Postcards At Christmas. Cara Colter
to go all X-rated at the Prince’s Thanksgiving Ball.
He said in her ear, “Max loved his wife, Sophia. He loved her and only her from the time they were children. When he lost her, we all worried that he wouldn’t be able to go on.”
She craned her head back to him. He dipped his closer. She said, “And that’s all so romantic, I know. But hey. The guy’s still alive. He has a right to a little happiness with someone who’s still breathing, don’t you think?”
“Luce.” He spoke into her ear again and his warm breath stirred her hair. “I’m only telling you that you’ve got it all wrong.”
She craned her head back once more. “No. Sorry. You’re the one who doesn’t get it. I know what I saw.”
He caught her hand. Heat shimmered up her arm from the point of contact as he whirled her to face him. His dark eyes glittered, inviting her. “Dance with me.”
She became sharply aware once again that she had no panties on. Her belly hollowed out and her breath caught. And she felt very naughty and wonderful and wild. “I was wondering if you were ever going to ask.”
He pulled her out on the floor and took her in his arms.
Dancing with Dami. It was as easy and natural as breathing, though Lucy had never been that good of a dancer. She hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to practice. Dami, on the other hand, was a great dancer. He could make any woman look good on the dance floor.
He had danced with her on the night that she’d met him. Noah had thrown one of his parties that night. There’d been a six-piece combo and dancing outside on the loggia. Prince Damien had asked her to dance and she’d felt like a princess. A very skinny, rather pale princess, it was true. At the time, she’d still been recovering from that final surgery. But that night, being too skinny with dark circles under her eyes didn’t matter. She’d felt like a princess dancing with Dami, knowing already that he would be her friend.
Now he held her so lightly, guided her so effortlessly. Her gown, strapless navy-and-black organza and guipure, seemed to float around her peep-toe high heels, unhampered by boring gravity. They danced two dances.
And then Noah cut in. “Mind if I dance with my beautiful sister?”
With a graceful nod, Dami surrendered her to her brother.
She went into Noah’s arms and watched Dami’s broad back as he wove his way through the other dancers, moving toward the full bar set up between a pair of marble pillars in a far corner.
“Your dress is beautiful,” Noah said. She thanked him. “What time’s your flight tomorrow?”
She suppressed a sigh. After all, she’d told him more than once before. “Eleven-thirty.”
“We haven’t seen enough of you over the weekend.”
“I know, it was a short visit. But I’ve had a wonderful time.”
A hesitation, then, “With Damien.”
She returned his gaze, unwavering. “Yes, Noah. With Damien.”
They danced for several seconds without speaking, which was fine with her. Then he said, “Dami’s a good man.”
“He’s the best.”
“If he hurts you, I might have to kill him.”
“Oh, stop it. Dami would never hurt me. And no matter what happens, you don’t get to kill him. Murder is a bad thing— Plus, Alice would never forgive you if you killed her brother.”
He scowled. “You’ve become so...stubborn and determined the past few years.”
“I was always stubborn and determined, but when I was sick all the time, I didn’t have the energy to be my real self.”
After a moment, he slanted her a sideways look. “How about Christmas?”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Do you ever give up?”
A wry smile curved his lips. “Never. I’m a lot like my baby sister that way.”
“Noah, I’m serious. I keep thinking we’re clear that I run my own life at last. And then you come at me again.”
He did look contrite. “Sorry.”
“Are you really?”
He nodded. “I get that you’re feeling good, doing what you want to do and loving every minute of it. And that’s great. I just... I still want to protect you. I can’t turn that off overnight.”
“Keep working on it, will you?”
“I am, Lucy. Honestly.”
“Work faster, then.” She said it gently. With all the love in her heart. “Please.”
Lani Vasquez and Prince Maximilian whirled by them, eyes only for each other. And Lucy thought of Dami’s surprise and disbelief when she’d said that there was something going on between them. Was it always like that in families? People got locked into roles—the sickly one, the grieving widower—and other family members just refused to see that the ones they love can change and grow.
But then Noah said, “Just remember that I’m proud of you. You were right to strike out on your own, not to let my fears for you hold you back. I wish you were coming home for the holidays, but if you insist on staying in New York, I’ll get over it. Have a beautiful Christmas, Lucy.”
So, then. Maybe her brother’s view of her wasn’t so locked in after all. She wished him the best Christmas ever and when that dance ended, he walked her over to the bar, where Dami and Alice were sipping champagne.
Alice set down her glass and held out her hand to Noah. He led her out on the floor. They gazed at each other the same way Prince Max had looked at Lani Vasquez.
Dami handed Lucy a crystal flute of champagne. They raised their glasses to the season. And when their glasses were empty, he asked her to dance again. It was an old standard that time, a slow holiday song: “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?”
She felt a little sad to think that on New Year’s Eve she would be in New York and Dami would be somewhere else. But not that sad.
Really, how could she be sad? She was getting exactly what she’d dreamed of: a fabulous Thanksgiving weekend and tender lessons in lovemaking from a man she trusted absolutely.
When that dance was over, she whispered, “It’s long past midnight. I don’t want to wait anymore, Dami.”
He gave her a look that was totally hot. And then he took her hand and led her out of the crowded ballroom.
His sheets were gold that night. Gold satin.
They stood beside the beautiful carved bed with the finials shaped like crowns, the gold sheets turned back, lustrous and inviting in the soft low light. He kissed her for the longest time, an endless, tender, ever-deepening kiss.
As he kissed her, he touched her, caressing her bare shoulders, her back, the curve of her waist and lower. When he stroked his hands over her hips, she moaned a little, sharply aware of her nakedness beneath the long skirt of her dress.
Really, a woman’s panties didn’t cover all that much to make her feel so bare without them. But she did feel bare under her gown. Bare and revealed, somehow, though no one could see.
He lifted his mouth from hers. “Luce.”
“Um?”
“Take off your dress.”
“Yes.” She turned around and showed him her back. He pulled her zipper down. The dress fell away. She caught it, stepped out of it, tossed it toward