Christmas with Him: The Tycoon's Christmas Proposal / A Bravo Christmas Reunion / Marry-Me Christmas

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EVE woke to blaring rock music and a man’s heavy arm draped possessively over her waist.

She smiled at the ceiling. Life was good.

The electric guitar was gearing up for its solo before Dawson finally stirred. He reached out a hand to swat off the alarm clock that sat on the bedside table. The only problem was that Eve was in the way. His eyes opened as he realized this. His gaze was bleary at first and then clouded with what she recognized as lust.

Oh, yeah. Life was good.

She stroked his scratchy face, reveling in its distinctive masculine feel. “Good morning.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Oh?”

He rolled on top of her and murmured something into her hair that she couldn’t quite decipher. Not that it really mattered. Words weren’t necessary at that moment. Eve understood Dawson’s meaning perfectly.

An hour later, they were both out of bed, showered and dressed. Her clothes had dried. Her leather boots definitely were worse for the wear, but then she’d expected that. Thankfully, Dawson had found a new toothbrush for her in his linen closet, and Eve kept some makeup essentials in her purse. Without the taming effect of a flat iron, her hair had gone curly, but there was no help for that. She brushed it back as best she could and secured it in a ponytail. Satisfied that she looked presentable, Eve ambled downstairs.

It was Saturday, which meant Dawson’s housekeeper had the day off. Eve was grateful for that. The last thing she wanted to do was run in to the older woman while wearing the same outfit she’d had on the evening before. She wasn’t old-fashioned exactly, but neither was she one to advertise her private life.

She planned to just grab a cup of coffee and be on her way. It might be the weekend, but she had a busy day of shopping ahead of her. She found Dawson in the kitchen, looking every bit as sexy as he had when he’d smiled at her first thing that morning. With minimal effort and very few words, he talked her into staying for breakfast.

He stood in front of the six-burner gas cooktop like a captain standing at the helm of a ship. Glancing at the array of ingredients and utensils spread out on the counter around him, she asked baldly, “Can you actually cook?”

He looked insulted. “I went away to college. I lived in a fraternity house with nine guys.”

“So we’re having pizza and beer for breakfast?” she asked dryly.

“I can manage an omelet.”

“Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, questioning your culinary abilities. I mean, you did whip up that hot cocoa last night.”

“Smart aleck.” He motioned toward one of the stools on the opposite side of the granite-topped island. “Go sit down before I rescind the invitation.”

“Right.” After a two-fingered salute, she did as instructed.

Dawson was surprisingly efficient in the kitchen for a man who was used to having others wait on him. He mastered the eggs, though the toast wound up burned. The coffee was fine, excellent in fact. But Eve suspected that out of all of the appliances in his state-of-the-art kitchen that one was probably the one he operated on his own most frequently.

She ate the eggs, passed on the toast and asked for a second cup of the freshly ground French roast.

Sunshine streamed in through the tall window over the sink, making the room glisten. “I’ve got to tell you. This is a wonderful room, a chef’s dream,” she said. “My entire kitchen would fit in your subzero refrigerator.”

“Can you cook?” he asked.

She couldn’t help but laugh as he handed back her earlier insult.

“Yes. I can cook. I went away to college, too.” Between student loans and scholarships, she’d managed four years at a state university. “And I get to practice on a regular basis. Unlike you, I can’t quite afford to hire out the job during the week, although I do have a pretty close relationship with a Chinese restaurant a block up the street from my apartment. They’re the first number programmed into my cell phone and I’ve got them on speed dial at home, too.” She grinned.

“I think I’m insulted.”

“Don’t be. It goes without saying that after last night you’ve moved up considerably,” she assured him, leaning over to peck his cheek.

Dawson cleared his throat. In the brief amount of time that took, his expression shuttered. Eve knew what he was about to say even before he began speaking. Her sudden clairvoyance, however, did little to blunt the impact.

“About last night, Eve. I hope that you … I mean, I hope that you understand I’m not … I’m not ready for something serious right now,” he said. “I may never be.”

“Define serious.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Apparently I don’t.” She pushed her plate aside and folded her arms over her chest. Beneath them, she swore her heart felt bruised. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“Eve, I like you. I like you a lot. But I can’t … I can’t …” He shoved a hand through his hair and expelled a frustrated breath.

“Actually, you can and you did. Very well, I might add. Twice last night and then again this morning.”

She’d hoped for a smile, but he was dead serious when he replied, “I’m not talking about physically.”

No. Of course he wasn’t. “Which leaves emotionally,” she said.

He nodded and she felt her heart start to break. For the first time since they’d made love, she wondered if she’d made a huge mistake. To think just an hour ago she’d awakened with a smile and thought her life grand.

Because far more than her pride was stinging at the moment, she told him, “I don’t believe I mentioned expecting to march down a church aisle wearing white anytime soon.”

“No. But I need to be sure that you understand where I’m coming from.”

She swallowed, raised her chin. “I believe I do. You’re saying that our relationship is only temporary.”

“Temporary is not the word I would have chosen,” he said quietly.

“Semantics aside, it’s what you mean.”

Dawson looked miserable. He looked remorseful. But he didn’t contradict her.

Not good enough. The phrase echoed in her head, taunting her. It seemed to be the motto for her life, the tagline that summed it up. She hadn’t been good enough for her ex-boyfriend’s pedigreed family. And now she wasn’t good enough to compete with Dawson’s memories of his late wife and the previous life he’d enjoyed as a husband and father.

“I’m sorry, Eve.”

