His Christmas Fantasy. JENNIFER LABRECQUE
She was a crafty one, Giselle was. “Do you believe in magic?”
“I believe in forces of energywecan’t necessarily see.”
Forces of energy. Something stirred inside him, a resonance, an acknowledgement. “I take it that’s a yes. Have you ever experienced magic yourself?”
Her hands tightened on the wheel and he felt her hesitation, as if she might refuse to answer. She was right. He was a lousy interviewer. She tilted her chin up. “Maybe…once…I’m not sure, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
Gooseflesh prickled his skin and the first time he ever saw her came to mind, swiftly followed by that Christmas night two years ago. Forces of energy. That summed it up exactly.
He asked the question that had been bugging him ever since he’d skimmed Darren’s assignment notes. “Are you coming with a personal interest? Are you looking to fall in love?”
“It crossed my mind.” Her smile had an edge to it. “Who couldn’t use some help in their love life?”
That made him want to grind his teeth. “Come on. You’re writing this story, but you don’t really believe this, do you?”
“How are you so sure it’s not real?”
“It’s not an issue for me. I can take the photos all day long but it doesn’t mean I believe this magic nonsense.”
Before she could respond, a massive wind gust barreled through the canyon. One minute they were driving along in their lane and the next a trailer swaying behind a pickup in the lane beside them bounced off the SUV, metal screeching against metal, sending them spinning out of control.
4
“ARE YOU okay?” Sam’s voice came to her as if it were muffled by fog. “Giselle?” His urgent tone snapped her out of what must have been mild shock.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. You?”
“I’m good.”
They sat on the shoulder of the road, the SUV’s motor still running, the vehicle upright but facing oncoming traffic. Adrenaline kicked in. Her heart pounded. Her hands shook. “What the hell just happened?”
Sam raked an unsteady hand through his hair. “The wind blew that trailer into us, they sideswiped us and kept going. Nice job of handling the car, by the way.”
Giselle laughed abruptly. “I didn’t handle anything. I just held on to the wheel and it was all a blur.”
“Exactly. We’d have rolled if you’d overreacted and tried to fight it.” He released his seat belt. “Sit tight. I’ll check out the damage to the vehicle. We may have to report it as a hit-and-run for the insurance to cover it.”
Sam opened his door and cold wind whistled into the car. Giselle tugged her down vest tighter about her while he climbed out and rounded the front of the vehicle. She powered down her window and stuck her head out into the bracing December air, expecting to see dents and scrapes along her side. Nothing. She blinked. Nothing marred the white paint along the entire driver’s side. Sam moved to stand beside her door.
“Am I missing something here?” She looked up at Sam. “Are you not seeing the same thing I’m not seeing?”
He dropped to his haunches and ran his hand lightly over the front panel and her door. “No dents. No scrapes. Not even a scratch.” He slowly stood up.
“But that trailer hit us…I heard it…felt it…how can…”
“I don’t know.” Sam skirted the vehicle again and climbed back in.
“That’s weird,” Giselle said before he even got the door closed.
Frown lines creased his forehead. “When we stopped one-eightying, my first thought was we were lucky to be upright and unhurt. I don’t know how there’s not even a mark on your door.”
A tingling rippled through her body and the hairs on the nape of her neck stood at attention. There was only one explanation as far as she was concerned. “Do you believe in magic now?”
“I’d mark it as luck,” Sam said. She wasn’t going to argue the point but…“I guess we keep going since there doesn’t appear to be any reason not to,” he continued. “You want me to drive?”
“No. I’m fine…” Her voice petered out as an eighteen-wheeler rumbled past and she realized they could’ve been sitting squarely in the path of an equally big, equally lethal truck when they stopped spinning. Six feet to the left and they’d have been…
She wasn’t fine. The aftermath of being behind the wheel while the vehicle spun in circles—it could have been one or twenty, she had no clue—set in and her hands began to shake so hard she couldn’t steady them. Sometimes owning the power was all in knowing when to hand it over. “No. I’m not fine, and yes, I think I’d like you to drive.”
Sam closed the gap between them and slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders and squeezed. His enveloping scent and touch set off an altogether different kind of trembling inside her. “No problem,” he said. His warm breath stirred her hair against her temple, and the thought flitted through her mind that she’d be content to stay there forever. “It shook me up and I wasn’t the one driving at the time.” For one mesmerizing moment she thought he dipped his head, that his eyes flickered with an intent to kiss her, and then it was gone. He withdrew his arm and she immediately missed his touch, his warmth. “You slide over. I’ll go around.” He had his door open before he finished the sentence.
He got out once again and Giselle sat statue-still, momentarily frozen with disappointment over a kiss that didn’t come from a man she had no business wanting it from anyway. Pulling herself together, she clambered on unsteady legs over the console and gearshift to the passenger seat. She settled back in the seat, the upholstery still warm from his body heat. The thought danced through her head that it was a bit like having him hug her from behind. Her hands shook slightly as she clicked her seat belt into place.
Sam adjusted the seat and mirrors, U-turned and they were once again on their way.
“Tell me about Barry.”
His directive caught her unawares. “What?” She shook her head to clear it. “I must be more rattled than I thought. I could swear you just asked me about my exhusband.”
He smiled without looking at her, his attention firmly fixed on the highway. Some people smiled and it was a mere quirk of their lips. Sam’s smile engaged his entire face, plowing lines in his cheeks and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I did.”
“But—”
“We could’ve both just died and I wouldn’t have known a thing about your ex-husband.” In profile, his nose was Romanesque. It suited his strong chin and the rest of his lived-in face.
“But why would you even care?You’d have died not knowing a whole lot of things.” She would have departed this material world never knowing the taste of his mouth or the feel of his touch, other than a platonic hug or the measure of comfort he’d just doled out. She’d yearned for both even though he was forbidden territory.
“I only met him at your wedding. I’m curious as to what kind of guy you married. Indulge me.” Indulge me. Erotically evocative. He glanced at her. “Please.”
Indulge me. Please. Just how dangerous would he be if he knew how difficult it was for her to turn down any request for anything when he uttered those three words?
She shifted to look out the window away from him. She should tell him to mind his own business, but in the big scheme of things what did it matter? And nearly being killed on a highway had a way of prioritizing things. “What do you want to know?”
“How’d you meet?”
“His