About the Authors

SUSAN MEIER spent most of her twenties thinking she was a job-hopper—until she began to write and realised everything that had come before was only research! One of eleven children, with twenty-four nieces and nephews and three kids of her own, Susan has had plenty of real-life experience of watching romance blossom in unexpected ways. She lives in western Pennsylvania with her wonderful husband, Mike, three children and two overfed, well-cuddled cats, Sophie and Fluffy. You can visit Susan’s website at www.susanmeier.com.

ELLIE DARKINS spent her formative years as a committed bookworm devouring romance novels. After completing her English degree (which had Mills & Boon on the syllabus!) she decided to make a living from her love of books. As a writer and freelance editor her work now entails dreaming up romantic proposals, hot dates with alpha males and trips to the past with dashing heroes.

A busy wife and mother of three (two daughters and the family dog), DONNA ALWARD believes hers is the best job in the world: a combination of stay-at-home mum and romance novelist. An avid reader since childhood, Donna always made up her own stories. She completed her arts degree in English literature in 1994, but it wasn’t until 2001 that she penned her first full-length novel and found herself hooked on writing romance. Donna loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website, www.donnaalward.com, her page at www.myspace.com/dalward, or through her publisher.

One Winter’s Night

The Twelve Dates of Christmas

Susan Meier

Frozen Heart, Melting Kiss

Ellie Darkins

A Cadence Creek Christmas

Donna Alward

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08528-1

ONE WINTER’S NIGHT

The Twelve Dates of Christmas © 2014 Susan Meier Frozen Heart, Melting Kiss © 2014 Ellie Darkins A Cadence Creek Christmas © 2013 Donna Alward

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

The Twelve Dates of Christmas

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Frozen Heart, Melting Kiss

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

A Cadence Creek Christmas

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

About the Publisher

The Twelve Dates of Christmas

Susan Meier

For my sisters...may we always take care of each other the way Olivia, Eloise and Laura Beth do.

CHAPTER ONE

THERE WAS ALWAYS too much month left at the end of Eloise Vaughn’s money.

“Here, put these crackers in your purse.” Laura Beth Matthews gathered a handful of crackers from the party buffet of their newly married friend, Olivia Engle, and shoved them at Eloise.

She gasped. “So now we’re reduced to stealing crackers?”

“Five crackers are lunch.”

Eloise sighed but opened her Chanel purse and let her roommate dump the crackers inside.

“I’m sorry, Coco.”

Laura Beth said, “Coco?”

“Chanel...” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Hoping no one saw the crackers falling into her purse, Eloise glanced around the Christmas party at the women wearing shiny cocktail dresses in shades of red and green and the tuxedo-clad men. Subdued gold and silver decorations gave the Engles’ penthouse a sophisticated glow. The clink of ice in glasses, laughter of guests and the air of importance—wealth and power—wafted around her.

For fifty cents she could work this room and probably leave with a date. But she didn’t want a date. She’d had the love of her life and had lost him. Now, she wanted a job, a good-paying job, a permanent position that would support her. Unfortunately, her degree didn’t seem to translate well into actual work. In lieu of a job, she’d take another roommate, someone to help with the rent on the apartment she shared with Laura Beth. Then the pressure would be off, and the salary from the temp job she currently had at a law firm would be enough that she and Laura Beth could buy food again.

But she wouldn’t find a roommate here. All of these people could afford their own condos. Maybe two condos...and a beach house.

Laura Beth studied the remaining food. “It’s too bad we can’t pour some of this dip in our purses.”

Eloise shoved her purse behind her back. “I draw the line at dip. No dip. Not on the inside of my Chanel.”

“You do realize you could sell some of those overpriced clothes, handbags and shoes you own and probably eat for an entire year.”

“Most of my stuff is five years old. No one would want it.”

Laura Beth sniffed a laugh. “You make it work.”

“Only because I know how to change a collar or add a belt.”

“So update your stuff and then sell it.”

She couldn’t. Not that she loved clothes and dressing up so much that she’d die without accessories. It was more that these clothes were the last piece of herself she had. The last piece of the starry-eyed college junior, one year away from graduating, who’d run away and married her Prince Charming.

Her heart pinched. Prince Charming seemed like an odd description. Especially given that she and Wayne had had their troubles. After they married, her wealthy parents had disowned her, and Wayne couldn’t find a job. So she’d had to work as a waitress, and they’d fought. A lot. Then he’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, he’d died. Overwhelmed with grief and confused that death could be so swift and so cruel, she’d gone home, hoping her parents would help her cope. But they wouldn’t even come to the door. Through the maid, they’d reminded her that they had disowned her and didn’t want her and her troubles visiting their doorstep.

At first she’d been crushed, then she was sad, then she got angry. But that only fueled her determination. Come hell or high water she intended to make it. Big. She didn’t know where or how, but she intended to make it. Not just to show her parents, but so she could be happy again.

* * *

“I’d like you to meet my cousin.”

Ricky Langley glanced up in horror as his lawyer walked up to him with a thirty-something woman. With her hair in a tight black ball on the back of her head and her bright red dress clinging to her curves, she eyed him appreciatively.

“Janine Barron, this is Ricky Langley.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Her voice shivered just the tiniest bit, as if she were so thrilled to meet him she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

Another man might have been pleased—maybe even proud—that his lawyer liked him enough to introduce him to a relative. But since his son had died, he’d been besieged by a loss so intense that thoughts of love, romance or even meeting somebody weren’t anywhere on his radar.

He said, “It’s nice to meet you,” and managed ten minutes of polite conversation, but when he found an opportunity, he slipped away.

He wove through conversation groups as he walked across Tucker Engle’s sleek living room. Although Tucker had married six months ago, his New York City penthouse still claimed the sophisticated furnishings of a bachelor pad. Chrome and black leather furniture sat on white shag carpet atop dark hardwood floors. The Christmas tree Tucker had decorated with his new wife, Olivia, glittered with all silver and gold ornaments. The cherrywood mantel over the fireplace boasted one stocking...for Baby Engle. Not yet born, the child hadn’t been named. They wouldn’t tell the sex either. It was all to be a grand surprise.

He pursed his lips as his breathing stuttered. He thought of the one and only Christmas he’d shared with his son. Blake had been born December twenty-seventh, so he was two days shy of a year on his first Christmas day. He’d clapped when he’d seen the tree lit with brightly colored lights that reflected off the tinsel. He’d eaten Christmas cookies. And he’d gone just a bit bananas when he’d awakened Christmas morning to find tons of gifts all for him. He couldn’t talk, so he squeaked and squealed for joy. He had torn off wrapping paper, liked the boxes better than the actual gifts and in general made a mess of Ricky’s pristine penthouse.

It had been the best Christmas of Ricky’s life. And now he had nothing.

He sucked in a breath. He shouldn’t have come to this party. He might be eighteen months into his grief, but some things, like Christmas celebrations, would always level him. Worse, he had twelve more of these events on his calendar. Ten parties, one wedding and one fraternity reunion. Last year, six months into his grief, he could reasonably bow out. This year, people were beginning to worry.

He turned to race away from the mantle and bumped into somebody’s purse. He swore he heard a crunch as his hands swung around to catch his victim.

“Damn it! I think you crushed my crackers.”

The scowl on the blonde’s beautiful face surprised him so much he forgot he was too unhappy to talk with anyone. “You have crackers in your purse?”

She sighed heavily and tucked a strand of her long yellow hair behind her ear. “Not usually.” She glanced at his tuxedo, gave him a quick once-over, then shook her head. “Never mind. You’re a little too rich to understand.”

“Oh, you took crackers from the buffet table for lunch next week.” At her horrified look, he inclined his head. “I used to be poor. Did the same thing at parties.”

“Yeah, well, this was my roommate’s idea. Typically, I’m not the kind of girl who steals.”

“You’re not stealing. Those crackers were set out for the guests. You’re a guest. Besides, it’s the end of the night. Once we all leave, the leftovers will probably be thrown away. Or given to a homeless shelter.”

She squeezed her eyes shut in misery. “Great. Now I’m taking crackers out of the mouths of homeless people. I hate this city.”

He gaped at her. “How can you hate New York?”

“I don’t hate New York, per se. I just hate that it costs so much to live here.”

She suddenly straightened. Right before his eyes she changed from a frantic working girl into a princess.

Her shoulders back, her smile polite and subdued, she said, “If you’ll excuse me, I want to say goodbye to Olivia and Tucker.”

He stepped out of her way. “Of course.”

Three things hit him at once. First, she was gorgeous. Her gold dress hugged her high breasts, slim waist and round bottom as if it were made for her. Second, she was refined and polite for someone reduced to taking the extra crackers from a party. Third, she’d barely given him a second look.

“Ricky!”

Ricky pivoted and saw his attorney scrambling toward him.

“I understand your reluctance to get back into the swing of things, but I’m not going to apologize for trying to find you someone. If you don’t soon start dating, people are going to wonder about you.”

Hadn’t he just thought the same thing himself? “I hope they come up with some good stories.”

“This isn’t funny. You’re a businessman. People don’t want to sign contracts with unstable men.”

“Being single doesn’t make me unstable. I can name lots of men who did very well as bachelors.”

“Yeah, but most of them don’t have a children’s video game line they’re about to release.”

He turned away. “I’ll take my chances.”

His attorney caught his arm and stopped him. “You’ll be wrong. Look, do you want support when you take this new company public next year? Then you’d better look alive. Like a guy worth supporting.”

