The Christmas Catch by Ginny Baird Page A

greater clarity now. While John had been wrong in many ways, most especially in the way he’d treated her, he actually was correct in assuming Christine wanted more for herself than what she currently had. She was capable of it too. She knew she could develop her own line, and had several ideas for interactive products with Internet potential as well. It would likely take time, but she was still relatively young, so time was on her side. John’s prescient words came back to her like a haunting refrain. The future is long…
    She set down her champagne and lifted the manila envelope, almost afraid of its contents. What if John’s plan was more helpful than she’d imagined? She had enough of a level head to separate a business opportunity from a personal disappointment, didn’t she? If she ultimately had a different path for herself in mind, wouldn’t it make sense to think out the logical steps to achieving her goal now? She tentatively broke its seal, her heart pounding. It was just a stack of papers. So why did Christine have a premonition her whole life was about to change?

    John flipped off the TV and set down the remote. On the coffee table before him, a bottle of champagne in bucket of ice sat untouched. He’d considered inviting one of his lady friends to join him for the evening, but somehow the thought of entertaining was distasteful. He didn’t really want to have anyone else over when the only person he could think of was Christine. While it had never been a big deal before, being physical with a casual acquaintance suddenly didn’t appeal to him. He’d only kissed Christine once, but their kissing session had felt as intimate as they come. She’d been so warm and willing in his arms, her flesh molding against his as their mouths melded. He’d never longed to make love to a woman more, slowly and tenderly, employing all of his manly talents. He knew he could treat her right, and would take every care to ensure her happiness in bed. Sadly, he hadn’t done such a hot job of filling her with joy outside of it.
    He glanced at Mason, still mad at him, on the other side of the room. The dog turned his back on John, sitting beside the Christmas tree.
    “Come on, boy. You’re not going to hold a grudge forever?”
    Mason walked his paws forward, slinking into a lying position. After a few moments, John heard him gnawing and knew he’d locked onto his giant rawhide bone. John sagged forward, his elbows resting on his knees, head in hands. If he’d really done the right thing with Christine, then why was everybody here trying to make him feel like he’d done something terrible?
    John thought back to Christine’s admission in the kitchen. He had made her happy out of bed, but then he’d gone and blown it big-time. But she’d caught him so off guard, he hadn’t known how to respond. What could he have said? That she made him happy too? John stared at the Christmas tree, mentally reliving every moment. Of course, she’d made him happy. She and Tyler both had, each in their own way. When he’d been with the two of them together, they’d been almost like a family. Although it had been pretend, he’d felt contented in that role. He’d just been so unfamiliar with the feeling, he hadn’t known what it was.
    John swallowed hard, thinking there’d been another emotion present, something deeply personal and just between him and Christine, but he’d been in denial of that as well. He had his hands full these days and building his career to consider besides. Despite the common myth of the easygoing life of the college professor, the hard truth was that competition in academia was exceedingly tough. You had to publish or perish, and keep forging ahead. John was an ambitious man who’d carved out a path for himself. His own dad had been an unsteady worker who was often unemployed and barely able to keep food on the table for John and his younger sister.
    John had vowed at thirteen to work his way past that.