“What’s wrong?”
“My neck. Must be tension. It’s really stiff.”
“Well, we can’t have that!” Lucie placed her mug on the table then pushed Dale forwards. “Let me get behind you so I can massage your shoulders. I bet it’s tension coming up from there.”
Dale paused. This probably wasn’t a good idea, taking into account how he’d been feeling recently. Having Lucie’s hands on him, feeling them wandering over his flesh and kneading his muscles could be a recipe for disaster.
“Come on! We can’t have you looking like the hunchback of Notre Dame at the wedding, can we? They’ll think I don’t look after my fiancé.”
Dale shrugged. He couldn’t argue with that.
He shifted forwards on the sofa and Lucie slipped in behind him.
“Take your T-shirt off. It’ll make it easier to massage you properly.” She helped him pull it over his head.
Her thighs brushed against him as she began working her thumbs into his back. She squeezed and rubbed, and soon his skin was warm and he could feel the tension draining away. But something else was happening too, and in just his baggy lounge pants it was going to be difficult to hide.
It’s just a side effect of the relaxation. That’s all. Relax and forget about it and it will go away.
But as Lucie continued, she ran her hands over the front of his neck, then brushed her palms over his chest and down his arms. As she leant forwards and her breasts squashed against his head and shoulders, her scent overwhelmed him – coconuts mingling with honey. He should stop this. He should get up and move away, but he was in a trance.
He cared about this woman.
He loved this woman.
And he wanted this woman more than he had ever wanted anyone.
He turned slowly, then took her in his arms and she wrapped her hands around his neck.
“Lucie,” he murmured. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”
“I’m not, but I want to.”
He lifted her and carried her into the bedroom then laid her down on the bed. He moved over her, holding her eyes with his, caressing her face and neck, running his hands down her curves, over her hips, drawing invisible circles on her thighs. He wanted her so badly, yet he was afraid of breaking the spell.
Suddenly, she sat up and pulled her vest top over her head. Dale’s mouth went dry. She was so beautiful, more perfect than he could ever have imagined.
More perfect than he’d allowed himself to remember.
She took his hands and placed them on her, then he lowered his head and kissed her neck, her shoulders and her collar bones. He breathed her in.
This is happening.
Something he’d thought about many times, yet pushed away because Lucie was too precious to lose. Because she’d hurt him all those years ago with her rejection, and because he sensed that she needed him there. Always. As a friend.
Too much to risk in case it all went wrong.
She’d been through so much and he couldn’t risk hurting her. But he wouldn’t hurt her. He loved her.
He cupped her face then kissed her mouth. Delving into her with his tongue. Needing her. Taking her.
Mine.
Then he paused.
Met her eyes.
Took a deep breath.
“I love you, Luce. So, so much. I should have told you before. I wanted to tell you in the carriage, and so many other times.”
He waited.
But something in her eyes changed and she sat up.
She reached for her top and covered herself, hanging her head and avoiding looking at him.
“Luce?” He reached for her but she stood up and moved away. “Lucie, please don’t do this. I didn’t mean to upset you. What is it? Tell me!”
But she shook her head. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
He ran his hands over his face and pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes.
Not that line! Anything but that cheap bullshit line.
“You owe me more than that, Luce. If you don’t want me, fine, but why the hell did you take things so far? I mean… Was it because of him? Seeing him tonight made you think… what, that you needed to make love to me?” His voice cracked. “To escape how you feel for him?” He stood up. White-hot rage burned through him. How could this be happening?
“I need some air.” He had to leave before he said something mean, hurtful, devastating. Something he could never take back.
He grabbed his jeans and shirt, then stomped into the bathroom and dressed hurriedly. He felt drunk but he’d hardly had any alcohol that evening. His stomach churned and he cringed as he washed his face in cold water, trying to break the heady fog of desire that had enveloped him.
He should never have succumbed to his emotions. Never have let things change between them. Lucie was his friend. She needed his protection, not his advances. But he was human, and she’d come onto him and made him lower the barriers he’d erected around his desire for so long. He’d never have got half-naked if it wasn’t for her kissing him like that and taking off her top, and now look what had happened. All because he’d been so damned weak. He opened the bathroom door and sat on the edge of the bed to lace up his trainers.
“Will you be okay here alone?”
Lucie lifted her eyes to meet his. She was pale, and had wrapped her arms around her knees. There were traces of tears on her cheeks and it made him long to wipe them away.
But she didn’t want that.
She clearly didn’t want him, and had just got confused about their relationship.
As had he.
He’d give her some space now and leave her in peace, though he doubted he’d find any peace himself for quite some time.
***
As the door closed behind Dale, Lucie fell onto the bed and let the tears fall. Her chest heaved as she sobbed and curled up in a ball, wishing she could block out the sadness yet knowing such thoughts were in vain. How on earth had she allowed things to go so badly with Dale? She’d wanted him tonight. She had wanted to lose herself in making love to him, to join with him and be filled by him, completed by him; made whole again. Because Dale did that for her; he kept the blackness away, banished the chasm of loneliness that she teetered on daily and he gave her hope that future happiness was possible.