His attorney stormed off at the same time Cracker Girl walked by, her head twisting from side to side as if she were looking for someone.

A starburst of pleasure shot through him, surprising him. She was beautiful. Physically perfect. And with a conscience. Although taking crackers from a party didn’t rank up there with grand theft auto, he could see it upset her.

He laughed and shook his head, but he stopped midmotion. Good grief. She’d made him laugh.

* * *

With the party officially winding down, Eloise retrieved her black wool cape, a classic that never went out of style. By the time she reached the elevator, Tucker and Olivia were already there, saying goodbye to guests.

The plush little car took the couple in front of her away. She smiled at Olivia and caught her hands. “It was a wonderful party.”

Pregnant and glowing with it, blond-haired, blue-eyed Olivia said, “Thanks.”

“It was great seeing your parents too. Where did they run off to? I tried to find them to say goodbye but they were gone.”

“Dad wanted to be in bed early so he and Mom could get up early. We’re all going to Kentucky tomorrow.”

“Celebrating Christmas from the last Friday in November to January second,” Tucker said with a laugh.

“You’re taking more than a month off?”

“Yes!” Olivia joyfully said. “Five weeks! We’re coming back for one party mid-December, but other than that we’ll be in Kentucky.”

Eloise smiled. She’d wondered why Tucker and Olivia had had their Christmas party so early.

“It’s going to be such fun. We’ll sleigh ride and skate.” She smiled at her handsome husband, a dark-haired, thirty-something former confirmed bachelor she’d fallen in love with in Italy. “And drink hot chocolate by the fire.”

“Sounds perfect.” For Olivia. The woman lived and breathed the fairy tale. But Eloise wanted a real life. With her husband dead and most of the magic sucked out of life, all she wanted to be was normal, to get a job and never depend on anyone but herself again.

She glanced around. “Have you seen Laura Beth?”

Olivia caught Eloise’s hand and pulled her to the side. “She left ten minutes ago with one of Tucker’s vice presidents.”

Eloise’s chest tightened. “Really?”

“They were talking stock options and market fluctuations when they said goodbye to us. I overheard them saying something about going to a coffee shop.”

“Oh.”

“Do you need a taxi?”

She licked her suddenly dry lips. A taxi? Obviously Olivia had forgotten how much a taxi cost. The plan had been for her and Laura Beth to take the subway. Together. She didn’t want to ride alone this late at night and couldn’t believe Laura Beth had ditched her.

Still, that wasn’t Olivia’s problem. If anything, Eloise and Laura Beth had vowed to keep their financial distress from their now-wealthy friend so she wouldn’t do something kind, but awkward, like pay their rent.

“Um. No. I don’t need a taxi.” She smiled. “I’m taking the subway.”

“Alone?”

“I love the subway.” That wasn’t really a lie. She did love the subway. It was cheap and efficient. But at night, alone, it was also scary.

“Oh, Eloise! I don’t want you to risk it. Let Tucker call his driver.”

“We’re fine.”

“You’re alone.”

Drat. She’d hoped Olivia wouldn’t notice that tricky maneuvering use of “we” to make her think she had company for the subway.

Tucker caught Olivia’s hand to get her attention. “Ricky’s leaving.”

Eloise turned to see the guy who had tried to tell her stealing crackers was okay. He had dark hair and dark eyes, and he looked amazing in a tux. Sexy.

She sucked in a breath. Noticing he was sexy had been an accident. She refused to notice any guy until she was financially stable.

Olivia stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

All right. He was tall. It was hard not to notice someone was tall.

He straightened away from Olivia, and Eloise frowned. It was also hard not to notice smooth, sexy brown eyes that had a sleepy, smoldering way of looking at a woman. And that hair? Dark. Shaggy. So out of style she should want to walk him to a hair salon. Instead, she was tempted to brush it off his forehead.

Wow. Seriously? What was wrong with her? She had not intended to take note of any of that. But the guy was simply too gorgeous not to notice.

“Good night, Ricky. Thanks for coming to the party. I hope you enjoyed it.”

“It was great.”

He kissed Olivia’s cheek, and Eloise stood there like an idiot, realizing her mistake. When he’d walked over, she should have taken advantage of Olivia’s preoccupation and slipped into the elevator. Nothing was worse than the guilt of a former roommate who hadn’t just found the love of her life but also her calling. While Eloise and Laura Beth floundered, Olivia had hit the life lottery and was married, pregnant and a manager for young artists. And now she couldn’t stop worrying about her former roommates.

Eloise didn’t want to be anybody’s burden. She was smart, educated. With the right job, she could be happy as a clam. It was finding that job that seemed impossible. Until she did, she’d be poor. And Olivia would worry.

Olivia glanced at Eloise and, as if just seeing the obvious, she gasped. “You’ve met Eloise, right?”

The guy named Ricky looked over at her. “I bumped into her by the fireplace.”

“She’s on her way home, but her friend left early.” Olivia winced. “Talking business with one of Tucker’s employees.”

Eloise supposed she shouldn’t be angry because that might lead to a better job for Laura Beth, but she knew the next words coming out of Olivia’s mouth before she even heard them.

“You have your limo, right?” She put her hand on her tummy, looking beautiful and Madonna like, the kind of woman no man could refuse. “You wouldn’t mind taking Eloise to her apartment, would you?”

Eloise immediately said, “No. I’m fine.”

At the same time, Ricky said, “Actually, I think I owe her a favor.”

Olivia beamed. “Great.”

The elevator doors swished open.

Ricky smiled at her and motioned to the door. “After you.”

She stepped inside. As the doors closed, she waved to Olivia. “Thanks again for inviting me.”

Tucker and Olivia waved back, looking like the perfect couple. “Thanks for coming.”

The doors met and the little car began its descent.

“So...your friend dumped you.”

“We’re both trying to find jobs that pay better than what we have so we can afford our rent. She was talking business with one of Tucker’s executives. I can’t fault her for that.”

“How long have you been in New York?”

“Three years.”

“That’s a long time to still be scraping by.”

“We were fine until Olivia left us.”

Even though she had a good excuse for her poverty, embarrassment rumbled through her. She might have been born into money, but she’d gone to the school of hard knocks. Paid her dues. Gotten her education in spite of her grief and confusion. Now all she wanted was a job.

Was that really so much to ask?

* * *

Ricky waited in silence as the elevator descended. From the tension crackling off Eloise Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Was, he could tell she wasn’t happy that he was taking her home. Actually, he could tell she wasn’t happy period. Her financial situation was abysmal. Her friend Olivia was living a great life. Her other friend had deserted her.

She had a lot of pride. Which he couldn’t argue. He had a bit of pride himself. But he wasn’t going to let a pretty single girl ride the subway alone after midnight. Especially not one who had made him laugh.

The elevator door opened and she sped out into the frosty cold night. He ambled behind her. When she reached the sidewalk, she stopped dramatically.

He wasn’t the only one who had called for his limo. Four long black cars sat in a cluster in front of the building. No way for her to pass. No way for her to hail a cab.

He paused behind her, slid his arm around her shoulders and pointed at the third one down. His fingers accidentally brushed the back of her neck, and the tips tingled at the feeling of her soft, soft skin.

He cleared his throat. “I’m number three. Just accept a ride.”

She straightened regally. “All right.”

When they reached his car, Norman, his driver, opened the door. She slid inside. He slid in beside her. A minute later, Norman’s door closed and the engine hummed to life.

“Wanna give me your address so I can tell the driver where to take you?”

She told him, then sat staring at her coat while he used the internal intercom system to inform Norman.

The next five minutes passed in silence. Finally, unable to bear her misery anymore, he said, “I really was as poor as you when I moved to the city. I don’t mind taking you home. This isn’t an imposition. It isn’t charity. It’s a happy coincidence that we were leaving at the same time. Please, stop feeling bad.”

To his surprise, she turned on him. “Feeling bad? I don’t feel bad! I’m mad. I’m sick of people pitying me when all I want is a decent job. I’m educated enough to get one, but no one seems to want me.”

“What’s your degree in?”

“Human resources.”

“Ouch. You know human resources functions can be folded into administration or accounting. And that’s exactly what happens in a recession.”

“I know. Lucky me.”

She had enough pride to fill an ocean. But she also had a weird sense of humor about it. Enough that he’d almost laughed again. Twice. In one night. Both times because of her.

“Now, don’t get snooty. Surely, there are other things you can do.”

“I’ve waitressed, and apparently a degree can also get you a lot of temporary secretarial work because right now I’m in a six-week gig at a law firm.”

“That’s something.”

She sighed tiredly. “Actually, it is. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I know others have it a lot worse.”

He was one of those people who had it worse than she did. But he didn’t share that—not even with people who almost made him laugh. She’d go from treating him normally to feeling sorry for him. And for once, just once, he wanted to be with somebody who didn’t feel sorry for him.

He glanced at the floor and was nearly struck blind by the glitter of her shoes. His gazed traveled up her trim legs to the black cape she wore. Her shiny gold dress peeked above the coat’s collar.

For a struggling woman, she dressed very well. Of course, her clothes could be old. Or she could have gotten them from a secondhand store.

But even if she’d gotten them from a thrift store, she’d known what to choose and how to wear it. Actually, if he thought about it, she had the look of every socialite he’d been introduced to in the past year.

Except she wasn’t one. She didn’t have any money.

“What Laura Beth and I really need is another roommate.”

He spared her a glance. “That shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Huh! We’ve tried. We never seem to pick someone who fits with us.”

He turned on the seat. “Really? Why?”

