The Christmas Catch

by Ginny Baird

  “Well, seeing as how you survived the first time, do you think I could call you back? I’m kind of busy with something.”

  “Just as long at that something spells his name S… T… E… A…”

  Christine pressed End Call and whirled on her heels, finding herself nearly in John’s arms. She backed away from his broad chest seconds before crashing into it.

  “Everything all right?” he asked, steadying her by the elbows. Even through her layers of winter clothing, the electricity from his touch tore up her arms and sent tiny shivers racing down her spine. Christine’s stomach flip-flopped. She wondered if she was getting sick or was just nervous. John’s stare dove into her and she felt faint from his perusal. Had to be the nerves. Yeah, those combined with the coffee.

  “Oh yes. Everything’s fine.” She affected a laugh. “That was just my best friend Ellen. Senior editor, too, but we’re friends as well. Anyhow…” She drew a deep breath. “What time were you thinking about for sledding?”

  He released her with a heartwarming grin. “How’s two o’clock tomorrow sound?”

  “Two o’clock sounds good.” She smiled feebly in return, wondering if she looked as smitten as she suddenly felt. Oh God, was she crushing on the professor just like some silly coed? And right in front of the entire town’s tiny population, including his inquisitive best friend?

  Christine took Tyler’s hand and raced out into the weather, hoping the frigid wind would drive some sense into her. She was only here on vacation, not poised to spend the rest of her life! What was she doing letting her emotions get the best of her?

  “See you tomorrow!” she called, as she and Tyler headed for the SUV. “And thanks again!”

  “Mommy?” Tyler asked as she snapped him into his car seat. “Is John your friend now?”

  She smiled at him and answered uncertainly. “I think so, sweetie.”

  “It’s about time!” he declared.

  Chapter Seven

  John couldn’t believe he was doing this, taking Christine and her young son sledding. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he’d already tumbled headlong down a hill and taken a knock on the noggin. John wasn’t even interested in getting involved. With that potential promotion looming, he had to make work his priority. When John made Associate Dean, then he could entertain thoughts of a personal life. Even if his advancement came off, he’d want to keep things clean and simple while he took to his new task. What he’d been doing up until now worked fine. Occasional outings with certain lady friends, no fuss and no strings attached. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

  John recalled that moment in the café when he’d been trapped in the heat of Christine’s gaze. Hell, it had been more than one moment. There were several times, in fact, when he’d felt his pulse pounding and his reason racing into overdrive. It wasn’t just that she was pretty; there was something else about her too. She was obviously smart and could hold her own in a conversation. And when she’d nearly landed in his arms, it was all John could do not to imagine bringing his mouth to hers. Seriously, it wasn’t like she’d been graced with those lips for no reason. Clearly that reason had to do with her needing a good kissing now and again.

  John strode toward his truck and deposited the handcrafted toboggan in its bed, determined to put these cockamamie notions out his head. The heavy snow had abated to a light sprinkle. It was the perfect afternoon for the occasion. What was so wrong with a toboggan ride anyhow? It wasn’t exactly romantic, with the little boy coming along. It was more like a family outing. John swallowed hard at that last thought, feeling like he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Was it really so wrong to take them out, knowing they’d be gone in just a little while? Perhaps that was John’s best form of protection. It was likely Christine’s too. Surely she wouldn’t want to become entangled with someone living so far away. Her life was complicated enough as it was. Mason barked and John looked down to see him furiously wagging his tail, apparently ready to get on with it. At least he wasn’t conflicted.

  John’s cell rang and he tucked a hand inside his coat to pull it out.

  “Your timing’s rotten,” he told Carlos.

  “No, what’s rotten is your holding out on me. Ten years together and you didn’t breathe a word!”

  “That’s because there’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Aha! I knew it. This one’s really gotten to you, hasn’t she?”

  “Nobody gets to me, Carlos. You know that.”

  Carlos chuckled. “Not until now, amigo. Not until now. Not that I disapprove. Christine seems different somehow. Not quite so… eager.”

  “Please.”

  “You know what I mean. With the others, I could practically hear those talons springing out to catch you.”

  “You, my friend, have an overblown sense of the dramatic.”

  “I, compadre, have a total connection to the truth.”

  John opened the door of his truck and Mason sprang inside. “I’d love to chat all day,” he said. “But the truth is I’ve got someplace to be.”

