HOLIDAY ROYALE

by Christine Rimmer

  Lucy opened one of the little bags and poured the crackers onto her chowder. “Not long enough.”

  Nestor yelled something in Greek. Tabby turned around and yelled right back at him, also in Greek. Then she muttered, “Why do I put up with him?”

  “He makes great clam chowder?” Lucy suggested.

  About then, Nestor bellowed, “Order up!”

  Tabby waved a dismissing hand in his direction and said to Lucy, “I’m off at two. And I do need to tell you all about Henry....”

  “The Saturday-night guy?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She put her hand against her chest and mimed a fast-beating heart. “He’s the one.”

  Lucy hesitated. She did want to hear about Henry. And she could talk to Tabby. In fact, she might be tempted to start admitting things she hadn’t even admitted to herself yet. It would be wiser not to go there.

  But who was she kidding? She needed to talk. “Come over to my place. I’ll be home.”

  * * *

  Lucy made them coffee. They sat in her living room. The view in there was of the wall of the building the next block over, but it was a cozy room, and you could see a little bit of the gray winter sky if you craned toward the window and looked up.

  Tabby said she was falling for Henry O’Mara. “Saturday night, Sunday night. He’s coming over tonight, too.” Her parents weren’t happy. They were still after her to patch things up with the nice Greek man she’d almost married. “But I’m happy,” Tabby said with a giant grin. “Very, very happy in a big, big way.” She looked around the room. “Where’s the cat?”

  “He’s up at Dami’s. We took him up there last night so I wouldn’t have to keep running down here to feed him. We took his litter box, too, which means if I haul him back down here, I need to bring the box. I mean, just in case, right? Ugh. It’s complicated.”

  Tabby laughed. “So get a second litter box.”

  “It’s only for a few days.”

  “Ah, so that’s what’s going on with you. The prince is leaving soon and you’re missing him already.” Tabby sipped her coffee. “Ask him to stay.”

  “It’s not like that. It’s not...that kind of a thing between us.”

  “Do you want it to be that kind of a thing?”

  Lucy put her hand on her chest. “My heart kind of does. A little.” Liar, a chiding voice whispered inside her head. Your heart wants it a lot. “But he’s not a ‘staying’ kind of guy—or if he was, probably he wouldn’t be with me.”

  “Why not with you?”

  “It’s just that it’s not that way with us.”

  “What way?”

  “We’re friends. With benefits, for now. That part—the two of us being lovers, was supposed to be just for Thanksgiving. And now it’s only until Thursday. And I’m just starting out, anyway. I’m not ready for anything serious, no matter what my silly heart keeps telling me.”

  “Shut the front door. Just for Thanksgiving?”

  “Please. Don’t ask me to explain. It’s...”

  “Do not say ‘complicated.’”

  “But it is complicated.”

  Tabby set her cup down and leaned toward Lucy. “You need to talk to him about it, tell him how you feel.”

  “But that’s just it. I don’t want to talk to him about it.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “No, I want to enjoy the time I have with him and then when it’s over, I want us to remain friends.”

  “But you’re not enjoying it.”

  “Yes, I am. Mostly. Mostly, I’m enjoying it a lot.”

  “Lucy, sweetie, you should see your sad little face. Talk to him.”

  “I feel like such a child again. It’s the one thing I hate, to feel like a child. I’ve felt like a child for most of my life, sick all the time, not getting to do any of the things other girls did, with other people hovering, worrying and having to take care of me. And the whole point in the first place with me and Dami being more than friends was for me not in any way to feel like a child.”

  Tabby kicked off her duty shoes and folded her legs up to the side. “Is he treating you bad?”

  Lucy gasped. “Dami? Never. Not in any way. And this whole thing, it was my idea. I’m the one who started it, okay? I asked him to be my first lover and he wasn’t into it, but as usual, he was a hero about it and tried to let me down easy. But then he discovered that maybe he could be into it with me.”

