at him, coming out of her hurt, looking surprised to find him holding up her wool coat. “I don’t know,” she said, slipping her arms into the sleeves. “I rarely come downtown or to the harbor.”
“That’s okay.” He hastily shrugged into his coat. “I know where there’s a party.”
Her hands shook as she slid on her gloves. He pulled on his own, and then took her hand. They hurried through the swarm of revelers, some still wearing the silly paper hats the hotel had provided. He wondered how many other hearts had been broken at the stroke of midnight.
The second they were out in the cold, Rick pulled her closer. It was freezing, and there was a huge line of people waiting for taxis, so the train it was. Luckily, it was just across the street.
Inside the terminal the mood was festive despite the terrible smell of overindulgence, but Jenna started shrinking again.
“All right,” he said. “I’m whipping out a cliché, but only because when you mentioned you were a teacher, you lit up. What’s your favorite book?”
The question appeared to win over her despair, and she surprised him with the smile he’d figured was a lost cause. “I do light up, don’t I?” she said. “I know it’s not glamorous, but I love turning the kids on to the magic of books. I honestly believe that being a reader changes lives for the better.”
Oh, yeah. This was more like it. “I agree. But you’re not getting out of answering my question.”
“I get asked that a lot, but I never know what to say. I don’t have a favorite. I learned how to read when I was four. My favorite back then was an alphabet book.”
“How about when you were...fifteen. When the hormones kicked in.”
Their train pulled up, and they scurried into the car, not even minding that they had to stand. “Let’s see if I can remember. Um—” she lowered her lashes for a moment and he fought the urge to wipe away the traces of her tears “—okay, it was All-American Girl by Meg Cabot.”
“Mine, too.”
She laughed.
He wanted to kiss her. And punch Payton into next week.
The moment they’d reached Copley Square, something changed. The light that had sparkled in her seconds ago had dimmed. Rick led her to a shadowed corner. He stared into her sad, confused eyes as he shoved his gloves into his coat pocket. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said and used his thumb to wipe the damp tracks from her cheeks.
She sniffed, but she didn’t make a move. “It wasn’t you. God, every time I think of how he—” A shudder shook her body. “I’ve already picked out my wedding dress.”
“I have no idea what he was thinking. Anyone who could cheat on you is an idiot.”
Jenna tried to smile. “If you were in my class you’d get an A for effort.”
“Nah, I would’ve already flunked out.” Rick grinned at her raised brows. “Too hot for teacher.”
“Faith is the idiot,” Jenna said with a soft laugh, and leaned closer.
Or maybe they both did. He wasn’t going to kiss her, even though he wanted to. But he wouldn’t object at all if she kissed him.
She brushed her lips across his and whispered, “Thank you.”
He caught her elbows and pulled her even closer. She came willingly, her lips parted, her warm breath an invitation he couldn’t refuse.
Everything else dimmed. The noise, the lights, the crowd. They were back to that space, that separate reality. From strangers to this in a single hour.
“Son of a bitch.”
The man’s voice was low and angry. “That’s my spot you’re using. Don’t you be messing up my spot with your nasty business.”
Although he was big and held a large black case that would make an impressive weapon, he looked pissed off, not scary. “Sorry, man,” Rick said. “Wouldn’t dream of trespassing.”
With his arm around Jenna, he walked them out to the edge of the flow of traffic. It must have been the right spot because the busker was pulling a sax from the case, which he left open for tips.
Jenna was frowning into her purse just as Rick pulled out his wallet. “Everything okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Tiny purses don’t hold much, especially cash on New Year’s Eve.
“I’ve got it covered.”
The music began, jazz, just loud enough and easy, that even the really drunk wouldn’t have a problem with it. He left Jenna’s side for a moment to drop a twenty into the case. When the busker paused, Rick said, “If you can play something to dance to, that’ll double.”
There was no way to tell if the saxophone player would go for it. But the moment Rick reached Jenna, the music segued perfectly into an old Gershwin song, “Embraceable You,” which was one of the best slow-dancing songs ever.
Rick pulled Jenna close, already moving his feet to the music.
“What are you doing?”
“Dancing. In the subway. On New Year’s Day.”
“No, wait,” Jenna said, her words riding a laugh. “I’m a terrible dancer.”
“Nope. Sorry. That excuse is for other nights, other subway stations.”
“That’s fine, but I’d have to be a lot drunker than I am now. So let’s just stop and listen to the nice man’s saxophone.”
Rick moved them into a shadow as other people stopped to listen. It was mostly an older crowd, but that was cool. No one was watching them, though, as he reached inside his coat pocket and brought out two miniature bottles of vodka. He snuck them into her peripheral vision and she barked out such a big laugh people did look. But Rick didn’t care. “Drink up,” he said.
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “I really want to dance with you.”
“But we’re—” Jenna looked around as if there were plainclothes cops on the lookout for tiny booze.
“You know what? It’s fine.” He smiled. “We can just go upstairs—”
She plucked one of the bottles from his hand seconds before it would have disappeared in his pocket. Grinning like crazy, she took off her gloves, opened the bottle, lifted it in a silent salute and chugged that sucker down like a pro.
Then she coughed for almost a minute.
By the time she lifted her arms in the traditional slowdance posture, the song had ended. He decided he liked the new one just as much, even though he didn’t recognize it.
They stayed low-key. There were no grand sweeping moves as they danced close, away from the people rushing by. Considering where they were and how many
