The Twelve Dates of Christmas Page 4

  “Or champagne. Or even salad most days.” She caught his gaze and smiled. “Thanks.”

  His heart flip-flopped. It had been a long time since he’d made someone happy. It humbled him that this woman was so broke she thanked him for food.

  He winced. “You’re welcome. But we still have to introduce you to a few people tonight, so you get your side of the arrangement too.”

  “Maybe tonight should just be my getting-my-feet-wet night.” She glanced around. “Is this your usual crowd?”

  “Usual crowd?”

  “You know. Are these the people who typically get invited to the events you attend?”

  Puzzled, he let his gaze ripple from face to face of the people on the dance floor. She was right. He did have a “usual” crowd. He’d see most of these people again and again until January second, when the party circuit would end.

  “Yes. But other parties will have additional guests, depending on the event. You won’t see any of these people at my office party. You’ll see one or two at the fraternity reunion. You’ll see them all at Elias and Bridget’s wedding. And you probably saw most of them at Tucker and Olivia’s.”

  He twirled them around again, and she laughed.

  His gut tightened. Every instinct he had came to life. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made someone laugh. Or the last time he’d had fun. But he was having fun now.

  * * *

  When the music ended, he removed his hand from the softness that was the small of her back and immediately directed her to the couple beside them, Mimi and Oliver French.

  She politely shook their hands. “I think I read about you in the Journal last week.”

  Oliver feigned humility. “I don’t know why they wrote that piece.”

  Eloise laughed. “Because your firm made billions of dollars for your clients last year.”

  Mimi playfully swatted her husband’s arm. “He’s such a goose. Never likes to take credit. But we did have a banner year.” She smiled at Eloise. “So tell me, dear, where did you get that dress?”

  “A little boutique a few streets over from here,” Eloise said with a smile. She didn’t mention that it had been five years ago on a shopping trip with her mom. Or that the dress had been a conservative gown with a full back, high collar and slim belt to accent her waist. Andi might have loved hearing that, but Mimi behaved a little too much like Eloise’s mom. She wouldn’t see talent. She’d sniff out desperation.

  “I must take a look at their stock.”

  “You really should.”

  “Eloise has only been in the city a short time,” Ricky said, obviously having decided three years was a short time.

  Oliver said, “Really.”

  “Yes.” She smiled pleasantly. “I got my degree, and now I’m job hunting.”

  The band began to play. The couple smiled and turned away to dance again.

  Ricky put his hand on the small of her back and they moved in time to the music.

  “That went well.”

  “It did, but it feels odd.” With the gooseflesh raised on her skin from his hand warming the small of her back, her voice came out a little huskier than she intended.

  His eyebrows rose. “Feels odd?”

  She carefully met his gaze. “Like I’m asking for a job.”

  He swung them around. “Okay. There’s problem number one for you. You should be proud of the fact that you’re looking for a job.”

  “I feel desperate.”

  “And that’s problem number two. Do you think these people got to the top by not being able to smell desperation?”

  “I know they can.”

  “You’ve gotta get rid of that.”

  “Okay.”

  The dance ended, and their conversation was cut short by someone else who came up to talk to Ricky. Unlike the Mr. and Mrs. French, this guy was not interested in Ricky’s date. Not at all. Proposing a new business venture, he’d barely reacted when Ricky introduced her.

  Eloise looked around. The winking diamonds shimmering through the crowd on throats, wrists and fingers told the story of just how rich, just how important, these people were. Yet Ricky looked totally comfortable. Listening as he explained that he couldn’t invest because of the upcoming release of his new line of children’s video games after which he would take that company public, she realized he was so casual because he was so smart. He belonged here. He was as sharp as any billionaire, any magnate, any tycoon.

  Ridiculous pride surged in her. The whole group wanted to know his thoughts on something, but he was with her.

  She shook her head to clear it of the unexpected thought. He wasn’t with her because he liked her. He was with her because they’d made a deal, and he’d only made a deal because he needed protection. She was nothing more than a symbol to his friends that he had moved beyond the breakup that must have really hurt him.

  She had best remember that.

  After the set of waltzes, the band began to play a slow, mellow tune. Expecting Ricky to bow out and direct her back to the table, she was surprised when he pulled her close.

  She met the solid wall of his chest as his hand slid up her back, raising gooseflesh that she prayed he couldn’t feel. Snuggled against him like a lover, she had to fight the urge to close her eyes and melt into him.

  He’s not a real date.

  He’s not a real date.

  He’s not a real date.

  She rolled the litany through her brain until it sunk in. She’d had her Prince Charming and he was gone. If she didn’t find a way to stop her reactions to Ricky, she might just lose the chance to continue going out with him.

  Then there’d be no job. No future. Just endless days of temp jobs, struggling for rent money and eating packaged noodles.

  CHAPTER THREE

  REMINDING HERSELF OF her dire straits did not stem Eloise’s attraction.