  “Oh, right. He discovered this, did he?”

  “No, Tabby. I’m serious. He always thought of me as a kid before, you know?”

  “Oh, spare me. I’m a busy woman with my parents’ business to run, but even I read the National Enquirer now and then. The man is like some world-class lover, right? I’m sure he can tell if he’s attracted or he’s not.”

  “Uh-uh. He’s not like that, not with me. He’s not a player with me. He really has been my friend first and foremost. And we really, truly were just friends until Thanksgiving. That’s when I went after him. I went after him and I kept pushing and finally, well, it happened. We made love and it was beautiful. Exactly what I dreamed it might be. And it’s been that way every time since the first time.”

  Tabby had her lips pursed up and her brow furrowed. “It was supposed to be over after Thanksgiving, you said....”

  “That’s right. But he had meetings here in New York and, well...”

  “What you’re saying is he started it this time.”

  “Well, he was here and all, and he lives in the building whenever he’s in New York, so of course we—”

  “Oh, stop it. He’s a prince with buckets of money, right?”

  “I don’t think I like the way you say that.”

  “Too bad. The point is, if he didn’t want to be with you, he could have stayed at the Four Seasons. You’d have had no idea he was in town. He wanted to be with you. You want to be with him. It’s what I said at the first. You need to talk to him.”

  “But I told you, this whole thing with him and me was always with the understanding that it was only for a little while.”

  “And maybe that was your mistake right there.”

  “What do you mean, my mistake? He’s my friend and I trust him and I asked him to do me this very special favor. That’s all it was supposed to be.”

  “So? Now it’s more.”

  “No. You’re not listening. I’m honestly not looking for forever right now.”

  “Oh, honey. Maybe you’re not. But your heart? That’s a whole other story.”

  * * *

  Dami called at four-thirty.

  The minute she heard his voice saying he was on the way, Lucy realized what an idiot she’d been. No matter what Tabby thought, she did not need to talk to Dami about how she wanted more from this thing between them.

  She didn’t want more. She was happy with things as they were. Yes, all right, she would be sad when he left. But that was the way it went. That was life. You needed to revel in every moment. You needed to get through the heartache.

  And move on.

  He took her out to dinner at a great steak house on the Upper East Side and they shared a bottle of very expensive cabernet sauvignon. Lucy ate almost all of her filet mignon—not to mention a prosciutto-and-melon appetizer, cold asparagus salad and a baked potato the size of Long Island. They split a slice of New York cheesecake for dessert.

  The restaurant was exclusive enough that no paparazzi popped up to take their picture while they plowed through the huge, delicious meal. They laughed together and toasted Viv’s recovery and Tabby’s new man and the holiday season in general.

  Then he took her back to his place and straight to bed. He made love to her slowly, looking in her eyes. And when he whispered her name at the end, well, she could almost have wished s
he did want forever right now.

  Tuesday, like Monday, went by too fast. Lucy went to the hospital in the morning while Dami worked. Again his meetings went on and on. Lucy had time to buy an extra litter box for Boris. Then she went up to Dami’s, got the cat and took him back to her place. He kept her company while she worked some more on the detailed sketch of Alice’s wedding dress.

  They stayed in that night. And in the morning when she woke up, he wasn’t in the bed. But she could smell coffee brewing and something delicious cooking.

  Breakfast in bed? Did it get any better? They were going to have a perfect day, lazing around without any clothes on, maybe getting up later and doing something festive.

  How about a tree for her place? She grinned at the thought. They could get decorations, too. And then they could put up the tree together.

  Her grin faded.

  And then when he’s gone, won’t I love that? whined the sad little voice in her head. Every time she looked at the tree she would have to remember this last perfect day, the beautiful time they’d had choosing it and decorating it together.

  Uh-uh. Forget the tree. Bad idea. Better just to stay in bed late, make love a lot and go somewhere nice for dinner. And then make love for half the night. That would be a perfect goodbye.