Far from being appreciated, the apology only made matters worse for her. Around the lump in her throat she said, “Now I want to be sure that you understand something. I’m not the sort of woman who just hops into bed on a whim.”

“I know that—”

“No.” She slashed a hand through the air to silence him. “This obviously needs to be said. When I’m with a man, I’m not just marking time until something better comes along.”

“I’m not marking time, Eve. I promise you that.”

She nodded again. “Also, when I’m in a relationship I’m exclusive and I expect the same in return. Nothing about me is casual, Dawson, if you follow my meaning.”

“I do.”

“I stayed here with you last night because being with you meant something to me.” When her eyes filled with tears, she hated herself for the weakness they represented, the futility, but she blinked them away and pressed on. She would have her say now. A good cry could wait until later. “I stayed here because you mean something to me.”

He reached over and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “God, I know that. I’d know that even if you hadn’t said as much.”

“I’m not expecting a marriage proposal.” She’d learned her lesson about such expectations after her long-term relationship with Drew. “But I am expecting you to be honest with me and monogamous for as long … for as long as this lasts.”

Her anger and outrage were spent. She wished them back, because insecurity began filling the void.

“You have both,” he promised. Then, “And for the record, I’m not the casual sort, either.”

She nodded and pushed back the stool so she could stand. Gathering up what remained of her pride, she forced a smile to her lips. “Well. Thank you for breakfast and dinner last night.”

“You’re leaving right now?”

“I need to be going.” Before I make a bigger fool of myself.

“Eve.” Dawson put a hand on her arm to stop her as she turned away. There really was no need, as his next words rooted her in place. “Since my wife died you’re … you’re the first woman I’ve been with. You’re the first woman I’ve even wanted to be with.”

She closed her eyes and tried to steel her heart. But how could she not tumble a little further into love with the man after such a soul-baring admission?

“Oh, Dawson.” She framed his face in her hands, kissed him tenderly. “Thanks for telling me that.”

“You’re special to me,” he whispered. “Please don’t doubt that.”

“Okay.” Inside her head, a small voice whispered, Am I special enough to make you let go of the past and start thinking about the future? She ignored it, stepped back and straightened the hem of her sweater. “I really do need to be going.”

“Work?” he inquired.

“Yes.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“I know. There’s a great sale at Macy’s that started an hour ago. I try to save my clients money whenever I can, but at this point I’ve probably already missed out on most of the best deals.”

Half his mouth lifted in a smile. “Then I suppose I should thank you for staying as long as you have.”

She kissed him a second time and, despite the questions and doubts swirling in her head, Eve meant it when she said, “It was my pleasure.”

The house seemed especially quiet after Eve left and empty in a way it hadn’t felt as long as she’d been in it. Dawson felt empty, too. This emptiness was different than how he’d felt for the past three years and, oddly, less easy to accept. Perhaps because he didn’t have to. He had a choice. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have a choice.

Restless, he spent the next few hours wandering from room to room. Reminders of Sheila and Isabelle were everywhere in the house. Isabelle had taken her first steps in the great room. She’d earned her first major time-out in there too after she’d taken a crayon to the wallpaper.

Sheila had used their budding Picasso’s artwork as justification for redoing the entire room. As he had throughout the house, Dawson had given his late wife free rein. So it was no surprise that everything reflected her appreciation for muted hues and soft fabrics. He’d never had a problem with the décor, but perhaps it was time for a change. He recalled the bold color choices in Eve’s loft apartment. Maybe something along those lines.

Especially in the bedroom.

He stood at the side of the bed. Eve had straightened the covers. He picked up one of the pillows and brought it to his face. He swore he could smell her perfume. It haunted him. She haunted him. The woman was on his mind, under his skin. That was especially true now that he’d made love to her.

He sank down on the side of the bed with a groan, recalling how soft her skin had felt, how responsive she’d been to his touch, how smug her smile had been when she’d curled up against his side afterward.

Dawson had worried that he would regret making love to her. Not the actual act, but the fulfillment and sense of completion it brought. Surprisingly, he hadn’t. He’d meant it when he’d told her that he’d been intimate with no one since the accident. Guilt had always managed to quell any arousal. But he hadn’t felt guilty with Eve. In fact, even when he’d wakened with her beside him in the very bed he’d shared with his late wife, he hadn’t felt guilty. He’d felt happy and optimistic and eager to not only start the day, but to end it … with Eve.

For the first time in three long years, Dawson had felt truly alive.

That was what had finally stoked his guilt.

Of course, he’d botched things horribly when he’d tried to keep Eve from reading too much into their lovemaking. Temporary. Was that really what he wanted it to be?

Even now he could see her happy expression cloud over, though she’d managed to rally admirably. She wasn’t the sort to stay down for long. Or more likely she wasn’t the sort to let someone see her down.

He’d hurt her. Of all his regrets, that was by far the biggest.

By midafternoon, he couldn’t stand being alone in his house any longer. He considered going to his office at Burke Financial. He’d spent more than one Saturday tucked behind his desk browsing through spreadsheets and tracking market trends. But burying himself in work held no appeal today. Another option did. Before he could change his mind, he called for his driver.

“Where to?” Jonas asked as the limo idled in the drive.

“I’m not sure. Know a store where I can get a nice pair of women’s boots?”

It was nearly six o’clock and Eve had just come in from shopping when the bell chimed. She expected to find a deliveryman at her door. She shopped online for hard-to-find items, so packages were arriving daily. When she opened the door, however, it was Dawson who stood on the other side. He looked tired and a little lost.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said.

“I know. Sorry. I probably should have called. I won’t stay long. I just came to drop this off.”

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