HOLIDAY ROYALE (16 page)

“Your brother doesn’t want you with me.”

She fiddled with her cup and sighed. “That’s still bothering you?”

“Think about it. There were paparazzi there tonight. Someone will have gotten pictures of that little scene with Susie. Noah is going to be pissed off when he sees them.”

“Too bad. He’ll have to look at it as more practice at minding his own business.” She got down from the chair and held out her hand to him.

He stood and snared her outstretched fingers, reeling her in and wrapping her in his arms. She tipped up her mouth to him in an offer he couldn’t resist. They shared another kiss.

When he lifted his head, she gave him one of those smiles that could light up the darkest night. “So what if Susie made an embarrassing little scene? Too bad if there are pictures online or in the
Enquirer.
And if Noah doesn’t like that you’re here with me, that’s his problem. I only want to know whether or not you’re going to let all that ruin the three days we have left.”

“You’re sure you still want to be with me?” His breath lodged in his throat as he waited for her answer.

She gave it without any hesitation. “Yes, Dami. I’m sure.”

Relief poured through him, cool and sweet. And then he frowned. “Wait a minute.
Three
days?”

“That’s right.”

“How do you get three?”

“Well, it’s after midnight, so it’s Sunday.” She ticked the days off on her fingers. “We have Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. You’re leaving Wednesday, so we really can’t count Wednesday. That leaves the three days, from Sunday on.”

He framed her face between his hands. “I think I should stay until Thursday, at least.”

Her eyes were shining. “Four more days.” She twined her arms around his neck. “I do like the sound of that.”

He bent and scooped her high against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck. And he carried her out of the kitchen and straight to bed.

* * *

Lucy woke at dawn, snuggled up close in Dami’s embrace and thought how right it felt to be there. She burrowed in closer, loving the warmth of him, the smoothness of his skin over all those lovely hard muscles, the absolute manliness of him—and then she remembered Boris.

She kissed Dami’s stubbled chin and whispered, “Good morning.”

He made a grumbling sound and cupped a hand around the back of her head in a possessive, tender gesture that stole her breath away. “Early. Ugh. Go back to sleep....”

She kissed his chin again. “Can’t. I have to go down and feed the cat.”

More grumbly noises. His big arms tightened around her. “Stay here. I’ll send Quentin to do it.”

That made her smile. “There will be scooping involved.”

“Quentin can scoop.”

“Oh, now. That’s just wrong, to send a highly trained bodyguard to clean up after Boris.”

“Quentin’s a soldier. He’s dealt with worse.”

“No.
I
have to do it. Boris needs cuddles. He’s been alone all night. Don’t you even try to tell me that Quentin does cuddles.”

Dami ran a hand down her back, tucking her into him even tighter than before. She wanted to stay right there for a lifetime or so. “Promise to make it quick?” he growled in her ear. “Remember, we only have four days left of our Christmas affair.”

She laughed at that. “Cuddles take time—but I won’t be that long.”

Grudgingly, he released her, and then he sat back on the gray satin pillows, laced his fingers behind his head and watched her scurry around naked finding her underwear, her dress—and finally her shoes, one of which had managed to end up halfway down the hall.

“I like that dress,” he said, as she wriggled back into it. “I like
all
of your dresses. But I like it even better when you’re wearing nothing. I’m thinking I should keep you naked all the time.”

“There are so many ways that is totally impractical.”

“Allow a man to dream.”

She went over and sat on the bed, showing him her back. “Zip me up.”

He did, pausing to brush a light kiss below her shoulder blades in the V where the zipper stopped. “I’ll walk you out.” He breathed the words against her flesh and she wanted to take her dress off again and get back under the covers with him.

But Boris was waiting.

Dami put on his robe and followed her out to the door, where he helped her into her coat. She grabbed her evening bag as he disarmed the alarm.

He kissed her one last time, there on the threshold. “Half an hour, no more,” he commanded. “I want you back here with me so we can spend the day in bed together the way we planned.”

Downstairs, Boris was waiting for her just inside the door looking very grumpy. She cuddled him, changed his water, cleaned up after him and filled his food bowl with fresh kibble. With ten minutes to spare of the thirty Dami had granted her, she had a quick shower and changed into jeans and a comfy sweater. She was just switching purses when her phone rang.

It was Dami. “You’re late.”

