New Year, New Man. Laura Iding

gallery was already milling with people in full evening dress sipping champagne. A jazz quartet played on a stage near the windows. A sleek red sports car gleamed under spotlights in the center of the room.

      “It’s so beautiful,” she told Dami at the sight of the new car.

      “It has to be,” he said. “After all, it’s called the Montedoro.”

      They made their way around the exhibit. Lucy took her time, studying the photographs and scale drawings and reading the descriptions that detailed the creation of the new car. The Montedoro would be available to exclusive individual buyers that coming May and offered for sale in upscale auto dealerships all over the world in the fall. Many of the drawings were signed DBC.

      Evidently, Dami saw her checking out his initials. “See? There’s more to life than painting and sketching fat cats in windows.”

      “Noah told me that you took a degree in mechanical engineering and design.”

      “I like to keep busy.”

      “You’re way too modest.”

      “Oh, no, I’m not.” He leaned closer and his warm breath brushed her temple. “I have a lot of interests. And I become bored very easily.”

      “You hide your abilities behind your jet-setter facade.”

      “Does anyone actually say jet-setter anymore?”

      She drew her shoulders back. “I do. It’s a perfect way of saying shallow-rich-people-who-fly-all-over-the-place-in-their-private-jets. Just IMO, of course.”

      He pretended to hide a yawn. “I hope this isn’t the beginning of one of your lectures concerning my wasted artistic talent. I thought we had an understanding about that.”

      “You’re right.” She did her best to look contrite. “We do. And I didn’t mean to insult rich people with too much time on their hands.”

      “As opposed to hardworking rich people, you mean?”

      “Well, you have to admit, a hardworking rich person is much more admirable.”

      “Spoken like an American.”

      She scolded, “And would you please stop telling me how easily you get bored?”

      He leaned even closer and whispered, “Done.”

      She breathed him in. He did smell wonderful. “Terrific.”

      He touched her hair, tracing the line of it along her temple and cheek then following the shell of her ear. A little shiver of pleasure went through her and he whispered, “Not bored now. Not with you....”

      They were sharing a lovely, intimate smile when she heard the disturbance by the wide arch that opened back onto the Hall of Tapestries. Dami was facing the entrance. He could see what was happening. His tender look turned to a scowl. Lucy followed his gaze to the stunning woman surrounded by admirers and eager photographers just entering the exhibit.

      It was Vesuvia.

      And she looked even more magnificent than she did on the covers of all those glamorous fashion magazines, with magnetic almond-shaped eyes, cheekbones to die for and lips so full they should be X-rated. She was very tall, with shapely shoulders and long, graceful arms. Her lion’s mane of tawny hair fell to the middle of her back and her perfect round breasts seemed to defy gravity. She wore a low-cut white gown that clung lovingly to every curve and was slit high on the right side to reveal a whole lot of toned golden-skinned leg and a pair of Grecian-inspired metallic sandals with the straps wrapping halfway up her otherworldly calves. She laughed and tossed her acres of hair and the photographers went into a frenzy of picture taking, calling encouragements to her and begging, “Vesuvia, this way!” and “Vesuvia, over here!”

      Dami leaned close again, “Don’t stare, Luce. It only encourages her.”

      Lucy turned back to him, feeling slightly dazed, the way you do when you stare directly into the sun. “Sorry, Dami. How can I help it? She’s pretty amazing to look at, you know?” She glanced again at his ex-girlfriend just as the woman raised her golden arm to send Dami a little wave, a come-and-get-me smile on those impossibly large lips. And that had Lucy whipping her head back to catch Dami’s reaction.

      But his gaze was waiting for her. “You look as though you’re watching a tennis match.”

      She didn’t deny it. “Am I?”

      “Not on my part. I’ve conceded that game.”

      Are you sure? she longed to ask. But no. Maybe later when they were alone, if it felt right, they might talk about his ex. Because they were friends and they trusted each other.

      But to get into all that now, well, uh-uh. Time and place, it wasn’t. Plus, Lucy found she felt... Well, not jealous, exactly. How could she be jealous? She and Dami didn’t have that kind of thing going on.

      But at a disadvantage. Yes, that was it. Like suddenly she was walking around blindfolded in an unfamiliar room, groping at the furniture, trying to find her way.

      Vesuvia and her posse were headed for the scale model of the Montedoro in the center of the exhibit. A man and a woman broke from the group. The woman wore a black sheath cocktail dress and the man a dark suit. Both had on ear-to-ear smiles. They came right for Lucy and Damien.

      “Watch out,” Dami warned. “Ad executives.” He named a major international advertising company.

      “Your Highness,” fawned the woman. “How are you?”

      Dami nodded. “Wonderful to see you.” He introduced Lucy. She murmured a hello.

      The woman gave her a quick nod and got right to the point. “I wonder, a few pictures? You and Vesuvia and the Montedoro? Is it possible, do you think?”

      “Of course,” he said. “I’ll be right over.”

      The man said, “Excellent.”

      The woman said, “Perfect.”

      And then they both turned and went back to where Vesuvia was laughing and tossing her head in front of the red car.

      Dami wrapped an arm around Lucy’s shoulder, drew her close to his side and spoke softly in her ear. “We want to keep the Montedoro in the news. Unfortunately, that means I have to try to say yes to any and all shameless photo ops whenever the car happens to be involved.”

      Lucy didn’t like it. And it annoyed her that she didn’t like it. She kind of did feel jealous after all. Ugh. Jealousy was not in her plan.

      Dami did the loveliest thing then. He pressed his lips against her hair, just above her right ear. “Luce? Are you all right?”

      Really, she had to stop crushing on him. It just wasn’t fair, wasn’t part of their arrangement. She put on a bright voice. “Of course. I get it.” And she did. He and Vesuvia might or might not be through, but pictures of them together would fuel rumors about them and their stormy relationship. The pictures would make all the tabloids—and the Montedoro would be in all the pictures. “Go ahead with your photo op. I’m just going to look around the other exhibits a little.”

      He pulled her close again and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His lips were warm and soft and a thrill went through her. She felt the affection in that brushing caress. At the same time, she couldn’t help thinking, Oh, Dami. On the forehead? Way to make me feel like a child.

      Still, she met his eyes one more time and smiled like she didn’t have a care in the world. And then she left him so he could go and pose with his ex.

      She headed for the Hall of Tapestries, trotting as fast as her mermaid hem would allow, determined to make a quick escape from the South Gallery. But she wasn’t quite quick enough. As she passed under the wide arch that got her out of there, she spotted Noah and Alice coming straight for her.

      They saw her. What else could she do but deal with them? If she took off running,