“The first girl we let in had a record we didn’t know about until her parole officer called.”

He chuckled, amazed that she’d done it again. So easily, so effortlessly, she could make him laugh. “I dated somebody like that once. Turned out abysmally.”

“Yeah, well, Judy took my coffeemaker when she left.”

“Ouch.”

“The references for the second one were faked.”

“You need Jason Jones.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the search engine I created. Well, I came up with the idea. Elias Greene actually wrote the programs. It investigates people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s great. It’ll tell you things you never even realized you wanted to know.” He smiled politely. “I’d let you use it for free.”

She squeezed her eyes shut in distress. “I don’t want your handouts. I don’t want anybody’s handouts!”

Yeah. He could see that. He didn’t know where she’d come from, but she had guts and grit. She wanted to make it on her own.

“We could bargain for it.”

She gasped and scrambled away from him. “Not on your life.”

He laughed. Again. Fourth time. “I’m not talking about sex.”

She relaxed but gave him a strange look. “I don’t have anything to bargain.” She petted her coat. “Unless you’re into vintage women’s clothes.”

“Nope. But you do have something I want.”

Her gazed strolled over to his cautiously, wary. “What?”

“Time.”

“Time?”

“Yeah. I have ten Christmas parties, a wedding and a fraternity reunion coming up. I need a date.”

CHAPTER TWO

ELOISE STARED AT Ricky Whatever. “I don’t even know your last name.”

“It’s Langley.” He smiled at her. Those silky brown eyes held her prisoner. “And yours?”

“Vaughn.”

He reached out and shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Eloise Vaughn.”

“So you have twelve places to go for Christmas and you want me to go out with you?”

“No. I want you to be my date. Big difference.”

She eyed him askance. “I’m not sure how.”

“There’d be nothing romantic between us.” He winced. “Except to pretend that there is. I need space. A reason to bow out of conversations. Bringing a date to parties has a way of giving a guy options.”

She studied him, realized he was serious and said the thing he was dancing around but wouldn’t quite say. “And you want people to stop fixing you up all the time. With someone at your side, they’d leave you alone.”

“It’s more complicated than that. Really what it comes down to is easing myself back into the world and into my social circle. A date at my side would be like a living symbol to my friends that I’m fine, and they can all stop worrying about me.”

Eloise got comfortable against the supple leather seat. He talked like a guy coming off a bad relationship. Nobody wanted to have to go to parties when they were smarting from a breakup. He probably didn’t want to have to explain where his ex was. Or, worse, have to flirt or be flirted with.

“So you’re looking for ways to be able to go to parties without being social.”

“I don’t mind being social. I just don’t want to have to be too social. Look, I’m not in the market for something romantic, so you’d be perfectly safe. You might even enjoy yourself. Meet some new people. Make some work contacts.”

Yep. Anybody who wasn’t in the market for something romantic was still hurting over a bad breakup. But he’d also said the magic words. Work contacts. The employment market was so tight she couldn’t even get interviews. But if she could meet the higher-ups of some companies, she might impress them and maybe open a door for herself.

“And I don’t have to do anything but smile and be polite?”

“And pretend to like me.”

She already sort of liked him. He was handsome and just a little bit scruffy, the way a man was when there was no woman in his life. And he was honest. So pretending to like him wouldn’t be hard.

“We’d need a story.”

“A story?”

“How we met. Why we’re dating.”

“Why don’t we just say we met at Olivia and Tucker’s party and hit it off?”

“It’s only half a lie. We did meet at the party. But we didn’t exactly hit it off. We barely spoke.”

“We’re talking like two friends now.”

She thought about that. “Yeah. I guess we are.” She sucked in a breath. “And you’d help me find a job?”

“You don’t want to use Jason Jones to find a roommate?”

“A roommate is temporary. I want a permanent solution. I want a career.”

His brow wrinkled. “Are you asking me to hire you?”

She gaped at him. “God, no! I don’t want to be the girl in the office who got her job by dating the boss. Sheesh! Talk about instant pariah. I want you to get me job with one of your friends.”

“I can’t getyou hired, but I could help you make contacts.”

She shook her head. “If I’m going out with you—” She did the math in her head...ten parties, one wedding, one fraternity reunion “—twelve times, then I’m getting twelve dates’ worth of help.”

“What do you want me to do? Run an ad saying that someone should hire you?”

“I don’t care what you do. Pick your friends’ brains to see who’s looking for an HR person and get me interviews, and I’ll go out with you twelve,” she deliberately exaggerated the word so he’d see the significance of the big number, “times.”

His eyes told her he was doing a bit of mental calculating—proving he took her seriously—before he stuck out his hand to shake hers. “Deal.”

She took it. “Deal.”

They reached her apartment building. She slid out of the limo, and he did too. “You don’t have to walk me upstairs.”

“Someone could be hiding—”

She put her hand on his chest and was surprised that she met a solid wall. He was a lot stronger than he looked. Probably all muscle under that trim tux.

Now that they were going to spend a lot of time together, that meant something. She took in his handsome face. The fine lines that created his chiseled features. Those beautiful brown eyes.

A strange feeling worked its way through her. It took a second to recognize it, but it was attraction. Real attraction. Not just the I-think-he’s-handsome feeling. But more like the I-could-sleep-with-him-someday feeling.

Which would only wreck their deal and was the last thing in the world she wanted. She’d gone the route of love. Now she realized having a job was a more secure happily-ever-after. Plus, he’d said he wasn’t interested in anything romantic. She couldn’t be either.

She removed her hand. “This is where I draw the line. I’m fine walking myself upstairs. And you need to believe me.”

“But—”

“No.” With that she turned and strode into her building. He was handsome, but neither of them was in the market for a romance. And she needed their deal. She hadn’t been able to make job inroads for herself. He might be able to help her. She wouldn’t risk being alone with him outside her apartment door when there was so much goodnight-kiss potential. She might be strong, but she wasn’t perfect. She’d learned a long time ago that a smart woman didn’t tempt fate.

* * *

The next morning she woke confused. Or maybe disoriented. She hadn’t gotten drunk, so she didn’t have a hangover. But that meant she also didn’t have an excuse for agreeing to go on twelve dates with a stranger.

Although he wasn’t really a stranger. He was a friend of Olivia and Tucker’s. Someone Olivia liked enough that she’d gone up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Olivia would have the scoop on him.

She grabbed her phone from the bedside table and headed for the kitchen. After throwing together a pot of coffee in an old drip coffeemaker instead of her sleek one-cup one stolen by Judy, she speed dialed Olivia.

“Hi, this is Olivia Engle. You’ve reached my voice mail. Please leave a message after the beep.”

Drat. She’d forgotten Olivia and her family were leaving early for Kentucky. She wouldn’t have her phone on. Heck, she might not turn on her phone for the entire month of December. What had she said? She and Tucker would be having family time?

She tossed her phone to the table before she sat. So much for asking Olivia about Ricky Langley.

Laura Beth trudged into the kitchen. Her long brown hair lay in disarray on her shoulders. Her green eyes were barely open. “Who were you calling?”

“Olivia. I needed some insider information, but then I remembered she’s flying to Kentucky today.”

Reaching into the cupboard for a cup and a tea bag, Laura Beth asked, “What kind of insider information?”

“A little background on a guy. I think I may have found a way to get a job.”

Laura Beth’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes. And, by the way, thanks for deserting me last night.”

“Sorry. Bruce heads Tucker’s newly created IT department. I went for coffee and got an interview.”

“Yeah, well, the guy I met last night wants a date for some parties.”

“Oh my God, you’re not—” Her eyes grew as big as two dinner plates and she couldn’t finish.

“Not that kind of date. Ricky Langley seems to be coming off a big breakup, and he doesn’t want to go to his Christmas social engagements alone. So he asked me to go to all his parties. In exchange, he’ll introduce me to influential people and pick their brains about job openings.”

“That sounds almost as promising as my job interview. Maybe more promising because you could get a couple of prospects.”

The comment eased away the little bit of confusion Eloise had had about this deal. Ricky was Olivia and Tucker’s friend. He hadn’t made a pass. He’d made a deal. She liked deals. She liked giving something to get something. She absolutely hated charity.

So she’d try this, giving him one date to prove himself. And if he didn’t, she’d end it.

This did not have to be something to stress over.

He called around ten o’clock, apologetic because the first party he needed her to attend with him was that night.

“Already? It won’t even be December for two days.”

“My friends start early.” He paused, then said, “Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s fine. It might be Saturday, but I don’t date and I don’t have enough money to go out myself.” She winced, realizing how pathetic she sounded. “I meant that to be reassuring, not whiny.”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“So what time will you pick me up?”

“Around eight.” He hesitated, not sounding any more sure of this weird arrangement than she was, then added, “This party is being thrown by my banker.”

“Any idea how I should dress?”

“I think the same way you did for Tucker and Olivia’s party.” He paused. “You looked nice.”

The simple compliment gave her far too much pleasure. She shook it off. “Thanks. But that was a cocktail dress. If this event is formal, I may need to wear a gown.”

“It’s black tie at the Waldorf.”

“I’m wearing a gown.”

“Fine. But don’t be waiting in the lobby of your building. Let me come up. I don’t want my driver telling his other driver buddies that I make my dates meet me on the street.”

She hadn’t wanted them to get too personal, but the whole point was for this to look real. He was right; it would be odd if she was waiting for him in her building lobby. “Okay.”

She headed back to her bedroom to find something to wear. With twelve cocktail dresses, several ball gowns and just about anything he needed her to wear for any occasion, she had plenty of possibilities. Except everything she owned was out of style.

