“What would you do?” I hurried to ask, hoping to shift the focus away from me.
Her face brightened as she leaned forward. “I wouldchoose to be a football player if I was going to be a professional athlete, and as for the Olympics, swimming for sure.” She didn’t even hesitate with her answer.
Was she always this sure of herself? I felt like I was always second-guessing everything, outside of hockey.
“Football?” I repeated, unable to stop my nose from scrunching in obvious disapproval. Why America was so fascinated by football and not hockey was beyond me.
She caught the expression immediately, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at me. “What’s wrong with football?”
Shoot. As a “non-hockey player,” I shouldn’t have had such a strong reaction.
“Uh, nothing. I just didn’t expect you to say football,” I said quickly, forcing a casual shrug.
“It’s just a wish, a fantasy.” She waved a hand in the air, then grinned. “And in my fantasy, I’m an amazing wide receiver.”
Picturing her in football pads had me smiling at her answer. Of course she wanted to play football. Why not?
“Did you choose figure skating because you actually can figure skate?” she asked, tilting her head with curiosity.
“No, but I did pick it because I can skate.”
She laughed, a light, airy sound that made my chest feel strangely tight. “You’re so literal.” Then she let out a sigh, leaning back. “Which is probably better than being like me. I always have my head in the clouds.”
I was about to ask her what she meant by that whenour food was placed in front of us, effectively disrupting our conversation.
“Ooh, I have another question,” she said excitedly as she picked up her fork.
I had a hunch she never ran out of things to talk about, and I found it was already becoming one of my favorite things about her. If you could have favorite things about someone you just met.
And so, for the rest of our meal we continued to ask questions, getting to know each other in a different way than I had ever done before. Her questions and easygoing personality helped me loosen up so I didn’t feel so rigid.
When we’d finished eating, we gathered our coats, standing as she put her camera bag across her body.
“Thank you for the food and for introducing me to linner,” I said with a smile.
“I’m glad you now know the greatness of a good linner,” she smiled back. “And thank you again for saving me.”
“Glad I was in the right place at the right time.”
I didn’t hear Belle’s reply as movement from behind her caught my eye. Two men at the bar were whispering and pointing at me. They must have been wondering if I was really Holden Prescott, and for some reason I still didn’t want Belle to know who I was. We’d had an amazing time together, and I wanted it to remain exactly this way in my memory. Just two strangers who had randomly met and enjoyed a meal together.
I searched the restaurant for a way to hide or escape.Christmas decorations dripped from every available surface, and when my eyes landed on some nearby mistletoe hanging from an archway, I took the chance without another thought.
Grabbing Belle by the arm I tugged her the few feet we needed to be directly under the mistletoe. They wouldn’t interrupt me if I was in the middle of kissing a woman, right?
Belle looked surprised by my sudden movements. I glanced up at the mistletoe, her gaze following mine. When her eyes returned to mine, they widened. That was the only warning I gave her before pulling her body close and pressing my mouth against hers.
Her body froze in my arms but quickly loosened as her arms crept around my neck, her lips catching up to mine.
I had meant for the kiss to be brief, a way to keep some possible fans from being able to identify me or—worse—come over to meet me. But as soon as my lips had touched Belle’s, all thoughts of anyone else disappeared. She was warm and soft, and I wondered if I’d ever experienced a kiss quite like this before as our mouths melded together in a perfect fit.
The longer we kissed, the more I knew the answer was definitely no.
Even with our coats on, the heat between us seemed to burn through me. My hand snaked up her back, finally reaching the strands of her silky hair before landing on the side of her neck.
A rational part of my brain was telling me to stop orat least slow things down, that I was kissing a woman I had met mere hours ago and to whom I hadn’t given a fair chance to say no or stop me from kissing her. But if the way she was responding was any indication of how much she was enjoying herself, I assumed she was enjoying and wanting this kiss as much as I was.
But still, we were in a public restaurant.
