A Savannah Christmas Wish. Nan Dixon

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Название A Savannah Christmas Wish
Автор произведения Nan Dixon
Жанр Контркультура
Серия Fitzgerald House
Издательство Контркультура
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781474046466



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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.

      Her eyes shot green fire at him and she drained half the glass. “It’s my mother’s wedding.”

      “Bess.”

      She waved wildly and smacked his shoulder. “There’s Nathan.”

      “He’s been here all night.” Daniel had kept his distance from his twin. Life was easier with Nathan in Atlanta.

      “Hey, baby brother.” Nathan slung his arm over Bess’s shoulder.

      Bess laughed. “You’re twins.”

      “But I—” Nathan sketched a drunken bow “—am five minutes older. And a better dancer.”

      Nathan shoved his drink at Daniel and pulled Bess onto the dance floor.

      Bess and Nathan bumped, wiggled and twirled. Daniel hated watching them together.

      He sipped the whiskey Nathan had handed him. Maybe drinking would make the night end.

      * * *

      BESS WAS PRETTY close to drunk. Yup. Her lips were tingly and she couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe Daniel was right. Maybe she should stop. She carefully set the champagne flute down. For once, she didn’t have to clean the ballroom. She spun, her hands in the air.

      “Whoa there, little girl.” Samuel Forester caught her arm. “You’re making me dizzy.”

      “My mamma got married.”

      “I know.” Samuel chuckled. “I saw them.”

      She let him lead her near the door.

      “Daniel,” Samuel called.

      Bess pouted. After dancing, Daniel had ignored her. Whenever Nathan danced with her, Daniel glared at them. She swore he’d looked hurt when she’d told him she hated him.

      Naw. That would imply he had a heart.

      “What do you need, Pop?” Daniel said.

      “Are you heading back to your apartment?” Samuel said.

      Daniel didn’t live in an apartment. His dad knew that. Bess stared at Daniel’s deep blue-and-purple tie. She liked the colors. And it looked perfect with his gray suit.

      “Bess?” Daniel said loudly. “Are you staying here?”

      “We’re all full up. Wedding guests are tucked in every room.”

      The Forester men whispered.

      “Can you drive?” Samuel asked her.

      “Oh, no. I’m walking home.” She shook her head. “Nope, nope. Not safe to drive.”

      “We know,” Daniel said. “And no, I’m not driving, either. I’ll walk her back and catch a cab home.”

      Samuel gave her a hug. “Take aspirin before you head to bed tonight.”

      As Samuel walked away, she saluted. “Aye, aye, sir.”

      “Where are your shoes?” Daniel asked.

      She looked at her feet and wiggled her glittery toes. “I don’t know.”

      Daniel propped her against the wall. Other than the servers and cleaners, they were the last two people in the room.

      “These yours?” Daniel held her pretty high heels.

      She grinned. He was so darn handsome. Why did she hate him? “Those are mine. They sparkle.”

      “Just like you.” He handed them to her.

      She hooked her fingers into the straps. “I sparkle?”

      “Yes.” He pointed to her shoes. “You need to wear them.”

      She wrinkled her nose. “My feet hurt.”

      He tugged her to the elevator. “Before we head out to the street, you need to put them on.”

      She scowled. “Okay.”

      He stopped at the kitchen door and knelt at her feet. “Shoes.”

      “My prince,” she giggled. She put her hand on top of Daniel’s head and slipped her feet into her shoes. “Ouch.”

      “Toughen up, Fitzgerald.” He guided her outside into her gardens.

      She inhaled deeply. “I love the smell.”

      “It smells like you,” he said.

      Twirling again, she tipped her head back. “I love my gardens.”

      She was dizzy by the time he took her arm. “Time to get you to bed.”

      “Oh, promises, promises.”

      The arm he’d slipped around her waist tightened. “Come on.”

      Why couldn’t he be nice like this all the time?

      Her heels clacked on the sidewalk. “It’s quiet.”

      “It’s almost one thirty.”

      She leaned into his chest and inhaled. She’d know his woody scent in the dark. “I didn’t think Savannah slept.”

      His laugh rumbled under her cheek. “I think that’s New York.”

      She hummed “New York, New York” as they walked another block. They cut through Columbia Square. She stumbled on the uneven pavement, pain zinging through her toes.

      His fingers tightened around her waist.

      She had to get these shoes off—now. She bent down.

      He pulled her up. “You can’t walk barefoot.”

      She stamped her foot. “Ow, ow, ow.”

      She kicked the heels off and hopped to the fountain, stepping over the edge.

      “What are you doing?” He glared, pointing at her shoes.

      “Cooling my feet.” She kicked in the water and pointed at him. “Mamma said if we frowned, our faces would freeze like that.”

      “Right.”