Snowbound - Harlequin.com

JANICE KAY JOHNSON
97
expected the ‘right’ man to be like? No. He’d scare her.
He was scaring himself. “A movie. I haven’t seen one
in a long time. What’s the last one you went to?”
She relaxed, as he’d hoped she would. While he
measured sugar and flour and put together the cobbler,
she told him about a thriller with a huge budget, big
stars and an unlikely plot.
At one point he glanced at the clock and thought in
surprise, They haven’t even been here twenty-four
hours.
How, in such a short time, had he gotten to the point
where he had thoughts like, I need her? He hadn’t
kissed her, hadn’t touched her beyond a hand on her
shoulder, didn’t know that she felt anything at all for
him. He suspected she’d have been just as friendly to
the codger who’d owned the lodge before him.
Although, she had spent the afternoon reading about
the Iraq war.
Maybe because of him, maybe not.
She’d moved on to talking about other things, an
exhibit at the Portland Art Museum, music she liked.
John guessed he must have nodded or interjected a word
here and there, because he didn’t want her to quit.
He didn’t need her; that had been a ridiculous
thought. But he wouldn’t mind if snow kept falling for
another day or two.
And maybe if the state road crew left Thunder
Mountain Lodge isolated for a while after that, he’d
eventually get his fill and want his solitude back.
Just not yet.