The Christmas Catch (6 page)

“Would you like me to open some wine?” John asked
,
looking and sounding a little puzzled.

Christine shook off her reverie, embarrassed at having been
so consumed by her own thoughts. “That would be terrific,” she said, feeling as
if having a drink was a fine idea. She was getting overwrought, making too much
out of nothing. Perhaps a glass of wine might calm her nerves enough to help
her enjoy the rest of the pleasant evening with a terrific guy. “I’ll grab a
bottle from the bar in the great room,” she said. “Would you like red or
white?”

“What are you in the mood for?”

Christine knew he didn’t mean it as a double entendre, but
she felt herself blushing just the same. If circumstances were different and
she and John starting an actual courtship, she could envision herself being in
the mood for all sorts of things, not the least of which might involve John
bringing his mouth to hers. She envisioned running her hands across his broad,
muscular chest and slowly unbuttoning his shirt, hearing him moan. Christine
gulped. “I’m partial to reds,” she said with a squeak. She walked over to the
built-in wine rack and rummaged clumsily through the bottles, reading labels
and finding two varieties. “What sounds best? A cabernet sauvignon or merlot?”

“Let’s have the merlot,” he said, approaching from the kitchen.

“Do you think you can grab a corkscrew from the drawer by
the sink?” she asked, needing an extra moment to collect
herself
.
Christine smoothed out her hair and adjusted her sweater, hoping the five
pounds she’d gained these past two years wouldn’t put him off. Not that she was
interested in turning him on. God, she was a mess.

He returned seconds later as Christine made for the kitchen,
wine bottle in hand. They surprised each other on the threshold, nearly colliding.

“Whoops!” Christine exclaimed, almost dropping the bottle.

John steadied her shoulders in his strong hands. “Are you
okay?”

Christine stared into brilliant blue eyes, then looked
heavenward toward the mistletoe dangling above them. She met his gaze again,
her cheeks, neck, and chest on fire. If she hadn’t just been thinking about it,
perhaps she wouldn’t feel so much like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie
jar. The only cookie here was about six feet tall and stood right in front of
her. She found herself longing to take a bite.

“Christine?” he questioned uncertainly. Slowly, his eyes
traveled north. He released her, stepping back.

“It’s just a silly old tradition,” she said, affecting a laugh.

John tilted his chin. “Not so silly, really.”

“No,” Christine said, swallowing hard. What had she been
about to do? Tackle him to the floor? Maybe that wouldn’t have been necessary.
She could have stripped his jeans off right here, and…

“Shall I pour?” he asked, his complexion crimson from the
neck up.

“Please.” she said, catching her breath on the word. She had
to get a grip. She would absolutely die if John had a clue about what she’d
been thinking. He obviously wasn’t interested in becoming physical. This week
had provided ample opportunity for John to make a move after Ty had been tucked
in bed, yet he hadn’t acted on it. And it was a good thing, too.
Keeping things at arm’s length is precisely
what I want,
she thought, forcing a
smile.

John poured them each a glass of wine and set the bottle on
the dining room table. “Say,” he said, noting her sketches, “are these yours?”

Christine had been so intent on serving their big bowls of
stew by the fire, she’d completely forgotten she’d left these out from earlier
in the afternoon. “They’re just a couple of rough drafts. Something I’m working
on.”

“Well, I think they’re fantastic” he said admiringly.
“Really, Christine. When you said you wanted to start your own line, I had no
idea. You’ve got serious talent.”

“Thanks. I’d like to think so. At least enough to get
something of my own going someday.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment.” He raised his wineglass to
hers. “I have faith in you. Faith that you can pretty much accomplish anything
you
want
to.”

She clinked his glass, her heart light. John was so kind and
accepting. His encouraging words meant the world to her. She was finally
starting to recover from her earlier urge to ravage him. She must have been
tipsy, thinking unclearly. When it was clear he meant to be only on platonic
terms.

He lifted one of her drawings and studied it closely. “You
know what you need?” he asked, looking up. “A business plan.”

