“Yes, it is.” Michael agreed.
Margaret gasped as she noticed the signature. “Is Natasha’s father Lincoln Carter?”
“Yes, he is.” Damien smiled down at Natasha’s face as the picture was handed back to him.
“The Lincoln Carter?” Margaret’s tone echoed her awe at the possibility.
“The only one I know of.” Damien shrugged.
“My goodness! Lincoln Carter is one of the most renowned artists in the world.”
“Oh,” Damien, Marcy and Michael replied simultaneously, unimpressed.
“You three!” Margaret shook her head ruefully and received various chuckles from her family. “What do I have to do to get you to appreciate art?”
“Mother, my profession is the arts,” Damien dryly reminded.
“Yes, I know, dear, but dance, not artwork. How many times have I pleaded with you three to accompany me to an art gallery?”
“Oh, Mom, please,” Marcy and Damien groaned together.
“Your mother’s mentioned Natasha, son.” Michael quickly changed the subject. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“That makes two of us, darling.” Margaret glanced pointedly at their son.
“I was thinking about having a get-together with both of our families before the premiere,” Damien responded to his mother’s not-so-veiled criticism.
“Wonderful idea,” Margaret enthused. “We can have it here.”
He, Marcy and their father exchanged knowing, resigned smiles. Margaret loved to plan parties—nothing made her happier, except trying to find suitable spouses for her children.
“Sounds great, Mom. I’ll invite Natasha when she gets back,” he promised. “But let’s keep it casual.” He stood and walked over to the window, still staring at the picture in his hands.
It would be two days before he and Natasha would be reunited, and that sounded far too long to him; he couldn’t wait to see her. He had spoken to her earlier, but he wanted to touch her and hold her close. He smiled as a welcomed idea formed in his mind.
* * *
After receiving a call from Damien, Natasha had decided to cut her visit short by a day and come back to New York Christmas night. She couldn’t wait to see him another second and was delighted he felt the same way. Her family had been disappointed, but they had been somewhat pacified that she was going home to be with Damien, whom they liked very much.
As soon as the elevator to the penthouse opened, she flung herself into his waiting arms, pressing her lips to his without speaking. He pulled her off her feet as he carried her to the center of the room. They feasted on each other’s lips for long, long minutes, lifting their heads long enough to snatch a quick breath before their lips fused again.
“I missed you,” she whispered longingly, placing kisses on his face.
“I missed you too.” Strong arms still held her feet off the floor. “How was your Christmas morning?”
“Miserable without you.” She kissed his lips again.
“So was mine,” he confessed, sitting down on the sofa and placing her in his lap. His finger touched her throat, sliding down to finger the necklace resting just above her collarbone, and she shivered at the contact. “Do you like your present?”
“Oh, yes.” Her fingers covered his. “I love the symbolism most of all.”
“What symbolism?” Seeking, burning fingers moved farther down her soft skin.
“You know what symbolism.” She bit his chin lightly.
“I wanted you to know that you’re special to me, Tasha,” he seriously stated.
“I know.” She kissed his neck lingeringly. “Did you like your gift?”
“Very much.” His fingers unbuttoned her cardigan. “It’s there.”
He pointed to the mantelpiece. She removed her eyes from him long enough to smile at the picture she had given him before she returned her attention to him and pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor as he took off her sweater.
“Do you understand my symbolism?” Seeking, maddening hands roamed down his chest to rest low on his stomach.
“Yes, I do. My family loved it too,” he murmured against her neck. “They can’t wait to meet you.”
“I would like that.” She tilted her head to give him greater access to her flesh, her hands roaming up his bare chest to his shoulders.
“Mom’s planning a get-together for both families a couple of days before the premiere,” he replied between tastes of her skin, hands moving to unhook her bra.
“Mmm, that sounds great. Let me know when, and we’ll all be there.” As eager hands cupped her breasts, her words ended on a groan.
“Good.” His mouth skimmed along her jaw as his hands slid down her quivering stomach.
“Damien.” Her eyes darkened at his touch. “I need to tell you something.”
“Tell me later, Tasha.”
“Later,” she agreed, pulling his lips back to hers as she reclined on the sofa, taking him with her. Then, they dispensed with words and gave each other a proper hello.
Chapter 14
The night of December 29, their families gathered at the Johnsons’ home for food and merriment. Natasha was still apprehensive about becoming a mother, but it was a heady experience knowing a life was growing inside her—a little part of her and a little part of Damien.
She had confided in Nicole that she still hadn’t told him about the baby, but she had promised that she would, soon; and that was a promise she meant to keep, having decided the perfect moment to tell Damien he was going to be a father was on New Year’s Eve after the ballet premiere—a time for fresh, new beginnings.
The party was going beautifully. Nicole and Marcy hit it off famously, talking endlessly about the world of high fashion. Their respective parents were seated on the sofa across the room, talking like lifelong friends.
“Look at our families.” Natasha smiled up at Damien.