  Goodbye. The word seemed to bounce around, echoing, inside her head. Her heart was racing. Her cheeks felt too warm.

  She dragged herself up against the pillows and made herself take slow, deep breaths.

  She was being an idiot and she was stopping that right now.

  Big mistake to start planning out the day. They didn’t need a plan. It would be lovely whatever they did.

  Her breathing evened out and her pulse stopped galloping. There. She was fine. She wasn’t going to break down in front of Dami just because she was beginning to realize she wanted more from him than she’d told him she wanted.

  A whole lot more.

  You need to talk to him, Tabby had said.

  But she wasn’t going to talk to him. It wasn’t fair to put all this emotional crap on him. He hadn’t bargained for anything like this.

  And neither had she, damn it. Neither had she.

  Breathe. Slowly. Deeply.

  It worked. Her tight throat loosened. The pressure behind her eyes eased. The heat in her cheeks cooled. It was fine. She was fine.

  There would be no big scene. She was under control.

  And then she looked over and there he was in the doorway, his eyes low and lazy, his mouth made for kissing, wearing a black silk robe exactly like the one he’d worn on Thanksgiving morning when she’d knocked on his door to ask him to teach her about sex. He carried a footed tray with a carafe of steaming coffee, a covered dish of something wonderful and a crystal bud vase with a sprig of mistletoe sticking out of it.

  All her deep breathing came to nothing. “Oh, Dami...” She burst into tears.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Should he have known this would happen?

  Of course he damn well should have.

  In fact, to be brutally honest, he had known it would come to this. Exactly this. And he’d gone ahead and done what he wanted to do anyway.

  Damien stood in the doorway, holding the tray with the breakfast she would probably never eat, and cursed himself for being a heartless, lust-driven dog. He shouldn’t have come here. He never should have let this thing with them get started in the first place.

  She was his friend, dear to him. She deserved so much—everything.

  Instead he’d had to go and become her lover when he knew himself and knew how it would end: just like this. With her suffering and him hating himself.

  He set down the tray and went to her. “Luce, my darling...”

  She had her head in her hands. Her slim shoulders were shaking. He reached for her and she sagged against him with a lost little sob.

  He gathered her closer, stroked her soft hair. “Shh...” He knew the words to say, the gentle reassurances. “It’s all right. Don’t cry. Everything will work out....”

  “Oh, no.” A gasp, another sob. “I don’t think so.” He felt the warmth of her tears against his throat.

  He cradled her face, tipped it up to him, wiped at her tears with his thumbs. Her eyes glittered, wet. Yearning. Her mouth trembled and he wanted to kiss her, to taste the salt and the wet, to pull the covers away and make love to her again.

  One more time. Before he left.

  He didn’t do what he wanted. For once.

  Her eyes sought something in his face. He doubted she found it. She said, “Dami, I’ve been lying. Lying to you. Lying to me. I thought I could do it. Could just keep on lying until after you’d gone.”

  He did kiss her then. But he kept the kiss chaste, though her mouth trembled, willing, beneath his.

  When he lifted his head, he saw she was on to him. “Kisses can’t keep me from saying it,” she whispered.

  “Luce...” It was a warning. And a plea.

  She said it anyway. “I love you, Dami. I’m in love with you.”

  There. She’d gone and done it. Said the three words that couldn’t be unsaid. The ones that always made him feel restless, eager to be gone.

  And she wasn’t finished. “I think I’ve been in love with you since that first night I met you, when you danced with me and treated me with such complete consideration. You talked to me, really talked to me, and you listened, like you really were interested in me and what I had to say, as though I was more than some sickly, scarred-up, skinny girl. Like I was a grown woman, beautiful and whole and strong and well.”

  “That was exactly how I saw you.”