She pulled a red gown from the rack. She would think bankers would like red... No. No. Green. Like money. With a laugh, she reached for a green velvet gown. It would need tons of updating, but she didn’t care. In the past few years, she’d developed a way with scissors and a needle and thread. She’d gotten so good at refurbishing old clothes that she’d actually bought a secondhand sewing machine so she could make real alterations.

Smiling as she went in search of her scissors, she realized she was really looking forward to going out. She would meet people in a position to hire her. But also she had a reason to dress up. To socialize. Maybe even dance. It would be fun.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had fun.

As long as Ricky Langley really was a gentleman, this arrangement could be good for a bundle of reasons.

He arrived a little before eight. Still excited, she opened the door, and her eyes widened. She’d forgotten how good-looking he was. Dressed in a tux with a black top coat, he was so gorgeous, so sophisticated, he could have been the king of a small country.

She quickly pulled herself together. His amazingness did not matter. She did not want to be attracted to anybody. She wanted a job.

“Let me get my coat.”

Nodding, he strolled into her apartment, but she didn’t give him a lot of time to look around. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her living space. Actually, she was proud of the fact that she had come as far as she had with absolutely no help. But she was eager to get out the door and go to a party. In a pretty gown. Something she’d made even prettier.

She flipped her cape over her back and walked toward him.

“You look incredible.”

Pride sizzled through her. He wouldn’t have said that if he’d seen this dress five hours ago. “Thanks. I loved this dress when I bought it.” They walked to the door, and she closed it behind them. “So it was fantastic to have a reason to bring it up to date.”

She led the way down the stairs.

“You updated your dress?”

“Yes. I took off the collar and the belt and did a little something to the back.”

“Oh.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You don’t have to worry that I’m going to embarrass you. I don’t have money to buy new things, but I have plenty of old things I can fix or update. And I’ve gotten very good with a sewing machine. No one will even notice that this dress used to look totally different.”

The conversation died, and they stayed silent on the drive to the Waldorf. The building façade had been covered in white lights, which were also woven through the branches of the fir trees standing like sentinels on both side of the entryway.

Memories of the time she’d come here with her parents flooded her. It had been her first formal party, and she was so nervous at meeting her dad’s friends and business associates that she’d sworn real butterflies were in her tummy.

Mind your manners.

Don’t speak unless spoken to.

You are a guest. The daughter of a wealthy man. Your comportment should say that.

The doorman came over and opened the door of Ricky’s limo.

She drew in a breath and let him help her out. That’s when she saw the other attendees. Furs. Diamonds. Hair coiffed to perfection.

She slid her hand down her cape, which looked foolish compared to the furs being worn by the other women exiting limos, and turned to Ricky. “I’m guessing the guy knows a few wealthy people.”

He smiled, motioning for her to walk under the portico and to the steps leading to the hotel. “Expect a camera or two on the way in. A photographer for the society pages will take a shot of everyone in the hope of getting something for tomorrow’s paper.”

She faltered. “Oh.” Her mother might live in Kentucky, but she got all the New York papers so she could “keep up” with her own kind. She lived and breathed the society pages.

Fear shimmied along her nerve endings. She couldn’t seem to make her feet move. She hadn’t seen her parents in five years. Not since they’d disowned her. But if they saw her at a society event with a wealthy man, God only knew what they’d do. Happy she’d finally come to her senses, would they call her? Pretend nothing had happened? And if they did, what would she do? Was she lonely enough, desperate enough, to pretend it was okay that they hadn’t cared that her husband had died and that she was struggling to get her bearings?

She squeezed her eyes shut. Why hadn’t she thought of this?

Ricky’s voice came to her slowly, softly. “You don’t mind getting your picture taken, do you?”

She popped her eyes open. “It depends on where it will end up.”

He took her elbow and guided her up the steps to the entryway. “Probably nowhere. We’d have to be important enough for a society columnist to want to comment on us.”

“And you’re not important?”

Another uniformed hotel employee opened the door and they walked inside. “Last year I was everybody’s charity case. This year, I’m nothing. You’re safe.”

Relief poured through her, but it was short-lived. Not only was she in a dress from five years ago, updated by collar-and-belt removal, but also no one could predict who a society columnist might deem important to write about. If Ricky Langley hadn’t dated anybody in a year, his suddenly appearing with a woman might spark curiosity.

As they walked through the ornate lobby, she saw a camera raised toward her, and as smoothly as possible, she ducked behind Ricky.

He turned. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I just thought because you have the invitation, you should go first.”

He frowned. “The lobby is wide enough that we can walk side by side.”

Seeing the photographer’s attention had been caught by another guest, she laughed. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

They entered the elevator and rode up to the ballroom in silence. Ricky noticed that she’d kept hugging her cape, almost as if she was trying to hide it, and winced a bit internally. She clearly believed she didn’t belong here and was embarrassed.

But wariness overcame his worry. This was their first date. He wanted her to have a good time and meet perspective employers, but he was more concerned with how his friends reacted to her. If they didn’t believe their dating was real, then all bets were off, and she wouldn’t have to worry about how she looked.

The doors opened, and they walked out of the elevator together.

He caught her gaze. “Let me take your cape for coat check.”

She slid it off and handed it to him. He shrugged out of his top coat and gave the two to the young woman manning the station.

They turned to go into the dimly lit foyer that would take them to the ballroom, and a photographer snapped their picture. Eloise’s face drained of color. He would’ve sworn she swayed.

At Tucker and Olivia’s party, she’d given him the impression she was as close to a princess as a woman could be without actually being royalty. Yet she was suddenly shaking in her shoes.

“Are you okay?”

She faced him with an overbright smile. “Yeah. Sure. I’m fine.”

He knew she wasn’t. Her eyes shone with fear. Her face was pasty white.

“You’re not afraid to meet these people, are you?”

She sucked in a breath. “I need to meet these people.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“I hate to have my picture taken.”

Which explained all the questions she’d had about the photographers...but raised new ones about why she wouldn’t want her picture taken.

Before he could say anything, regal Eloise reappeared. She straightened to her full height. Her expression shifted. The green dress that she’d altered slid along her curves like decadence incarnate. She turned and headed for the entrance to the ballroom, and Ricky’s eyes bulged.

The neckline might be normal in the front, but the back dipped to the bottom of her spine. Smooth yellow hair flirted with her naked skin, swishing back and forth.

His mouth watered.

How the hell had he missed that her dress had virtually no back?

Realizing he wasn’t following her, she stopped and faced him. “Do you like getting your picture taken by people you don’t know?”

He raced to catch up with her. “I’ve been getting my picture taken by strangers for so long I guess it doesn’t faze me anymore. Especially because they rarely turn up anywhere.”

She shook her mane of yellow hair down her back and strode ahead again. “Fine.”

Watching her walk away, he stood frozen. The smooth material of her dress caressed her perfect butt so well the fact that she didn’t like getting her picture taken faded into insignificance. At Tucker and Olivia’s he’d noticed she was gorgeous, but in that dress she was a showstopper.

Which was perfect. One look at her and everybody would totally understand why he had come out of his self-imposed social hiatus and was going out with her.

Imagining his friends’ reactions to her, he bit back a cheesy grin and caught up to her right before the desk where he’d present his invitation. There could be a million reasons why she didn’t like getting her picture taken, and most of them were innocent. He wasn’t going to ruin what could be the perfect return to the party scene with unfounded suspicions.

“If it’s any consolation, cameras are off-limits in the party.”

“Yes. It is a consolation.”

He presented his invitation at the discreet desk by the entry, and they were routed to the greeting line for the host and hostess.

Paul Montgomery’s eyes lit when he saw Eloise. “My darling, however did you get this guy to finally break down and bring a date somewhere?”

She laughed and slid her arm through Ricky’s. “We met at the party of a mutual friend.”

“Tucker and Olivia Engle,” Ricky said, shaking the old man’s hand. “She’s a friend of Olivia’s. I’m a friend of Tucker’s.”

“Oh, we love Olivia,” Mrs. Paul Montgomery said, leaning in to air kiss Eloise’s cheek. “She simply glows with her pregnancy.”

Eloise smiled. “She certainly does. She will make an amazing mother.”

Their twenty seconds of greeting time expended, Ricky and Eloise were guided to the next section, where they were given their table number and a hand-carved Christmas ornament as a gift from the Montgomerys.

The huge ballroom shimmered with laughing, talking people. Rich red velvet drapes billowed from ceiling-high windows and glittered festively as if they’d been sprinkled with stardust. Round tables boasted gold tablecloths and huge centerpieces of calla lilies and evergreens accented by a ribbon of gold that wove through them.

Ricky took Eloise’s hand and guided her through the sea of round tables. “That went smoothly.”

“Our story’s very believable.”

“Then we’ll stick with it.” He paused, turned and caught her gaze. Now that he’d realized the impact gorgeous Eloise would make on his friends, a bit of fear tugged at his gut.

“We’re seated with some of my best friends. I don’t want them to know you’re a fake date. These are the people I most want to reassure that I’m fine. Dating someone is the living, breathing symbol of that. If we’re convincing enough, they won’t ask questions. They’ll see I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

“But if anybody even suspects you’re a fake date, I’m going to look pathetic. This has to be as real as possible for my friends to buy in. That means I’m going to put my arm around you.”

She nodded.

He sucked in a breath. “And we’re going to dance because I love to dance, and it will look odd if I bring a date and don’t dance.”

