Snowbound Sweetheart. Judy Christenberry
She actually grinned at him. “I don’t eat liver. I’m not fond of fish—or spinach. Anything else is fine. And I wouldn’t say no to a candy bar. Stress makes me crave chocolate.”
He couldn’t resist tracing her slim form with his gaze. She must normally live a stress-free life. Otherwise she’d be several sizes larger. Which made her agreeableness even more amazing. He’d been attracted to her beauty from the beginning. Now, he was drawn to that grin, that twinkle in her hazel eyes.
“I’ll see what I can find.”
“Wait!” she called out as he turned to the door.
Before he knew what she intended, she’d looped a red cashmere scarf around his neck. “I noticed you didn’t have a muffler. This will keep your face warm,” she assured him as she tied it.
Her arms were around his neck, securing the scarf and he froze, aware that it wouldn’t take much movement to pull her into his embrace, to warm her body with his. But he didn’t move. He’d promised.
Against the soft cloth, he muttered, “I’ll be right back.”
He stepped out into the storm, scarcely noting the frigid conditions. It reminded him of that song, “Let It Snow,” with the words that said the singer would stay warm if he got a hug before he left.
He’d always laughed at that silliness, but even the thought of an embrace from Lindsay had him steaming.
He returned a few minutes later with a variety of food, none of it gourmet. He’d nuked several pre-packaged hamburgers in the microwave, picked up the last two egg salad sandwiches wrapped in cellophane, grabbed a couple of bags of chips and selected several chocolate candy bars.
Lindsay deserved any treat he could find.
When he burst into the motel room, slamming the door behind him, he was immediately assailed by the aroma of hot coffee. “You made the coffee!” he exclaimed.
“I said I would,” she replied. “I figured it might be the only way we’ll get warm tonight. In fact, I might even soak my feet in coffee later on. They feel like blocks of ice.”
He swallowed his “told you so” thought about the shoes she’d chosen to wear. No point in starting an argument when they had an entire night to get through together. “Want to see what’s for dinner?”
“Yes,” she said, coming around the bed.
He pulled the two hamburgers from inside his coat. “These are still warm, but we’d better eat them fast. These sandwiches are the second course. Chips to accompany either or both. And, ta-da,” he called, as if presenting the pièce de résistance, “chocolate for dessert.”
“Bless you,” she said, taking her share of his offerings.
Gil hadn’t believed she’d be pleased with his selections. Pleased? Hell, he’d expected her to turn her nose up at all of it.
She surprised him even more when she put her food down and returned to the other side of the bed to pour both of them a cup of coffee before starting to eat.
“Warm is more than I expected. With the coffee, they might even taste hot.” She set his cup on the lamp table, then moved down the length of the bed and sat down.
Neither bothered with conversation while they ate. By the time Gil took the last bite of his hamburger, it was cold, but the coffee was still warm. And the egg salad sandwich helped satisfy his hunger.
Lindsay handed him the second half of hers. “I’m saving room for the chocolate. You finish mine off.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said with a grin. Before he ate any of it, however, he added, “Thanks for being such a good sport about all this, Lindsay.”
She looked surprised. “Why not be a good sport? None of it is your fault. In fact, if I’d stopped when you first suggested it, our accommodations might be a little more…spacious.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re the one who should be complaining.”
Rather than argue about who was responsible for their situation, he smiled and finished off her sandwich.
“Do you think we’ll be able to get any reception on the television?” she asked, eyeing the set against the wall.
“Maybe. It looks remarkably new compared to everything else in the room.” He set down his coffee cup and crossed over to the television. When he turned it on, Lindsay cheered as a clear picture filled the screen.
“All right! My favorite show comes on tonight,” she said.
Gil changed the channel, only to discover that only one station got reception. “Then I hope it’s on this channel.”
“Me, too. If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a turn in the bathroom.”
With a nod, he watched her grab her suitcase and open it, extracting several articles. Then she tucked it away and disappeared into the bath.
All he could think about was Lindsay emerging in something from Victoria Secret. A man could dream, couldn’t he?
When Lindsay finally opened the door, she was completely dressed in a velour warm-up suit, with thick socks on her feet. She sent him a nervous grin. “Not the latest style in pj’s, but this is the warmest I have.”
“I think you look very stylish,” he assured her. When she frowned at him, he asked, “What?”
“Is that a slam?”
“Why would you think that?”
“You said your ex-wife always had to be in style.”
Gil was at a loss at what to say. His first reaction was to tell her his wife wouldn’t have been caught dead in a sweat suit—unless she was modeling it in a fashion show. But that response wouldn’t do. The alternative was to tell her that he thought she’d look stylish in a trash bag, because all he’d be able to think about was what was underneath.
That definitely wouldn’t do.
“Uh, I was teasing you. Being warm is a lot more important than being stylish.”
She smiled and picked up two of the candy bars. Then she returned to the side of the bed closest to the bathroom and pulled down the covers. “I’m getting under the covers to watch television.”
He stood and moved his candy bars to the lamp table. “Good idea. Want a refill on the coffee? I think there’s just enough for both of us.”
“Sure, thanks.”
After filling their cups, he gathered his duffel bag and, with a nod of his head in the direction of the bathroom, he walked past her, closing the door behind him.
Lindsay drew a deep breath when she was finally alone. The man, with his sexy grin, was tough to resist. She couldn’t even suggest he sleep in the tub tonight, because there wasn’t one.
Oh, well. She could share the bed with him. After all, he’d brought her chocolate. She unwrapped the candy and took a big bite. Then she turned her pillow on end and sank into it, focusing her gaze on the television.
If there had been more covers, so she could really get warm, Lindsay thought she might’ve even drifted off to sleep, though it was barely eight o’clock. But the two thin blankets on the bed didn’t provide much warmth.
When the bathroom door swung open and Gil came back into her view, she felt the room get suddenly a little warmer. He was still dressed in jeans, but he’d changed his cotton shirt to a flannel one, left open over a white T-shirt.
“You’re going to sleep in jeans?” she asked, frowning.
He cocked one eyebrow at her. “I only brought jeans.”
She thought about his words as he pulled back the covers on his side of the bed. She knew he’d be uncomfortable, but he could sleep if