“You okay?”
Waving away his concern, she straightened up. “I pulled something landing that jump. Told you I was out of practice.” She looked over her shoulder then met his smile again, her ponytail slicing through the air. “So, skating tips. See how I’m standing? Copy what I’m doing. Avoid hunching forward or leaning back, keep your weight on the balls of your feet. Your toes should be slightly pointed out—like this.”
Tarquin peered at her skates and adjusted his accordingly.
“And bend your knees a bit. It’ll help with balance.”
“Soft knees, just like skateboarding,” he said.
“Exactly! Your arms, though—relax them by your sides and keep your head up. You’ll be tempted to watch your feet, but don’t. You need to be aware of where you’re going so you don’t crash.”
“Been there, got several t-shirts.” He groaned and rubbed his hip.
Leia grimaced. “Well, tell me if I’m going too fast or if you want to stop. I promise, I won’t let you fall.” A swoop of red, white, and black—her left mitt—curled tight around his right glove.
Yes! Get in! He softly squeezed her hand as the nasally whine of Oasis gave way to the frisky sixties nostalgia of “Help Yourself” by Tom Jones, all beckoning brass and toe-tapping tempo. Ah! If Leia listens to the lyrics, tries them on for size, I’ll be one happy bloke.
She tilted her head with a squint. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Brilliant! It’s just this song, it’s a classic…” He bit back his grin and swung her hand. “So, left skate first?”
“Sure. Let’s push off with the left, then right. But just small strokes to start.” She blinked up at him. “You ready?”
“Are you?” Tarquin exhaled into a laugh, sending a warm cloud of breath into the air. “This isn’t what you signed up for. I really should’ve told you I can’t skate.” But I really wanted to see you again.
“And I shouldn’t have assumed you could.” She scraped a toe pick along the ice. “But we’re all laced up and ready to rock, so let’s make Ava proud of Uncle Talk, ’kay?”
Aw, she’d love you. He grinned. “Let’s smash it.”
Hand in hand, they moved forward together. Leia’s strokes were slow and graceful while Tarquin’s drifted toward choppy and impatient. She encouraged him along the way, but a full-on conversation was put on ice as he concentrated. Left foot glide, right foot glide, left foot glide…
Halfway around the large rink, Leia beamed. “You’re doing great! How does it feel?”
“Uh, good.” Actually, these boots are rubbing my toes all to hell. It’s blister city down there. He kept his chin up, fighting the impulse to eyeball his skates.
“Great!” She squeezed his hand. “Try to glide more than step. See what I’m doing?”
He studied her feet, easily stroking beneath her. Coping her movements, he looked up, gawking at the blue and pink spotlights washing over Somerset House’s majestic white façade.
A few wobbles, desperate hand squeezes, and one lesson in stopping later, and Tarquin’s strokes were becoming less jerky and more fluid, his confidence growing with each completed lap.
This is fun! He grinned at the slightly brown but still sparkly Christmas tree, at little kids zooming past at twice his speed, but most of all, he grinned at Leia by his side, hand in hand. She’s so patient. And she’s athletic as fuck—such a turn-on.
Leia ogled Somerset House and bobbed her head to an Adele track, her smile in no hurry to leave. “This place is so pretty. The website doesn’t do it justice.”
“Yeah, they do a grand job.” Oh, shit—yeah. She had a job thing yesterday. “Hey, speaking of, how’d the interview go?”
“Good—I think. It was hard to tell.”
I hope it went well, but I also hope it didn’t. A tightness clenched his chest. Maybe she’d stay here if there’s bugger all to go home to? He cleared his throat. “Yeah, especially over Skype.”
Leia nodded. “My boss was wonderful, but the HR person frowned the entire time. He knows of me, but—” She cut herself off. “I just hope I gave good interview. A coworker texted me last night and said the daughter of the editor of Vogue applied. I don’t know, it might be too steep a hill for someone like me to climb.”
“What’s with the ‘someone like you’?” Rounding a corner, Tarquin dipped his chin, checking out his skates, then looked up again. “Leia, you’re an amazing candidate. You’re friendly and smart, good on paper, too—your master’s and experience scream ‘Hire me!’. I know I would.”
A grin met her