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skating
when I was six. I think my parents put me in lessons so they’d have some way to
show me off, you know, the beautiful little girl in the beautiful little dress
gliding around the ice. They’d let the nanny get up at five a.m. and drive me
to skating practice seven days a week for months, and then when it came time
for competitions all of a sudden they’d turn into doting parents, pretending to
be all involved with my skating.” She knew her voice had turned bitter and
frankly didn’t care. It was all true.
    He slipped his hand into hers on the table and she didn’t
stop him. The contact felt too good.
    “As I got better, it was a way to seek my parents’ approval.
So I practiced and practiced and began competing on the junior circuit when I
was nine. I’d moved to the senior circuit by the time I’d turned sixteen. I
filed for emancipation from my parents then. I could afford to live on my own
and I was tired of being their little showpiece.” She took a deep breath and
continued, staring at the table in front of her as she twisted the cloth napkin
in her fingers with the hand that Brady wasn’t clutching.
    “They didn’t even contest it when the attorney called. I
think they were secretly relieved. The only thing they were angry about was
that it embarrassed them in front of their friends and colleagues. I found an
apartment and asked my nanny, who was more of a mother to me than my birth
mother ever was, to move in to cook and clean and watch the place when I was
away from home. When I was twenty she left to work for another family.” She
knew how pathetic she sounded. Her skating career was slipping through her
fingers and she had no idea what she was going to do after retirement. She
didn’t have anything or any one else.
    “So do you still talk to your parents?”
    “Not very often. They’re retired and travel a lot. They send
a check at Christmas. I don’t bother sending anything back. There’s nothing
they need or want.” She sighed and withdrew her hand, looking up at Brady.
“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate them. It’s not worth the energy to hate
them.”
    “That’s kinda sad.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I think you should let yourself feel things. I’ve
seen flashes of emotions in you, but then you just shut down.”
    “It’s easier that way.”
    “I’m sure it is. I just don’t think it’s healthy.” When Leah
began to object, he grabbed her hand again and pulled it to his lips. “Shhh.
I’m not trying to make you angry. I just think you should let people in every
once in a while.”
    He began to kiss her fingers and she stared at his mouth.
How could such a simple touch undo her? If only he knew how far inside she was
letting him, against her better judgment. There were people who she’d known for
years who didn’t have this much insight into her. A tear formed in the corner
of her eye and she hastily swept it away before Brady noticed and felt even
sorrier for her. She didn’t want his pity.
    Their meals arrived and conversation turned to more mundane
topics. When they finished, Brady suggested a walk, and since she wasn’t
wearing heels, she agreed, figuring it would do her ankle good to get some
exercise. They went to Fifth Avenue and strolled along with the tourists,
checking out the window displays of the various department stores.
    “I bet you shop in these stores, huh?” he teased her.
    “Some of them,” she admitted. As they continued to walk
their arms bumped occasionally, sending pulses of heat through Leah. This man
was too potent for her state of mind. After they’d strolled for a while she
glanced at her watch and then said, “I should be getting back. We have another
long day tomorrow.”
    “Sure,” Brady answered. He hailed a cab and helped her into
it. At the hotel, he took her room key. But before he opened her door, he
gently turned her to face him, her back to the door. “Thank you for coming out
with me. I had a great