A Holiday Fling by Mary Jo Putney

separated them the first time. "So we won’t spend Christmas together after all. Well, that’s show business. When this kind of opportunity shows up, we have to jump."
    It was an effort to keep his voice light when he could feel cracks forming in his heart. Down-to- earth Jenny, who put on a show in her hometown to save a local landmark, had seemed almost possible. Now she was heading for the horizon like a shooting star.
    "If you want that English Christmas, I know my family would love to have you." Her blue eyes were stricken. "You could stay here. I’ll even let you drive the Jaguar. Or... or you could come to Los Angeles with me, and I’ll roast you a Christmas goose."
    He thought wistfully of the holiday they’d planned in that rambling brick house. It would have been fun, with Jenny. "Thanks, but I’d rather go home to Ohio. If I can get a flight on the twenty-fourth, I’ll be able to spend Christmas Eve with my family."
    "Of course." She hesitated. "When you return to Los Angeles, might we be able to get together before you leave for Argentina?"
    "You’re going to be pretty busy." In his heart, he knew their affair was over. If they ran into each other in Los Angeles, Jenny would be friendly because that was her nature, but they would have nothing in common. Better to bow out now—and never reveal that he had ever had hopes of something more.
    * * *
    Heathrow the day before Christmas was a madhouse. Jenny and Greg had flights to the U.S. that left within an hour of each other, but on different airlines. She clutched his hand during the limousine ride from the Cotswolds to the airport. He hadn’t seemed to mind, but he didn’t have much to say, either.
    Mentally, he’d already moved on. She suspected that he was already beyond Ohio and into Argentina.
    Jenny, though, was firmly anchored in the present. She could feel the moments trickling away, one at a time, impossible to catch and hold. A phenomenal opportunity had fallen into her lap, but she was having trouble remembering that when her heart was numbed by their upcoming separation. How had daughters of Britannia maintained a stiff upper lip when their husbands and sweethearts went off to India for years on end?
    Inside the terminal, Greg stopped in the middle of the swirling crowd. "Time for us to go our separate ways. I have quite a hike to my gate."
    "I know." She stared at him, trying to memorize that familiar, craggy face; not quite believing this was really the end. "I... I’m so glad you came and helped us out. You made all the difference. We should rename the barn the Marino Center."
    "It was your inspiration and talent and leadership that saved it, Jenny. I’m just glad I was along for the ride."
    She almost asked if he would shoot the Victorian Revels they would stage next year, but stopped herself. One didn’t ask a favor of that magnitude twice. "Take care of yourself, Greg. Don’t get caught in an Andes avalanche or anything."
    "I won’t." He touched her cheek, his brown eyes warm with affection. Then his expression became impersonal. "I’ll eat popcorn and cheer for you when your turn comes on Oscar night."
    He lifted his duffle and turned to walk away—tall, strong, self-contained. Unable to stop herself, she whispered, "Greg—can’t we do a better good-bye scene than this?"
    She thought he wouldn’t hear her in the tumult of travelers, but his shoulders stiffened and he pivoted to face her again, his expression stark. Dropping her carry-on, she threw herself into his arms, not caring what anyone thought.
    His lips were warm and dear, his embrace crushing as he kissed her. Passersby buffeted her, but she ignored them, all her focus on the man in her arms. She had come to know his body in passion and in tenderness, his mind in humor and in intelligence. Surely these feelings were mutual, they had to be. Surely...
    Slowly he withdrew, his eyes dark with regret. "Goodbye, Jenny. Have a good life."
    This time, there would be no curtain