Page 18 of Duke, Actually

It really had been. Even though Dani had had to be talked into coming, she was bummed that it was over.

“May I take you ladies for a post-show drink?” Max asked as they waited in line at the coat check.

Yes.Dani didn’t want to go home yet.

But her mom said, “Thank you, but no. It’s a long ride home, and my husband waits up for me even though I tell him not to.”

“Let me call the car,” Max said, holding their coats for them one at a time.

It was just as well. Dani took her mom’s arm. “I need to pick your brain in the car about gift ideas for Dad.” Though maybe admitting she hadn’t bought gifts yet was a dumb move—it might lead to a line of fruitcake questioning, and Dani had never been able to lie to her mother.

“Oh, no, you two go have a drink!” Mom shrugged out of her grasp. “I’ll enjoy the peace of a cozy ride home.”

Dani looked at Max, who had an eyebrow raised—the man had the uncanny ability to lift one eyebrow at a time—like he was daring her to do something as transgressive as have a drink with him. She wanted to, but without her mom as an excuse, she should refuse. Spontaneously going out to drinks with Max last night had been one thing. Doing it again felt like veering into list-violating territory. But really, there was nothing on it a drink with Max would be violating, except #6, and she had already violated that one by being here to begin with. And perhaps more to the point, Max wasn’t a “man” inThings I Will Never Again Do for a Mansense. He was a baron who lived on another continent. There was no danger of him upending her life.

“Stay, honey,” her mom said.

“Itisthe first day of the Christmas season according to the Daniela Martinez calendar,” Max said.

She made the decision by not making it, by not saying anything as she let them sweep her along.

At the car, as they were saying their goodbyes, Max said something to her mom in French. Dani recognizedJoyeux Noëlin her mom’s reply, but soon the two of them were conversing rapidly and animatedly—Max wassucha flirt—and were beyond Dani’s limited French.

After the car departed, Max turned to her and said, “Negroni? Three negronis?”

“What were you and my mom talking about?”

“How much I hate Christmas.”

“You hate Christmas? What are you doing atThe Nutcracker, then?”

He shrugged and said, “I’m a walking contradiction. So, negronis? Diet Coke? I admit I’m not really in the mood for a negroni myself this evening.”

“Me either. I was thinking it would be nice to walk a bit.”

“What’s our destination?” He held out his arm.

She didn’t take it. “I so rarely get to Manhattan, and unlike you, I actuallylikeChristmas. I’m in the mood to stroll aimlessly and take in the holiday stuff.” She gestured at the big Lincoln Center Christmas tree, aware that she sounded like a dork, but what did it matter? It wasn’t like she cared what the Depraved Not-Duke thought of her.

“Let us stroll aimlessly, then.” She thought he might offer his arm again, but he did not.

“This is going to sound silly, but I feel like I sort of missed Christmas last year.”

“You mentioned that last night.”

She should probably be embarrassed by the amount of rambling—not to mention drinking—she’d done. But again, this dude was an Eldovian baron playboy. He wasn’t real. Well, he was. Obviously. He was right next to her with his cool good looks and his gray wool “fancy man” coat, but he wasn’t in the sense that he had any impact on her life.

“So you missed Christmas last year?” he prompted.

“Well, I didn’tmissit. I went to my parents’ house. We did presents and dinner and sugary cereal the next morning and all that. And I remember thinking how nice it was not to have to split the holiday with Vince’s family.” She had added #5 to her list at that point, in fact:Be away from my family for the holidays.“It was the run-up to Christmas that I missed last year. Decorations, carols, that kind of stuff. You know what I mean?”

“If you had ever spent Christmas in Eldovia, you would know just how much I am acquainted with the Christmas run-up.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about this from Leo. There’s a cocoa festival, right?” And a ball, at which Leo and Marie had made their dramatic declarations of love. She could sort of see where Max’s anti-Christmas stance came from. “I’m sure it’s overkill. I guess my point is that last year, I looked up and—bam!—it was Christmas.”

“Why was that? Working too much?”

“In part.”