She’d been carried away with how good she felt in his arms, how sweet and tender his kisses were and how her skin had tingled as he caressed her. But then… he’d told her he loved her and she’d realized what she was doing. And it was wrong.
Lucie loved Dale, but didn’t want to make love to him for the wrong reasons. She loved him too much to allow that to happen. When… if… she made love to him it would be for the right reasons. She wasn’t certain that her need for him tonight didn’t stem from seeing Jamie, from a need to make love to someone who cared about her, someone she knew would never hurt her as Jamie had.
Dale deserved to be loved for himself, for who he was. He deserved to be treasured by the woman he took into his arms and into his life.
But now she’d screwed things up between them. He’d even mentioned Jamie, suspecting that Lucie had stopped things going further between them because she had feelings for her ex. But nothing could be further from the truth. Lucie had no sentimental residue in her heart for Jamie. He was part of her past. A part she’d forget in an instant if she could.
Dale was her life now. And, if she could find a way to make him understand, a way to explain things to him, then perhaps he would be part of her future as well.
She got up and went into the bathroom then turned on the large tap over the bath. She could head out into the night and try to track Dale down, but she was so weary and Manhattan was so big. She would be as likely to find him as she would a needle in a haystack. Besides, he’d come back eventually.
So she would wait.
Then she would explain.
Because she couldn’t bear to know that Dale was hurting, especially not because of her.
/> Chapter 13
Lucie woke with a jolt.
It was light in the bedroom.
Light?
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed then paused. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage and a wave of nausea swept over her. Had she fallen asleep after her bath? Had Dale returned?
But he wasn’t in bed with her.
He could be in the lounge.
She pulled on the hotel robe and padded over to the door.
Please let him be here.
And he was. Stood in front of the window drinking coffee. He was dressed in the suit he’d bought to wear to the wedding, his hair still damp from the shower.
“Dale?”
He turned to her, his face unreadable, as if he’d built a wall to shut her out.
“Morning. I was going to wake you if you didn’t get up soon. It’s gone nine.”
“Shit! I have to get to The Plaza.”
“I know. There’s some breakfast here if you want it. I ordered fruit salad and some croissants and there’s plenty of coffee.”
“Thank you.”
She approached him. “Dale, we need to talk.”
“Do we?” His brown eyes seemed dull in the morning light. His face thinner. As if the pain had aged him in just hours.
“I’m so sorry about what happened. I wanted to speak to you. I tried to wait up but you were gone so long.”
“I walked around for a while. I needed to clear my head.”
“Dale, I need to explain–”
He shook his head. “It’s okay, Luce. No explanations necessary. I think we’ve both been a bit affected by the romance of Manhattan.” He smiled briefly. “You’re a bridesmaid today at your friend’s wedding, then it’s Christmas day tomorrow. No need to dwell on anything negative.”
Lucie covered her mouth. With everything that had happened and her concerns about Dale, she’d forgotten the date. Dale caught her as she crumpled and carried her to the sofa. “I was afraid this might happen today. You’ve been coping well.” He smoothed her hair back from her face.
“For the first time ever, I wasn’t conscious from the second I woke that it was my mother’s anniversary. Dale, I forgot about her.”
“Not really.” He took her hand and ran his thumb over her manicured nails, courtesy of the pre-wedding makeover. “You’ll never forget your mum in here.” He pointed at her heart. “But it’s okay not to dwell on it, too. She wouldn’t have wanted that for you. Besides, you’re in a different place and we’ve been busy. It’s all right not to keep going over and over it in your mind all the time.”
I wasn’t on her mind that day when she died…
Lucie bit back the comment. What good would it do to vocalize it now? It would just confuse Dale and make her seem bitter. Which she was; a bit. But she still grieved for the woman who’d brought her into the world, who’d passed on her wavy hair and stubby toes. But Dale was right, there were other things to deal with here and now, things that required the attention of the living. She couldn’t crawl back under the duvet and hide, because she had to be Petra’s bridesmaid today. This was a good thing, a positive thing. As much as she felt like hiding away, she couldn’t.
“Why don’t you jump in the shower, then we’ll eat and head over to The Plaza.”
“What will you do while I’m being done up in the salon?”
“I’ll be around.” He shrugged. “I’ll take a walk or read a newspaper or sip champagne with some trendy New Yorkers.”
“Okay. But Dale, we need to talk later. Agreed?”
He nodded.
Lucie glanced past him, out of the window. The snow had stopped but the landscape was covered with a bright, white blanket that sparkled as if covered in glitter. It made Lucie’s eyes water just looking at it.
At least, that’s what she told herself as she headed for the shower. She wasn’t crying over how she’d had to leave things with Dale. She wasn’t fighting the tears that had sprung into her eyes, as she thought about how much she had hurt him.
***
The morning flew past in a whirl of powder and mascara, blow-drying and hairspray. Before she knew it, Lucie looked like an extra from a TV show and was afraid to move her face in case she cracked the layers of foundation.
