Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

“The doctors are very happy with everything, so it seems the worst is over.”

      “Oh. That’s good news,” Maddy said with an earnest nod. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She looked self-conscious, he realized. Then he understood that she was worried that she’d done the wrong thing with Eloise. Before he could reassure her, Charlotte spoke up.

      “I owe you an apology, Maddy,” Charlotte said in her forth-right way. “I was rude last night. Inexcusably so. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for looking after Eloise today, and for making her smile. We don’t see enough of that in our house.”

      She held out her hand for Maddy to shake, and Maddy blinked with obvious surprise before taking it.

      “It was my pleasure. We had a lovely time,” she said.

      “You will have to show me what to do, so Eloise can have a lovely time again,” Charlotte said. “And perhaps I could buy you a coffee sometime and we could start again?”

      “Of course,” Maddy said with a shy smile. “Anytime.”

      Charlotte looked relieved as she turned to Max. “Thank you for today. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I feel like I have been saying that to you a lot lately.”

      “You know I’m happy to help,” he said.

      “Still. You have stepped in for us too many times. And I have been pulling my hair out too often. Richard and I will be having some serious talks tonight,” Charlotte said solemnly. “Perhaps it is time for him to change jobs.”

      Max knew that Richard and Charlotte had been walking a fine line the past few years, trying to balance the demands of Richard’s high-paying job with the demands of home. They needed the extra income to fund Eloise’s early intervention therapies, but Charlotte was clearly reaching the end of her endurance in her role as single parent in all but name.

      “Let me know if there is anything else I can do,” he said.

      His sister flashed him a grateful smile as she began to collect Eloise’s things. Maddy extracted the DVD from the broken player and handed it over, then they were out the door, Eloise pressing her face into her mother’s neck as Charlotte carried her to the car.

      Silence reigned for a long beat after the door closed behind them. Maddy let out a big sigh and flapped the front of her T-shirt.

      “Is it hot in here or is it just me?” she asked. “I can’t believe Eloise’s stamina. She wouldn’t let me rest for a second.”

      He wondered what she would do if he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms and kissed her the way he wanted to right now. She looked so small and strong and sexy standing there. He was fast running out of self-control where she was concerned.

      A knock called him back to the front door. It was Charlotte again. She thrust two tickets into his hand.

      “Last interruption for the day, I promise. I nearly forgot these. Richard bought them for me for my birthday, but we will not be going to the ballet tonight,” she said drily. “You and Maddy go, please. As a thank-you from us both. They will go to waste otherwise.”

      She flashed Maddy a last smile then was gone again. He studied the tickets. Dress circle, front and center. Good seats.

      “What do you think?” he said, glancing at Maddy. “The Garnier Opera Ballet performing The Nutcracker?”

      “Anna mentioned it when we spoke about Dr. Rambeau,” she said. “She’s dancing the role of Clara.”

      He quirked an eyebrow at her, still waiting for an answer to his original question. She nodded.

      “Why not?”

      “You can glam up. I remember how you like a big event.”

      “It’s been a while since I’ve been on the other side of the curtain,” she admitted.

      “I’ll take you for dinner afterward,” he said impulsively. The idea of wining and dining her held enormous appeal—sitting across a small table from her, sharing good food and fine wine, savoring the flicker of candlelight on her beautiful face. So what if it didn’t mean anything and would never lead anywhere? It was a harmless enough self-indulgence, as self-indulgences went.

      “You don’t have to do that.”

      “Maybe I want to,” he said before he could edit himself.

      Awareness crackled between them for a heated moment as they locked eyes. It was the closest he’d ever come to declaring his interest in her. The memory of those few hot moments in the darkness behind The Gypsy Bar hung heavily between them. Maddy broke eye contact, her gaze sliding over his shoulder.

      Reality washed over him, cool and undeniable.

      You’re her friend, remember, idiot? She doesn’t want you looking at her like that or taking her out for intimate dinners or anything remotely romantic.

      He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.

      “Maybe we should just have something at home,” he said.

      “That’s probably a good idea.”

      He bit down on a grim smile. Yeah, he was full of good ideas lately. Just full of them.

      MADDY STRAIGHTENED her spine as she climbed the stairs from the Metro station at Place D’Opera in the fourth arrondissement later that evening. Cool night air rushed at her as they stepped from the warmth of underground. She took a moment to absorb their surroundings—the stately buildings, the brightly lit cafés, the art-nouveau streetlights, the well-dressed Parisians rushing past. She swiveled on her heel and caught her first glance of the soaring white Opera Garnier, home to the Garnier Ballet, with its sweeping colonnaded front and gleaming gold statues ranged along the roofline.

      “I always forget how beautiful it is,” she said as she craned her neck.

      Max smiled indulgently and she gave him a dry look.

      “That’s the problem with you Europeans. You have so many beautiful buildings you take them for granted,” she said as he led her across the street to the entrance.

      “The way you Australians take your beaches for granted,” he said.

      She glanced at the facade again and her heart seemed to shimmy in her chest all of a sudden. A strange tension had been building inside her through the whole of their train ride. It took her a few seconds to recognize it: almost, but not quite, stage fright. She tried to shake it off, but the feeling persisted as they entered the foyer and were dazzled by the huge marble columns and elaborate gilt work.

      She flashed back to the first time she’d performed here, five years ago. She’d been twenty-four, touring with the Royal Ballet out of London. It had been one of her first solo roles, and she’d sent Max tickets to see her dance. All night she had imagined him in the audience, imagined that she was dancing especially for him. She’d only found out afterward that his father had been ill and he’d been unable to make it.

      She could feel him watching her and she forced a smile.

      “Lots of memories,” she said.

      “Yes. When I was growing up, it was always my dream to dance here,” he said.

      A dream he’d never achieved, she knew. He started up the first flight of marble steps that would take them to the dress circle. She couldn’t help but notice the tide of feminine interest that followed in his wake like a vapor trail.

      No wonder.

      She’d been hard put not to stare back at the apartment, either, when she’d come out of the bathroom in her rose print dress to find him waiting for her. His crisp white shirt, black velvet jacket and waistcoat and charcoal wool trousers fit him to perfection. His clear gray eyes were set off perfectly by the shadowy stubble on his jaw.

      On any other man, the velvet would