A Mistletoe Kiss with the Boss by Susan Meier

sighed.
    â€œAnd what did you find? That I’m a nice, simple girl. Your search didn’t hurt me. Didn’t affect me. So I let it go.” She smiled. “Not everything has to be life-or-death. Let’s just have fun. The photographers following you will see that. They’ll investigate me and find nothing and poof they’ll disappear.”
    â€œYou’re such an optimist.”
    She turned to him and studied his face. “You know, I’d say you’re a pessimist but I don’t think that’s true. I think so many crappy things happened to you that you’re just careful.”
    â€œCareful enough not to break my ankle.”
    â€œSee? There you go. Deflecting again because that’s how you stay away from subjects that are too painful. But you don’t have to worry. I won’t ask you to talk about Nina anymore. I won’t ask about your childhood. But I do want to skate. I’m in a new country unexpectedly, for longer than I thought, and I’m just a little homesick.”
    * * *
    If she’d argued or tried to get her own way, Dean would have easily beaten her. But what kind of a Scrooge would he have to be to deny her the chance to get over her homesickness?
    He sighed. “I’ll check out the skating schedule and see about skate rental.”
    Her entire face brightened. “Really?”
    â€œYes. But don’t think I’m trying anything fancy. And no holding my hand.”
    â€œWe’re supposed to be dating.”
    â€œI don’t want to look weak on the ice.”
    With that he walked away. Because it was an odd time of the day, they could actually get into the next round of skating. He called her over. They rented skates. Within twenty minutes they were on the ice.
    After a few minutes of wobbling, working to get his balance, knowing photographers were documenting his efforts, Dean finally found his footing. The first time he glided along for more than a few feet, he burst out laughing.
    â€œAll right. It’s fun.”
    She skated a circle around him. “I told you.”
    â€œYou actually use the same core muscles to balance yourself as you do for snowboarding.”
    She gaped at him. “You snowboard?”
    â€œUsed to. I had to learn to do a lot of things to be in the places where I could accidentally run into the wealthy people I thought most likely to invest in Suminski Stuff.”
    â€œYou make me feel like I should be grateful Mrs. Flannigan invited me to dinner.”
    He stopped skating. “You should.”
    â€œI am.”
    Silence stretched between them as they studied each other. Skaters glided around them, reminding him that he was stopped, staring at her, taking in that earnest face and those beautiful eyes, and reporters were probably noticing.
    She quickly caught his hand and pulled him into the fray. “Let’s get out of everybody’s way, and then I’ll drop your hand.”
    He almost wished she wouldn’t. The connection to her felt so nice, so normal, that it should have scared him. Instead, it filled him with the sense that he could trust her to take him places he’d never been.
    They skated into a rhythm and she dropped his hand, but he scooped hers up again.
    Her gaze flew to his.
    â€œWe are supposed to be dating.”
    She nodded and smiled as she skated in front of him. “Wanna do a trick?”
    â€œGetting bored with just plain skating?”
    â€œSort of. But I also think I’d rather get my picture in the paper for doing something cool, than for looking like two spectators who didn’t know what they were doing.”
    He laughed nervously. “Seriously? You’re going to make me do a trick?”
    â€œA simple one.” She grabbed his other hand so they stood facing each other, both hands tightly clasped. Then she shifted them so they were skating sideways and that movement became a circle.
    He imagined that from the spectator