magical.’ And he didn’t just mean the skating rink. He meant kissing her.
* * *
It was the first time a man had kissed her in three years.
It should have sent Carissa running straight for cover.
Yet there had been nothing demanding and angry about Quinn’s mouth. His kiss had been gentle and sweet—asking rather than demanding, and soft rather than punishing.
And right now he looked as shocked as she felt.
Swept off her feet.
This is magical.
The words echoed through her head. The way his mouth had made her lips tingle. The Christmas-tree lights and the scent of hot chocolate. The Christmassy music playing.
Yes, this was magical.
Unable to help herself, she reached up to lay the flat of her palm against his cheek.
Her glove was butter-soft leather, incredibly thin and pliant—and it was very much an unwanted barrier between his skin and hers. She wanted to touch him. Needed to touch him. Needed him to kiss her again.
‘Quinn,’ she whispered, and he dipped his head again. Brushed his mouth against hers all over again. And she was shaking so much that she had to hold on to him to stop herself falling over on the ice. She felt as if she were spinning in an endless pirouette, faster and faster and totally out of control.
This had to stop.
And yet she didn’t want it to stop. She wanted him to keep kissing her like this, with his arms wrapped round her—cradling her, cherishing her, keeping her warm and close.
Another skater bumped into them, but somehow Quinn managed to keep them both upright. And, even though Carissa was the more experienced skater of the two of them, it was Quinn who got her back to the edge of the rink, to the area where they could take their skates off.
He didn’t look at her as he removed his skates and changed back into his shoes. And Carissa knew that it was going to be hideously awkward between them now.
What an idiot she’d been.
Why hadn’t she just pulled away? Why had she even made this ridiculous bet with him in the first place? Why couldn’t she just have commissioned him to work on the virtual Santa project and left it at that?
She realised that he was looking at her, as if he’d been speaking and was waiting for her to reply.
‘Sorry, I was miles away—I missed what you said,’ she admitted, avoiding his gaze.
‘I said I believe I owe you a hot chocolate and a cinnamon pretzel.’
Ah. So that was the way he was going to play it. Pretend that the moment on the ice had never happened. OK. That worked for her. Because the alternative right now was way too scary to contemplate.
She put on her brightest smile. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you so much.’
He didn’t say much while they queued for their drink and their food. He waited until they were walking along the Embankment, watching the reflected lights sparkle on the surface of the Thames, before saying, ‘Now tell me about Project Sparkle.’
She almost dropped her hot chocolate. He was still thinking about that?
‘I know it exists, and I know you’re behind it,’ he said. ‘So it’s a bit pointless to keep trying to deny it.’
She couldn’t argue with that. And he clearly wasn’t going to give up until she told him. ‘Can I ask you to keep this as confidential as you keep your other work?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, I can ask you, or, yes, you’ll keep it confidential?’ Being a lawyer, she was aware of the ambiguity. She couldn’t afford any ambiguity right now. Not over this.
‘Both,’ he said.
‘OK.’ She blew out a breath. ‘Project Sparkle... It’s about making a difference.’
‘So you’re not actually a lawyer, then?’
‘I’m a qualified solicitor and I work in a practice specialising in contract law,’ she corrected. ‘But I job-share my role with a colleague who has two young children. It suits us both. She gets to spend time with her kids, and I get time to run Project Sparkle.’
‘That’s what’s behind the virtual Santa?’
She nodded. ‘But not the
* * *
It was the first time a man had kissed her in three years.
It should have sent Carissa running straight for cover.
Yet there had been nothing demanding and angry about Quinn’s mouth. His kiss had been gentle and sweet—asking rather than demanding, and soft rather than punishing.
And right now he looked as shocked as she felt.
Swept off her feet.
This is magical.
The words echoed through her head. The way his mouth had made her lips tingle. The Christmas-tree lights and the scent of hot chocolate. The Christmassy music playing.
Yes, this was magical.
Unable to help herself, she reached up to lay the flat of her palm against his cheek.
Her glove was butter-soft leather, incredibly thin and pliant—and it was very much an unwanted barrier between his skin and hers. She wanted to touch him. Needed to touch him. Needed him to kiss her again.
‘Quinn,’ she whispered, and he dipped his head again. Brushed his mouth against hers all over again. And she was shaking so much that she had to hold on to him to stop herself falling over on the ice. She felt as if she were spinning in an endless pirouette, faster and faster and totally out of control.
This had to stop.
And yet she didn’t want it to stop. She wanted him to keep kissing her like this, with his arms wrapped round her—cradling her, cherishing her, keeping her warm and close.
Another skater bumped into them, but somehow Quinn managed to keep them both upright. And, even though Carissa was the more experienced skater of the two of them, it was Quinn who got her back to the edge of the rink, to the area where they could take their skates off.
He didn’t look at her as he removed his skates and changed back into his shoes. And Carissa knew that it was going to be hideously awkward between them now.
What an idiot she’d been.
Why hadn’t she just pulled away? Why had she even made this ridiculous bet with him in the first place? Why couldn’t she just have commissioned him to work on the virtual Santa project and left it at that?
She realised that he was looking at her, as if he’d been speaking and was waiting for her to reply.
‘Sorry, I was miles away—I missed what you said,’ she admitted, avoiding his gaze.
‘I said I believe I owe you a hot chocolate and a cinnamon pretzel.’
Ah. So that was the way he was going to play it. Pretend that the moment on the ice had never happened. OK. That worked for her. Because the alternative right now was way too scary to contemplate.
She put on her brightest smile. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you so much.’
He didn’t say much while they queued for their drink and their food. He waited until they were walking along the Embankment, watching the reflected lights sparkle on the surface of the Thames, before saying, ‘Now tell me about Project Sparkle.’
She almost dropped her hot chocolate. He was still thinking about that?
‘I know it exists, and I know you’re behind it,’ he said. ‘So it’s a bit pointless to keep trying to deny it.’
She couldn’t argue with that. And he clearly wasn’t going to give up until she told him. ‘Can I ask you to keep this as confidential as you keep your other work?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, I can ask you, or, yes, you’ll keep it confidential?’ Being a lawyer, she was aware of the ambiguity. She couldn’t afford any ambiguity right now. Not over this.
‘Both,’ he said.
‘OK.’ She blew out a breath. ‘Project Sparkle... It’s about making a difference.’
‘So you’re not actually a lawyer, then?’
‘I’m a qualified solicitor and I work in a practice specialising in contract law,’ she corrected. ‘But I job-share my role with a colleague who has two young children. It suits us both. She gets to spend time with her kids, and I get time to run Project Sparkle.’
‘That’s what’s behind the virtual Santa?’
She nodded. ‘But not the
Similar Books