“I’m on my way. Keep your pants on.”

“I’m not wearing any pants.”

She laughed, dropped the phone back into her sturdy cross-body bag, pulled open her door—and saw Viviana.

Viv hovered in the open door to her apartment, still in her robe and slippers. She had her hand pressed to her chest. Her face, scarily gray and shiny with sweat, was screwed up tight in a grimace of pain. “Lucy. Hurts...” she barely managed to whisper. Lucy went to her, fumbling in her purse for her phone again as she ran.

Chapter Twelve

L
ucy got the 911 dispatcher on the first ring. “Heart attack,” she said, almost positive she had it right—and even if she didn’t, the two scary words always got the ball rolling.

The dispatcher took it from there, ready with the usual long list of questions. Lucy gave the address and the cross street as she guided Viv down the wall beside the door to her apartment. Viv clutched at her, panting, but Lucy managed to get her seated and supported by the wall with her knees drawn up. The dispatcher asked the questions and Lucy answered, calmly and clearly.

Once the ambulance was on the way—six minutes, tops, the dispatcher promised—the dispatcher had her ask Viv if she was on nitroglycerin.

Viv shook her head and whispered, “No...first time anything like this has happened....”

“She’s not on nitroglycerin,” Lucy said into the phone. “She says this is the first time this has happened to her.”

Next the dispatcher wanted to know if there was aspirin available. “Chewable, if possible.”

Lucy had none. She bit back a groan. At that moment, she almost wished she’d had valve-replacement surgery rather than repair. With an artificial valve, she just might have been on an aspirin regimen and could have whipped a bottle right out of her purse. Then again, she probably would have been on warfarin or...

Dear Lord, what did it matter? The point was she had no aspirin to give Viviana.

She asked Viv, “Do you have any aspirin?”

Viv gestured weakly toward the open door to her apartment. “Master bathroom cabinet...”

Her phone to her ear, Lucy raced inside and down the hall. In the gorgeous retro pink-and-black-tiled bathroom, she found what she needed. “Got them,” she told the dispatcher. She grabbed the bottle off the shelf and read the label. “They’re the regular kind, not chewable, 325 milligrams.”

“Are they timed release, the coated ones?”

“No, the chalky white ones.”

“That’s better than coated.”

“Wonderful. Perfect.” Lucy ran back down the hall and out the door to Viv’s side again.

The dispatcher gave her more instructions.

Lucy put the phone on speaker, knelt by Viv to set it down on the floor and then shook out one aspirin. She put her arm around Viv. “You need to chew this for thirty seconds before you swallow it. Can you do that for me, Viv?”

Panting, softly moaning, alternately clutching her chest and rubbing her shoulder, Viv managed a nod. Lucy gave her the pill and counted out the seconds as Viv chewed. It seemed the longest half minute of her life. “All right. Swallow.”

Once Viv had the aspirin down, Lucy picked up the phone again. The dispatcher stayed on the line with her, asking questions that Lucy answered as best she could, all the while holding Viv’s hand—the one that wasn’t tightly clutched to her chest.

After what seemed like forever but was probably no more than the five or six minutes the dispatcher had said it would be, they heard a siren coming on fast, stopping at full volume downstairs in front of the building. Lucy spoke gently, reassuringly, to Viv, who reluctantly let go of her hand so she could step inside the open door to the apartment again and buzz in the paramedics. Endless moments later the elevator doors slid open and two EMTs wheeled their EMS stretcher straight to Viv.

They were just assessing her airway, breathing and circulation and hooking her up to oxygen when Dami came flying down the stairs wearing nothing but a pair of black jeans, with Quentin right behind him.

Dami’s face was dead white. “Luce. My God. I heard the siren and I thought...”

She dropped her phone into her purse again, eased around the busy med techs and went to him. “It’s not me. Oh, Dami, it’s Viv....” He grabbed her against his broad bare chest and she thought how very glad she was to have his arms around her at a time like this.

“What happened?” he asked against her hair.

“She had a heart attack, I think.” Lucy looked up at him, drew strength from the simple act of gazing at his dear worried face. “The signs are all there—and I doubt they’ll let me ride along in the ambulance with her, but I need to go with her, be with her. Her family’s not in New York.”

“I’ll call for a car.”

“Miss.” One of the EMTs signaled Lucy. “She’s asking for you....”