  Dancing with Ricky and watching him between dances, it was obvious that he was strong and smart. And he treated her like royalty. He brought her drinks, eased her into most conversations and basically behaved as if she were someone he cared about...like a real date.

  Was it any wonder she was having trouble separating fact from fiction?

  The second time they slow danced, she’d felt a stirring inside her that went beyond attraction. She liked him. A lot. So she spent a little extra time in the ladies’ room, reminding herself again this was only a deal, not a relationship.

  But every time they slow danced, her reactions increased. Warmth flooded her when he held her. Pinpricks of delight raced through her when he did something sweet. He smiled at her when he held her cape for her at the end of the night, and her heart about shot out of her chest.

  She groaned internally, finally figuring out what was wrong. Her brain might know this was only an act, but her body and her hormones reacted as if it were real.

  Sliding into the limo, she sat as far away from him as she could.

  As Norman started the engine, Ricky tapped his hands on his knees, studied her for a few seconds and finally said, “Tomorrow night’s event is a private dinner at the home of an investment banker who is also a college buddy.”

  From the far end of the seat, she smiled politely. “Sounds nice.”

  “I don’t think you’ll need to wear anything fancy.”

  “Probably not. A cocktail dress should be good.”

  “Great.”

  The conversation died, and Eloise leaned back. It was clear from his nervous gestures that he wasn’t feeling any of the attraction she felt. So, if he’d noticed her overlong glances or the way she snuggled into him when they danced, that might be why he was so uncomfortable with her now.

  She winced. Gazing into his eyes, nestling into him when they danced, she was b
reaking rule number one of their bargain: no romance. And if she didn’t watch herself, he could end this deal.

  To head off the curiosities of his driver, she politely let him walk her to her door—up all four flights of stairs, just in case the chauffer was the type to sneak into the building and check on things.

  Outside her apartment, she smiled. “I had a great time.” Too great. She’d been so angry with her parents and just plain life in general for so long that she’d never anticipated she’d actually enjoy going out again. Or that she’d be so attracted to someone again. And now here she was nervous, with their deal in jeopardy, trying not to look smitten.

  He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “Thanks. I had a good time too.”

  She cleared her throat. “So. Um. Okay.” Stammering. Great. Now she looked like an even bigger fool. Knowing how to end this torment, she caught the gaze of his dark, sleepy eyes and simply said, “Good night.”

  He stepped back. “Good night.”

  She turned, opened her door and jumped inside.

  Braced against the solid steel, she groaned. What the hell was she doing? She needed a job! Since when did she let a man tempt her like this?

  They were in an arrangement. They were not dating. She could not lose this opportunity to make contacts that might net her a job just because her hormones had unexpectedly awakened. Particularly because he was not feeling anything for her.

  And wouldn’t that be humiliating? Her growing to like a guy who’d essentially hired her to be a date?

  She’d had her fair share of mortification in her life, thank you very much. She wouldn’t be so stupid again.

  * * *

  Ricky jogged down the stairs. Eloise had been the absolute perfect date. Gorgeous. A cuddler when they danced. She even had him believing she liked him. She was so perfect, he found himself humming as he jumped back into the limo.

  But the second he realized he was humming, he thought of Blake and cursed. What right did he have to be happy when his son, his baby, was gone? He’d been as responsible for the death of his beautiful baby boy as Blake’s mother had been. He did not deserve to be happy.

  As Norman pulled the car out into the street, his phone rang. He automatically pulled it from his pocket and glanced at caller ID. His head research and development guy. He had to take it.

  “What’s up, Tom?”

  “I’m sorry, Ricky. We hit a snag.”

  “A snag? We’re in production. There shouldn’t be any R&D snags.”

  “Which is why you might want to call your lawyer. A manufacturer in Berlin has just released a game exactly like game number two in your three-game package.”

  His stomach fell. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. I have a team comparing the games. Unfortunately, it will take days. But that gives you time to call your lawyers and bring everybody into the loop.”

  “I want to know the very second you have a verdict.”

  He disconnected the call and dialed his lawyers.

  * * *

  At six the following evening, he hung up from yet another call with his R&D team. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten. He felt like his phone was growing out of his ear. Exhausted, he considered not going to Tim and Jennifer’s dinner party. But, in the end, he knew missing the quiet gathering of friends might spur more questions than he cared to deal with. Until he figured out whether he and a German manufacturer had come up with the same game at the same time, or one of his employees had sold his idea, he had to pretend nothing was wrong. And, luckily, he already had Eloise Vaughn in place.

  He knocked on her door. She opened it with a smile and immediately handed him her black wool cape.

  Sliding it on her shoulders, he said, “You look great.”

  She did. Even in a simple black dress and pearls, she was a knockout. His eyes might be heavy from lack of sleep, and his brain dead from conversations about patents and corporate spies, but he still could see she was gorgeous.

  She turned and smiled at him. “You look great, too.”

  He glanced down at his black suit with a white shirt and thin black tie. “Think I’m okay for a dinner party?”