She straightened the collar of his tux, then tightened his bow tie, the gesture both casual and intimate. His nerves shivered. Not from fear of her touch, but from easy acceptance of her fingers on him. Which scared him to death. She was gorgeous and, probably like every other man in this room, he wanted to touch her and be touched by her. Their situation might be fake, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get the feelings.

“Relax. Not only do we seem to be compatible, but I have dated a guy or two. I know how to act.”

He sniffed a laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. We’re actually doing better than people on a real date because we’re not afraid to be honest.”

He fought a wince. She would not be pleased if he’d honestly tell her that her little ministrations with his bow tie had shot white-hot need through his veins. “I guess that’s true.”

“So if either one of us does anything wrong, we know we can be honest and tell the other one.”

Okay. As long as they weren’t admitting things like awakening hormones, he could get on board with that. “That’s good.”

She took his hand. “We are going to ace this.”

He led the way to the table and introduced Eloise to his first business partner, Elias Greene, and his fiancée Bridget O’Malley, the couple getting married on Christmas Eve. As they sat down, another friend, George Russell and his wife, Andi, joined them.

When introduced, Eloise smiled and nodded, and the knots in Ricky’s stomach began to unravel. He expected the husbands to fawn all over her, but he would have never guessed the wives would instantly like her.

Andi leaned over and caught Eloisa’s hand. “I love your dress.”

She laughed. “What? This old thing?”

Andi sniffed. “Okay. Don’t tell me where you got it.”

“Actually, I do a lot of my own designing.”

Andi’s mouth fell open. “You made that?”

“I bought it, then sort of reorganized it to suit my tastes.”

Ricky liked the way she stuck with the truth. She didn’t announce that she was broke, but she didn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t. He took a sip from his water glass, his nerves settling and his faith in their deal reviving. She was doing very well.

They ate salad, filet mignon and simple baked potatoes, and an elaborate chocolate mousse creation for dessert, then Paul gave a toast that was more of a thank-you for coming and blessing to all in the new year, Then the dancing started.

Eloise turned to him with a smile. “I know you’re dying to dance.”

For the first time in his life, he wasn’t. Her dress had no back. He was going to have to put his hands on her.

But his friends expected him to dance, so he gave her points for being a step ahead of the game.

He rose and took her hand. They threaded through the tables to the dance floor and kept going until they were in the center of the throng of people. This far into the dancers, they couldn’t be seen by his friends at their table or even by anyone curious enough to seek them out.

As he pulled her to him, he let his hand fall to the small of her back and found soft, supple skin. But a quick mental review of her dress told him that if he were to lower his hands until he found fabric, he’d be fondling her butt.

Leaving his hand where it was, he cleared his throat. “Interesting back on this dress.”

She laughed and winced. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no. It’s not a problem.” Most guys would kill for the opportunity to touch you like this. But, of course, he didn’t add that out loud. He looked down into her smiling face. “You seem like you’re having fun.”

“Honestly, the steak alone with worth the evening for me.”

He twirled them around. “Not much steak in the diet of someone scrambling to make a living.”

“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 breaking 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.

But nothing worked. Curiosity tightened her chest, filled her brain, wouldn’t let her think of anything else.

Forty minutes later, the men ambled out of the den. Everyone had work the next morning. Apparently Ricky had a conference call with lawyers in Berlin, so he had to be up the earliest, which made them the first out the door.

He slid her black wool cape over her shoulders and directed her into the elevator.

Though part of her knew it was overstepping the boundaries of their deal, her curiosity and her genuine concern for him were too much to handle. As soon as she and Ricky were alone in the elevator, she intended to ask him what had happened.

But two seconds before the door closed, Dennis Margolis and his wife, Binnie, jumped in with them.

Dennis rubbed his hands together. “It’s gonna feel even colder out there after sitting by that fire.”

Binnie sighed dreamily. “I don’t care. I hope it stays cold. We need snow for Christmas. The season is so much more fun when there’s a coating of snow on the decorations. Don’t you think, Eloise?”

“Um, yeah. I love snow. Especially for the holiday.”

She smiled at Ricky, expecting him to smile back. He did, but it was a weak lift of his lips. Either he was really tired or “man time” in the den had not gone well.

As they walked through the lobby and into the frigid air and the limo, his phone rang again. She climbed into the car, but he shut the door and stood on the sidewalk talking. Twenty minutes later, Norman opened the door again. He slid in with a big smile.

“Good news?”

“More like major disaster averted. I thought I was going to have to go to war with a company in Europe, but turns out somebody just made a mistake. Once our R&D people went over the games in question with a fine-tooth comb, they realized we’d panicked prematurely.”

She had no idea what he was talking about, but his company, his business, wasn’t really her concern right now. “That’s great.”

“It’s excellent. I expect a problem or two before every rollout, but it’s nice when they resolve themselves so easily.”

Glad he was in a better mood, she nonetheless waited a few minutes, until they were solidly in traffic, before she said, “Your friends’ wives are really happy to see you dating.”

“Um-hum.”

Nerves filled her. How the hell did someone say, “So, what’s the tragedy in your life?”

She licked her lips, gathering her courage. She couldn’t handle the curiosity. But more than that, if his friends discovered she didn’t know, it might ruin their charade. “They assume I know what happened to you.”

He turned to her, his previously sleepy brown eyes suddenly cool and distant. “I’m sure they do.”

She swallowed. Caught in the gaze she didn’t recognize, dark, scary eyes of a stranger, she faltered. “So maybe you should tell me?”

He glanced out the window, then back at her. “One of the reasons I’m comfortable with you is that you don’t know.”

She frowned. “But wouldn’t the charade make more sense if I knew?”

“Not if you pity me.”

Pity him? What the hell had happened to him? “How about if I promise not to pity you?”

“You can’t make that promise.”

She glanced out the window. “What if somebody tells me? I mean, what if we get separated again and somebody just blurts it out?”

“I guess you and I will just have to stay close so that no one does.”

She snapped her gaze to his. A combination of fear and curiosity rumbled up from her chest. She was already fighting an attraction to this guy. Did she really want to be close to him? Every time they were out? Spend every minute together?

How had such a simple plan become so complicated?

* * *

After walking Eloise to her door, Ricky ran down the four flights of stairs and ambled to his limo. Once he was inside, Norman started the engine and headed out.

He’d been having a great time at the party, so great he’d actually enjoyed the ribbing he took from his friends about Eloise being too beautiful for a guy like him.

Then they’d gotten into the limo and she’d asked about Blake, and he felt as if he’d been hit by a train. He hadn’t thought about his son in two days. He’d been so preoccupied with his work problems and pretend-dating that he’d forgotten his son. His baby. His whole world for eighteen months.

How could he forget him?

He tapped on the glass between himself and Norman. It slid open.

“Take me to the hospital.”

Norman caught his gaze in the rearview mirror. “It’s midnight.”

“I have my key card and identification.”

The glass closed. Ricky sat back, letting the air slowly leach out of his lungs. The pain that had been his constant companion reclaimed him. Thirty minutes later, the limo stopped. His door opened and he climbed out.

He used his card to get into the hospital. Even, determined steps took him through the silent lobby and up to the Intensive Care Unit for the children’s ward.

He stopped in front of the wall of glass, staring at the sweet, innocent children struggling for life.

“Mr. Langley?”

He faced Regina Grant, night shift supervisor. “Good evening, Regina.”

“Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” But she knew why he was here. When they rededicated the wing, after his generous donation had renovated the floor and bought new equipment, she’d been the one who’d seen his distress. She’d cornered him in a room, and rather than extol him with platitudes, she’d told him to count his blessings. “If you can’t think of any blessings...come here. Look through that window. Realize you do not have it as bad as some.”

The memory made him shake his head. He missed his son. He missed him with a longing that lodged in his throat, tormented his soul. He wished he’d done a million things differently. And he hated that a work problem and a pretty girl had made him forget his little boy.

But so many people did have it so much worse.

“I’m just here reminding myself I don’t have it as bad as some.”

“You really don’t. And life does go on.”

Sadness rippled through him. Memories of his son’s giggle, the warmth of his child’s hug, that simple trust floated back. But along with it came an odd, unfamiliar fear. Life might go on, but he didn’t want to forget his son. Never. Ever.

After a prolonged silence, Regina caught his forearm. “Here’s a thought. Instead of visiting in the middle of the night, maybe what you need is a little interaction.”

He faced her. “With the kids?”

“Yes.”

“They’re too sick.” And he was too afraid.

“These are. But if you’d come at regular visiting hours and go to the left instead of the right when you get off the elevator, I’m sure the nurses could set it up so that you could read to the kids in their playroom.”

He said nothing. She turned to go but stopped and faced him again. “Cheering up some kids who need cheering would be better than staring at kids you can’t help.”

Sucking in his breath, he watched her go, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. He’d been preoccupied with business before and as soon as the crisis was over, memories of Blake had come in an avalanche. The difference this time was Eloise.

He couldn’t let his fake date make him forget his son. Or his guilt. And if she did, he had to stop this.

CHAPTER FOUR

MONDAY MORNING ELOISE awoke to the real world. She dressed in work trousers and a thick sweater, then bundled herself in her quilted parka, a scarf and mittens. She rode the subway to Manhattan and an ordinary, crowded elevator to the twenty-ninth-floor law offices of Pearson, Pearson, Leventry and Downing.

She slipped off her mittens and scarf and hung her coat on the coat tree in the corner of the tiny space she shared with ten filing cabinets and the desk of Tina Horner.

