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What had she been thinking
? This was going to be a disaster!
Except that it wasn’t. The second they stepped onto the ice, Jordan braced with a small fibreglass penguin to balance him, Melinda remembered how much she’d enjoyed this kind of thing, once upon a time.
“Ready to eat my dust?” She winked at Ra’if, kicking out a little.
He arched a brow, nodding to encourage her. Melinda didn’t need the prompt though. There’d been an ice rink in her town growing up, and all of her friends had held their birthday parties there. It had been the only form of entertainment on weekends. It all came flooding back to her now as she tore around the outside edge of the ring, even attempting a few figures of eight at each end.
Ra’if watched, his heart heavy in the midst of his pleasure.
Because he was watching a woman he knew he didn’t want to walk away from.
A woman he owed the truth to.
A woman who would leave him when she learned it.
* * *
“Okay. Who’s hungry?” Ra’if handed his skates to a man behind the counter and Melinda caught sight of someone. Someone dressed in black who reminded her of the first night she’d met Ra’if. She frowned, peering closer, but the man was gone and she thought perhaps she’d imagined it.
“It’s late,” she said with a shake of her head.
“I’m starving,” Jordan cut in, reaching up and pulling on Melinda’s coat hem.
“I am too,” Ra’if grinned at the little boy and Melinda had the distinct impression she was being ganged up on.
“We said we’d just go ice-skating,” she said through gritted teeth, ignoring Jordan’s persistent pulling at her coat.
“But I’m hungry!” The little boy cried plaintively.
“And it is a long way back to your home,” Ra’if pointed out with perfect logic.
Melinda sent him a look of muted annoyance. “Why do I feel like this is a set up?”
He grinned at Jordan. “It’s not. We were just saying how nice it would be to eat something after all that exercise.”
“Yeah, mama. We want to eat something. Eat something, eat something.” He turned the request into a sing song and Melinda laughed.
“Okay, but for the record, I don’t like collusion unless I’m involved.” She reached down and dislodged Jordan’s fingers from her jacket, weaving hers through his. “There’s a Pret just around the corner …”
Ra’if pulled a face. “A sandwich?”
“They do soup as well.”
He grimaced. “Not much better, in my opinion.”
“Okay, mister, what’s your suggestion?”
He arched a brow. “I’m glad you asked. I know a place. Come with me.” He put a hand in the small of her back, just for the briefest moment, and heat spread through her. Heat and delight.
The streets were busy. South Kensington was a beautiful part of London; Melinda had always loved it for the European feelings in the wide streets and grand buildings. It was filled, as they walked, with other couples and families, out for dinner, or heading home after a spot of Christmas shopping.
They turned off the main road down a side street and then paused outside a little restaurant. There were plant pots by the door and a golden light glowed happily over the street, inviting them in.
“I don’t know, Ra’if,” Melinda scanned the menu, shocked by the prices. “Jordan’s not really a fine dining candidate.”
“It’s fine,” he murmured, overriding her objections. “This place does amazing food. You’ll love it.”
