Claustrophobic Christmas Read Free Page A

he wanted her. Her! She’d been able to fantasize about him safely when they’d maintained a long distance correspondence.
    A guy like James was not safe for a girl like her. Their idiosyncrasies would never mesh.
    He hadn’t let go yet. He had warm hands. Long fingers.
    “You seem nervous,” he commented.
    “I am. The image you painted of a traffic jam is nerve-wracking.” His touch was about to spin her into a giant fuzz ball of anxiety. “Do you really think we’ll see ice and snow?”
    “Looks like it.” His thumb rubbed the back of her fingers. “You got a full tank of gas?”
    “Yeah.” She realized she was smiling like an idiot—where had that come from?—and slipped her hand free. “Thanks for the advice. Do you mind if I use the no-drinking tip in my next newsletter?”
    “Gonna give me credit?”
    “Of course.”
    “I’ll be watching for it.”
    He subscribed to her newsletter for more than just the pictures, or so he said, because the pictures these days were mostly his and it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them. She was meticulous about dotting her i’s and crossing her t’s legally when she used other people’s observations. It was a necessity, all things considered.
    Darcy brushed her sweatpants at the hips, wishing she had pockets to stuff her hands into. “I guess we should go.”
    He just stared at her as if waiting for something. God, he was good-looking. His eyes were gorgeous, his hair sun-streaked, pushed back from his face by those long, callused fingers. His movements were slow and easy, like he never hurried. Did he know how sexy he was? Did he have any idea she was standing here imagining him naked?
    Thoughts fluttered in her brain like moths around a light. If he wasn’t going to ditch her and they got trapped in the snow, they could talk each other through it. Or text each other. Send each other photos. She’d ask for one of his hands. She’d send him one of her…Christmas candy.
    Unfortunately, she couldn’t convince herself to suggest it. He didn’t bring it up, either. It didn’t seem like a good idea. Their friendliness had been what had given him the impression she liked him as more than her favorite photographer.
    He’d been right. And she was right to lie about it and save them both the trouble of breaking up when their lifestyles proved incompatible.
    “Well, James, I'm going to…” She jerked her thumb at the ladies room and scurried away, conscious that his gaze followed her retreating form.

Chapter Two
    James watched Darcy go with mixed feelings. The one person he paradoxically had and hadn’t wanted to see more than anyone in the world, and damned if she didn’t show up. Speak of the devil.
    But Darcy Burkell was no demon come to ruin his life and cast his soul into Hell. Hardly. She was kind of a goody-two-shoes. Kind of fussy. Kind of frumpy. God, that sweat suit!
    She was the kind of woman he never had anything to do with, but at the same time, she was all he could think about. She made him laugh and she made him worry about her and she made him crazy wondering what it would be like.
    It being sex. With her.
    When he’d shown up at her office, her hair had been in all these dark, shiny curls and she’d had two buttons undone on her blouse so he could see a hint of pale cleavage. She had enough to entice but not so much it looked like her chest would get in the way when they were mashed up together, hot and heavy. And then there were her tight skirt and round hips. Yeah, a man could grab onto Darcy and not get tired of her any time soon.
    But instead of being happy to see him, she’d stared at him like he had two deformed heads. And proceeded to make up some crap about a boyfriend he knew was crap the minute she said it.
    Even in that day-glow sweat suit, he still wanted her, and he never wanted a woman who’d shot him down. Thanks, but no thanks. There were plenty of easier women. And by easy he didn’t mean slutty, he just meant easy to