There were people playing the main roles, although a doll stood in for Baby Jesus. There had been talk of a live infant, but when the temperatures had dropped below freezing, the substitution had been made.
“Are you nervous?” May asked in a whisper.
Evie touched her stomach where butterflies had taken up residence.
“More than I would have thought possible,” she admitted. “I haven’t danced on a stage in a long time.”
“You’ll be wonderful. I can’t wait to see you. We’re getting there early so we can sit up front.”
“I’m not sure if that’s news that’s going to make me feel better,” Evie admitted.
Dominique had been thrilled with the idea of her taking over Grace’s solo. Evie had spent much of the previous evening practicing. Gideon had come by to cue the music and had stayed through her session.
He was a good guy. Unfortunately she couldn’t summon the least little tingle when he was around. And based on how he’d treated her pretty much as a sister, she would say the same was true for him. She was going to have to get over Dante the old-fashioned way. With time and ice cream.
But that was for after Christmas. She’d decided that for the holiday itself, she was going to simply go with her feelings. She was going to love him and not fight it. On the twenty-sixth, she would give herself a stern talking-to and load her freezer with Ben and Jerry’s.
“I need to get home,” Evie said, kissing her mother’s cheek. “I have a thousand details to worry about. Nothing to actually do, but plenty to sweat over.”
“We’ll see you tonight.” May smiled at her. “Should I say break a leg?”
“After what happened to Grace, probably not.”
Evie left. She walked back to her house. She saw Alexander sitting in the upstairs window seat. When he saw her, he stood and stretched, then jumped down. She knew he would be waiting on the stairs when she unlocked the door.
She cut across the lawn, then came to a stop as the first snowflakes of the season silently drifted down from the sky.
Evie glanced up at the gray sky, then back at the snow dotting the shoulders and sleeves of her jacket. Then she spun in a circle and started to laugh.
* * *
“IT’S STILL SNOWING,” Lillie said, plopping down next to Evie.
Evie glanced at the girl and smiled. “You look adorable.”
Lillie grinned. “I love my wings.”
“You look good in wings.”
“Maybe I should have asked Santa for wings instead of a dad.”
Evie blinked. “You asked for a dad?”
Lillie wrinkled her nose and leaned close. “I’m old enough to know there’s really no Santa, but it doesn’t hurt to ask, right? Only Mom says it doesn’t work that way.”
She leaned close as Evie finished sewing on her shoes’ ribbons.
“You have to do that with every pair of pointe shoes?” Lillie asked.
“Uh-huh.” Evie showed her where she’d already softened the toe box.
“You can’t just buy them finished?”
“It doesn’t work that way. Every dancer wants her shoes the way she likes them.”
Evie slipped on the shoes, then tied the ribbons and went up on pointe. She walked a couple of steps, came back down, then sank onto the stage floor.
“It’s a lot to do,” Lillie said.
“It is.” Evie flexed her foot and tied the ribbon in place. After cutting the ends, she used clear nail polish to seal them. “I need to put this stuff away.”
“Okay.”
They both stood. Evie dropped the nail polish and scissors into her bag. By then the ends were dry. She tucked them under the ribbon around her ankle so it was out of sight. A quick check of the large clock on the wall told her they had ten minutes.
“Okay, everyone,” she called. “Let’s get in place.”
Gideon walked by, his headphones and microphone in place. “We’re good,” he told her.
Morgan, their king for the evening, settled into his throne and gave her a thumbs-up. The dancers separated into their sections and waited for the musical cue. Dominique stepped onto the stage and began with an explanation of the dance. Seconds later, the music began and the curtain went up.
Evie stood with the other girls and watched the younger girls in wings twirl to the center of the stage. Gideon told the story of the winter king and his beautiful daughters, and the girls danced.
They had energy and enthusiasm. If there was a bent arm here and a misstep there, Evie didn’t notice. She waved girls in place and offered an encouraging whisper when she saw a case of nerves. The music flowed and shifted with each section, and at last it was her turn.
She rose on pointe and made her way across the stage. The dance came easily to her, allowing her to feel the music and get lost in the movements. For a second she allowed herself to miss Dante, to wish things could be different, but then she got out of her head and let her body take over.
Gideon’s velvety voice told how the king, so moved by his daughter’s beauty and joy, realized he must allow his children to go out into the world. They all returned to the stage and danced together, spinning until the girls became snowflakes that fell from the ceiling, and the stage went dark.
There was a moment of silence before the audience exploded into delighted applause. Evie stayed where she was, on the floor of the stage, her arms stretched forward. She rose slowly, the signal for the rest of the girls to do the same. As they’d practiced several times, they formed lines and walked forward, then bowed as one. The first group circled around to the back, and the process was repeated several times until all the girls had had a chance to bow and be applauded.
By the end, the audience was on its feet. The girls gathered around Evie for a group hug as they laughed and jumped up and down. Then a dozen or so young boys climbed the stairs and starting handing out small bouquets of flowers to each of the girls. Parents were clapping and trying to capture everything on their camcorders. Mayor Marsha walked out, a massive bouquet of dark red roses in her arms.
