That Wintry Feeling (Debbie Macomber Classics) Read Free

six-word message ten times and was ready to throw it away when Linda returned, snapped it from her hand, and placed it inside the envelope.
    “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Cathy mumbled. “There must be something basically wrong with me.”
    “There is,” Linda confirmed. “You’re lonely.”
    Cathy’s responding smile was weak. It was a lot more than lonely, but she didn’t explain.
    Having made arrangements with the teachers earlier in the week, Cathy was able to leave the school before twelve. She was determined to speak to Grady Jones one way or another. Following the directions Linda had given her, Cathy arrived at the airfield promptly at noon.
    Her car door slammed with the force of the September wind, shutting it for her. Another gust whipped her hair about her face and stimulated her cheeks until they were a rosy hue. She stopped to examine the buildings. A large hangar took up one side of the open field to the right of the runway. Directly beside the hangar was a smaller building she assumed must be the office. A large overhead sign read ALASKA CARGO COMPANY .
    Checking her wristwatch, Cathy noted it was thirteen minutes after noon. Right on time. Her watch naturally ran thirteen minutes fast, which suited her since she hated being late. If Grady Jones hadn’t arrived, she was prepared to wait. With her black leather purse tucked under her arm, she approached the smaller structure. As she neared the office a man dressed in grease-smeared overalls and a matching cap emerged from one of the hangars.
    “Can I help you?” he questioned, his eyes surveying her with interest.
    “I’m here to see Mr. Jones,” she replied in a crisp business tone.
    Something indecipherable flickered across the weathered face, but Cathy couldn’t read him. She wondered if this was the man who’d answered her persistent calls. Had he recognized her voice?
    “Grady’s inside,” the man replied, and wiped his hands on a rag that hung from his hip pocket. “I’ll take you to his office. Follow me.” He led the way, yanking open the office door. He was halfway through the entrance when he stopped as if suddenly remembering his manners and hurriedly stepped aside, allowing Cathy to enter ahead of him.
    It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior.
    “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, and indicated two worn chairs just inside the door. He disappeared behind another door around the counter. The office appeared to be divided into two areas. The outer room contained a long counter that was littered with papers, graphs, and charts. Behind it, the walls were papered by several maps. The two chairs were covered with old newspapers and dog-eared magazines. Cathy decided to stand.
    When the mechanic returned, his eyes glanced over her appreciatively. “Grady will see you now.” He held the door open as Cathy moved behind the counter.
    Her heels clicked against the faded linoleum floor, and the sound seemed to echo all around her. Unconsciously, she held her breath and clenched her purse, as if to steel herself for the encounter.
    Grady Jones was standing when she entered the room, and her eyes were instantly drawn to the lean, dark features of the strikingly handsome man. Curly chestnut-colored hair grew with rakish disregard across his wide forehead. His eyes were surprisingly blue, the same color as an Arctic blue fox’s. They glinted round and intelligent. His full, almost bushy eyebrows were quirked expectantly, and Cathy realized she was staring. Nervously, she cleared her throat.
    “Grady Jones?” she questioned briskly, disguising her shattered composure.
    “Yes.” His mouth twitched with humor.
    This man was well aware of the power of his attraction, Cathy mused, disliking him all the more. If he thought he could disarm her with one devastating smile, then he was wrong. Leaning forward slightly, Cathy extended her hand over the cluttered desk.
    “I’m pleased to meet you at last, Mr.