“Yeah, it’s wonderful, isn’t it?” He placed his arm around her waist.
“Yes.” She sipped her punch. “I wonder what has our mothers so intensely involved.”
“I don’t think you want to know.” He chuckled as his eyes lighted on his mother’s avid face. Oh, he could see the wheels turning.
He returned his gaze to Natasha. She looked so beautiful smiling as she watched their parents so lovingly that his heart lurched. Why was he hesitating? Why not admit to her that he loved her? Would there ever be a more perfect time or place than here, in the midst of everyone they loved, to tell her?
“Natasha?”
“Yes?” She refocused smiling eyes on his somewhat anxious face.
“I want to tell you that I…”
“Natasha, come here for a moment please.” Her mother’s voice halted his words.
“I’ll be right there, Momma,” she promised before turning her eyes back to him. “What is it, Damien?”
“I—it can wait.” He sighed.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “Go and see what your mother wants.”
“Come with me.” She took his hand in hers.
“Bring Damien with you,” Margaret ordered.
“I think we’re about to find out what they were plotting,” Damien whispered, and they smiled at each other as they walked over to their parents.
“I’ll get it,” Marcy spoke as the doorbell rang. “Excuse me, Nicole.” She rose and walked into the foyer.
Upon opening the door, for the first time in her life Marcy Johnson was rendered completely speechless by the sight of a man. His hair was close-shaven in a military-style cut; he had chiseled features and a hard physique that his expensive charcoal suit and matching overcoat couldn’t hide. His brown eyes were smiling, and for the life of her, she didn’t know h
ow she kept her jaw from dropping to the floor.
“Is this the Johnson residence?”
“What?” Marcy blinked rapidly at the sound of his deep, sexy baritone voice.
“Is this the Johnson residence?” he asked again with a slight smile.
“Yes, yes it is.” With great effort, she pulled herself out of her stupor. “I’m Marcy Johnson. What can I do for you?”
He silently sucked in his breath at her question. For a second he wondered if she meant that innocent statement literally. If he told her exactly what he wanted her to do to him, she’d no doubt slap his face.
“I’m Nathan Carter. I believe my family is here.”
“Yes, they’re here.”
He chuckled. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” She laughed nervously and stepped aside, allowing him access. “I’m sorry.”
As he walked by her, he inhaled deeply the exotic fragrance she wore and felt pure lust form in his stomach. He reminded himself he was here to see his family, not to have a fling with Marcy Johnson or anyone else for that matter. However, one glance at her beautiful face and the sight of her dynamite body covered by the sexy black-and-gold pantsuit she wore was enough to make him forget that fact.
“Everyone is in here.” She led the way into the drawing room.
“Nathan!” Natasha, Nicole and their parents exclaimed in unison, running over to hug him.
Marcy watched with a smile as Nathan placed an arm around Natasha and Nicole’s waists lifted them easily off the floor. Wow, strong and gorgeous—what a combination.
“How did you know where we were?” Natasha pulled back from another hug.
“Mom and Dad left directions for me.” His eyes echoed the love he saw reflected in hers.
“I can’t believe all of my children are finally together again.” Linda embraced her son and daughters in one gigantic hug before dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Oh, Momma, don’t cry!” Natasha pleaded.
“It’s just her way.” Lincoln kissed his wife’s cheek. “She’ll be fine.”
“I’m too happy to properly scold you for being gone so long, Nathan.” Linda sniffed back tears, promising, “I’ll do it later.”
“Yes, Mom.” Nathan acknowledged her threat with a smile and kissed her cheek.
His father patted him on the back and then embraced him in a bear hug before he and Linda returned to sit by Damien’s parents. Natasha beckoned to Damien, who walked over to take her hand.
“Nathan, this is Damien.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Nathan.” Damien shook his hand.
“And you, Damien.” Nathan smiled, noting the way his sister had automatically gone back to his side, and how right she looked there.
“How long will you be here?” Nicole clung to Nathan’s arm.
“At least a month.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“A month,” Nicole complained, beating Natasha to the punch. “Is that all?”
“Maybe longer.” He smiled tolerantly.
Only now being in their midst did he realize that he had missed his family terribly. True, his job was very demanding and very necessary, but still, it had placed a terrible burden on him and his family over the years—one which was becoming almost unbearable for him.
“Well, at least you’re here for the ballet.” Natasha’s smile turned to a giggle as Damien kissed her neck lingeringly.
Nathan smiled at them. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Natasha, Damien, our parents want you two.” Marcy’s eyes twinkled as she smiled at the embracing couple.
“Again?” they echoed in unison.
“It seems they have special plans where you two are concerned.” Marcy laughed as they stared at each other, sighed and walked away.
“I need a refill.” Nicole held up her empty glass and walked away.
“Can I get you a drink, Nathan?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Yes, you are.” Marcy’s appreciative eyes examined him from head to toe.
