LITMIR.BIZ

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in Brandon, who was a good part of the reason she’d asked for Dami’s help in the first place.

      Uh-uh. No way was she turning down a coffee with Brandon. Even if she didn’t want to go. “How about the diner on the corner? But I need to put this food away first.”

      “I’ll grab a shower, be back for you in twenty.”

      * * *

      Lucy loved the Paradise Diner. It was owned by a Greek family, the Mustos, and served the usual diner fare, burgers and fries, meat loaf and mashed potatoes, coffee and pie—plus a few Greek specialties. The cook, Nestor, was a little scary. Sometimes he shouted through the service window in Greek. The waitresses treated Lucy like one of the family. There was just something so homey and comfortable about the Paradise. Lucy ate there every chance she got.

      While she’d been out of town, they’d decorated for the holidays, painting the windows with Christmas greetings, hanging fat gold garland everywhere, putting up an artificial tree by the cash register and an almost-life-size crèche in the corner by the door.

      She and Brandon took a booth and ordered coffee and pie. Brandon talked about the auditions he’d been on and the part he thought he was sure to get in an upcoming off-Broadway show. And his agent was pushing him to fly out to L.A. and audition for a major role in a new sitcom. Yeah, it was just television. But a guy had to eat.

      And then he leaned closer. “Come on, Lucy. Are you sure you and Prince Damien aren’t having a thing?”

      She laughed at that. “Like I said, we’re just friends.” It caused a distinct ache in her heart to say those words. Maybe more of an ache than she’d bargained for. “He’s always been good to me, that’s all.”

      “‘Good to you.’” Brandon arched a golden eyebrow. “I could take that any number of ways.”

      What was that supposed to mean? She didn’t even want to know. “Why should you take it any way? Sheesh, Brandon. Are you writing a book or something?”

      He gave her that blinding white smile again, the one that just a couple of weeks ago could rock her world. “I’m an actor. It’s my job to understand what makes people tick—and ‘always’? You said he’s ‘always’ been good to you. Does that mean you’ve known him since childhood?”

      Pushy. There was no other word for the way Brandon was behaving. And in any case, she just didn’t feel comfortable discussing Dami with a casual acquaintance. Privacy mattered to Dami, to all the Bravo-Calabrettis. She doubted Brandon would go running to the tabloids with something she said. But still.

      She said, “He’s a friend of the family.”

      Brandon wouldn’t quit. “I saw somewhere, I think, that your brother is marrying his sister Princess Alice.”

      “Yes,” she answered with zero inflection. “They’re very happy together.”

      He gave her a sly look from those golden-brown eyes she used to drool over. “Lucy, you are turning out to be a very big surprise.”

      And that had her feeling defensive somehow. “I’m the same person I was before.”

      “Well, yeah. But I just didn’t know...” He was looking at her so intently, his gaze tracking from her eyes to her mouth and back to her eyes again. “God. Was I blind or what?”

      Flirting. Omigod. Brandon Delaney was flirting with her. He was flirting with her and she didn’t even care. In fact, it was kind of depressing that he was interested now and she felt nothing but vaguely annoyed with him. “Brandon, eat your pie.”

      He went on looking at her in that teasingly intimate way. “I want to spend more time with you.”

      She couldn’t resist reminding him, “But I’m so innocent, remember? And you’ve got no time for me, because acting is your life.”

      He leaned his chin on his fist and gave her the long, lingering, melting, butterscotch stare. “I’ve changed my mind.”

      Yeah, well. So had she. She opened her mouth to tell him so—and his phone, which he’d set on the table beside him, started playing “Gangnam Style.”

      He snatched it up and looked at the screen. “I need to take this.” And he did. Right then and there. “Maureen...Yes...They do?...Yes!” He flashed Lucy a thumbs-up. She had no idea why. “Tomorrow? Impossible....” He scowled. She could hear the person named Maureen talking fast. And Brandon started nodding. “Yeah, I do. I know...You’re right, okay, tomorrow.” There was more. He kept on agreeing with the person named Maureen and said that yes, he would, absolutely. He was on it. Lucy finished her excellent pie and sipped her coffee.

      When he finally hung up, she guessed, “Big news?”

      “Oh, yeah. That was my agent. That sitcom I told you about? They want me. They really want me. I’m flying out to L.A. tonight. It’s big, Lucy. It’s huge—and listen, I’ve got to get moving....”

      “Absolutely.” She wished him good luck in theater speak. “Break a leg.”

      He was already on his feet. “Thanks, Lucy.”

      “Break them both.”

      He chuckled. Then he bent close and kissed her on the cheek. “We’ll talk...soon.”

      “’Bye, Brandon.”

      He straightened, turned and headed for the door.

      Lucy watched him go. He hadn’t touched his pie.

      The waitress, Tabitha, who was the owner’s daughter and around Lucy’s age, appeared beside the booth, coffeepot in hand. She refilled Lucy’s cup. “Not your type, huh?”

      Lucy reached across the table and snagged Brandon’s abandoned pie. “Was I that obvious?”

      “Not to him, apparently—and look. He left you something.” She waved the check.

      Laughing, Lucy took it. “Not a problem. After all, I get to eat his pie.”

      * * *

      It snowed the next day, Thursday. Not a lot. But enough that Lucy could look out her bedroom windows and see it drifting down onto the sidewalk outside, a frail bit of it collecting in the dip of the brown awning over the door of the Italian restaurant across the street. She wished Dami was there to see it with her.

      And then she felt gloomy. Because he wasn’t there, because it was only a little snow and she still wanted to share it with him.

      She couldn’t stop thinking about him. And she tried to excuse that by telling herself it was natural to miss him after all that had happened between them. It wasn’t that bad to have maybe fallen for him just a little bit—not too much, oh, no. Only a thoroughly appropriate amount given that he’d seen her naked more than once and she’d done things with him she’d never done in her life before.

      Good things. Wonderful things. Things she couldn’t let herself think too much about or she’d only get gloomier.

      Keeping busy. That was the key. No way was she going to end up sitting in a chair staring out the window, thinking of Thanksgiving and wanting to cry.

      As soon as the snow stopped, she went out and prowled her favorite fabric and notions stores, snatching up things that inspired her. She intended to work for several hours every day on clothing and accessory designs and on making a few of the ideas she came up with.

      Lots of work should keep her from longing for Dami.

      And, hey, it was Christmastime. There were so many organizations looking for volunteers.

      On Friday morning she looked around online and chose two worthy causes. She called and signed up to wrap presents for disadvantaged kids and to put in five four-hour sessions making costumes for a children’s theater organization called Make-Believe and Magic. She worked for a while sketching a few new accessory designs and then she went down the street to the

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