Tina entered rubbing her hands together. “It should snow. Then even though it would still be cold, we’d at least have festive snow to make it feel Christmas-y.”

“I was just talking about that with someone last night.”

“So I’m not the only one who thinks we’re being cheated by cold weather without snow.”

Eloise sat at her desk, then hit the button to boot up her computer. “Nope, Binnie Margolis is right with you.”

“Binnie Margolis?” Tina whistled. “Somebody’s moved up in the world.”

Eloise laughed. “Not hardly. I’m doing a favor for a friend, going to a few Christmas parties with him so he doesn’t get hounded because he doesn’t have a date.”

Tina shrugged out of her coat. “So it’s like going out with your cousin?”

Eloise winced. She absolutely did not have cousin-like feelings for Ricky Langley. But she wouldn’t tell Tina that.

“Not exactly. But in exchange for me going out with him, he agreed to introduce me around in the hope that I’d make a connection and maybe find a real job.”

Tina took her seat at the desk across from Eloise. “That sounds promising.”

“It is. Or it would be—”

“Except?”

She bit her lower lip, wondering if she should come clean with Tina. She decided she needed to talk to someone. “Except I’m thinking I should end our deal.”

“End a deal that might help you find a job? Are you nuts?”

“More like concerned. I thought he wanted a date because of a bad breakup, but the way the wives of his friends were talking last night I get the feeling something big happened to this guy.”

“Big like what?”

“Something tragic. They said, ‘after his tragedy’ a couple of times.”

Tina winced. “Sounds like maybe his last girlfriend died.”

Oh. Wouldn’t that make sense? “Could be.”

“Too bad we’re not allowed to use the internet here or we could look him up.”

“I can always go to the library after work.”

“Maybe you should.”

Knowing she could investigate him later, she relaxed and got down to the business of typing legal briefs. Because she worked late that night, she couldn’t go to the library. Disappointment and curiosity collided, making her too nervous to sleep.

As she lay in bed pondering Ricky, their deal and her life, it dawned on her that since she’d met him, she’d been immersed in helping him. All weekend long, she’d remade dresses, gone to parties and worked to make a good impression on his friends so he could be happy. And it had felt good. Really good. She’d been busy. Happy. Until his friends’ wives talked about “his tragedy” she’d been enjoying this charade.

And thinking of someone else had made her stop dwelling on her own problems. She hadn’t done that since her husband had died.

Maybe she shouldn’t jeopardize their good rapport by looking him up.

Maybe helping a man with a tragedy in his past was exactly what she needed to get over her own grief.

Especially because he was a friend of a friend. Ricky Langley wouldn’t be in Tucker Engle’s circle of confidantes if there was something wrong with him.

He was a guy with a tragic past. A guy she could help. And in return she could forget about her own troubles.

* * *

Ricky trudged up Eloise’s four flights of steps on Friday night, so sad he’d nearly canceled their evening together again. On Monday night, he’d gone to the hospital to read to the kids, as Regina had suggested, and it had been devastating. He hated seeing kids suffer. He couldn’t believe Regina had suggested he read to children so weak they broke his heart, reminded him of Blake, reminded him of how stupid he’d been. His son was dead because he’d never asked Blake’s mother to let him raise him. She was a party girl turned mother and he’d seen the difficulties she’d had fitting Blake into her life. She probably would have been happy to give him custody of Blake, as long as she got visitation, but he’d never asked.

Anger with himself had made his pulse race, and that night, he couldn’t stay in the children’s ward activity room. He’d bowed out before the kids even knew he’d come there to read, so there was no harm done to them. But as he’d struggled to get through his week without thinking of Blake, without berating himself for not asking for custody, for not taking his son away from a woman who clearly wanted an out, he’d simply forgotten about Eloise Vaughn.

He almost laughed. Another man would think it impossible that he could forget a woman so beautiful she could be a princess. But that was his life.

When she opened her door to him, and he looked down at her dress, he blinked. The pale blue fabric complemented her pink skin tone and yellow hair, but it also glittered as if someone had woven tinsel into the material. She looked like a princess trapped in a snow globe.

His heart lifted a bit. “Wow.”

She smiled. “You know, even if nothing else comes of fake dating you, I’m getting a real sense of satisfaction out of your compliments on my sewing.”

He took her cape. When she turned for him to help her into it, he noticed this dress had a full back and sighed with relief. The gloom that hung over him like a dome loosened a bit. “You deserve to be complimented. I’d never guess you were taking old clothes and making them new.”

They headed down the hall to the stairs. “It’s not like I’m redoing things from the last century. Five years ago, my clothes were in style.”

“Then you went to university and your money had to go for tuition.”

She stopped at the top step and faced him. “Something like that.”

“Hey, unless you’re born into money, you’re going to suffer through university.”

A strange expression crossed her face. He wouldn’t be this far in his business dealings if he couldn’t read the look of someone who had something to say. The pinch of pain in her eyes told him it wasn’t something good.

But instead of a confession, she said, “Or starve.”

He smiled, but curiosity ruffled through him. She’d told him about her job problem, but it had never crossed his mind to think she might have had personal troubles in her past. Something that had broken her heart.

Still, he pushed it from his mind. He had problems of his own. And wondering about her wasn’t part of their deal. Getting to know her wasn’t even part of their deal. In fact, with as pretty as she was and as tempting, he might be wise not to ask questions.

In the limo, they talked generically about her job and his busy schedule as they drove to a hotel in the theater district. Lit for Christmas, Times Square took his breath away. So many lights. So much creativity in the Santa and sleigh that rode the tickertape around the jumbo video screens, and the Santa’s workshop filled with elves in the toy store windows.

He shoved back the memory of bringing Blake here for a private tour of the toy store and focused on getting himself and Eloise out of the limo.

Again, the night was cold and, as they stepped out, Eloise shivered. His arm rose in a natural reaction to pull her close, but just before he would have touched her, he stopped himself.

Too many things happened naturally with this woman, and although that probably added to the success of their charade, it wasn’t good for either of them personally. When they weren’t actually at a party, he would keep his distance.

A small stairway took them to the hotel lobby, where they were directed to an elevator to the ballroom. Lively music blared at them as the doors opened.

Eloise turned to him. “Are we late?”

“No. We’re right on time. Preston’s a music promoter. Expect the unexpected. Including the fact that he might have started the party early just because he wanted to.”

“Cool.”

A laugh escaped, and he relaxed a little. Technically, he had to have fun and talk to her for the charade to work. “Cool? Maybe yes. Maybe no. But I’m betting on no.”

She happily exited the elevator and nearly walked into Preston Jenkins’s arms. High as a kite, their host took their coats and handed them off to a huge, beefy man who looked like a bodyguard.

He hugged Eloise effusively. “You are as gorgeous as the gossip mills are reporting.”

Her eyes grew round and shiny with what looked to be fear, and Ricky remembered how she hadn’t liked getting her picture taken the week before. Now she appeared deathly afraid of gossip.

“Which is why,” Preston slurred, “I’m thrilled that we are about ten feet away from mistletoe.”

Her eyes grew even larger, and this time Ricky understood. No woman wanted to be slobbered over by a stranger, regardless of how much mistletoe hung over doorways. Protectiveness rose up in him. She was his date. She wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t brought her. He needed to get her out of this.

His brain scrambled for a way to save her, and eventually he simply opened his mouth and said, “Do you really think I’d let a schmoozer like you kiss my date?”

Preston slapped his arm. “Oh, such a kidder. I wasn’t going to kiss her. I’m getting pictures of everybody kissing their dates under the mistletoe.” He pointed to the huge bodyguard type, who displayed a camera.

His heart did something that felt like a samba. “You want me to kiss Eloise?”

Nudging Eloise and Ricky under the mistletoe, Preston grinned drunkenly. “Yeah. You kiss Eloise.”

Happiness tumbled through him before he could stop it, before he could think of Blake, before he could think of the myriad reasons this was wrong. It was as if time froze and there was only him and Eloise and mistletoe. No crowd. No past. No future. Just a kiss.

Eloise blinked up at him. Her pretty blue eyes round and curious. The curls of her soft blond hair framing her face. Her pink lips parted.

His pulse scrambled. He hadn’t kissed a woman in almost two years. And just touching the skin of Eloise’s back had set his hormones dancing. What would happen when their lips met?

Fireworks probably.

His pulse kicked up again. He hadn’t felt fireworks in forever.

Longing, swift and sharp, rose up in him.

He silenced it. They were only fake dating. Kissing took them to dangerous ground.

Except he hadn’t kissed a woman in almost two years. Hadn’t felt alive in almost two years—

He glanced back at Preston, who waved dramatically. “Go on! Camera’s waiting!”

He caught Eloise’s gaze again. Need prickled his skin. Desire swelled. And he had to admit he wanted this. He wanted to feel alive again, if only for a few seconds. It was foolish. But it was also only a kiss. One kiss when he’d been so long deprived hardly seemed earth-shattering, and he could go back to being miserable after that. Plus, if he didn’t kiss her, he would ruin their charade.

He bent his head and barely touched his mouth to hers. Soft, smooth lips met his. She tasted like peppermint and felt like heaven, and his head spun. Had he said this wouldn’t be earth-shattering? He’d been wrong.

His mouth pressed against hers, and simple need bubbled like a witch’s brew in his gut. He knew he was flirting with disaster. But he couldn’t stop himself. He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted to simply lose himself in her. The softness, the sweetness he’d never found in another woman.

One kiss. Then he would walk away.

