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“You’re freezing,” Theo says, when my teeth start to chatter.

“I’m not the one who spent last night sleeping on the sidewalk,” I point out.

He takes my hands between his, rubbing them to give them some heat. At least that’s what I think he’s doing. Either way, the physical contact makes my heart tighten. Then he pulls me along the sidewalk.

“Where are we going?” I ask, as he leads me down the street.

“Somewhere warm.”

We walk another block before he stops outside one of the grand old hotels along the edge of the park. Gold lights glow through the tall windows, and inside I can see a huge Christmas tree stretching toward the ceiling.

Theo glances up at the building then smiles at me. “I have a weakness for hotels. Want to come in with me?”

“Yes,” I agree. “I would.”

Inside the hotel it’s warm and softly lit. The scent of pine and cinnamon fills the air, and somewhere across the lobby a pianist is playing a slow, familiar Christmas melody.

The Maître d’ welcomes us at the crowded restaurant right off the lobby. A couple of murmured words from Theo and we’re seated at a table for two near the piano, the soft music drifting across the room as waiters move between tables carrying plates of food and glasses of wine.

For the first time all day we’re sitting still. And suddenly I’m very aware of him. The way his eyes keep finding mine across the table. How his hand brushes mine when he passes me the menu.

“Do you ever think about playing professionally again?” I ask him once we’ve ordered, because the music reminds me of the first night we met. When I thought playing piano was his job.

Theo watches the pianist’s hands move across the keys.

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“Then maybe you should,” I say, because right now I’m apparently all up in his business.

He reaches for my hand, like he needs the connection. I let him take it. This time, when he kisses it, his movements are deliberate. My breath catches as his mouth brushes the underside of my wrist.

“How is the article going?” he asks me.

“It’s not.” I wrinkle my nose. “I haven’t had a chance to even look at it. This mad Englishman followed me across the Atlantic and kind of monopolized my time.”

He frowns. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

I put my hand up. “I’m kidding you. There’s a bit of a mess going on at work, actually. My boss is in trouble for suggesting me for the article.” I tell him about Patrick’s threats.

He looks horrified. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe you were going through that and I just…” He shakes his head. “Fuck.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I tell him. “I’m going to worry about it all next week. With everything that’s happened I’ve finally learned to, I don’t know, go with it. Accept that everything turns out right in the end.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t give it a helping hand though,” he murmurs.

We talk a little more about my job, or possible lack of, and then we eat the delicious meal the waiter presents us with a flourish. There’s barely a moment of silence between us. We’re so busy talking that it takes a while for us to notice the restaurant has emptied out completely. Apart from us.

“We should probably let these people close up,” Theo says.

“When did it get so late?” I ask, shaking my head.

“I have no idea,” he says. “I’ve been distracted.” He grins. “Come on, let me take you home.”

He pays for the check with a credit card, since his phone is currently somewhere in the Manhattan sewage system. Then we step out into the dark Christmas night.

The warmth of the hotel still clings to my coat, the piano music faintly echoing in my ears, but the street outside is quiet.

He reaches for my hand without asking. I let him. His fingers lace through mine, and we start walking.