The Christmas Catch

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 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