* * *

When Ricky’s mouth shifted and he began to take, all the blood drained from Eloise’s body, then returned in a grand whoosh of warm tingles. He’d touched his mouth to hers softly at first, in a kiss that felt almost experimental. Then his hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, and he pulled her just a little bit closer, pressed his lips a little bit harder and she melted.

She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. Too many sensations bombarded her. The crisp scent of his aftershave. The power in the hands holding her shoulders. The softness of his mouth that pressed one second, then hesitated the next. He seemed to want this and fear it, and though she knew it was wrong, she opened her mouth and egged him on.

His hands tightened on her shoulders. Need crashed against need. The kiss deepened so fast, her knees might have buckled, but she wasn’t paying any attention. She longed for the feeling of his tongue gliding along her tongue, his chest pressed against hers, his hands holding her shoulders.

He released her, and for two seconds they stared into each other’s eyes. Then the music blaring from the ballroom registered, along with the sound of Preston laughing.

Standing by his bodyguard and studying the photo in the digital camera he said, “It’s a great pic. You look fantastic. Young lovers. I adore you. Now move along.”

Ricky gave a fake laugh and said something inane to Preston before he guided her into the ballroom. Her dress swooshed against her legs silkily and the scents of pine and vanilla permeating the room seemed strong and vibrant, as if kissing her fake date had brought all of her senses to life.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” She cleared her throat when her voice came out as a squeak. “Part of the deal.”

But it wasn’t fine. They’d taken that kiss too far, and it had been a mistake. She liked this guy. He was a good person with something sad enough in his past that his friends’ wives called it a tragedy. They should keep their distance. Instead, they’d kissed and it had been amazing. Which was wrong. W...R...O...N...G. Because he didn’t like her and she was going to get hurt.

They spent an uncomfortable half hour trying to make conversation as Ricky’s friends, the people who would join them at their table, arrived. Her nerves continued as they ate dinner, danced and left the ballroom early, Ricky explaining to Preston that he had to rise before dawn for conference calls Sunday morning.

But in the limo on the way home, watching him sitting beside her, staring out the window, looking like a man lost, Eloise chastised herself. All night long, she’d held herself aloof, flummoxed by that kiss. This was a seriously unhappy guy and all he wanted was one nice Christmas, yet she couldn’t stop thinking about herself. Her reactions to him. Her stupid hormones.

But that kiss had been one of the best of her life. If not the best. It was hard to stay objective after that.

She shook her head. What was she doing? She’d finally found a way to put some meaning in her life. She couldn’t let one kiss distract her. Her back stiffened as she straightened on the limo seat. As God was her witness, she intended to give him what he really wanted. Christmas. A joyful, happy Christmas. No easing back into “the season,” as he’d said the night they made their deal. No fake date. She would be someone who really cared about him and who gave him joy.

* * *

Ricky walked her to her apartment door and for a crazy second he thought about kissing her good-night. He couldn’t get the mistletoe kiss out of his head. Or the expression of surprise on Eloise’s face. He wanted to kiss her just to see it again.

What was he doing? He was too depressed, too wounded to bring a woman into his life.

At her door, she smiled politely. “The party was fun.”

He sniffed in derision. “Preston’s a freak.”

“Or a guy who likes to have a good time.” She straightened his bow tie, smoothed her hands down his top coat collar. “Maybe we should work a little harder to have some fun?”

He studied her face, her pretty blue eyes, warm pink mouth and sweet smile. She was serious. She wanted him to have fun.

Syrupy warmth flooded his blood. A strange feeling tightened his chest, and although it took him a few seconds, he realized it was affection.

He wasn’t just attracted to her. He was beginning to like her.

But he knew that was wrong.

He stepped back. “Or maybe we should just put in an appearance at these things and leave early all the time?”

He turned and started down the stairs without waiting for Eloise to answer. No matter what happened at the rest of the parties, he wouldn’t kiss her again.

* * *

The next morning, he called to tell Eloise she only needed to wear jeans and a sweater to that night’s party, his fraternity reunion. The lilt of her voice tiptoed though him, reminding him of the kiss the day before, and he hung up as quickly as he could and lost himself in work.

That was the best way to deal with feelings—remorse over Blake, unwanted curiosity about Eloise. Work was the way to forget and give himself some peace.

When his phone rang a few hours later, he answered absently. “Yes?”

Tucker Engle laughed. “Is that any way to greet a friend?”

Tossing his pen to his desk, Ricky leaned back. “No.” He laughed. “Sorry. How’s Kentucky?”

“We’re knee-deep in sledding and hot cocoa.”

Ricky smirked. It was hard to imagine workaholic Tucker spending five or six weeks in the country. “Bored?”

“No. Actually, I’m enjoying it so much that I don’t want to leave, but I’ve had an emergency crop up and I need your help.”

Ricky sat up. After everything Tucker had done for him, he’d love a chance to do a favor in return. “What can I do?”

“I need to put in an appearance at a meeting for one of the companies I’m heavily invested in. I just need a presence. Somebody who can give my opinion.”

“I’ll be happy to go. Tell me the address and the date.”

“It’s today. I know it’s Saturday, so if you can’t go, it’s okay.”

“No. I’m happy to do it.”

Tucker covered the details with Ricky, who made a few notes, but only a few, because there wasn’t much for Ricky to do except make one brief statement.

Still, Tucker’s reply showed he was grateful. “Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome. It’s not a big deal. If it runs long, I’ll just call Eloise and tell her we’ll be late for my frat reunion.”

Even as he said it, Ricky realized his mistake.

Tucker pounced. “So, you and Eloise hit it off on that ride home after the party?”

He winced. “You could say that.”

“Good. You’ve been down too long, and Eloise could use a little pick-me-up, too. She’s had some rough patches.”

Ricky’s eyes narrowed. Pretty, sweet Eloise had had some rough patches? Just from the tone of Tucker’s voice, he could tell this was about more than her inability to get a job. He remembered the expression that flitted over her face when they’d talked about college. Obviously Tucker knew something Ricky didn’t.

He opened his mouth to ask but couldn’t. It didn’t seem right or fair to ask questions about a woman who was only attending a few parties with him.

He wasn’t supposed to care.

He didn’t care.

He didn’t need to know.

But even an hour after Ricky hung up the phone, as he dressed to go to Tucker’s meeting, he couldn’t get that odd look in Eloise’s eyes out of his head. Curiosity overwhelmed him, so he typed her name into his computer’s search engine.

* * *

Late Saturday afternoon, Eloise began getting dressed. That evening’s party was Ricky’s informal fraternity reunion, held in a pub in midtown. When he’d called that morning, he’d told her to just wear jeans and a sweater.

Still, knowing how men were about pride in front of fraternity brothers, and back to her mission of making sure he had a good time, Eloise dressed with care. She slid into an emerald green cashmere sweater that she’d been saving for a special occasion, fixed her hair in a long ponytail and applied just the right amount of makeup to look cheerful and festive.

She would get this guy out of his misery if it killed her.

He arrived, helped her into her parka and led her down the stairs.

“This might be like hell week.”

She laughed. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned putting in an appearance and leaving early encouraged her. “You think I can’t handle a roomful of men and their dates?”

He paused at the door and looked back at her. “Some won’t have dates.”

“Oh.”

He started walking again, and she stood rooted to her spot. He had to be in his midthirties. The people he went to school with would be about the same age, but they wouldn’t have dates?

What did that mean?

When he reached the limo, Norman opened the door. Realizing she was standing in the lobby like a ninny, she scrambled to catch up. As soon as they were settled, Norman took off.

“So you’re married.”

Surprise kicked the air out of her lungs and made her forget all about the fact that some of his fraternity buddies wouldn’t have dates. “What?”

He faced her, his eyes cool and direct. “You’re married. I found your marriage license through a quick internet search and didn’t find a divorce decree. Ergo, you’re married.”

Her heart galloped. Her nerve endings jumped. Every ounce of blood fell to her feet as every possible answer she could give him winged through her brain. But none of them would work. Shock and anger collided to create a horrible sourness in the pit of her stomach.

“For a guy who has his fair share of secrets, you’re certainly not shy about uncovering mine.”

“Believe it or not, I searched your name because I felt bad for you. I could tell from how you avoided the topic of college that something had happened and I wanted to know what.”

His voice was soft, honest, but tinged with a bit of hurt. And why not? He thought he was going out with a married woman.

She sucked in a breath and said the words that didn’t just pinch her heart; they filled her with shame. “My husband died.”

The expression of concern that came over his face was totally unexpected. “Your husband died?”

She nodded.

He sighed in obvious disgust with himself. “I’m sorry. I was just so flabbergasted to find the marriage license and no divorce degree that I didn’t look any further.” He shook his head. “You’re so young. I never in a million years thought to look for a death certificate.” He shook his head again. “I am so sorry.”

“If it made you so angry to find the marriage license and no divorce decree, why didn’t you just call and cancel?” But before he could answer, she figured it out on her own, and she gasped. “You hoped I had an explanation.”

“I need you. I need this charade. Plus, you’ve been nothing but a nice person around me.” He shrugged. “It was only fair that I give you a chance to explain.”

Hope filled the black hole of shame that lived where her heart should have been. Laura Beth and Olivia accepted her, understood her. But she’d never had the courage to test another person’s feelings about her. She wasn’t supposed to care if Ricky Langley liked her. But it was suddenly, incomprehensibly important that he hear the story and understand.