  “You’re seeing her, aren’t you? Probably her and that cute kid too.”

  John stared at Mason and shook his head before replying in a singsongy voice. “Good-bye, Carlos!”

  Snow fell lightly as John lifted the toboggan from his truck. They were on a scenic hill, the splendor of the snowcapped countryside around them. Christine ran a gloved hand down the side of the toboggan, admiring the sheen of its wood.

  “She’s a beauty,” she said to John. “Almost like a work of art.”

  He gave her a smile that swept the chill from the bitter wind. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “Hang on…” she said with surprise. “Are you saying you made this?”

  “Some time ago. It was one of my first pieces.”

  Christine was impressed. She’d never met a man who’d made a toboggan—or much of anything else—before. “You’ve made others?”

  John positioned the toboggan on the hilltop and looked up. Mason immediately jumped on. “Toboggans, no,” he said. “I figured one was all I needed. But I’ve built other things: bookshelves, tables, and the like.”

  “Tables? Really?”

  “My dining room table in fact.” He studied her thoughtfully. “I’ll have to show it to you sometime.”

  Christine’s cheeks warmed as she dropped her eyes. “I’d like that.”

  John turned his attention on Tyler, waiting eagerly nearby.

  “Ever been on a toboggan, young man?”

  Tyler shook his head.

  “Well then, you’re in for a treat. Hop on!” he instructed, positioning Tyler right behind Mason. Tyler promptly wrapped his arms around the dog, who leaned back to lick his face.

  “Will he be all right?” Christine asked with concern.

  “Sure. You’ll be right behind him, holding on.”

  “And where will you be?”

  “I’ll be hanging on to you.” John grinned and her heart melted.

  Christine warned herself not to get carried away. It was just an outing in the country. But when John settled in behind her and snuggled her and little Tyler securely in his arms, she couldn’t help but blush in his embrace. He was so strong and capable. Though the steep slope ahead looked formidable, Christine had no qualms about her and Tyler heading down it with John.

  “Ready?” he asked, as Christine gripped Tyler.

  “What about Mason?”

  “That old daredevil?” John asked with a laugh. “He’ll be fine!”

  Then they were off, gliding at lightning speed down the snowy white slope.

  “Whee!” Tyler shouted. “Whoohoo!”

  Christine laughed with giddy delight, feeling like a child again herself.

  “What do you think of Vermont?” John asked with a husky whisper.

  The truth was that she loved it. Loved it even more than she could have imagined.

  “It’s perfect,” she said with a happy sigh.

&nbs
p; John hugged them a little tighter and settled his chin on her shoulder.

  “I’m glad.”

  Chapter Eight

  A week later, John pulled a blazing marshmallow from the fireplace. Blowing it out, he laid it on a graham cracker held by Christine and loaded with chocolate. She grinned, first at him and then at Tyler. “This will have to be your last,” she said to her son before handing him the squishy treat.

  The boy’s face was liberally dotted with sticky mess. “But, Mom!”

  “She’s right, you know,” John said, backing up Christine. “We wouldn’t want you getting a bellyache. Not so soon before Christmas.”

  Tyler eagerly dug into his s’more while Mason ate his—complete with paper plate, but minus the chocolate—in the corner. John took in the cheery scene, acknowledging he hadn’t had this much fun in months. Heck, maybe even in years. The afternoon spent outdoors with Christine and Tyler had been filled with happy hill rides and gleeful shouts. On the way back to the truck they’d had an impromptu snowball fight, and John had been mightily impressed by Christine’s strong throwing arm. She’d invited him over for lunch the next day to compensate for whipping his tail in the competition. The next few days were lost in a blur of chats over coffee and prolonged Lego games with Tyler.

  Now, here they were, all huddled up indoors beside a roaring fire and after a dinner of homemade stew. It’s like stepping into a greeting card, John thought, his eyes lingering on Christine. She was beautiful in the firelight and the more he was around her, the more he wanted to be with her. She was captivating and sincere, and she had a sense of humor he appreciated. They could talk about everything in the world or nothing at all, just sitting in companionable silence. She was just as much fun as Carlos to be around, though John was betting she was a better kisser. Not that he’d be comparing the two, it was just odd for John to consider that a person could appeal to him in a womanly way and also act like a best friend. John was longing to get more than friendly with Christine. During their few moments alone, he’d actually considered making a move, but he’d stopped himself, weighing the impact on Tyler.

