A Christmas Spark by Diana Biller

Author:Diana Biller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

* * *

Three days later, Winn caused a small explosion.

It was actually the third such incident. Fortunately, the first two had occurred while John—Mr. Moore—was away from the laboratory, and she’d been able to conceal the evidence.

Unfortunately, this one had not.

In her defense, he really was the most forgetful thing, and he kept just leaving the most outrageously interesting materials about. Also, she was trying to make him a Christmas present. Finally, he was supposed to be at a meeting. How was she supposed to predict that he would return early because he’d wanted to bring her a slice of the pie he’d had with the meal?

It really was only a small explosion. Tiny, even. Possibly one would not even call it an explosion. An interesting and enthusiastic reaction. Certainly, it did not warrant what had happened next, which was John Moore rushing into the lab, seizing her in his arms, and carrying her out of the room.

Now, Winn was not saying she had not enjoyed the seizing. It also had produced an interesting and enthusiastic reaction.

She had given up telling herself not to react to him. It was unreasonable. He was so strong—he’d plucked her up, not at all as if she weighed nothing but as if she were the most precious human he’d ever carried—and it turned out his shoulders were as magnificent to touch as they were to look at, and if for a moment she had melted dramatically against him to enjoy the feeling of his broad, broad chest, well, she was only mortal.

Now, though, she was paying for her moment of weakness, sitting out on the front porch with her coat and three blankets draped on top of her, a cup of perfectly-brewed tea in her hands (how on earth did he get it tasting so good?), while John “made sure it was safe to re-enter.”

And she’d been doing so well up to this point. Yes, there had been some ordering mishaps related to using the margins of the ordering form to take notes on Dalton’s theory of relative atomic mass; and the embarrassing procreation conversation; and she had new tea-related concerns, but she’d kept the explosions and the two small (practically miniature!) fires secret, and she knew she was helping him in his work.

This, though…

She heard his heavy stride on the boards behind her, and then he sat next to her. “It’s alright to go back in,” he said, resettling the blankets on her shoulders. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“I told you, I’m fine,” she said.

He frowned at her. It was really terribly attractive. “You were quite limp when I was carrying you out earlier. Like you might faint.”

Winn cleared her throat. “I was merely surprised,” she said. “You startled me.”

He continued to frown at her.

“I—I’m so sorry,” she said. “About the accident.”

“Yes,” he said. “What happened?”

Ah, this question. He had every right to ask it. It was his lab after all.

She didn’t want to answer.

“I’m not sure,” she lied. “I must have accidentally combined something.

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