Kate Hardy - Mistletoe Proposal On The Children's Ward / Taming Her Hollywood Playboy

He just needed to concentrate on his footwork and the music. So far, he’d been lucky and they hadn’t played That Song. Hopefully they’d already played it enough times earlier in the evening. Two more songs, and he’d suggest they get hot chocolate and leave.

Anna knew she was really making an idiot of herself. Fancy almost falling at Jamie’s feet, like the poor little boy who’d slipped over earlier.

And then, when he’d grabbed her to steady her, it had felt as if she’d been galvanised.

Propinquity, that was what it was. Or maybe the bright lights dazzling her, the magical feel of the skating rink taking her out of the real world and letting her see the possibilities. Tempting her to do something that really wouldn’t be sensible in real life.

For a moment, she’d found herself staring at his mouth and wondering what it would be like if he kissed her. How soft and teasing and inviting his mouth would be. How it would feel to have his arms wrapped round her, holding her close to him.

But that wasn’t the deal.

She was supposed to be making him feel better about Christmas, showing him the good side of the season and taking the sting out of whatever had hurt him in the past, not flinging herself at the poor man and embarrassing both of them. He’d made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t in the market for a relationship, and neither was she. She needed to focus on skating. Skating, not kissing. She repeated the mantra to herself half a dozen times, hoping that somehow it would stick in her head. Skating, not kissing. Skating, not kissing…

But all the time she found herself very aware of him. The space he took up. His height. His dark good looks, those gorgeous cornflower-blue eyes, that shy and so-rare smile.

Get a grip, Anna, she told herself crossly. This isn’t a date. Stop thinking about the what-ifs, because there aren’t any.

Two more songs and they’d leave.

They went round and round the skating rink, and she couldn’t help noticing how the other couples there were skating hand in hand, how the more confident ones stopped and spun their partner round into their arms and kissed them despite no mistletoe being in evidence.

She wasn’t meant to be noticing the kissing.

Concentrate on the skating, she told herself fiercely. Even if it was driving her slightly crazy.

Maybe she needed some hot chocolate, a sugar rush to stop her thinking about the sweetness of his mouth. So, when the second song ended, she said, ‘I’m done. Time for hot chocolate, I think.’

‘Great idea,’ he said.

Except, when they were in the queue, someone bumped into them and Jamie ended up with his arms around her to protect her.

And all of a sudden there wasn’t enough air. Despite the fact that they were outside and had the whole of London around them, there just wasn’t enough air to suck into her lungs.

She made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and it looked as if it was the same for him because his pupils were absolutely enormous.

It isn’t because of you, she told herself sharply. It’s a physiological reaction to a low light area, that’s all.

Except the lights weren’t really that low. It was actually really, really bright in the courtyard, so anatomically speaking his pupils should be tiny.

The fact that they weren’t made her heart skip a beat.

Was he going to kiss her?

On the skating rink, it would’ve been much too dangerous. Too easy for either or both of them to slip and fall. But here—here, they were on solid, unslippery ground.

Except it felt way more slippery than the rink.

If he kissed her, and she kissed him back… What then?

Right at that moment, she couldn’t move. They were in the queue, pressed together, with his arms around her and his face really close to hers. Had she been five inches shorter, it wouldn’t have been an issue. But their lips were well within kissing distance, and Anna really didn’t know what to do.

It was the first time she’d actually wanted to kiss anyone since Johnny.

And, OK, she knew that kissing didn’t necessarily mean anything. But she had a nasty feeling that, if she let him, Jamie Thurston could steal her heart. And she dared not risk that. It had taken her too long to put herself back together after Johnny. She wasn’t looking for another relationship. Not even a temporary fling. Anna Maskell wasn’t a fling kind of girl.

How could she move out of his arms without making a fuss and embarrassing both of them? Worse still, would he guess that she was moving away from him precisely because she wanted him to kiss her and this whole thing was driving her crazy?

She was saved by the waitress at the hatch asking, ‘What can I get you?’

The people in front of them took their own drinks from the counter and left, giving her space to move away from Jamie, and he said, ‘Two hot chocolates, please.’ He sounded cool and calm, not as if they’d been seconds away from kissing each other dizzy in public .

The space helped, but it wasn’t quite enough to stop Anna feeling like a teenager standing next to her crush at a high school disco. And she wasn’t wearing ice skates any more, so she couldn’t use her skating, not kissing mantra.

Somehow she managed to make light, fluffy conversation about skating and Christmas trees and decorations while they sat on one of the benches and drank their hot chocolate and watched the skaters, and then they headed back to Muswell Hill. The tube was too noisy for them to talk, giving her time to think, and on the way home Anna came to a decision. She knew how to neutralise the attraction now: she’d treat him in exactly the same way that she did her other male friends, so at the station she’d kiss him on the cheek, smile and say goodbye.

Except then Jamie offered to walk her home. She thought it would be a bit churlish to refuse, given that they were going the same way.

At her garden gate, she took a deep breath. Polite, she reminded herself. Pretend he’s just like any other male colleague. ‘You’re very welcome to come in for a coffee or a glass of wine or something.’

Something? Oh, no. Please don’t let him interpret that as her being like a teenager and talking in code for ‘come in and snog me witless’.

To her relief—mingled with disappointment, if she was honest with herself—he said, ‘Thanks, but I’d better be going.’

‘OK. Thanks for coming skating tonight.’ She paused. ‘I hope it wasn’t too difficult.’ This whole thing was meant to be about helping him, not about her making a fool of herself and starting to want things she couldn’t have.

‘No. It was fun.’ He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected to enjoy it. ‘Thank you for organising it.’

‘No problem. See you at work tomorrow.’ She stepped forward, intending to kiss him on the cheek; but somehow everything got a bit tangled and she ended up kissing him on the mouth instead. And her lips tingled, every nerve-end reacting to the touch of his skin.

Anna Maskell had a huge heart. She was warm and affectionate, the sort of person who kissed everyone, and it didn’t mean anything, Jamie reminded himself.

Except he’d messed it up and, instead of kissing him on the cheek the way she’d obviously intended to, she’d kissed his mouth. And it was as if someone had just lit touchpaper and blown up some of the walls he’d built over the last three years, letting him feel again.

Dared he let himself want this? Dared he risk his heart with Anna?