“Thank you.” He subjected her to a thorough investigation of his own. “You’re not bad yourself.”
“Thanks.” She breathlessly accepted his compliment, and a secretive smile turned up the corners of her mouth.
Nathan watched her suspiciously. “What are you thinking?”
“That’s for me to know.” Her smile transformed into tinkering laughter at his raised eyebrow.
The party lasted until well after 2 a.m. It seemed that no one wanted to see the good times end. It had been an absolute success, everyone feeling as if they had made friends for life.
“Come in,” Natasha invited, as she stood aside to allow him entrance into her apartment.
“As much as I would love to, I can’t,” Damien declined, remaining on the stoop.
“Why not?” She leaned against the door frame.
“Because we both need to rest up for the premiere.” He outlined her lips with his finger. “Especially you, my star.”
“And we can’t do that together,” she admitted on a sigh.
“No, we can’t.” He smiled and then kissed her but pulled back before he went in too deep.
“What were you going to tell me tonight?”
“It can wait.”
Her hand curved around his neck. “Tell me.”
He hesitated, but for once not out of fear. This wasn’t how he wanted to do it. She deserved candlelight, roses, champagne, soft romantic music—the works—and he promised himself she would have all of that and more.
“I’ll make it worth the wait.”
“You’d better,” she relented and pulled his mouth to hers. “Are you sure you won’t come in?”
“Stop tempting me.”
“All right.” Her fingers traced his brow. “These will be the longest two nights of my life.”
“Mine too,” he promised, stilling her fingers and bring them to his lips. “But after the premiere…”
“You are all mine,” she finished for him.
“And you’ll be all mine.” He kissed her briefly before determinedly walking away.
“Always,” she softly promised. “Damien?”
He turned to face her. “Yes?”
She toyed with telling him about the baby, but quickly decided against it. She wouldn’t tell him something so important while standing in the hallway! She wanted it to be perfect when she told him he was going to be a father; God, she prayed he would be happy, because second by second she was becoming more and more overjoyed.
He walked back over to her. “Tasha, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head and smiled. “I’m just missing you already.”
He kissed her. “Me too.”
“I’ll be miserable without you,” she promised against his mouth.
“So will I.” He kissed her lingeringly before reluctantly stepping back. “Good night, Tasha.”
“Good night.”
She smiled and watched him enter the elevator and leave. Hell or high water, she would tell him after the ballet that she was pregnant. It would be the perfect time—the dawning of a new year, and besides, if she didn’t do it soon, she would burst. She just prayed he would be as happy as she was.
* * *
New Year’s Eve dawned bright, cold and sunshiny. The entire day passed in a blur of activity, and nighttime quickly arrived. Natasha was dressed in a wispy knee-length pale pink gown with silver strands running throughout. Her hair was loose but was held away from her face by a pink-and-silver head wrap.
Approximately fifteen minutes before the ballet began she sat in her dressing room in front of the mirror, putting the finishing touches on her heavy stage makeup
, concentrating on applying sparkling gold eye shadow. Satisfied with her appearance, she anxiously wrung her hands and breathed deeply. She couldn’t believe the moment was finally here. She was so excited!
“Come in.” She turned as someone knocked on her dressing room door.
“How are you doing?”
“Damien!” she exclaimed, running into his arms. “I’m a nervous wreck!”
“Why?” He pulled slightly back, not wanting to wrinkle her costume. “You’ll be brilliant.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” He kissed her lightly so as not to muss her makeup.
“Kiss me, really kiss me. To hell with my makeup,” she ordered, winding her arms around his neck and pulling his lips back to hers, a position they stayed at for long, satisfying minutes.
When they parted, she picked up a tissue and wiped away traces of the lipstick from his mouth, making sure she didn’t get anything on the impeccable white jacket, shirt and tie of his tuxedo. His pants, in contrast, were midnight black. The gown she would wear after the ballet was a black sleeveless number she hoped would raise Damien’s temperature half as much as his attire did hers. Lord, he looked handsome!
“Natasha, I…” He swore softly as a knock on the door interrupted his words.
“Fifteen minutes, Miss Carter,” a man yelled.
“I guess I’d better let you finish getting ready.” He released her reluctantly. “Break a leg.”
“Thank you. Where will you be?”
“In the wings watching you.” He winked. “Where else?”
“Good—” her fingers caressed his hair-covered chin “—I need you close.”
His eyes darkened seriously. “I’m always close to you, Tasha.”
“Oh, Damien.” She fought back tears. If only he knew how true his words were.
“Don’t cry.” He softly touched his lips to hers.
“I won’t.” She sniffed and then smiled at him.
“Tonight marks the start of a wonderful new year for us,” he promised.
“Yes,” she agreed.
He wanted to say more and so did she, but both knew now wasn’t the time. After the ballet he would finally tell her the words he knew she longed to hear. Kissing her palm lingeringly, he left before he ruined the wonderful surprise he had in store for her when they were finally alone.
Our First Dance Page 18