Before she could reply, he started walking again, bringing her to the rental kiosk.

“It’s too crowded,” she said. “No one can get ice time on Christmas Eve.”

“A cop can.”

“I haven’t skated since...you know.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said. “What, did you have an injury?”

She almost laughed at his assumption. “No, I had a life. A career. Who has time for skating?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been all work and no play the whole time.”

“My work is my play. But ice skating is just not something I normally do.”

“All the more reason to skate now. It’s like riding a bike—you never forget.”

She narrowed her gaze and took refuge in a lie. “I’m very good at forgetting things.”

Unexpectedly, he took her gloved hand in his and squeezed. “I’m good at reminding people of things.”

Despite her conflicted feelings about being with this man, Elaine found herself lacing up a pair of gamey-smelling size-seven rental skates and worrying about the way the attendant had eyed her designer boots. It felt strange, wobbling along on the rubber matting toward the entrance to the rink, grabbing Tony’s arm for support. This was not at all how she had planned to spend her afternoon. She’d intended to visit Bergdorf’s or Saks to buy Byron another designer sweater. Instead, fate had thrown her a singing elf, an old flame and a break from those parts of her life that were all too real.

When Tony led her to the ice, reality fell away. The piped-in music, blaring from speakers mounted on lightpoles, should have annoyed her but instead made her wistful. The huge Christmas tree, alive with thousands of twinkling lights, took on a diffuse, fairy-tale beauty in the flurrying snow. Even goldchrome Prometheus and the parade of international flags surrounding the center seemed as charming and friendly as a scene inside a snow globe.

With a wink and a nod at the attendant, Tony stepped through the low gate and stood aside, motioning her onto the white expanse of ice, gouged by thousands of skate marks per hour. She pushed off and her legs immediately bowed out, blades heading in different directions until her knees started to scream. Sheer determination gave her the strength to reel her feet back in, and a moment later, she was gliding.

“You’re doing great,” Tony said, flashing the grin she’d never quite forgotten.

She lurched, then found her balance, and, in spite of everything—the terrible day she’d had, the stressful night ahead—she found herself grinning back at him. With exaggerated gallantry, he held out his hand, and she remembered something she’d learned the first night she’d met him—it was impossible to skate and not smile.