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He lurched forward and gripped tighter at her hand, somehow managing not to fall flat on his face. “Sorry,” he mumbled, aware his hand held hers in a vice-like grip.

“It’s fine. Anything to stop you being that guy.”

Her tone was full of mischief. “I was working up to leaving the edge.”

“Sure you were.” Anna neatly nudged him out of the way of a couple who were teetering, about to fall over. “So tell me how a man who’s a fan of outdoor sports has got to the age of thirty-two without getting on the ice.” She darted him a look. “I can’t believe you haven’t been persuaded by your mom, Colin. Or a girlfriend.”

“You really think now is the time to ask me questions?” He had enough trouble focusing on not falling over.

“I thought it might distract you. Make you relax and think about something other than how unsteady you’re feeling.”

“You want me to relax, don’t ask about my dead mum or my dead best friend,” he said bluntly.

Because he was still holding her hand, he felt her flinch.

Yet again, he’d been clumsy with her. “Sorry.” He forced himself to take a calming breath. “I’m still not used to talking about mum,” he said quietly. “I probably wouldn’t have talked so much about Colin, either, if you hadn’t made me. Ostrich approach, remember?”

“Okay.” She snuck him a look, then shook her head and carried on skating.

He didn’t like her watching what she said around him. “Just say it.”

“You promise not to snap my head off?”

“I promise,” he said heavily, feeling like a total jerk.

“You didn’t mention girlfriends.” She kept her focus ahead of her. “Is that a subject we can talk about on the ice?”

“I figure the subject of our relationships is one for another day. When we’ve both got a drink in our hands.” Because he owed her, he added. “I never went skating with Colin because he didn’t ask. Probably guessed what my answer would be. And I didn’t go skating with Mum, or anyone else, because I’ve always preferred climbing up, to sliding along.”

It was only when he’d finished talking that he realized he was now skating round the rink, if not effortlessly, then at least without the imminent fear of his skates giving way. He glanced sideways and saw Anna having a private smile to herself. “You’re dying to tell me your distraction tactic worked, aren’t you?”

She laughed and mimed zipping her mouth closed.

They managed a few more circuits before the bell signaled the end of their session. He wasn’t sorry to leave the ice. He was sorry he had no more excuse to hold her hand.

Once they’d handed back their skates, they wandered out in the direction of the village. “Are you hungry?” He asked.

“After all that exercise, you bet I am.” She was always up for anything. It made him feel . . . staid. “Let’s find a place that sells German sausages.”

“That’s what you fancy?”

“Who doesn’t fancy a thick, meaty sausage?”

Amusement ripped through him and he raised a brow.

Immediately she clamped a hand over her mouth. Then bent over as she dissolved into fits of giggles.

The sight of her letting go, touched something deep inside him. More than shared humor, more than the wishy-washy connection she’d tried to convince them of earlier. Sure, she stirred a physical response in him with her wild hair, her infectious smile, her beguiling eyes, her killer curves. But he knew what physical attraction was, he’d experienced it before. A rush of lust, of need. This was more than that. And that’s what had sent him scurrying to his room last night.

“Oh my God,” she spluttered, in between barks of laughter. “That sounded like the dirtiest of all come-ons.”

Had her thick, meaty sausage comment come from a woman he was simply attracted to, he’d have known how to respond. Good to know that’s how you like them. Or, depending on the woman, a crude I’ve got a thick meaty sausage you can put your mouth around. Invariably the flirty exchange would be followed up with a good sweaty tumble in the sheets.

He didn’t know how to respond to Anna, though. The sister of his best friend, a woman Colin had wanted Luke to look out for. If he acted on this desire to hold her, to touch her, to kiss her . . . if he acted on it, he would end up doing the very opposite of what his friend had intended by this advent. He’d end up hurting her.

Luke Harris, confident he could bring a woman pleasure, make her feel good sexually. But emotionally clueless.

“Are you trying to come on to me?” Christ, why had he said that? Why couldn’t he let this thing between them go?