The Christmas Catch by Ginny Baird Read Free Book Online Page A

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.

 

 
 
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