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This is nothing compared to Vermont’s winter,I assured myself as I left the hotel room.
Don’t be a wimp, Lee,I chide myself as a sting of cold air hits my face.
“Do you need my jacket?” Landon offers, his eyes creased at the corners.
“Nah, as soon as we’re skating, I’ll warm up,” I insist as we enter the VIP area. “So why exactly did we pay more than a hundred dollars?”
“Well, you won’t be freezing outside while you wait for your turn,” he explains, taking me into his powerful embrace and rubbing his hands on my back to warm me up.
I look up at him. His heavy-lidded gaze assesses me. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers.
Landon cups my face with one hand and lowers his head. I slide my arms around his neck and raise myself to meet him. My eyes drift shut when his mouth captures mine, his tongue flicks inside. My knees weaken. My heart gallops in my chest. The touch sends shivers of desire through my body, replacing the cold with a wildfire that warms every cell of my body and threatens to melt the entire city.
He kisses me gently. Slowly. Deeply.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this. If anything, I would give everything to be kissed by Landon Miller for the rest of my life.
“Next,” someone yells, breaking the spell.
Landon tears his mouth free, groaning in protest. His breathing is heavy, just like his gaze.
“I want to go back to the hotel,” I request.
“What?” he asks in a gravelly voice.
“Sir, you’re next,” someone keeps calling us but at the moment, nothing matters.
“We could be in my room, ordering some food,” I say suggestively.
Landon places his fingers on my cheek, caressing it. “We can’t skip any steps, Miss Harris. As much as I’d love to drag you back to my room, this is going to go slowly.”
“Even if it kills us with desire?”
“Where’s your patience?” He kisses the back of my neck. “Imagine how good it’ll be when it finally happens… So fucking good.” He winks at me.
* * *
For years,I’ve had the illusion that skating at Rockefeller center is magical. I blame John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale for letting me believe that the most romantic moment in my life would happen in Manhattan as I hold the hand of the man I love. Even when I spotted a gleam of desire in Landon’s mesmerizing blue eyes, the hour at the ice rink wasn’t as life changing as I had hoped.
In Kentbury, at night we have the light of the moon to illuminate the lake. We’re surrounded by trees, the mountains, and snow.
“Maybe I put too much pressure on the ice rink, and that’s why it didn’t live up to its expectations,” I conclude as we enter the hotel.
Landon’s busy with his phone. Maybe he’s texting with Cassie or talking to one of his employees. I’m sure he’s not paying attention to my rant. I don’t blame him. He’s not one to watch rom-coms and expect that special moment to happen.
I am a different story. For the past eighteen years, I’ve been waiting for him to stand at the end of my driveway and serenade me with a boombox like Lloyd did inSay Anything. If not that, maybe he can sing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,” like Patrick Verona did inTen Things I Hate About You. I still hold out hope that he might list all the reasons why he loves me when it’s New Year’s Eve like Harry did with Sally.
“It’s a touristy spot, like the artificial pond we have on Main Street,” Landon says as we head toward the elevator. “Not everything you watch in movies can live in real life and vice versa.” He slumps his shoulders and sighs. “Serendipitywas actually filmed at Wollman Rink, in Central Park,” he says, matter-of-factly.
“And there’s that. Though, I guess it’s romantic for someone who doesn’t have a frozen lake in their backyard,” I say.
“There’s another selling point. Remind me about it next week, please,” he requests. “Isn’t the lake part of the vineyard?”
“Technically, but the McCalls always let everyone enjoy it. Are you planning on making it private?” I gLandon at him, tempted to ask him questions about his plans and wanting to give him ideas.
“You’ll find out next week,” he says. “As I explained earlier, this is a vacation. You’re off the clock. When was the last time you even went on vacation?”
I stare at the lights twinkling on the big Christmas tree. It’s been years since any of us have gone on a trip that doesn’t involve work. The only time my brothers or I leave home is to attend a conference or for training. We love what we do, but we’re consumed by work.
