girl… God, what was her name? Winifred something. Another Tallwoodian.”

“Winifred Sampson. I thought they both moved out of Tallwood?” How easily she and James had fallen into a comfortable conversation. If he were still mad, if he wanted to keep things strictly professional, he could have ignored her in the long line of vehicles. She’d have had no idea he was stuck in this mess, but here he was, relaxed and cheerful, chatting like he’d never had the crazy notion they should date.

“They did. Tallwood residents seem to find each other anyway,” he said, and suddenly she wasn’t so sure about his intentions. That comment had ulterior motive written all over it.

“That’s because nobody ever leaves. It’s easy to find each other at the Piggly Wiggly.” She stared fixedly at the snow patterning the windshield like a white Rorschach. One of the blobs looked like Maui, right down to the extra blob on the side. “If they do get out, their families don’t.”

“It’s not just that,” James said. “Nowhere besides Tallwood feels like home to me.”

“That’s because you don’t have a nest. You have an empty apartment in Atlanta.” James wasn’t there much, but he’d told her he’d rather pay New York prices than use his Mother’s house as his base camp.

Suddenly she felt sorry for James. Her home was her castle, and she was lucky enough to have two. Dallas and Tallwood. Two places her comfort was at maximum and her anxieties at minimum. Two foundations to stabilize her. Did other people not need a castle?

“My apartment’s not empty.” James’s boots scraped the cooler in the floorboard. “It’s got furniture and some pickles in the fridge and my skis. What kind of skis do you have?”

“I rent skis when I need them. I like to keep my house uncluttered,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound like a complete fumble. She figured she’d take to snow skiing if it were easier to reach wintery locations. First, she was relatively athletic and liked to water ski. It was much less nauseating than being on the boat itself. Second, it wasn’t as if gliding across the snow on long sticks involved small spaces.

“As often as you go skiing? That’s not very economical, Travel Queen.”

Darcy allowed herself a tight smile. “I don’t go as often as you think.”

That would be since college. During the legendary ice storm, she’d borrowed a pair of cross-country skis from a neighbor and whisked herself all over the yard.

“All work and no play,” he teased.

She hugged his parka around her. “Are you saying I’m dull?”

“Not at all.”

She wasn’t looking at James, but she caught the flash of his teeth when he grinned. He wouldn’t have so kind an opinion of her if he knew the truth.

“You’re not dull either,” she said. “But I bet you’re cold. I should give this back.” She started pulling her arms out of the parka sleeves.

He brushed her shoulder. “Keep it. Now that I’m not standing in ankle deep snow, I’m all right.”

The wind took that as a cue to gust the car, whistling through the crack of her window. The parka’s hood protected her from the spatter, but the icy breeze nipped her nose.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about snow. Let’s think happier thoughts.” She’d visited every location of interest within a couple of hour’s drive of Dallas, including Galveston. Five hours, not counting stops. The ocean was so huge and unobstructed, it was worth the trip. “How about the beach?”

“Good idea. You gonna send me to the Bahamas this winter? It would be an improvement from the glacier series,” he said. “My equipment was balky and it was colder than a witch’s… Colder than a snowstorm in Arkansas.”

“We could discuss the Bahamas.” The straightforwardness with which he brought up the future reassured Darcy. He didn’t seem to expect things to change in any way that would hinder their business dealings—like an affair would.

Like his discovering the Travel Queen never traveled would.

“It is nearly time for the newsletter’s first summer vacation tips,” she continued. It wasn’t as if she thought James would try to ruin her if he found out, but the fewer people who knew, the better. Her sense of self-worth was at stake, if nothing else. She wasn’t doing anything illegal. She’d checked.

“After this experience, don’t you want to go to the Bahamas yourself?” James asked.

“I can’t take that much time off.” She’d grown the agency to include several junior agents, a receptionist and an office manager. More work, more responsibility, and more money. Enough to hire photographers for on-site shoots with very specific requirements. No more stock photos. James’s work the past six months had added to her newsletter and agency’s popularity. In the age of travel discount clearinghouses and rising airline costs, when so many vacationers planned their getaways online, attracting a clientele was no small feat. She had to offer something special.

“Going to the Bahamas wouldn’t be time off,” James said. “It would be a working vacation.”

“It’s time I’m not in the office.”

“Think how much easier it would be to explain the photos you want me to take if you’re there to show me.”

“Oh, I, uh. You mean, we should go together?” The Bahamas with James…visions of hot sun and cool water danced in Darcy’s imagination. Visions of James in nothing but swim trunks and a camera quickly followed.

What did he look like under those clothes?

“It would be smart. Efficient,” he said, like he’d been thinking about it. “Your stories and my photos. You could take it a lot further than you do, you know.”

“Well,” Darcy hedged, “I’ve thought about doing a book proposal. The newsletter is popular, especially the stories. I’ve actually had story requests from readers. Locations, crazy plot twists, characters traveling with animals or kids, stuff like that.”

“What gave you the idea for the stories?”

Her unfulfilled fantasies.
“Just trying to stand out in a tough market.”

Darcy was careful never to lie, not in her newsletter and not in life. But the fact remained that, because she was knowledgeable, people assumed she was also well-traveled. In her literature, she relayed “personal” experiences from the viewpoints of characters she dreamed up, turning them into fiction. Sometimes she included a romance; sometimes a mystery; sometimes a cautionary moral relating to one of her travel tips. The tales were clearly dramatized and she cited all sources. Her lawyer assured her it was enough of a buffer.

It wasn’t as if nobody knew about her claustrophobia. Her family knew, some friends, her lawyer, her shrink. Her staff had to suspect. She never got on elevators, she’d had the walls taken out of their office, and the restroom was gigantic, remodeled according to her specifications. She was always sending her junior agents on the investigatory trips that formed the basis of her stories instead of going herself. They loved the travel perks and she was indulgent as bosses went, so nobody ever brought it up.

She didn’t think James was suspicious, and she didn’t want him to be. She’d liked him more than she should before meeting him, and now? She liked the smell of him, she liked his laugh, she liked his ass, she liked his stubble, she liked his shoulders, and she liked, God help her, the look in his eyes when he said he wanted to date her. She liked his flesh and blood self, his presence, and the way he was helping her through a tough situation, even though he didn’t realize how much he was helping.