  Through her tears, she gave him a certain look. Knowing. Patient. “As a grown woman? Hardly. You saw me as a child, Dami. You might even have loved me, too—as a friend, I mean. Or at least felt affection for me right from the first. I knew that you did. I felt that you liked me. I knew you noticed me. And you were kind to treat me as a grown woman when you knew how I longed to be thought of as a fully functioning adult. But you didn’t see me as a woman. Not then. Don’t try to tell me that you did.”

  He gave it up. “All right. As a child. I thought of you as childlike. And I adored you from the first.”

  “Okay,” she said halfheartedly. “I’ll buy that.” She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. He grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand and offered it. She took it, pulled one out, dropped the box on the bed. “You liked me and I loved you. I just didn’t realize the way that I loved you.”

  “Luce. It doesn’t matter.”

  “But I’ve been dishonest, in my heart.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t care.”

  She gasped. “But I...I used our friendship to get you to make love with me.”

  “Yes, you did. I knew that from the first. You did nothing wrong.”

  Her soft mouth twisted. “Why don’t you get it?”

  “But, Luce, I do get it.”

  “Uh-uh. No. All along I’ve been telling myself that it was just for Thanksgiving, just for these past few days, just for a little while, for experience so I could get some guy like Brandon to look twice at me. I’ve been telling myself that I didn’t want anything permanent, that I only wanted a few lessons in love and then we would go back to being like we were before. That was a lie. A lie, do you hear me? All along, deep down where it matters, in the heart of me where the truth is, I’ve been hoping, praying, longing for you to fall in love with me. I’ve been wanting a chance at forever with you.”

  He took her hand. She allowed that, which surprised him a little. Her fingers felt cool and smooth in his. He kissed them. “I lied to you, too.”

  “No.” She looked as though she might cry again, those big eyes filling. With the tissue in her free hand, she
dashed the tears away.

  He confessed. “I came here on Friday because I wanted to see you again, to be with you again. When Rule couldn’t make it for the transit-app meetings, I jumped at the chance to fill in for him.”

  Hope lit her wonderful face from within. “You...you wanted to be with me, too?”

  “Of course I did. I do, but...”

  She saw the truth in his eyes and pulled her hand free of his. Bleakly, she said the rest for him. “Not in a forever way.”

  “That’s right.”

  Dipping her head, she stared at the tissue between her hands. “So if not in a forever way, what kind of way, exactly?”

  He’d thought he’d hated it when she cried. This was worse. But she was Luce and even if he was incapable of giving her the love she deserved, he still adored her, and she wanted the truth now. What else was there to do but lay it out there for her? “You excite me, Luce. From the minute I started to see you as a woman, from that first kiss by the harbor on Thanksgiving Day, I’ve wanted you. I seem to have developed a real obsession with you. It keeps getting stronger. I know I should leave you alone, but I, well, I know you want me, too. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, wanting you. So I came here to you. For more.”

  She looked at him sideways and licked her lips, sending a bolt of lust straight to his groin. God, he was hopeless. She asked, “But it’s just sex with you, that’s what you’re saying?”

  He nodded. “And I do like you.”

  “Like. You like me.” She seemed to be testing the words, turning them over in her mind.

  He’d never in his life felt so completely inadequate. “Is that so bad? That I like you?”

  “Not...love? Not the forever kind of man-and-woman love?”

  “No. Not that.”

  “But...could it grow into love? Is that possible?”

  “God, Luce. What do you want from me? You know how I am. I told you. I’ve seen the kind of love you’re talking about. My parents have it. Most of my brothers and sisters have it. I understand myself well enough to accept that I don’t have the attention span for that kind of love.”

  She tipped her head to the other side and she looked him up and down in a measuring way that made him want to grab her and pull her under him and bury himself in the welcoming wet heat of her. “But you want me? You still want me, even after what I said about loving you, about lying to myself about loving you. You want me right now. You want to grab me and kiss me and do all those things to me that make both of us happy, that make both of us burn.”