from the sidelines, there was a chance he was fueled by another motivation altogether. Far from old...he was acting like a damn kid.
Backing up a step to adjust his aim, he cocked his arm and let the football fly.
Like in an ESPN highlight reel, the thing connected with the toy helicopter on the first try, earning cheers of admiration. And, because it had been so high up, the kids had time to run underneath the tree where the mouthy redhead caught it, scoring some of the victory for himself.
“Sorry about that.” Quinn jogged back to Sofia, who stood on the path under a halo of light from a cast-iron street lamp. He grabbed her bag and hitched it higher on his shoulder.
With her hooded cape and the snow falling all around her, she looked like some exotic character from one of her ballets. A Russian princess, maybe.
“You appeared to have performed that trick a few times before,” she observed.
“With two brothers? Of course. We got plenty of things caught in trees as kids. Kites were the worst to get down. By comparison, the helicopter was a piece of cake.” His warm breath lingered in the cool air, making it seem as though his words hung in the space between them. A gust of wind sent a slight chill through him. Glancing at Sofia, he noticed her hair was still wet.
“I can’t imagine what it would be like to have siblings.” The loneliness in her words was evident.
“Your bio doesn’t say much about your family.” He knew because he’d scoured it for details about her.
“In the past, I tried to keep my personal life and work life separate. Not that I have a lot of personal life to speak about.” She stared up at Tavern on the Green as they passed. The restaurant looked sort of otherworldly in the snowfall with the trees and white lights all around. “But my mother died when I was thirteen and I am not close with my father.”
“I’m sorry about your mother.” He took her hand for the dash across West Drive before they reached quieter roads through the middle of the park. “That must have been a really difficult age to lose a parent.”
He didn’t let go of her hand since her fingers were chilled. And because he wanted to touch her. Besides, they would be in the public eye again soon enough, where they would have to sell themselves as a loving couple.
As if she understood his motivations, she leaned into him and the spicy smell of her currant perfume wafted up to him. Hooking her arm through his, she drew closer.
“I was devastated. All the more so because my mother hated my father, which meant I hated him, too. Then, suddenly, after her death I was left with him.” Sofia pushed off her hood as they reached denser growth that limited how much snow fell on them. Maybe she’d just been looking for a reason to untwine their fingers. “To this day, I don’t know what drew the two of them together since he represented everything she despised. She called the privileged wealthy a ‘soulless culture.’”
“What about you?” Quinn wondered where that left him in her world view. “Do you agree with your mother?”
“Wait.” She turned around to look at the path they’d just traveled, tugging on his arm so they stood off the walkway to one side. “Let’s stop for a second and take it in.”
She didn’t have to explain what she meant. This part of the park was beautiful on any given day. But in a fresh snowfall, with the Tavern on the Green glowing from within and the tree trunks and branches draped in white lights, the view was like no other in the city. The snow dulled the sounds from the streets nearby, quieting rush hour to white noise.
Standing with Sofia at his side made it all the more appealing. The glow of the white lights reflected on her face.
“Beautiful.” His assessment, while simple, was heartfelt.
“But you know what my mother taught me about beauty?” Sofia asked, a mischievous light in her liquid silver eyes. “It is not a matter of just looking beautiful. It should surround us.” She held her hand out, palm up to catch snowflakes. “Feel special.” Inhaling deeply, she smiled with her eyes closed. “Have a unique scent when you breathe it in. And if you can catch it on your tongue, the taste will be beautiful, too.”
He watched, transfixed, as this aloof and disciplined dancer stuck her tongue out and tipped her head to the sky.
Another time, he might have laughed at her antics. But she seemed lost in a happy childhood memory, and he didn’t want to spoil it. Reaching for her hand full of snowflakes, he warmed her palm with his and peered upward through the white branches at the hint of stars beyond.
“You’re right.” He felt the beauty around him, that much was certain. But it had more to do with the slide of her damp fingers between his. With the tattoo of the pulse at her wrist that he felt on his palm.
“Did you catch one?” She lowered her chin to meet his gaze, her eyes still alight with a glow of happiness.
But she must have seen another expression reflected in his face because her smile faded.
“No.” He reached for her jaw to thumb a snowflake from her creamy cheek, her skin impossibly soft to the touch. Capturing her chin in his hand, he angled her lips for a taste. “But I’m about to.”
Transported by the snow, the city and the man, Sofia hadn’t been expecting the kiss, and maybe it was her total lack of defenses that let her feel the pleasure of it. She delighted in the warm pressure of his mouth in contrast to such a cold day. The soft abrasion of his chin where the new of growth of whiskers rubbed over her tender skin oversensitive from the wind. The gentle way he touched her face to steer her where he wanted, to better delve between her lips.
Answering his demand by stepping closer, craving the warmth of the man, Sofia lost herself.
Quinn’s kiss was the second act of Swan Lake. Or maybe Giselle. Or maybe it was every romantic moment she’d ever danced and never felt deeply until this moment. She squeezed his hand where he’d entwined their fingers, enjoying the way her body fit against him. They weren’t like two dancers with bodies that complemented one another. But like a man possessing a woman, lending her his strength so she didn’t have to draw from her own.
It was a moment of heaven.
When he slowly pulled away from her and she felt the snowflakes fall on her skin again now that he did not completely shelter her, the cool ping of the tiny drops urged her out of her romantic swoon. And no doubt about it, she stood in Central Park swooning on her feet for a man she’d met the day before.
“Quinn, we have a lot of work we should be doing.” She blurted the words with no segue and zero grace. “If we want to get that press release out on time, that is.”
Untangling her fingers from his, she brushed by him to continue walking...east? Her brain scrambled to regain thought. Yes, east. What on earth had gotten into her? Had that kiss been part of the role he seemed determined to play for her? Or had he truly felt inspired to kiss her?
“You’re right.” Quinn didn’t need to walk fast to keep up with her as she practically jogged through the park. His longer strides ate up the ground easily. As he glanced at her, the light reflected devilishly