  If things deepened between him and Christine, what would that mean? He clearly couldn’t lead her on by engaging in some casual fling, when the outcome might be devastating for them all. Christine was loving yet firm with Tyler, and naturally a very protective mom. She wouldn’t want to expose the boy to any fallout from a short-term affair any more than John would.

  “When does Santa come again?” Tyler asked, still munching.

  “Not until you’re fast asleep,” Christine answered.

  “Did you ask for something special?” John asked the boy.

  “Mommy says it’s best to let life surprise you.”

  “Does she now?”

  Christine blushed mightily under John’s appreciative perusal. She really was lovely that way. It seemed to embarrass her that any man might cast an admiring eye her way. John wasn’t sure how any guy in his right mind could stop himself.

  Christine stood, collecting cooking supplies. “Ty, you’d best head upstairs and wash up. It’s getting late and tomorrow is a big day.” She turned to John. “Will you excuse me a minute while I tuck him in?”

  “Maybe I should get going,” John said, standing as well.

  “No, don’t.” Her expression softened. “What I mean is, please stay. I won’t be but a minute.”

  “Well, all right. Just for a bit.”

  Tyler twisted his lips and surveyed them both.

  “Is John sleeping over?” he asked his mom.

  John felt heat scorch the back of his neck as Christine flushed red.

  “Oh no, honey,” she sputtered quickly. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Tyler stuck out his bottom lip. “Why can’t he sleep over? He can stay in my room.”

  John smiled kindly at the child. “Maybe some other time, little buddy. Okay?”

  “Promise?” Tyler asked, his face lighting up.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Christine said firmly, herding him toward the stairs. “Now come on, up to bed with you!”

  Tyler turned with disappointment and slowly climbed each step.

  Mason slunk out of the corner and stealthily followed after him.

  “Mason, get back down here,” John ordered.

  The dog turned his head with a petitioning look.

  “Please?” Tyler pleaded. “Just for a little while?”

  When Christine came back downstairs she found the great room spotless. She entered the kitchen to find John drying the last of the dinner dishes.

  “How nice,” she exclaimed with surprise. “You really didn’t have to.”

  “I have a skill set,” he said. “Just because I’m a male that doesn’t mean I don’t know my way around the kitchen.”

  John didn’t have to remind Christine what sex he was. Every time he centered his blue gaze on hers, she remembered through and through. He was so capable at so many things it sent her heart awhirl. She just bet the women were after him in this tiny town, probably in all of greater Burlington too. Not just the coeds, either. Adult women, single ones, widows, and divorcees. John was intelligent, handsome, and kind. Just the sort of man it was easy to envision spending more time with.

  This past week had been like a dream. Christine hated the thought that her vacation would soon be over and that this wonderful existence would end. But that’s what getaways were for, stepping back from your normal routine. She couldn’t hope to have anyone as wonderful as John in her life for the long term. She’d found her Prince Charming once and real life didn’t grant a lot of second chances. So she’d determined to enjoy this moment while she could. Being around John felt good, so relaxed and natural. Who knew? Maybe they could keep up after this trip, sort of like long-distance friends? Christine frowned at the thought of leaving John behind for another woman to snap up as a boyfriend, but she had no doubt that it would happen over time.

  “My cooking’s not that bad,” John said with a laugh.

  She met his eyes, realizing he’d been expounding on his culinary talents, and she’d missed every word. “I’m sure it’s delicious, every bite.”

  “Really?” he said with a grin. “I never figured you for Cajun food. I’ll have to make something for you sometime.”

  The way he said it was almost like he was in denial that she was leaving too. Would they just go on like this, then? Carrying on like congenial neighbors until it was time for her and Ty to board their plane? What else could Christine expect? Getting involved with John romantically would prove a mess. It would be bad for Tyler to become attached if things were not to work out. Christine felt a twisting in her gut, worrying that she’d already done the wrong thing in having them spend so much time with John. But, as long as Tyler understood the truth, that they were merely friends, would that ultimately matter? It was good to have friends in the world. Isn’t that what she always told Ty? The more the merrier?

  “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 s
aid 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.