She crossed to Evie and handed her the flowers. “I wish I could say these are from the town,” she said, speaking into a handheld microphone. “Although we did buy you flowers, they aren’t nearly as lovely as these. Perhaps you would like to thank the person responsible personally.”
She motioned to the other side of the stage. Evie turned and nearly collapsed when she saw Dante walking toward her.
He looked tired, she thought, unable to grasp that he was here. Tired and worried, but, oh, so appealing in a cream-colored sweater and jeans. His blue gaze settled on her face as he moved across the stage.
Hope battled with pain and fear. She was thrilled to see him and terrified she would start crying. She wanted to believe his being here was a good thing, but what if there was some busty blonde waiting in the wings?
Dante walked up to her and took both her hands in his. “You were beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re so talented, and I can’t get over what you did with these kids.”
“Who’s he calling kids?” Evie heard Melissa grumble.
“You’re supposed to be in Aspen.”
“I was. By myself,” he added. “There’s no ex-girlfriend.”
Relief threatened her ability to stand a second time. “Then why did you say there was?”
“Because I’m an idiot. I thought…” He squeezed her hands. “Evie, I was scared. Scared of what you’d come to mean to me. Scared of my feelings. You know about my mom and what happened. I promised myself I would never let myself care again. I was doing a good job, too. Until I met you. And then I couldn’t help myself.”
She was aware of three thousand, two hundred people in the audience, watching. Based on the silence, she would guess that overhead microphones were picking up every word. Not that she was willing to ask Dante to hold that thought so they could go somewhere more private.
“I figured it out this morning. It was Christmas Eve and I wasn�
��t with the people I love. In the place I love. I wasn’t with you, Evie. So I chartered a plane to get here in time to see you dance. I knew how much this night meant to you and I wanted to share it with you. I also wanted to tell you that I love you.”
Her breath caught. The girls on the stage sighed, as did most of the women watching. Somebody in the audience said something about this “being just like when Shane proposed to Annabelle.”
“You do?” she asked.
“Very much. I never believed there could be ‘the one’ until I met you.” He smiled. “I love you and I hope you can forgive me for leaving like that. It will never happen again.”
“I believe you.”
“About which part?”
“About all of it.” The last pain faded away, and her heart began to heal. “I love you, too. I have for a while.”
She had more to say, but Dante was pulling her close and kissing her. She wrapped her arms around him and held on. She heard cheers and applause, but they weren’t as interesting as the man who held her as if he would never let her go.
* * *
SOMETIME LATER, WHEN EVIE had changed her clothes and everyone else had left, she and Dante walked back to their townhouses. It was still snowing, quieting the world and making her feel as if they were all alone…in the best way possible.
“I really am sorry about being such an idiot,” Dante told her. “I hurt you. There’s no excuse for that.”
“I’ll let you make it up to me.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
She glanced at him. “But I do have to tell you that there’s a new man in my life.”
Dante stared at her. “You went out with Gideon. I knew it.”
“No. I got a cat.”
He let out a relieved laugh. “Okay. I can handle a cat.”
“I don’t know. He’s pretty handsome and affectionate. And he’s a great cuddler.”
“You’re saying I have my work cut out for me.”
“I’m saying we’ll have to see who I like better.”
He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her waist, then spun them both in a circle. Evie laughed and held her arms out. Being in love really was like flying.
When her head was spinning, he lowered her to the ground and kissed her. “Merry Christmas, my love,” he whispered.
“Merry Christmas.”
Still wrapped in each other’s arms, they made their way home. Tomorrow was for family and friends, but tonight…tonight was theirs alone.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from All Summer Long by Susan Mallery
If you loved Fool’s Gold Christmas, don’t miss a single book in the Fool’s Gold series.
Summer Days
Summer Nights
All Summer Long
Looking for more? With more than eighty ebooks available, you can enjoy the entire Fool’s Gold backlist—and dozens of other memorable titles from New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery!
“Mallery’s prose is luscious and provocative.”—Publishers Weekly
For more delicious contemporary romance, try Shannon Stacey’s All He Ever Wanted.
“Shannon Stacey’s books are a unique celebration of romance…drop everything and read Shannon Stacey.”—Sarah Wendell of Smart Bitches, Trashy Books
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CHAPTER ONE
“DON’T TAKE THIS wrong, but seriously, a cat of your size needs to keep all four paws firmly on the ground.”
Charlie Dixon continued up the ladder, aware that Daytona was watching her with serious contempt in his large, green eyes. The black-and-white cat was about twenty-six pounds of attitude. His climbing skills might be excellent, but his ability to get down a tree left much to be desired. At least once a month he got his big furry butt to the top of Mrs. Coverson’s sycamore and yowled to be rescued. About an hour later, the old lady would panic and call the fire department. Daytona, named for Mrs. Coverson’s love of all things NASCAR, glared and hissed and threatened, but in the end, he submitted to being safely carried to the ground.