“A what?”

“A business plan,” he said firmly. “A way to plot how to get
from point A to point Z.”

Christine hesitated. Of course she wanted to do it…
eventually. Ever since John had first suggested starting her own company, she’d
been considering her options. But it was a far-off dream, some nebulous
fantasy. Nothing she could work on concretely at the moment. Starting
her own
line as a writer was ambitious enough. “I don’t
know,” she began, “that involves a lot of time and effort. And right now,
things are complicated. There’s my present job… There’s Ty…”

He eyed her astutely. “Hmm, yes. I see.”

“What do you see?”

“Just that you’re not ready, but that’s okay. When you’re
ready, you’ll know it.”

Everyone needed long-term goals and this one was fun to
think about. It didn’t have to be this year, or even next...
Christine White Originals,
yes, that had
a ring to it.
 
Christine met John’s
gaze. “The future is long.”

“It is indeed,” he said with a grin.

Chapter Nine

As they sat by the fire enjoying their wine, John noted a CD
on an end table. He picked it up with pleased surprise. “
A James Taylor Christmas
. Hey, is this yours?”

“In my mind I’m going to
Carolina,” she said with a smile that made him want to drop everything and go
there with her. John liked James Taylor, but probably hadn’t listened to his
music in years.

“Mind if I put it on?” he asked.

“Sure. The stereo’s right over there,” she said, pointing to
a cabinet near the bar.

“What’s Christmas Eve without music?”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “We should have thought of it
sooner.”

John inserted the CD and a sappy yet sexy rendition of
Baby It’s Cold Outside
began to play.
“An oldie but goodie,” he said.

“With a new twist.”

Rich dark waves spilled to her shoulders as her cheeks took
on a gentle glow. She was gorgeous in that pretty white sweater and jeans, her
deep brown eyes sparkling in the soft light. Outside the windows, snow fell
lightly, gently streaking the darkness. It was John’s best Christmas Eve in
recent memory.
Maybe ever.

“You look really nice tonight,” he said, his voice growing
raspy. “Beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she said, her eyes locked on his. “I was just
thinking that you look great too.”

John sensed inside that he shouldn’t do it, but an even
louder inner voice said he’d be a fool to stop himself. Here he was, alone with
a gorgeous woman on Christmas Eve, and John could think of only one thing he
wanted—to close the distance between them. He’d been longing to hold her
all week, and now he had the perfect excuse. He approached her and set down his
wine. “Care to dance?”

John held out his hand and she took it, letting him guide
her off the sofa and into his arms. She was so warm and feminine against him, the
light scent of her wildflower perfume in the air. Firelight cast shadows on the
wall as they gently swayed to the music. John pulled her close and she sighed
softly, while his heart beat like big kettledrum. He had the feeling he was
falling, sinking into depths he’d never known. As long as she went there with
him, he didn’t care if they ever came back.

At last, the CD ended and she looked up. There was a longing
in her eyes, deeply beautiful. John led her to the threshold separating the
great room from the kitchen. His voice was husky with desire as he spoke below
the mistletoe.

“It’s not such a silly tradition.”

“No…” she said, tilting up her chin.

John brought his mouth to hers and kissed her sweetly at
first, and then with the all-consuming passion he’d restrained these past
several days. He wrapped her in his embrace and she moaned, molding into him.
That was all the encouragement he needed to cradle her head in his hands and
deepen his kisses, his hands eager to explore her body. She was all woman, and
she was all his. He ached to carry her to the sofa and drive home that point,
making her cry out with pleasure and delight.

“Mommy!” a small voice called.

Tyler bounded down the steps, Mason barking loudly and
following after him.

John and Christine broke their embrace as John hitched his
belt and Christine quickly straightened her sweater. Tyler sensed their
interaction and halted his descent. “Oh,” he said, absorbing the scene.

“Ty!” Christine said, flushed. “What are you doing up?”

“I heard something outside.”

“It was probably just the wind,” Christine told him.

“No,” Ty protested. “I think it was Santa and his reindeer!”

