Jennifer Labrecque - His Christmas Fantasy

“Yeah. Hot in the summer, cold in the winter.”

“Very funny.” Amusement sparkled in her eyes and he knew a moment of intense satisfaction that he’d been responsible for putting it there.

Wind gusted through the canyon and buffeted the SUV. “And windy.”

“Obviously you’re not channeling the pioneering spirit.”

He grinned at her dry wit, one of the things he’d liked so much about her from the beginning. “’Fraid not.”

“So you had some ideas you wanted to bounce around on the article?”

He might’ve railroaded his way into this assignment, but they still needed to be on the same page with the article. When a writer and a photographer “spoke” at cross-purposes it resulted in substandard work. Sam didn’t do substandard.

He’d resolved as a kid that if people wanted to slap a label on him, he’d make damn sure that label was Excellence. He demanded it of himself and expected it from others, as well.

“So, the way I understand it from your outline, there’s an urban legend taking shape that couples who show up at this particular vortex on the third day after the winter solstice fall in love.”

“There’s a little more to it than that, but that’s the gist of it. You don’t actually have to be a couple. Singles apparently show up there,” she shrugged, “and sometimes the magic works and sometimes it doesn’t.”

“Sounds like the power of suggestion to me. It’s hard to believe someone falls in love because of winter solstice at a Sedona vortex. That just seems like a lot of hocus-pocus, but I’ll still be glad to take photos.”

“So you don’t believe in magic?”

He leaned into the space between them, narrowing the distance. He caught another whiff of her perfume. If scents were translated to pictures, this one evoked a dark, erotic blend of swirls and curves in shades of ruby red and purple against a blanket of yellow-gold. Complex and evocative beneath the surface. It suited her. “Do you believe in magic?”

“I trust you’re a better photographer than you are interviewer.”

He chuckled. “Am I interviewing you?”

“If you were, you’d be doing a lousy job. You’re obviously biased.”

“And you’re hedging.” 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.

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