Nan Dixon - A Savannah Christmas Wish

The fragrance of flowering citrus trees saturated the air. Twinkling fairy lights covered the branches and sheer toile bows draped from each corner of the room. Pale yellow linens with matching napkins covered the tables. Marion’s crew had made the chandeliers sparkle, and they threw off rainbows as the sunlight faded. On the tables, candles surrounded tall vases of yellow spider mums, yellow roses and glowing white orchids.

Molly was packing up a box. “Have fun tonight!”

“Thank you.” Bess took a deep breath and threw open the French doors.

Her mother walked into the room and turned in a circle, her mouth open.

Oh, shoot. Her mother hated it. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you what you wanted.”

“It’s...it’s...” Mamma hugged her tight. “Oh, Bess, it’s incredible.”

Bess hugged her back, relaxing into the embrace. It was amazing how good it felt to get a compliment from her mother.

A server came by with a tray of filled flutes. “Congratulations.”

Her mother and Martin greeted guests as they came through the receiving line.

Everything was going well until she sat down for dinner. The place card said she was sitting next to Daniel. She started to rearrange the cards, but she wasn’t quick enough.

A woodsy scent warned her Daniel stood next to her. He plucked the card from her fingers. “Are you moving me?”

Daniel’s broad shoulders filled out his dark gray suit perfectly. His golden hair curled at the collar of his crisp white shirt. Shouldn’t he look like a devil? Maybe have a big twirling mustache?

“Wouldn’t you rather sit by your brother?” Her face heated up. “You don’t see him very often.”

“No.” The word was curt.

“But he’s your twin.” She looked around to see where Nathan was sitting.

Daniel placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’d rather sit here.”

She blinked. “What if I make you do something—” she wiggled her hands “—crazy?”

“We can survive sitting together for an hour.” His tone was as dry as a houseplant no one had watered for a month. “I might even manage being around you for an entire evening.”

“Fine.” The only people who needed to be happy tonight were Mamma and Martin.

Daniel took his seat and a swig from his tumbler. “Right.”

She finished her champagne. It might be the only way to get through the night.

Daniel mumbled.

She couldn’t hear over the clinking of silverware and hum of the crowd. “What?”

He leaned closer. “The room looks...pretty.”

Hours of work and he called it pretty . “Thanks.”

“So do you.” This time his gaze dropped to her cleavage but jerked back up to her face. “You look—different.”

“Dolley did a makeover.”

He leaned over and sniffed her neck. “You smell different, too.”

Bess swallowed. He knew her scent? “Abby’s lotion.”

Daniel eyebrows slid together. “Ah.”

A server handed her another glass of champagne and she took a big gulp, not taking her eyes off Daniel. What was his game now? He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before.

“Your mom looks happy.” Daniel nodded toward the couple’s table.

“She is.” Bess grinned. She should slow down on the champagne, but it was Mamma’s wedding.

They talked through dinner. Daniel had the whole table laughing. As they worked their way through salads and entrées, she relaxed. It was as if she and Daniel were kids again, free to talk and laugh together. She stared at Daniel’s lips. His mouth was so damn sexy.

She grabbed another glass of champagne. Maybe he wasn’t such a jerk after all.

* * *

DANIEL WATCHED BESS whirl around the dance floor. Her cheeks were flushed a gorgeous peach color. She was knock-me-over beautiful. Always had been. And she’d always been too young for him. She made him do and feel things he shouldn’t. He needed to stay away from her.

But her smile—even when alcohol induced—was mesmerizing. It made him want to trace her lips and count the freckles dusting her nose.

Thoughts like that didn’t lead to good things. Around her, he forgot what was important. Even when she’d just been a kid and he was helping Pop at Fitzgerald House, he’d gotten in trouble for spending too much time with Bess. She’d had a crush on him, and it had been...nice. They’d get talking—and he’d forget his work.

Bess had once talked him into climbing the live oak over at Carleton House. They’d been high enough in the tree to see into the square. When Pop had found them up in the top branches, he’d nearly burst a gasket. Pop had lectured him all the way home for letting Bess climb so high. And then he hadn’t been allowed to watch TV for a month. Nathan had loved that.

She’d stared at his mouth earlier, and the temperature in the ballroom had jumped ten degrees. She was a distraction he didn’t need. Ever.

He stopped at the bar. Joints popped as he twisted his neck. “Jameson, please.”

Gray, Abby’s fiancé, joined him. “I got through the Carleton House bid. Looks great.”

“Good.” He and Pop had gone through it one more time before sending it off. “The carriage-house work is picking up.”

“I walked through the place before the girls corralled me into setting up for the wedding.” Gray tipped his tumbler at Daniel. “I can’t wait for the walls to go up.”

“Next week.”

The three sisters rushed over, laughing. Their reddish-gold hair lit the room better than the chandeliers.

“No talking business.” Abby tugged Gray toward the dance floor. “Bess, grab Daniel and make him dance.”

Daniel shook his head. Dancing with Bess would be like grabbing hold of a live wire. Stupid.

“Go on.” Dolley gave him a push. “You haven’t danced. There aren’t many eligible guys around.”

“You can’t keep up with me.” Bess wiggled her hips. “You’re too old.”

“Old?” He knocked back the rest of his whiskey and shook his head as the liquor burned a path to his stomach. He caught her hand. “Let’s see your moves, kid.”

Bess shimmied to the music as they joined other couples on the dance floor. She was willowy and gorgeous. And when she moved, her dress tightened against her breasts. Breasts that reminded him of one insane night.

The music shifted to a jazzy slow wail. He wasn’t about to hold Bess in his arms. He turned to leave the floor.

“Come on.” She caught his hand. Her hazel eyes sparkled with gold in the ballroom’s dim light. “You boasted you could be around me for an entire evening.”

He should run. Instead he stepped close and her hands slid around his neck. Like a jigsaw puzzle, her curves fit his angles.

He sucked in the heady scents of lemon, flowers and earth. This was a mistake, but he couldn’t pull away.

They were too close for a friendly dance. Close enough for him to feel her nipples, hard and firm under her dress. His leg slipped between hers.

She looked at him through half-closed eyes. “I hate you, you know.”

He exhaled. “I know.”

He didn’t want her to hate him. They’d just—made a mess of things ten years ago. Hell, he’d been in college. She’d only been seventeen.

The memory had his arousal easing off.

Ten years ago, he’d been grieving. Bess had caught him at Dora’s and invited him to a party, and they’d both gotten drunk.

After their disastrous night, he’d limited himself to two drinks in an evening.

The music ended and he cupped an arm under her elbow and led her off the floor.

“Dancing with me didn’t kill you, did it?” she teased.

Almost. “No.”

She reached for another full flute.

“Maybe you should slow down,” he suggested.