John and Christine exchanged glances.

“We’d better go and check,” he said.

Christine and John leaned out the bedroom window, spying
nothing but a craggy old tree scraping the shutter.

“It was just an old oak, little fellow,” John said
reassuring Tyler. “I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm.” Christine’s heart warmed
at how natural it seemed for John to interact with her boy. He really was very
good with children, with Ty in particular.

Tyler’s face fell with disappointment. “Are you sure it
wasn’t Santa?”

 
“Santa hasn’t
gotten here yet,” Christine said.

“And he might not come,” John said, forcing a stern look,
“if you don’t go back to sleep.”

Tyler snuggled down under the covers, pulling them up to his
chin.

“I’d probably better hit the road,” John told Christine.

“Are you sure?” She desperately didn’t want him to go, but
knew deep inside that he should. She couldn’t exactly ask him to stay the night,
not with Ty in the house. It wouldn’t be right. Maybe it wouldn’t even be right
for her. They were leaving in less than a week. As wonderful as John’s kisses
were—and they’d been knee-melting terrific—it was likely better for
Christine to not get in any deeper. If he kissed her again the way he’d done
under the mistletoe, they might not be able to stop things there.

Blue eyes sparkled with understanding. “I think my leaving’s
for the best, don’t you?”

She knew he was right, so she didn’t argue. John mussed
Tyler’s hair and told him good night before heading for the door.

“We still on for tomorrow at five?” he asked Christine.
“Christmas dinner at my place?”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said with a happy
smile.

Chapter Ten

The bright sun beat a path through the windows as wrapping
paper littered the floor. Christine sat on the colorful hooked rug by the fire,
helping Ty construct his Lincoln Log tower. He’d been as happy as a clam to
learn Santa had brought him his own set, one he could take back to Chicago.
He’d gotten a huge assortment of Legos too. That Santa really knew his stuff.
Christine’s cell rang and she nabbed it off the coffee table.

“Still snowing up there?” It was Ellen’s voice on the other
end of the line.

“Not at the moment,” Christine answered cheerily. She was
having the best New England Christmas. “But it never stops for long.”

“That’s good,” Ellen said, “because I need somewhere to cool
off.”

“What?”

“A truly wicked sunburn,” she continued in a pitiful tone.

“Oh my gosh! How did that happen?”

 
“Let’s just say
Emilio and I spent some time at the beach.” She lowered her voice and spoke
with a mysterious edge. “A… very… private… beach.”

“Didn’t you use protection?” Christine asked in shock.

“Of course we did! But not sunscreen.”

Christine blinked at Tyler, opting to take her conversation
to a more confidential locale. She stood, walking out of his earshot, then
whispered into the phone. “Ellen, oh my God. You’re burnt
everywhere
?”

“Some parts more than others,” she quipped. “But that’s
neither here nor there. I’m calling to tell you my time in the sun is done.”

“What do you mean?”

“Emilio and I weren’t as compatible as I thought. He had a
much harder time taking a tanning. And that says a lot, considering I didn’t do
so well… In any case, I’m calling to tell you the happy news! I’m coming up to
relieve you in Vermont!”

Christine swallowed hard, staring at Tyler. They were finally
settling in. Now clearly wasn’t the time to walk away. They had three more days
on their agenda. Besides, they had Christmas dinner plans. “Ellen, I really
don’t think that’s necessary. Ty and I are doing just great holding down the
fort.”

“Of course, I don’t mean to push you out completely. You can
go home any time you want. Just make room for one more!”

Christine sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “When
were you thinking of arriving?” she asked weakly.

“At four. I’m calling from the airport, as a matter of fact.”

“Four
today
?”
Christine spouted in a panic. She’d
been looking forward to an intimate evening at John’s place. She hadn’t planned
on bringing along her brash best friend.

“I don’t eat that much,” Ellen said, affronted. “Frankly,
Christine, I’m surprised at you. I didn’t think you and Ty would… Wait a
minute! Hold the phone!” she cried, her tone brightening. “Is this about the
sexy professor?”