He went back to the sofa, kicked off his shoes and stretched out. A certain buoyancy had come over him. He felt distinctly optimistic.
It didn’t hurt his new, improved mood that for now, anyway, there was no need to consider calling V after all. If she’d meant what she’d said, he wouldn’t be talking to her again.
And if she hadn’t meant it...
Well, he’d walk that plank when he came to it.
* * *
“I work as a nanny,” said Lani Vasquez, leaning closer to Lucy in order to be heard over the din in the crowded ballroom. The musicians had taken a break and now everyone seemed to be talking at once. Lani went on, “I came from Texas with Sydney when she married Rule.” Rule, Lucy reminded herself. Second-born after Maximilian. “And now I take care of their kids, Trevor and Ellie. It’s such a great job. I love the kids and Sydney is very hands-on, so I get a lot of time to myself. Tonight she and Rule are at their villa with the children, so here I am enjoying the Thanksgiving Ball.” Lani flashed a bright smile. “I love it here in Montedoro. I never want to leave.”
Prince Maximilian, the heir apparent, who’d been standing a few feet away chatting with a beefy older guy, stepped closer. He and the black-haired nanny from Texas shared a warm glance. “Lani’s a writer,” he said. “She’s writing a series of historical novels set in Montedoro.”
“Someday I intend to be a published writer,” Lani added. “Someday soon, I keep hoping.”
“Lani has an agent in America,” said the prince. The man was clearly a booster of the pretty nanny. “She’s right on the brink of that first big sale.”
“The brink.” Lani gave a small uncomfortable chuckle. “As I said, we can hope.”
“It can’t be long now.” Max seemed to have no doubts about Lani’s inevitable success.
“His Highness has two children, Nicholas and Constance,” Lani told Lucy.
“I remember seeing them at Thanksgiving dinner.” Lucy pictured them: a dark-eyed boy of seven or eight, a little blonde girl a year or two younger.
Lani went on, “Their nanny, Gerta, and I have become good friends.”
Max said, “Gerta’s like a second mother to them. They’re very attached to her.”
“Gerta. I’ve heard that name before— Wait, I know. Dami told me that he had a nanny named Gerta.”
“That’s right,” Max replied. “Gerta was our nanny, too. She looked after all nine of us when we were small. Gerta’s part of the family, really.”
Lani said, “We all hang out together. The four children, Gerta and I. That’s how Max and I have gotten to know each other a little. His Highness is the world’s foremost expert on the history of Montedoro.” She said it proudly, with real admiration, apparently as much a booster of the prince as he was of her. “And he’s arranged it so that I have unlimited access to the amazing original materials in the palace library.”
“Wow.” Lucy was impressed. “Talk about an invaluable research resource....”
Lani and the prince shared another lingering glance. “Exactly,” Lani said. “The library contains the correspondence of the Calabretti princes over hundreds of years. There are historical documents going back to the Middle Ages. I could never find such a treasure trove anywhere else.”
Right then Dami, who’d gone off to chat up some business associate, appeared at Lucy’s side. He greeted his brother and Lani. The music began to play again. Max offered Lani his hand. She took it and they went out on the floor to dance.
Lucy watched them go. “The prince and the nanny. I’m lovin’ it.”
“What are you talking about?” Dami sounded surprised.
Lucy chuckled. “Oh, come on.” She watched the two dancing. They had eyes only for each other. “It’s obvious those two have a thing going on.”
“No. Never.” His tone was flat, unequivocal. She glanced at him. He was frowning. And then he said grudgingly, “Yes, all right. It’s a little odd.”
“Excuse me? Odd?”
“Max only dances with his sisters and our mother.”
“Well, yeah. That is kind of odd.”
“That’s not what I meant. You don’t understand.” He watched Max and Lani until they danced out of sight. Then he shook his head. “Never mind.”
She moved in a fraction closer to him and brushed her bare arm against the superfine wool of his sleeve, loving the heat in her belly, the shiver of anticipation for the night to come, when it would be just the two of them at last and they would finally finish what they’d started the night before. “Don’t blow me off, Dami. There’s something going on between the two of them. They’re a mutual admiration society, I kid you not. And when they look at each other... Bam.” She lifted her fisted hands and then popped all her fingers wide to illustrate.
Dami eased an arm around her waist and drew her in front of him. She felt him at her back and longed to lean into his heat and hardness. However, if she did that, she’d probably start rubbing on him next. And it wouldn’t be appropriate 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