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.once we’re settled.’

Her gaze challenged him but Gabe said nothing. Clearly Etta hadn’t abandoned her run-from-Tommy idea, but Gabe let it go. Her explanation of her adoptive parents’ behaviour, the information she’d shared about Tommy, had given him an understanding of her decision even if he didn’t agree with it. Etta had had to face such a lot on her own.

His chest tightened at the thought of the sixteen-year-old Etta, terrified and alone. But from somewhere she had found the strength to escape Tommy once, with no help from the parents who should have supported her. Gabe knew his own parents would have been the same—their way or the highway. Well, Etta had chosen the highway and travelled that road to success—he couldn’t blame her for running now.

‘What do you think of this?’

She held up a chunk of soap for him to smell and her proximity sparked desire as he bent his head to inhale the sandalwood aroma.

‘I like it,’ he murmured, but as he straightened up his gaze rested on her face. ‘Subtle, but tantalising. Spicy with a hint of sweetness.’

Her face flushed as awareness shimmered in the air—the same awareness that had glimmered into being the very first time they’d set eyes on each other. Only now it hummed with a deeper note, its pull stronger.

Etta blinked once, and then again, and shook her head slightly. ‘Speaking of sweet...’ She gestured to a bakery stall. ‘Those smell divine. I need to try something but I can’t decide what. There’s gingerbread, and apparently that is a must, but I want something savoury too. Maybe a pretzel or...’ She glanced at yet another stall and inhaled with appreciation as she read from the blackboard. ‘Kartoffelpuffer. They smell amazing. Shallow fried potato pancakes. Mmm... What do you think?’

‘I think we should have both—savoury and sweet. We’re on holiday, after all.’

‘Sounds good to me. Let’s eat.’

They walked through the rest of the market, both quiet now. The silence was comfortable, and yet Gabe noticed that Etta took care to keep her distance—presumably as aware as he that the slightest touch could cause them to combust. In truth he would welcome it—he wanted Etta, but only if she was fully comfortable with the idea.

‘Ready to skate?’

Fifteen minutes later they had approached the outdoor rink.

Etta peered through the panelling. ‘Look...’ she breathed. Skaters of all ages, all shapes and sizes twirled and pirouetted in a display of expertise, to the strains of classical music that lilted from the outdoor speakers.

Ten minutes later Gabe and Etta approached the ice.

‘So tell me—exactly how good are you at this and how much are you going to show me up?’ she asked.

‘I’m not an expert, but I can hold my own. I’ve played ice hockey before, so I’m more of an ice athlete than a dancer.’

‘Hmm... OK. Let’s give this if not a whirl then at least a wobble.’

Etta stepped onto the ice, pushed off with far more bravado than sense, and gave a yelp as she pitched forward. Without hesitation Gabe glided over and grabbed her round the waist, pulled her up, and held her steady.

The people around them receded and all there was was this. The feel of Etta in his arms...the warmth of her body against his...the smell of strawberry...the scratch of her bobble hat against his chin. She tried to move backwards, nearly lost her balance again, and clutched his arms.

A small gurgle of laughter escaped her lips. ‘This is awkward.’

But it didn’t feel awkward to him. ‘It doesn’t have to be. All you have to do is hold on to me and you won’t fall.’

Her eyes widened and for a long moment their gazes locked. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes, along with a flare of heat that flecked the tawny gold with amber.

‘I... You... What is happening to me?’ Her voice was low and vibrant with a hint of anguish.

‘The same thing that is happening to me, and it’s OK to feel it, Etta. There is nothing wrong with attraction.’

‘I know that in theory—but I haven’t felt like this in a long time, Gabe, and I’m not sure I like it.’

‘I’m not Tommy. I would never hurt you.’

‘I know that. I promise I do. But...’

‘It’s OK, Etta. I don’t want you to feel pressured in any way at all. Whatever you decide to do with this attraction I’m good with it.’ He smiled down at her.

Her laugh was shaky. ‘That darned ball is still in my court?’

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