“Come on, you,” Charlie said, climbing the last two rungs of the ladder. “You know you’re getting hungry and I’m your ride down to your food bowl.”
On cue, the cat flattened his ears and gave an impressive growl.
“Cheap talk, big guy,” Charlie said, then reached for the cat. Daytona took a swipe at the back of her hand, but the movement was halfhearted at best. He was already inching toward her, then allowed himself to be picked up and held against her.
“Don’t worry,” someone called from the sidewalk. “I’ve got your ladder.”
Charlie sighed heavily. “Civilians,” she muttered. “How do they always find me?”
Daytona didn’t offer a response.
Charlie looked down and saw some guy hovering by the base of her ladder. “I’m fine,” she yelled. “Step back.”
“Someone needs to hold the ladder,” the dark-haired man insisted.
“Not really.”
Charlie tucked Daytona securely under one arm and started her descent. She went quickly, aware that Daytona’s attention span was often shorter than the trip to safety. When he started squirming, they were both in danger of tumbling. This time she cut it a little too close.
Daytona pushed all four paws against her, then twisted in an attempt to climb down the rest of the way by himself. Charlie hung on. Not only didn’t she want to fall herself, there was no way she was going to face old lady Coverson with a less-than-perfect Daytona beside her.
“Stop it!” she told the cat.
“Need me to come up?” the guy asked.
Charlie briefly wondered how much trouble she would be in for kicking him with her steel-toed boots and if it would be worth it. Some of her best friends were civilians, but honest to God, there were people who totally lacked common sense.
“Stay back,” she yelled. “Step away from the ladder and don’t interfere.”
“I’m not interfering. I’m helping.”
Before Charlie could respond, several things happened at once. Daytona gave one final push for freedom. Charlie leaned over to make sure she kept a grip on the squirming cat. The ladder lurched, the idiot below started up and everyone had a moment to rediscover the power of gravity.
Daytona fared the best. He used his claws to dig in to the side of the tree, then scurry down. Charlie came in second. She was maybe six or seven feet from the ground. It came up fast, but instead of hitting the sidewalk or even the grass at the base of the tree, she slammed into the guy who’d been trying to “help.”
As she lay on top of the idiot and sucked in air, Charlie watched Daytona stroll over and give a last annoyed hiss. The cat stalked away, his tail high. Charlie rolled off the guy, aware that at five-ten and well-muscled, she weighed a whole lot more than was considered fashionable. No doubt he’d had the wind knocked out of him. With luck, only his pride was hurt and then she could lecture him on why it was never good to be stupid. At worst, she was about to have to call for an ambulance.
“You okay?” she asked, shifting into a kneeling position and glancing at the man for the first time. “Did you hit your head and—”
Crap and double crap. This wasn’t some random stupid person, she thought, taking in the perfectly shaped jaw, the firm full mouth and, when his lids slowly opened, the dark eyes fringed by long lashes. This was possibly the best-looking man on the planet.
Clay Stryker, model, movie butt double. His ass had been flashed in magazine ads, calendars and on the big screen. He had a killer body
and his face was even better. He was the kind of man for whom, on the promise of a smile, the earth would change its rotation.
She’d met him a couple of times. At her friend Heidi’s recent wedding to Clay’s brother, for starters. Plus, Clay lived at the ranch where she boarded her horse. They’d nodded at each other over stalls and hay bales. But she’d never seen him up close before. Not in the flesh, at least. Had never been so near to a flawless human.
Reluctantly, she had to admit, it was a little unnerving.
One corner of that perfect mouth turned up. “Hey,” he said. “I saved you.”
Charlie snorted. “Not likely. Did you hit your head? Because if you did, I’m hoping it knocked some sense into you.”
The slight curve became a smile. “You’re welcome.” He sat up.
Charlie put a hand on his shoulder. “Hold on there, hotshot. Are you injured? You were at the bottom of our pileup. Make sure nothing’s broken.”
“My ego’s a little bruised that you don’t appreciate what I did for you.”
“You knocked me off the ladder and nearly killed us both. No, you don’t get a cookie.” She stood, then held out her hand to help him up. “Can you stand?”
The smile turned into a grin. Damn, the man was pretty, she thought absently. Despite the fact that it had literally been a decade since she’d found any man attractive, there was something about his near godlike perfection that was appealing.
He ignored her hand and stood in one easy movement. “I’m good.”
“Charlie, are you all right?”
“Fine, Mrs. Coverson,” Charlie said, trying not to clench her teeth. Her dentist had warned her that she needed to stop grinding her jaw when she was annoyed. Which was much of the time.
Mrs. Coverson stood on the front porch, Daytona in her arms. Behind her, Michelle Banfield, who worked with Charlie, stood with a half-eaten brownie and a look of guilt in her eyes.
“I was coming back out to help,” Michelle mumbled. “Um, but there were these brownies.”
“That’s okay,” Clay told her. “I was here.”
It was all Charlie could do not to smack him upside the head.
A Fool's Gold Christmas Page 20
