The Christmas Catch

Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Before coming to Vermont, Professor Steadman served an associate and then full professor at Tulane University in New Orleans, where he was instrumental in developing innovative business models.
    Below his bio and an extremely flattering professional photo, a link directed the reader to Contact Professor Steadman. Christine could just bet that a number of coeds had the hots for the steamy professor. Lots of girls got crushes on their teachers, and John’s easygoing nature and gentle charm would make him easy to fall for. His ruggedly handsome face and that built, athletic body didn’t hurt much either… But Christine was no college kid. She was a full-grown woman and a mother besides. She was way too mature to go crushing on people, particularly people she didn’t know that well.
    Christine pondered the prospect of getting to know John. Perhaps Ellen was right. Christine hadn’t gone out for so much as coffee with a man since Dan died. She couldn’t sequester herself forever. What was the harm in a casual connection anyway? Maybe being in Vermont for a limited time made it all the better, less risky somehow. She could take a chance on seeing someone on a friendship basis, where circumstance clearly dictated that a friendship was all it could be. She wasn’t ready for full-scale dating. Plus, she had Tyler to consider. Though he was too young to remember a lot about his dad, he’d already lost a father once. Christine didn’t want to put him in the position of forming an attachment that might not pan out. Truth be told, she didn’t want to put herself in that situation either.
    And yet, getting back out there, as Ellen called it, didn’t have to be such a scary proposition. Christine could take it in little, bitty, baby steps. That’s right, one thing at a time. This Christmas, maybe she’d brave a coffee date in Vermont. Next year, who knew? She might work her way up to lunch with someone. By the time Tyler was eighteen, she might even find herself ready for sleepovers… A flash of heat tore through her as she suddenly imagined herself going to bed with John. But that was a ridiculous thing to consider. Plain crazy. She wasn’t interested in anything like that right now. She’d already thought the whole thing through.
    Christine gingerly guided the mouse over the e-mail link, wondering if she could really do it. She’d been raised so traditionally that she didn’t totally feel comfortable making the first move. Then again, if it was a simple move toward friendship, what was the big deal? A vision of John sweeping her into his arms raced through her mind, and she slapped her laptop shut, losing her nerve. She stood and skittishly began to pace the room. “On the one hand,” she said out loud. “It’s no harm, no foul. I just write and say, thanks again. That’s innocent enough. I don’t have to be the one to suggest going out. I’ll leave that to him. And, well… if he doesn’t, there’s nothing lost.”
    Feeling her courage surge, Christine sat on the sofa again and reopened her laptop. She slapped it shut two seconds later. “On the other hand, what does that say? That I can’t get him off my mind? He’d clearly know I looked him up! What kind of woman does that? A desperate one, obviously...”
    She set her laptop on a sofa cushion and strode to the bar, thinking some merlot might help. Either to grant her the wherewithal to go through with it, or realize what a cockeyed idea it was. She poured herself a glass, still musing aloud. “Then again, I am a fellow Tar Heel, and we Carolina types are always friendly with each other.” She took a long swallow, draining her glass. She was worse off than she thought. Talking to herself and swigging down wine! Something had to be done, and fast!
    Christine sat back down with fire in her belly and determination in her soul. If Ellen could do this, then so could she, damn it. It wasn’t like she was proposing marriage. She was only writing to establish contact. She clicked the link and a dialogue box opened. Now, if she could just think of the perfect thing to say.

    John opened his e-mail the next morning and was pleased to find a message from Christine White. “Who says it’s not an equal opportunity world?” he asked Mason, who was scarfing down his breakfast. “Hey,” he said to the dog, who just kept eating. “Hey!”
    Mason stopped chomping and looked up.
    “Yeah, I’m talking to you,” John