The salon in The Plaza was buzzing with women’s laughter, ringing mobiles, the monotone of hairdryers and the clinking of glasses. When Lucie was done, she sauntered over to Petra, who was having thick black lashes glued to her eyelids as another stylist completed her bridal manicure.
“How’re you feeling?” Lucie asked her friend.
Petra waited until her eyelashes were completed before replying. “A bit nervous. But also excited. I mean… this is what I’ve wanted for, like… forever, right?” Petra’s blue eyes shone in her tanned face, her razor-sharp cheekbones heavily accentuated with rouge. She reminded Lucie of Ursula Andress in her heyday, all pouty lips and breathtaking beauty. Yet in spite of the makeup and perfectly coiffured platinum blonde hair, there was an air of sadness around Petra today that Lucie had not expected to see. Perhaps it was because of the speeches last night – her father had not been kind towards his daughter – or perhaps she just had pre-wedding jitters.
“You have always said that you wanted to be Mrs Harry Goldsmith. Ever since the first date you went on with him, if I remember correctly.” Lucie placed a hand on Petra’s shoulder, which felt thin even through the fluffy hotel robe she’d worn down to the salon.
“And I do. At least I think I do. But what if I’ve just been clinging on to an idea and I’m wrong, Luce?”
Lucie took a deep breath. She glanced around the salon, searching for the right words, as if they’d materialize out of the hairspray-tainted air, when she spotted Tania staring right at her. Nodding and smiling, as if she knew exactly what Petra was saying to Lucie.
“Honey…” Lucie turned her back on Tania. “You are about to make a massive commitment. And you need to do what is right for you. Not for Harry or your parents or for his parents or for anyone else. This is about your happiness and your future.”
Petra opened her mouth then closed it again and pressed her lips together until they turned white. “You’re right, I know that. And this is what I want. I’m just letting the nerves get to me!” She shook herself then took a deep breath and released it slowly. “In just a few hours I will be a happily married woman. This is my destiny.” She pouted at her reflection and waved at the hairstylist. “I need you to secure this bit here at the front. I don’t want it flopping when I get warm or when I have my first kiss as a newlywed.”
Lucie left them to it. Petra was a grown woman and only she knew her own mind. No one had the right to try to make someone’s decisions for them. She wondered if her mother had experienced comparable moments of clarity, if it had been a similar realization that had led her to get in the car that Christmas Eve and to drive away from her husband and child. Had she felt that she’d given too much of herself away? That she’d been making her decisions for other people for too long?
Lucie would never know for certain.
But she felt that she might have just developed a better understanding of her mother’s motivations. People often acted in what they believed were the best interests of those they loved and cared for. But sometimes, when pressure mounted or doubts overwhelmed, something internal could snap, and when that happened, they often did things that others would describe as out of character. But perhaps, in reality, they’d been acting out of character all along, and at that point they were actually – finally – being true to themselves.
***
As the opening notes of an instrumental version of Christina Perri’s A Thousand Years rang out, goosebumps rose on Lucie’s arms. The song was truly beautiful and the combination of the piano and the cello were perfect.
She was stood in line with the other bridesmaids, her small cream rose posy held in front of her, as they waited to enter the Terrace Room, where the ceremony would take pl
ace. She was glad they’d had a glass of champagne before lining up, because she needed the courage to wear the bridesmaid gown confidently. Part of her longed to hunch over and cover her boobs, but another part was telling her she looked good, that she should embrace her curves today and hold her head up high.
She’d had a professional makeover: her gold and caramel hair was coiled into a loose chignon with strands artfully curling at her temples and at the nape of her neck. Her face glowed, her eyes were smoky blue pools and the dress, made of cream silk, caressed her curves as it fell from thin straps, outlining her bust then tumbling waterfall-like to the floor, where it brushed against her French-manicured toenails. It was the most glamorous she had ever felt. Even if Joanna had insisted on telling everyone that Lucie had to have a bigger dress made to accommodate her voluptuousness.
“Ready?” The tall, broad-shouldered woman who’d asked the bridesmaids this had popped up several times in the salon and looked like she belonged in a court of law, with her tight black bun and stern expression. She was, Lucie had found out, the wedding planner.
They all nodded then she tapped the first two bridesmaids on the back, sending them off into the room. She counted to five then sent the next two. She’d arranged for some of the bridesmaids to enter in pairs and for some, like Lucie, to go alone, depending on age and how they were linked to Petra.
Then it was Lucie’s turn, and as she entered the room, her stomach fizzed with nerves. The Terrace Room was just as grand as the ballroom, with its high red and gold ceiling decorated with paintings in the style of the Italian renaissance, its crystal chandeliers and golden chairs. The chairs were separated from the aisle with small round tables that held tiers of candles, and at the centre of each one was a round bouquet of cream-coloured roses attached to a dozen heart-shaped helium balloons which bobbed in the warm air.
She tried to take each step carefully in order to avoid tripping on the hem of her gown, and to avoid making eye contact with the guests, but she couldn’t help searching for Dale. When she found him, he flashed her a smile. She was almost halfway along when she met another pair of familiar eyes and she couldn’t look away.
A Very Merry Manhattan Christmas Page 17