No. The kiss had not been in his clever plan to enjoy the weekend with her, to offer her his company and a large helping of Montedoran tradition and then send her back to New York as innocent as ever.
Kisses, real kisses, didn’t fit in the plan.
But in the end, how could he resist?
His mouth touched hers and she let out the tiniest, most tender of sighs. Her sweetness flowed into him.
And it was...
More.
Much more than he had expected. Far beyond the boundaries of what he’d intended.
It was a light kiss, a gentle kiss. His mouth against hers, but chastely. Not in any way a soul kiss.
And yet, still, a revelation.
He breathed in the scent of cherries and he saw, all at once, what he had been able to keep from himself before. He saw that she was sweet and innocent, yes.
But she was not a child.
And now that he’d done it, now that he’d felt her lips against his, breathed in her breath, listened to her tiny sigh, he wasn’t going to be able to unring that bell. The spilled milk would not flow back into the bottle. The cat was out and was prowling around now, thoroughly unwilling to go back in the bag.
Henceforth and forever, when he looked at Lucy, he would see a grown woman. A grown woman he could so easily desire.
The temptation tugged at him to reach out and gather her closer, to deepen the kiss, to explore this new Lucy, the one he hadn’t let himself see before. And why not? He’d never been a man who put much store in resisting temptation. What was the point? Better to give in. Life was too short and pleasure too...pleasurable.
But somehow and for some reason he didn’t even understand, he kept his hands to himself. He lifted his head and she opened her eyes and he felt absurdly, ridiculously proud of himself.
“Oh, Dami,” she whispered happily, searching his face.
He touched her neat little chin again, because he could. Her skin was poreless, creamy, fresh. “It was only a kiss,” he shamelessly lied.
She corrected him with a glowing smile, “An absolutely perfect kiss.”
He offered his arm. She took it. Together they turned for the car that waited to take them back to the palace.
* * *
Thanksgiving dinner at the Prince’s Palace was a family affair. A very large family affair. Large enough to be held in the ornate formal dining room of the State Apartments. It was to be dressy but not formal.
Lucy wore a plum-colored lace creation of her own with little satin straps over the shoulders and a skirt that came to just above her knees. Her deep purple satin pumps had big satin bows at the heels. The dress showed enough skin that she didn’t look too innocent, but the cut was more youthful than clingy and that made it nice for a family affair.
At first they all gathered in the Blue Room next to the dining room. Drinks were served. She didn’t spot Dami right away, but she did see Noah and Alice on the far side of the room talking to another couple Lucy didn’t recognize. Alice wore a gorgeous copper-colored dress and held Noah’s arm and he smiled down at her with such a look of love and contentment Lucy found herself grinning in satisfaction at the sight.
But then she got worried that Noah might see her and wave at her to join them. She did love her big brother, but the last thing she needed was him hovering over her. He could be like some fussy old mother hen with her.
Objectively, she couldn’t blame him for wanting to look after her. They’d lost both their parents way too soon and he had a deep-rooted fear that something awful would happen to her. She’d been ill so much growing up that his fear only intensified. Any number of times, Noah had found just the right specialist to save her at the last minute when she was at death’s door. She loved him, she did. He was the best big brother in the world. And he kept promising he understood that she was ready to run her own life now. Sometimes she believed him. And sometimes she wondered if he was ever going to get off her case.
She circled away to another side of the room, putting a large gold-veined Ionic column between her and Noah. Perfect. Now she was completely out of his line of sight.
“Your dress is adorable and your shoes are very naughty.” The deep, smooth voice came from directly behind her.
She turned. “Dami. There you are.” He wore a beautiful dark suit and he was hands down the best-looking man in the room, which was really saying something, since all the Bravo-Calabretti princes were totally sigh-worthy, including Dami’s father, Evan, the prince consort.
He handed her a crystal flute. “Champagne?”
She took it. They raised their glasses and she took a fizzy sip. “Yum.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
She watched his mouth move and a little shiver slid through her. Her lips kind of tingled. It might have been a few leftover bubbles from the champagne—or it might have been that she couldn’t help remembering the kiss that afternoon.
How could a simple soft press of his mouth to hers be so very exciting? She might not be all that experienced, but everyone knew that an intimate, sexy kiss was wet and usually involved tongues. The kiss by the Promenade had been nothing like that.
And yet, somehow, everything like that.
She had to keep reminding herself not to get her hopes up, that Damien’s kindness and generosity to her during this special weekend meant he cherished her friendship—and nothing more.
“Come.” He took her bare arm, causing havoc beneath her skin, a sensation equally exquisite and disorienting. “I must introduce you to my parents, who will soon be your brother’s in-laws.”
She ordered her feet in their high satin heels to go where he took her.
Her Sovereign Highness Adrienne of Montedoro and her prince consort, Evan, were every bit as gracious and friendly as Dami and Alice. Adrienne, who had to be at least in her mid-fifties but looked forty at the most, said she’d heard so much about Noah’s sister and was pleased to get to meet her at last. She knew of Lucy’s ambition to work in fashion and she complimented Lucy’s dress and got her to confess that, yes, it was her own design. Evan asked about when her first semester at the Fashion Institute of New York would begin.
“Right after New Year’s,” she said. Her feet hardly seemed to touch the inlaid marble floor as Dami led her into the dining room. “They’re amazing, your parents.”
“I’m afraid I have to agree with you.”
“I can’t believe they knew so much about me—let alone remembered what they’d heard.”
“Luce. They’re not young, but they’re hardly to the age where the memory starts to fail.”
“Oh, stop. You know what I mean. Your mother rules this country and has nine children and their spouses and their children to keep up with. And yet she still manages to recall that her future son-in-law’s little sister, whom she’s never met, wants to be a fashion designer.”
“Yes, she’s a marvel,” he agreed matter-of-factly. “Everyone says so—and here we are.” He pulled back a gilded chair with a blue damask seat.
She sat down and he took the chair beside her. There were place cards, creamy white, lettered in flowing black script. “It’s so nice that we somehow ended up seated together.”
He took the chair beside her and leaned close. “I’m on excellent terms with the staff.”
She faked a disapproving glance. “You got someone to mess with the seating chart.”
“I requested a slight rearrangement.”
With a laugh, she leaned closer. “And