Marry-Me Christmas by Shirley Jump Page B

might. Depending on what you had to say.”
    “Admit it. You’re stubborn.”
    “I am not.” She paused. “Too stubborn.”
    He laughed then, surprising her, and by the look on his face, probably even himself. “Now there’s a line I should quote.” He dug out his pen and paper.
    Disappointment curdled in Sam’s stomach. “Are you always after the story?”
    He glanced up. “That’s my job.”
    “Yeah, but…just like you were saying to me, don’t you ever take a moment for you?”
    His blue gaze met hers, direct and powerful. “You mean treat this as a date, instead of an interview?”
    “Well—” Sam shifted again “—not that exactly.”
    The grin returned, wider this time. “How long has it been?”
    “Has it been for what?”
    “Since you’ve been out on a date?”
    Sam took such a deep sip of water, she nearly drowned. “I could ask you the same thing.”
    “My answer’s easy. A week.”
    “Oh.” She put the glass down. “I thought you said you didn’t have that much free time.”
    “I was exaggerating. I’m a writer.” That grin again. “Given to hyperbole and all that.”
    Was he…flirting with her? Holy cow. Was that why everything within her seemed touched with fever? Why her gut couldn’t stop flip-flopping? Why she alternately wanted to run—and to stay?
    It was simply because he was right. She hadn’t been out on a date in forever. She wasn’t used to this kind of head-on attention from a man. Especially a man as good at the head-on thing as he was.
    “So which would you rather?” Flynn asked. “A date? Or an interview?”
    The interview, her mind urged. Say interview. The business. The bakery needed the increase in revenue. Her personal life could wait, just as it always had. The business came first.
    “A date.”
    Had she really just said that? Out loud? To the man who held the future of Joyful Creations in his pen? Sam’s face heated, and her feet scrambled back, ready to make a fast exit.
    But instead of making a note on his ubiquitous notepad, Flynn leaned back in his chair and smiled. “You surprise me, Samantha Barnett. Just when I think you’re all work and no fun, you opt for a little fun.”
    “Maybe I’m not the cardboard character you think.”
    “Maybe you’re not.” His voice had dropped into a range that tickled at her gut, sent her thoughts down a whole other path that drifted away from fun and into man-and-woman-alone territory. He pushed the notepad to the side, then leaned forward, his gaze connecting with hers. When he did that, it seemed as if the entire room, heck, the entire world, dropped away. “Well, if this was a date, and we were back in Boston, instead of the pits of Christmastown here, do you want to know what we’d be doing?”
    “Yes,” Sam replied, curiosity pricking at her like a pin. “Why not?”
    He thought a second, considering her. “Well, since you haven’t been out on a date in a while, our first date should be something extraordinary.”
    “Extraordinary?” she echoed.
    “A limo, for starters. Door-to-door service.”
    “A limo?” She arched a brow. “On a reporter’s salary?”
    “I’ve done very well in my field. And they tend to reward that handsomely.”
    Quite handsomely if the expensive suit, cashmere coat and Italian leather shoes were any indication. “What next, after the limo?”
    “Dinner, maybe at Top of the Hub, a restaurant at the top of the Prudential building in Boston. Lobster, perhaps? With champagne, of course.”
    “Of course,” she said, grinning, caught in the web of the fantasy, already imagining herself whisked away in the long black car, up the elevator to the restaurant, sipping the golden bubbly drink. “And after dinner?”
    “Dancing. At this little jazz club I know where the lights are dimmed, music is low and sexy and there’s only enough room for me to hold you close. Very, very close.”
    Sam swallowed. Her heart raced, the sound thundering in her head. “That