once dusk fell the whole town would light up, a dazzling, golden winter wonderland of crystal and light.
The rink was busy and it took a while before they could pay and order their skates. The boots were tight and stiff, unfamiliar on his feet, a reminder as he awkwardly stood up just how long it was since he had last been skating. Judging by Flora’s awkward gait, she felt the same way. Gingerly they walked, stiff-legged and heavy-footed, to the wide entrance and peered at the whirling crowd. Even the toddlers seemed to have a professional air as they flew round and round, their mittened hands clasped behind their backs.
Alex grimaced. ‘I’m not sure about that backward race; right now just going forwards feels like it might be a struggle.’
Flora slid her foot forward, wobbling like a fawn who had only just found her feet, her arms windmilling madly as she found her balance. ‘Come on, we just need to find our feet. It’ll be fine. I used to be able to dance on the ice.’
‘Synchronised moves to pop. It wasn’t exactly figure skating,’ he pointed out as he put a tentative toe on the white surface, his eyes following a slight figure who did seem to be practising figure skating as she looped elegant circles round and round. ‘I don’t think we ever got to Austrian standards.’
Flora slid out another cautious foot and then another, a smile playing around her mouth as she began to pick up speed. ‘Speak for yourself! You should have spent more time skating, less time being the local Casanova,’ she yelled over her shoulder as she struck out for the centre of the rectangular rink.
Alex took a quick look around. On the far side the tented café was open to the rink and filled with cheerful onlookers clutching hot drinks and waving at family members as they skated close. At both ends spectators paused in their shopping to watch the sport. Christmas music blared from speakers and a giant, lit-up Christmas tree occupied the very centre of the rink.
He could stay here, clinging to the handrail, or he could venture out. Come on, he used to spend every weekend doing this. His body must remember the moves. Grimly he let go and began to move.
That was it, knees bent, body weight forward, letting the blades cut at an angle and propel him forward. The air chilled on his face as he got up some speed, the rest of his body warming with the exertion. Where was Flora? Squinting through a gang of teens, arms locked as they swung round in matching step, he saw her, weaving nimbly in and out of the other skaters. He’d always liked to watch her on the ice. She lost all self-consciousness, graceful as she pirouetted around.
She saw him and skated an elegant figure of eight, the ice swishing under her skates as she pulled up alongside him.
‘Hey.’ She smiled at him, any trace of reserve gone in the wide beam. ‘This is brilliant. Why don’t we do this any more?’
‘Because we’re not sixteen?’
‘That’s a rubbish reason. Look, there are plenty of people here way older than us.’
‘And way younger.’ Alex nodded towards one of the toddler prodigies and Flora laughed.
‘He must have been born with skates on. Come on, let’s go faster...’
She grabbed his hand and struck out and with a shout of alarm mixed with exultation he joined her, their gloved hands entwined, their bodies moving in swift, perfect synchronicity as they whirled faster and faster and faster round and round and round. All he could hear was his blood pumping in his ears, the roar of the wind and the beat of the music; colours swirled together as they moved past, through and round other groups until someone’s foot, he wasn’t sure whose, slipped and they crashed together, a sliding, flailing, unbalancing. Somehow he managed to grab hold of Flora and steady her before she fell completely onto the ice and they backed carefully to the side, holding onto each other, laughing.
‘That was brilliant.’ Her eyes shone, her cheeks were pink with exertion and her breath came in pants. She had never looked more magnificent, like some winter naiad glorying in the ice.
‘Yes.’ He wanted to say more but all the words had gone. All he could see were her long lashes, tipped with snow, her wide laughing mouth, a mouth made for kissing. All he could feel was her softness, nestled in next to him.
He had held her before, stood this close to her before. If he was honest he had wanted her before. But he’d hidden it, even from himself, every single time before. It was as if yesterday’s kiss had opened the gates, shown him the forbidden fruit concealed behind them and now that he had tasted he wasn’t sure he could ever stop craving.
It was a bad idea. But God help him he’d forgotten why. And when she looked at him like that, tentative, hopeful, naked desire blazing from those dark, dark eyes, he was utterly undone.
It was a bad idea. But Alex pushed that thought away as the air stilled, as the beat of the music faded away replaced with the thrum of need beating its own time through his veins, through his blood. He stood, drinking her in like a dying man at an oasis. All he had to do was bend his head...
He paused, allowing the intoxicating possibility to fill him—and then he stood back. ‘Come on.’ His voice was rough, rasping like yesterday’s beard. ‘We need to get back.’
It was a bad idea. If only it didn’t feel so wickedly, seductively good. If only doing the right thing didn’t rip his heart right out of his chest.
He turned and skated away. And didn’t look back once.
* * *
He’d nearly kissed her. She knew it completely. She’d seen it as his eyes had darkened to a stormy grey, as his breath had hitched and a muscle had pulsed on his cheek. She’d felt it as his arm had tightened around her shoulders, as her body had swayed into his. She hadn’t thrown herself at him; she couldn’t blame the schnapps, not this time.
No, Alex Fitzgerald had looked at her as if she were his last hope.
Of course, then he had turned and skated away as if all the Furies were chasing him down, but still. They had had a definite moment.
Which was pretty inconvenient because hadn’t she vowed that this was it and she was going to Get Over Him no matter what? And then he had to go and look at her like that and all her good intentions were trampled into the ground like yesterday’s snowfall.
Because that look went beyond mere lust. It did. It wasn’t just wishful thinking. No, she had felt it penetrate right through to the core of her.
Flora sighed and nudged the hot tap with her foot and let another fall of steaming water into the tub. It felt decadently wrong to lie naked in the middle of such a big room, wearing just hot water and scented oils. The view from the bathtub might be incredible but it seemed, a little disconcertingly, as if she were bathing right outside in the middle of a mountain glade.
Still, it was pretty relaxing—as long as Alex stuck to his timetable and didn’t walk back in.
What if he did? Would he look like that again or would he back away terrified again?
Something was going on. I need answers, she decided, allowing herself to slip deep into the hot, almost to the point of discomfort, luxuriantly smelling water. She couldn’t go on like this.
It was one thing thinking he was indifferent; horrid to think he was repulsed. But now? She had no idea. It was as if she were sixteen again. His face had that same