Dami released her and she went to Viv, who panted out a series of instructions about looking after her place, about getting her little red address book from the drawer beneath the phone and calling her daughters. “And my purse... Insurance card...”

Lucy ran back into the apartment and snatched the large brown shoulder bag from the end of the kitchen counter. One of the EMTs took it from her. She bent close to Viv again and tried to reassure her. “I’m here. I’ll take care of all of it, and I’ll be following you straight to the hospital....”

“Sweet girl, God bless you....” Viv clutched for her hand again, but the EMTs were already wheeling her toward the open elevator doors.

Lucy called after them, “What hospital?”

One of them told her. They got on the elevator. The doors slid shut. Lucy stared at those doors, suddenly immobilized, images of all the times she’d been the one on the stretcher pounding in strobe-like flashes through her mind.

And then Dami was there, wrapping his big arms around her.

She clung to him. “We have to get going,” she said, and then she just stood there, holding him tight, safe in the circle of his embrace.

He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “The car will be here in a few minutes.”

“Oh, Dami...” The tears were pushing, trying to get out to turn into a flood that would surely drown her. She bit the inside of her cheek, drawing blood. That did it. The sharp pain brought her back to herself.

He kissed her temple. “Get your coat. Lock up both apartments. I’ll run up and put the rest of my clothes on and be right down for you.”

* * *

Once they were in the limousine and on the way, Lucy called Viv’s daughters to break the frightening news.

Marleah burst into tears. Shoshona was calm and thoughtful and then at the end said, “Oh, my sweet Lord. Just let her make it through....”

Lucy told both daughters that Viv had been conscious and still able to talk when they took her away. She promised she would be there until they had her stabilized, all the while sending silent prayers to heaven to match Shoshona’s spoken one:
Please, God, let her make it. Let her pull through.
She gave them her number and promised to call them the minute she knew anything more. They both said they would call the hospital right away and be there as soon as they could make arrangements.

When she hung up, Dami reached for her. She unhooked her seat belt, slid across the wide plush seat and settled next to him.

“We’re almost there,” he promised.

She rested her head on his shoulder and kept on praying that Viv would pull through.

* * *

Six hours later they were still sitting in the waiting area outside Cardiac Intensive Care, with Quentin standing guard a few feet away.

A doctor came out to talk to them.

They had Viv stabilized, he said, and the prognosis was good. They’d put her through the usual endless battery of tests and performed an angioplasty with stent placement. The angioplasty opened the nearly blocked artery that had caused Viv’s heart attack, and the stent, a small mesh tube inserted at the same time, would keep the artery open.

Even though she wasn’t family, Lucy talked the doctor into letting her go in and visit Viv briefly. As expected, Viv was exhausted and barely conscious. They’d given her a mild sedative to get her through the angioplasty without too much pain. She moved her hand restlessly against the sheet until Lucy settled her own over it, slipping her thumb into the smooth, dry heart of the older woman’s palm.

Viv closed her eyes tight. Still, a pair of tears leaked out at the corners and trailed down her temples into her short tightly curled hair.

Lucy bent close and whispered, “You are going to make it. And your daughters are on the way.”

Viv let out a tired little sigh at that and managed to give Lucy’s hand a weak squeeze. Lucy stayed with her just holding her hand, gently stroking her forehead, until the nurse came in and signaled it was time to go.

A woman came rushing into the waiting area about ten minutes later. She was tall, slim on top and generous through the hips, with honey-colored skin and blond-streaked dark hair. She carried a large shoulder bag and a small suitcase. Lucy liked her style. She wore knee-high black boots, dark tights, a short wool dress and a fabulous heavy coat that reached to midcalf. And especially around the mouth and eyes, she looked a lot like Viv.

Lucy stood up. She had Viv’s purse, which they’d given her at the front desk.

The woman spotted her and came right for her. “You have to be Lucy. I’m Shoshona.” She dropped the suitcase and they grabbed each other and held on tight.

Lucy tried not to cry, but a tear or two got away from her anyhow. “Your mom’s resting now. I know she can’t wait to see you....”

Shoshona sniffled a little, too. Then she took Lucy by the shoulders, looked in her eyes for a minute and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I do believe you saved my mama’s life.”

