Christine Rimmer - Holiday Royale

“No....”

“Yes. It does, I promise you. And may I add that you are also like a breath of fresh air, both bracing and sweet.” He watched her flushed face and thought how very much he liked her, how he’d liked her from the first time he met her, at her brother’s Carpinteria estate when she’d dragged him to her sewing room and showed him several of her creations, after which she’d plunked her portfolio down on the cutting table and started flipping through the pages, chattering nonstop about her ambitions as a fashion designer.

Now she gazed at him through big eyes full of hope and trust. “Oh, you do know how to dish out the compliments.”

“It’s easy when I’m only telling the absolute truth.”

“Oh, right. Sure you are.”

He turned his mouth down at the corners in a mimic of sadness. “Luce. You wound me.”

She started to giggle—and then she blinked. “Wait a minute.”

“Yes?”

“Are you telling me that, um, you will?”

Ouch. Leave it to Lucy to cut right to the heart of the matter.

The thing was, he wanted to tell her yes, that he would be her lover. He truly did. But he was no more a seducer of virgins than Brandon of the butterscotch eyes. He absolutely did find her attractive, but in the way one finds a child attractive, because she was pure and honest, innocent and sweet yet also funny and surprising and perceptive, too. Not to mention splendidly talented. However, he couldn’t quite make himself think of her as a grown woman, as an eligible female he might take to his bed.

She was watching him suspiciously. “Long silence. I’m taking that for a no.”

Above all, he did not want to hurt her. “You truly are lovely, Luce. Your shining seal-brown hair, those enormous eyes that tip up so playfully at the corners. That one dimple in your left cheek that’s deeper than the one on the right when you smile....”

“You’re an absolute genius at making me feel good-looking.”

“Because you are good-looking.”

“But you still haven’t answered my question,” she accused. “I’m thinking that’s not a good sign.”

The solution came to him. “Tell you what.”

For that he got an eye roll. “Stalling. That’s what you’re doing, right?”

“Well, yes. I suppose that I am.”

“Oh, I knew it.” She wrinkled her cute nose at him. But at least she no longer seemed on the verge of shedding more tears.

He qualified, “However, I am stalling in a good way.”

“Ha.” She made another attempt to free her hand from his hold.

He didn’t let go. “Listen. Please.”

“Fine, fine.” She tipped her head from side to side, her words a singsong. “Go ahead.”

“We’ll take things a bit slower.”

That brought a frown to crease her smooth brow. “Slower than what?”

“You’re here for the holiday weekend.”

“I am, yes.”

“We’ll spend the time—or much of it, anyway—in each other’s company.”

“You mean like we’re dating?”

“Yes. As though we were dating.”

“Oh, Dami. I may be naive, but I’m so on to you. I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to let me down easy.”

She had it right, but he had no intention of admitting that. “Come to the kitchen.” He tugged on her hand again. “We can finish our coffee....” He expected her to require more coaxing and encouragements before she’d agree to sit at the table again and discuss the situation frankly.

But as she so often did, she surprised him. She said, “Yes. All right.” And she followed him back the way they had come.

* * *

In the kitchen, Lucy reclaimed her seat at the table and Dami refreshed their coffee cups before settling opposite her again.

Lucy watched him. He really was so nice to look at, in his sexy black robe and all, with that slice of sculpted chest on view, with his thick dark hair and his eyes that sometimes seemed the darkest brown and then, in certain lights, a green so deep it was almost black. So different from Brandon, who was clean-cut and outdoorsy with a handsome, open sort of face. Dami exuded power and ease, a hint of danger and strangely, humor and tenderness, too. They called him the Player Prince. Everyone said he’d been with more women than her big brother, Noah. Which was seriously saying something.

Noah used to be quite the lady-killer. But in the past year or so, he’d changed. He’d stopped seeing women at all for a while. And then he’d found Dami’s sister Alice. Lucy did adore Alice. Alice was perfect for Noah. Lucy felt real satisfaction knowing that she could strike out on her own and her big brother had someone to love him the way he’d never let himself be loved before. Someone to keep him honest and stand up to him when he got too full of himself.

“Luce.” Dami was frowning at her. “What are you thinking?”

She sipped her coffee. “That my brother’s happy with your sister, and I’m really glad about that.” Well, she had been thinking about Noah and Alice—after she’d admired the man across from her in his sexy robe.

“They are good together,” he agreed.

She laughed, feeling lighthearted suddenly. Okay, she got the message that Dami wasn’t up for teaching her the ways of love and sex. But at least he hadn’t acted as if he couldn’t wait to get rid of her, the way Brandon had when she’d tried to put a move on him. Dami would still be her friend always—somehow she just knew that—no matter what gauche, immature thing she did or said.

“What is so humorous?” he demanded.

“I don’t know. I was really scared to ask you. And now I’ve done it, and...it’s okay. The sky didn’t fall. You didn’t toss me out the door on my butt.”

“I would never toss you out the door—on your butt or otherwise.”

“Exactly. I love that about you.”

He ate a little more of his pastry and then he said thoughtfully, “I do realize I have something of a reputation with women. But even someone like me doesn’t instantly fall into bed with any female who wanders by, no matter how fetching and well dressed she might be.” A wry smile twisted his mouth. “Or at least, I haven’t for the past few years.”

This was getting interesting. “You’re saying you had a lot of indiscriminate sex when you were younger?”

“I suppose I did, yes.”

“You suppose? Oh, come on, Dami. You did or you didn’t.”

He chuckled. “I like you, Luce.”

She beamed. “It’s totally mutual.”

“And I think that spending time together over this long weekend is a way to find out if there could ever be more than friendship between us.”

Yeah, okay. She fully got that he was only being nice to her. And his suggestion of the two of them together for the weekend, just having fun, wasn’t what she’d come for.

But so what?

It would be wonderful to spend a whole weekend at his side. And maybe a little of his smoothness and elegance would rub off on her. That certainly couldn’t hurt. She might not get the whole sex-for-the-first-time thing over with, but at least she could acquire a little sophistication—if that was possible in a few short days.

She sipped her coffee and he sipped his. When she set her cup down, she said, “So, then. Sunday I’m flying back to New York. And you’re saying it will be you and me, together in a dating kind of way, today, tomorrow and Saturday.”

He inclined his dark head. “Starting this morning with the Prince Consort’s Thanksgiving Bazaar on the rue St.-Georges.”

* * *

Dami leaned close to her. “Ignore them,” he whispered. “Simply pretend they’re not there.”

They stood side by side on the cobbled street, in front of a booth that sold handmade Christmas ornaments. By then it was nearing eleven in the morning. Lucy couldn’t resist a quick glance over her shoulder.