She fiddled with her cup and sighed. “That’s still bothering you?”
“Think about it. There were paparazzi there tonight. Someone will have gotten pictures of that little scene with Susie. Noah is going to be pissed off when he sees them.”
“Too bad. He’ll have to look at it as more practice at minding his own business.” She got down from the chair and held out her hand to him.
He stood and snared her outstretched fingers, reeling her in and wrapping her in his arms. She tipped up her mouth to him in an offer he couldn’t resist. They shared another kiss.
When he lifted his head, she gave him one of those smiles that could light up the darkest night. “So what if Susie made an embarrassing little scene? Too bad if there are pictures online or in the Enquirer. And if Noah doesn’t like that you’re here with me, that’s his problem. I only want to know whether or not you’re going to let all that ruin the three days we have left.”
“You’re sure you still want to be with me?” His breath lodged in his throat as he waited for her answer.
She gave it without any hesitation. “Yes, Dami. I’m sure.”
Relief poured through him, cool and sweet. And then he frowned. “Wait a minute. Three days?”
“That’s right.”
“How do you get three?”
“Well, it’s after midnight, so it’s Sunday.” She ticked the days off on her fingers. “We have Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. You’re leaving Wednesday, so we really can’t count Wednesday. That leaves the three days, from Sunday on.”
He framed her face between his hands. “I think I should stay until Thursday, at least.”
Her eyes were shining. “Four more days.” She twined her arms around his neck. “I do like the sound of that.”
He bent and scooped her high against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck. And he carried her out of the kitchen and straight to bed.
* * *
Lucy woke at dawn, snuggled up close in Dami’s embrace and thought how right it felt to be there. She burrowed in closer, loving the warmth of him, the smoothness of his skin over all those lovely hard muscles, the absolute manliness of him—and then she remembered Boris.
She kissed Dami’s stubbled chin and whispered, “Good morning.”
He made a grumbling sound and cupped a hand around the back of her head in a possessive, tender gesture that stole her breath away. “Early. Ugh. Go back to sleep....”
She kissed his chin again. “Can’t. I have to go down and feed the cat.”
More grumbly noises. His big arms tightened around her. “Stay here. I’ll send Quentin to do it.”
That made her smile. “There will be scooping involved.”
“Quentin can scoop.”
“Oh, now. That’s just wrong, to send a highly trained bodyguard to clean up after Boris.”
“Quentin’s a soldier. He’s dealt with worse.”
“No. I have to do it. Boris needs cuddles. He’s been alone all night. Don’t you even try to tell me that Quentin does cuddles.”
Dami ran a hand down her back, tucking her into him even tighter than before. She wanted to stay right there for a lifetime or so. “Promise to make it quick?” he growled in her ear. “Remember, we only have four days left of our Christmas affair.”
She laughed at that. “Cuddles take time—but I won’t be that long.”
Grudgingly, he released her, and then he sat back on the gray satin pillows, laced his fingers behind his head and watched her scurry around naked finding her underwear, her dress—and finally her shoes, one of which had managed to end up halfway down the hall.
“I like that dress,” he said, as she wriggled back into it. “I like all of your dresses. But I like it even better when you’re wearing nothing. I’m thinking I should keep you naked all the time.”
“There are so many ways that is totally impractical.”
“Allow a man to dream.”
She went over and sat on the bed, showing him her back. “Zip me up.”
He did, pausing to brush a light kiss below her shoulder blades in the V where the zipper stopped. “I’ll walk you out.” He breathed the words against her flesh and she wanted to take her dress off again and get back under the covers with him.
But Boris was waiting.
Dami put on his robe and followed her out to the door, where he helped her into her coat. She grabbed her evening bag as he disarmed the alarm.
He kissed her one last time, there on the threshold. “Half an hour, no more,” he commanded. “I want you back here with me so we can spend the day in bed together the way we planned.”
Downstairs, Boris was waiting for her just inside the door looking very grumpy. She cuddled him, changed his water, cleaned up after him and filled his food bowl with fresh kibble. With ten minutes to spare of the thirty Dami had granted her, she had a quick shower and changed into jeans and a comfy sweater. She was just switching purses when her phone rang.
It was Dami. “You’re late.”
“I’m on my way. Keep your pants on.”
“I’m not wearing any pants.”
She laughed, dropped the phone back into her sturdy cross-body bag, pulled open her door—and saw Viviana.
Viv hovered in the open door to her apartment, still in her robe and slippers. She had her hand pressed to her chest. Her face, scarily gray and shiny with sweat, was screwed up tight in a grimace of pain. “Lucy. Hurts...” she barely managed to whisper. Lucy went to her, fumbling in her purse for her phone again as she ran.
Lucy got the 911 dispatcher on the first ring. “Heart attack,” she said, almost positive she had it right—and even if she didn’t, the two scary words always got the ball rolling.
The dispatcher took it from there, ready with the usual long list of questions. Lucy gave the address and the cross street as she guided Viv down the wall beside the door to her apartment. Viv clutched at her, panting, but Lucy managed to get her seated and supported by the wall with her knees drawn up. The dispatcher asked the questions and Lucy answered, calmly and clearly.
Once the ambulance was on the way—six minutes, tops, the dispatcher promised—the dispatcher had her ask Viv if she was on nitroglycerin.
Viv shook her head and whispered, “No...first time anything like this has happened....”
“She’s not on nitroglycerin,” Lucy said into the phone. “She says this is the first time this has happened to her.”
Next the dispatcher wanted to know if there was aspirin available. “Chewable, if possible.”
Lucy had none. She bit back a groan. At that moment, she almost wished she’d had valve-replacement surgery rather than repair. With an artificial valve, she just might have been on an aspirin regimen and could have whipped a bottle right out of her purse. Then again, she probably would have been on warfarin or...
Dear Lord, what did it matter? The point was she had no aspirin to give Viviana.
She asked Viv, “Do you have any aspirin?”
Viv gestured weakly toward the open door to her apartment. “Master bathroom