“I was counting on that, Elaine.”

She found herself swept against him, and something incredible came over her, as it had when he’d taken her skating. He moved with the grace of an athlete, his hand firm and secure at her waist. There was magic in his embrace, in the hard bulk of his body and the soft smile that curved his full lips. She was engulfed by his nearness, his warmth, the heady essence of his masculinity.

As the music filled her, so did memory and emotion, warmed by a contentment deeper and more real than anything she’d felt in years. She’d been out in the cold too long and had gone numb in vital places. Now she was thawing out and she welcomed the surging tingles of pain that reminded her she was alive.

When was the last time she had danced just for the pleasure of it? Just for the feel of a man’s arms around her and the mindless delight of moving to the rhythm of the music? She couldn’t remember, because these days when she danced in a man’s arms, it was to entertain or conduct business or impress someone. Tony Fiore couldn’t know it, but this was such a gift, to simply be with him for no other reason than to dance. She wasn’t stupid. She knew the reason for this newfound sense of fun and freedom was Tony. He had that effect on her. That was why she’d fallen for him the first night they skated together, and why she’d kept coming back.

She tilted back her chin to gaze up at him. And to her astonishment, a tear slipped from her eye. She prayed he wouldn’t notice. He did, of course.

“Hey, what’s this?”

What the heck, she thought. He already knew far too much about her. He always had. She saw no point in hiding her feelings. “This is fun,” she said. “I love dancing with you. It’s sort of like skating, but I’m better at it.”

He grinned. “If this is your idea of fun, I guess I don’t want to see you depressed.” With infinite gentleness, he brushed his thumb over the crest of her cheekbone, wiping away the tear. His smile softened, and she was startled to discern a hint of genuine, uncomplicated affection in his regard. It was so different from the way others looked at her. With interest, perhaps. Ambition, undoubtedly. Wariness or respect, occasionally. But straightforward, no-strings-attached caring was something she rarely encountered. He made her feel important and valued, not for her social pedigree but simply for being in the world.

“The women in my family get all choked up over Christmas, too,” he said, misinterpreting her tears. “My Aunt Flo can’t even look at a manger scene without turning into a leaky faucet.”