“No. I just happened to be there.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. You were
there
and you did what needed doing and I am so glad. Thank you.” She swiped the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand, which was as slim and beautifully manicured as Viv’s.

“I’m just so happy she’s pulling through.” Lucy held out the purse. “This is your mom’s. Her keys are in here, her wallet and cell phone, too— Oh, and there’s a small brown bag with her rings.”

A nurse appeared. “Mrs. Caudell?”

Shoshona nodded, then asked Lucy, “My suitcase...?”

“We’ll look after it,” Lucy promised.

“And the purse, too, for now?”

“Of course.”

The nurse led Viv’s daughter to the long hallway that led into the business end of the CICU.

Lucy took the suitcase and purse back to her chair. She slid them both under the corner table topped with a small artificial Christmas tree. With a long sigh, she sank down beside Dami. He took her hand and folded her fingers over a fresh tissue.

“So much for spending the day in bed, huh?” She sagged against him and he gathered her in, cradling her in the shelter of his arm, guiding her head down to rest on his shoulder. Again she felt thankful to have him beside her. The awful day would have been ten times worse without the constant comfort of his presence, of his strong arms to hold her when her energy flagged.

“There will be other days,” he reminded her softly.

His words warmed her—for a minute. And then she couldn’t help thinking that the other days they had together weren’t nearly enough.

Tomorrow and the next day, he had meetings. Maybe on Wednesday, which was their last day, they could laze around in bed.

One day for lazing. Uh-uh. No way was it enough.

Yes, Viv was going to make it and she was so grateful.

But why did their Christmas love affair have to fly by so fast?

* * *

Two hours later Marleah arrived. Though she was smaller and slimmer than her older sister, anybody could tell the two were related.

Lucy and Dami stayed in their chairs as the sisters shared a private moment. And then Marleah dried her eyes and went in to be with their mom for a while.

When she came back out, Shoshona introduced her to Lucy and Dami.

Marleah recognized him. “Mama’s had a heart attack and the Prince of Montedoro is hanging around the waiting room to make sure she’s going to be all right.”

They all laughed at that, tired laughter. It had been a hard day and it wasn’t over yet.

Then Shoshona said to Lucy, “You two go on now. You’ve been here all day. It’s way more than enough.”

Dami called for the car and then Lucy asked if maybe one of the two sisters wanted to go back to Viv’s place with them. The sisters agreed that Marleah would go. She could take their suitcases, rest for a while and then return to give Shoshona a break.

The drive was a quiet one overall. Marleah seemed deep in thought.

But then, as they approached the apartment building, Marleah shook her head. “This is it,” she said with certainty. “Mama can’t be living on her own anymore. Denver or Chicago. The day has come when she will have to decide.”

Lucy reached over and took Marleah’s hand. Marleah didn’t object—in fact, she held on tight. “Don’t worry about it now,” Lucy said softly.

“You’re right.” Marleah swallowed hard. “But the time has come, oh, yes, it has.”

* * *

They helped Marleah carry the suitcases up to Viv’s place. Quentin put them inside for her.

Lucy hugged her at the door. “I’ll be back at the hospital in the morning. Call me if there’s anything I can do before then.”

“I will,” Marleah promised. “You get some rest. Tomorrow, then.” She and Dami shared a nod and she went in. Lucy heard her engage the locks.

When she turned back to Dami, he said, “Tired?”

“A little.” She went to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. “Life’s too scary sometimes.”

He stroked her hair. “Your friend will be all right.”

She looked up into his waiting eyes. “Yes. I believe that. I know she will.”

He kissed her, a light, sweet kiss. “Pack whatever you need for the night. And we’re taking the cat up to my place.”

“Good idea.” She intended to spend every second she could with him, and the time was flying by way too fast. She didn’t want to keep running downstairs to fill Boris’s food bowl and give him a hug. The cat could use the company, anyway.

So they collected Boris and all the necessary cat-care equipment and Lucy packed an overnight bag.

They stayed in that night. Dami cooked chicken cacciatore and Lucy had a large glass of wine. He took her to bed early and they made slow, tender love. She woke in the morning to the sound of Boris purring softly from down at the foot of the bed.

Dami came out of the bathroom looking sigh worthy, wearing nothing but a big white Turkish towel. “I’ve got a breakfast meeting at nine. I’m hoping to be finished by noon, but it could go later. I’ll call and let you know.”