  “You have squarely hit semiformal. You’ll be fine.”

  She headed for the door and all but ran down the four flights of stairs to the building lobby. Tired, he could barely keep up with her. He wondered again about the wisdom of not canceling this party. He hadn’t had any sleep, and her running was odd, as if she were trying to get this night over with. That wouldn’t be good at all for their charade. She raced outside to the limo and, after Norman opened the door for her, slid in.

  Two steps behind her, Ricky got in beside her. “You’re in a hurry tonight.”

  “I’m just nervous.”

  “Don’t be. Tim and Jennifer are very casual.” He stifled a yawn.

  * * *

  Relief swooshed through her. Not just because he’d eased her fears about the dinner party, but because he’d almost yawned. He wasn’t nervous around her anymore. If anything, he seemed bored, which had to mean she was successfully hiding her attraction to him. As long as she played it cool, the deal would not be in jeopardy.

  She straightened on the seat and smiled at him. “I’ll be fine.”

  Ricky’s cell phone rang and he sighed. “I have to take this.”

  She waved her hand in dismissal, grateful for any chance to look like a woman who wasn’t interested in him. “No problem.” She smiled. “Take the call.”

  He clicked the button to answer his phone, and she glanced out the window at the city, which was beginning to dress up for the holiday. Tall Christmas trees had been erected in the lobbies of office buildings, their lights twinkling in the darkness. Shop windows featured elaborate Christmas displays. Salvation Army bell ringers stood beside street vendors with carts covered in tinsel. Steam rose from manhole covers.

  Ricky was still on the phone when the driver pulled up to a luxury apartment building and opened the door. He talked as he got out of the limo, talked as they walked to the door and finally disconnected the call when the doorman offered them entry.

  “Sorry about that.”

  Fake date smile in place, Eloise happily said, “It’s fine. Really. You don’t need to apologize.” She gave him a significant look. “Remember?”

  He frowned. “Right.”

  Drat! Now she’d gone too far in the other direction. Instead of reassuring him, she was behaving like a hired hand. Exactly what he didn’t want.

  They rode up in the elevator in silence. The doors opened onto a plush penthouse. A huge Christmas tree stood in front of a wall of windows. Bright lights and tinsel had been strung around the tree, and that theme continued on coffee tables and archways. Two red stockings decorated the marble fireplace mantel. Awash in lights and color, the main room had a warm, cozy, old-fashioned Christmas feel.

  Tim and Jennifer welcomed them with hugs, got them drinks and slid them into the group of couples in front of the elegantly simple marble fireplace.

  Conversation flowed easily until the butler announced dinner was served. The hostess pointed out seats at the long mahogany table set with fine china and crystal. Once everyone was comfortable and salads had been served, the lively discussion resumed.

  Something light and airy floated through Eloise. Amid the colorful Christmas lights, tinsel and easygoing people, she totally relaxed. This was her second meal, good wine and simple conversation in two days, but, best of all, the odd tension between herself and her fake date had evaporated. With no dancing or touching of any kind required, she didn’t have to worry about her attraction or his lack of attraction. All she had to do was talk. And that came easily.

  After dinner, the men retreated to the den for a cigar.

  Proud of herself for controlling her
attraction to Ricky, Eloise breathed a sigh of relief. But when she turned to the women seated with her in front of the fireplace, she found herself facing four round-eyed wives.

  “I thought he’d never date again.”

  Glad for the chance to really play her role and fulfill her commitment, she smiled as she picked up her wineglass. “Oh, he wasn’t such a tough nut to crack.”

  Jennifer’s face fell. “Sweetie, it was four months after the tragedy before he even spoke to anyone.”

  Eloise kept her facial features neutral, but internally she winced. Wasn’t tragedy a bit of an odd way to refer to a breakup?

  Muriel, who owned a string of restaurants and was married to Fred, who Eloise had learned was the prankster of their fraternity, said, “Fred was positive he was going to lose everything. All his businesses and all his prospects for more business. But then...” She turned to Jennifer. “What was it? Six months in, he finally picked himself up and got back to work.”

  And wasn’t missing six months of work a bit extreme for a breakup?

  Surely she’d misinterpreted.

  “He missed work for six months?”

  “Oh, sweetie, I don’t think he ate for six months.”

  Her heart stuttered. This had been no ordinary breakup. Everything inside her wanted to ask what had happened. But she caught herself before she opened her mouth. She was supposed to be dating Ricky. These women assumed she knew—assumed he’d told her—about whatever had happened. If she didn’t behave accordingly, she’d ruin everything.

  She quietly said, “It was a difficult time for him.”

  Jennifer patted her hand. “Which is why we are so glad he found someone.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad he found me, too.” She replied easily enough, but her brain began to scramble for answers. What kind of breakup hit a man so hard he didn’t work for six months?

  She told herself to stop. Told herself that if he wanted her to know, he’d tell her. She even told herself that she might not want to know because knowing might draw them closer, and she was already having trouble separating fact from fiction.