Page 16 of Christmas with Holly

“That has nothing to do with coffee. You could tempt a woman with a glass of tap water.” An instant later, eyes widening, Maggie covered her mouth with her hand. “I don’t know why I said that,” she said through the screen of her fingers, mortified and marveling.

Their gazes met for an electric moment. And then a smile touched his lips, and Maggie felt her heart give a hard extra thump.

Mark shook his head to indicate that it was no problem. “I was forewarned.” He gestured to their surroundings. “Transportation makes you lose your inhibitions.”

“Yes.” Mesmerized by his warm blue-green eyes, Maggie struggled to regain the thread of conversation. “What were we were talking about?…Oh, coffee. I’ve never had coffee that tasted as good as the roasted beans smell.”

“Someday I’ll make you the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had. You’ll follow me around begging for more hot water percolated through ground robusta.”

As Maggie laughed, she sensed that something had come alive in the air around them. Attraction, she realized in wonder. She had thought somehow that she’d lost the capacity for this, the vibrant sensual awareness of another person.

The ferry was moving. She hadn’t even noticed the blare of the ferry horn. The powerful engine sent vibrations along the bones of the vessel, softer thrums milling through the floors and seats, as regular as a heartbeat.

Maggie thought she should take an interest in the view as they headed across the strait, but it had lost its usual power to entice her. She looked back at the man opposite her, the relaxed strength of him, the splayed knees and the long arm propped on the back of the bench.

“How are you spending the weekend?” she asked.

“Visiting a friend.”

“The woman who was at the store with you?”

His expression became guarded. “Yes. Shelby.”

“She seemed nice.”

“She is.”

Maggie knew she should have left it at that. But her curiosity about him was growing beyond all casual boundaries. As she tried to summon an image of the composed, attractive blond woman—Shelby—she remembered having thought that they looked right together. Like the couples in jewelry commercials. “Is it serious between you?”

He pondered that. “I don’t know.”

“How long have you been going out?”

“A few months.” A contemplative pause before he added, “Since January.”

“Then you already know if things are serious.”

Mark looked torn between annoyance and amusement. “It takes some of us longer to figure it out than others.”

“What’s left to figure out?”

“If I can overcome the fear of eternity.”

“I should tell you my motto. It’s a quote from Emily Dickinson.”

“I don’t have a motto,” he said reflectively.

“Everyone should have a motto. You can borrow mine if you want.”

“What is it?”

“‘Forever is composed of nows.’” Maggie paused, her smile turning wistful at the edges. “You shouldn’t worry about forever…time runs out faster than you expect.”

“Yes.” Somewhere in his quiet tone there was a bleak note. “I found that out when I lost my sister.”

She gave him a sympathetic glance. “You were close to her?”

There was an unaccountably long pause. “The Nolans have never been what anyone would call a close-knit family. It’s like a casserole. You can take a bunch of ingredients that are fine on their own, but put them all together and it turns into something really terrible.”

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