I sat straight up. “What?”
He laughed. “This is just the halfway point. We take a break here before we skate back through the Place de la République and over to the Left Bank again.”
I stared at him for a moment. “Oh,” I finally said. I flopped back down on the ground and closed my eyes. I couldn’t imagine another hour and a half of this.
“We can stop here and just take the Métro back if you want,” Gabe said. I cracked open an eye and looked at him. He was still gazing down at me in amusement.
“I’m not a quitter,” I said.
“I didn’t say you were,” Gabe said. “It’s just pretty overwhelming the first time. I would completely understand if—”
I cut him off. “No.” I sat up. “We’re going to finish this course.” I struggled to my feet, but my legs felt like jelly. Gabe grinned and helped me up, taking my hand in his to steady me. His fingers were rough and warm as they folded through mine.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked.
I looked him in the eye and nodded, my heart pounding. “Yes.”
We stood there for a moment, looking at each other. I was standing just fine on my own now, but Gabe hadn’t let go of my hand. Nor had I pulled away. For a moment, as we stared at each other, I had the crazy feeling that he was about to kiss me. But just as he leaned a little closer, the whistle blew, and the stampede of twenty thousand skaters began again.
“Ready?” Gabe shouted over the din. He squeezed my hand, and I felt a little tingle run through me.
“Ready whenever you are!” I shouted back.
For the next hour and a half, as the tide of skaters swept us south through the eastern edge of the Right Bank, through the Place de la Bastille, over the Pont d’Austerlitz, and then for miles west along the Left Bank of the Seine before heading south back toward Montparnasse, Gabe didn’t let go of my hand.
And, to my surprise, I didn’t want him to.
“That was amazing,” I said as we walked up to the front door of my apartment building just past 2 a.m. Every bone, every muscle, every tendon, and every joint in my body ached, but somehow I felt better than I had in years.
“Yeah, it’s pretty fun, huh?” Gabe said, grinning down at me. He set our skates down on the ground and touched my left forearm with his right hand. My skin tingled. “I’m glad you came with me.”
“Thank you so much for inviting me,” I said. I couldn’t believe this was the same Gabe Francoeur who had made my professional life tense and tenuous for the past few weeks. When he wasn’t wearing his journalist hat, he was . . . normal. And very nice. Not to mention surprisingly attractive.
“I’m glad I did,” Gabe said. He took a step closer. I suddenly realized that I wanted very much for him to kiss me. “You’re amazing, Emma, you know that?”
In what felt like slow motion, he put both his arms around me and gently pulled me closer. Then he dipped his head and touched his lips softly to mine. A bolt of electricity shot through me; it felt perfect. His lips tasted salty and sweet, all at the same time. He lingered for a few seconds and then pulled away. He quickly straightened his glasses and cleared his throat.
“Well,” he said. He coughed and smiled at me.
“Well,” I echoed, feeling suddenly awkward. It had been the perfect kiss, but it had lasted only a few seconds.
“I, uh, probably shouldn’t have done that,” Gabe said, glancing away.
I felt my heart sink. “Oh,” I said.
“I mean, I wanted to,” he amended quickly. “It’s just that with work and everything . . .” His voice trailed off.
Feeling foolish, I hurried to agree. “Of course. It was totally unprofessional of both of us.”
“Totally,” Gabe agreed. He paused and glanced down at me. “But do you mind if I say it was nice?”
I cracked a smile. “No.” I felt relieved. “Not if you don’t mind me saying that I thought it was nice, too.”
“Well,” Gabe said. “Good.”
“Good,” I agreed nervously.
“So, um, I’ll see you tomorrow evening, then?” he said. “In London?”
“Um, right.” I nodded, trying to look professional. “Yes, definitely. We look forward to introducing you to Guillaume’s music.”
He smiled. “Right. Well. I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“I hope so.”
Gabe studied my face for a long moment. Then he nodded. “Good night, Emma,” he said.
Then he bent to pick up the skates from the ground, and without another word he strode quickly away.
And despite the fact that I knew I had a long day ahead of me in London for the opening day of the junket, I barely slept at all that night. I could still feel Gabe’s fingers woven through mine.
Chapter Fifteen
I snoozed on the train to London the next morning. Although I was supposed to be keeping an eye on Guillaume in first class to make sure he didn’t moon any passersby or go streaking through the dining car, I figured that Edgar and Richard could handle him for once. I was too exhausted to care.