“I fell for a guy with tattoos and a motorcycle and ran off with him. Although we loved each other, getting married was a huge mistake. It took only two months before I realized we were in trouble. He sat at home or in his buddy’s garage, talking bikes and drinking beer all day.”

His eyes sought hers, but he said nothing.

Shame and fear shivered through her, but she trudged on.

“I spent every day supporting him by waitressing.” She glanced down at her hands, then back up at him. “This story makes me sound like I quit loving him when he refused to support me, but the truth was I never stopped loving him. I just knew we’d made a mistake getting married. I was about to leave him—”

“When he was killed on his bike and you were free.”

A shard of pain sliced through her. For a guy who clearly hoped she’d redeem herself, he certainly was quick to find the dark cloud. “When he was diagnosed with cancer. I spent three months taking him to doctor’s appointments, helping him through chemo, cleaning up messes, offering words of hope. That’s when we started talking. It killed him that he couldn’t find work, so he masked his pain by pretending not to care that I had to support him. I reacted by getting angrier and angrier with a guy who was already hurting, filled with shame.” She stopped and closed her eyes. “Then he died, and I’ve spent the past years angry with myself.” She opened her eyes. “Feeling guilty. Feeling desperately wrong. I hadn’t left him, but I was about to and he would have died alone.”

He studied her silently, then finally said, “I’m sorry.”

This time she looked away. “It certainly wasn’t your fault.”

“No. But I shouldn’t have probed into your private life.”

The limo stopped. Norman opened the door and they stepped out.

Memories followed her up the sidewalk and beneath the portico, tormenting her with the knowledge that she’d been immature and foolish. Not in marrying Wayne, but in almost leaving. True, she’d stayed and nursed him until he’d died. But if he’d visited the doctor one week later, she would have been gone. The man she’d loved would have died alone.

When they walked into the pub, the noise of the crowd swelled over her, along with the scents of corned beef and cabbage. Ricky directed her to the room in the back, where round tables were partially filled with men his age. The pool table entertained six or eight tall, lean guys and two dartboards had the attention of another four or five.

Only about seven women, dates of the guys laughing and talking, were there. More than twenty guys but only seven women. And three of them she recognized—Jennifer, Muriel and Binnie. In spite of the trauma over telling her story, Eloise almost smiled. Ricky must have been in the geek fraternity.

“Hey, it’s Ricky.”

Everybody faced them. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and hung it on a hook on the wall before he turned and took her coat. She swallowed. Nice shoulders and a solid chest filled his warm amber sweater to perfection. His jeans all but caressed his perfect butt.

Before she could chastise herself for noticing, his mouth fell open slightly as his gaze rippled down her emerald green sweater to her tight jeans and tall black boots.

With her story out and his fear that she was a liar alleviated, she smiled in question. He’d brought her to the party to continue the charade for his own benefit, but he knew her now. And the confidence she could muster as a fake date suddenly seemed all wrong. Now, she was herself. Eloise Cummings Vaughn—not just struggling working girl, but also widow. She needed a word, something from him, that let her know things between them were okay.

He leaned in. “You look fantastic. But you always look fantastic. Thank you for doing this for me.”

His warm breath tickled her ear. He smelled great. And his words told her what she needed to hear. They were back in good standing. She might be a real person to him now, but she was still a fake date.

A tall, thin guy wearing a sweater with a Santa face plastered across the front strolled over. Handing Ricky a pool cue, he said, “You beat me four games straight last year. This year I intend to win.”

Ricky took the stick but glanced at Eloise.

This wasn’t her party. It was his. Plus, telling him about her past hadn’t changed her mission. If anything, it had strengthened it. She’d stayed too long in her self-pity. She’d lingered too long with her guilt. If the best way to get out was to help someone else, she would help him.

She smiled. “Hey, go. Enjoy yourself. I’ll be fine.”

She turned to walk over to the women, who had all gathered in a cluster but, on second thought, faced him. “Can I get you a beer?”

He smiled. Really smiled.

Their gazes caught and held, as one door of their relationship closed and another squeaked open. She was no longer a poor girl who needed his help. She was a woman who’d confided her past. He wasn’t just a rich guy who wanted a date. He’d listened. He hadn’t judged. He’d sympathized.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Pitchers are all on a table in the back,” the guy who’d challenged Ricky to the pool game said. “Help yourself pizza and wings, too. We don’t stand on ceremony. It’s self-serve.”

She smiled at Ricky again. “I’ll be right back.”

She got him a beer and put two pieces of pizza on a paper plate for him. She took them to a table near the pool game, pointed them out for Ricky and walked over to the gaggle of women.

“All right. Spill. Who are you, and how the hell did you get Ricky to go out, especially at Christmas?”

Holding the glass of beer she’d poured for herself, she smiled at the dates of his fraternity brothers. “As I told Binnie, Muriel and Jennifer on Sunday, we met at the Christmas party of a mutual friend.”

“Tucker Engle,” a short, dark-haired woman supplied. “Jeremy and I were there and we saw you. That means you haven’t known each other long.” She stuck out her hand to shake Eloise’s. “I’m Misty, by the way. I date the tall guy over there.” She pointed at a true geek with glasses and a sweater vest. “Jeremy.”

“Nice to meet you.”

The remaining women introduced themselves, but as the conversation moved on, thoughts of Sunday’s dinner party came back to her. Especially Muriel and Jennifer talking about his tragedy.

She glanced back at Ricky. When she’d told him about Wayne, she’d handed him the perfect opportunity to tell her his trauma and he hadn’t taken it.

She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter, that their relationship was only an arrangement, but tonight that argument didn’t float. Not because she liked him or because the new feelings that had sprung up made the situation feel real. It was because she suddenly realized she might be fulfilling her end of their bargain, but he wasn’t doing anything about his. He hadn’t gotten her one interview. Not one.

She was doing everything he wanted, even confiding her secrets, but he wasn’t doing anything for her.

* * *

It wasn’t long before everyone had congregated together at a table. Soon, they pulled a second table over and then a third. As Ricky played game after game of pool, he watched Eloise kick back and chat, sip beer and eat a piece of pizza.

He was glad. He didn’t know how his search had missed the death certificate of her husband, except that he hadn’t been looking for a death certificate but a divorce decree. When he hadn’t found one, he’d gotten angry and stopped searching.

He’d tried to rationalize her situation with the fact that every time he’d gone to her apartment, he’d only seen signs of two women living there. No man. No husband. And his internet search had confirmed that she worked as a temp in New York City, but she’d married in Kentucky. He’d assumed she’d left the bad marriage behind and was waiting until she could afford a divorce. Which wasn’t a crime, but it was something she should have told him.

So her story in the limo had stopped him short. Especially the part about the guilt. Lord knows he understood guilt over someone dying. Most people understood the grief. He understood the guilt.

He started another game, but noticed that his fraternity brothers were ambling toward the tables with the women. They pulled chairs behind the chairs of their dates, but those without dates—and there were plenty—seemed to be congregating around Eloise.

As he played pool with Jonathan Hopewell, the laughter from the now crowded tables rolled over to him. He glanced up and saw Kyle Banister, who was seated on a chair behind Eloise, lean in to say something to her. She smiled prettily and twisted to face him. Ricky missed his next shot.

Whatever she’d said made Kyle laugh. He reached across her, grabbed the pitcher of beer and refilled both their glasses.

“Your shot.”

He spun to face Jonathan. “Sorry.”

“I know it must be boring to never lose and have to play every challenger, but at least pretend it’s hard to beat me.”

He laughed and lined up his shot, but just as he slid the stick forward Eloise’s laughter floated to him. He missed.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “No. I’m distracted.”

Jonathan followed the line of his gaze and laughed. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of course not.” They were in an arrangement. The fact that Kyle had outgrown his geekiness, fit into his sweater and had hair that could have been on an infomercial for workout videos meant nothing.

Jonathan put his next three balls into the pockets with ease. “I’m getting confidence from your jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous.”

Eloise’s giggle reached him again. He nearly cursed. Not because he was jealous. He couldn’t be jealous. Refused to be. He was worried about their charade.

He put his stick on the table. “You win, Jon. You play the next challenger.”

“But everybody wants to beat you. Geez, you’re no fun when you have a girlfriend.”

Ricky heard Jon’s words, but they barely penetrated. He was focused on his date, who was currently being chatted up by one of his friends.

“Hey, sweetie,” he said as he ambled up to the table.

She looked up at him with bright, happy eyes and his stomach plummeted. He’d never been able to put that look in her eyes. But Kyle had.

“Hey!” She scooted her chair over and made room for a chair for him, which someone immediately provided. “Kyle was just telling me that his company is looking to hire a human resources director.”

Ricky glanced at Kyle, who reddened guiltily. “Really? I thought you were just in start-up stages.”

“We are,” Kyle said defensively.

Which meant he didn’t need an HR person for at least a year. He didn’t have to say it. Kyle got the message.

“Think I’ll go play pool with Jon.”

Ricky found himself saying, “You do that,” and then wondering why he had. He was not the type to get jealous. Ever. Eloise wasn’t really his date. She was a cover. A symbol to let people know he was getting past his grief. So why was he behaving like a Neanderthal?

Eloise patted the chair beside her. “Have a seat.”

Confusion buffeted him. The noise of the bar closed in on him, and the last thing he wanted was to be squeezed into a cluster of people.

“I want to go home.”

He heard the words coming out of his mouth and almost couldn’t believe he’d said them. He sounded like a petulant child.

But Eloise didn’t argue. She smiled and rose.

He strode over to get their coats. He handed hers to her without looking at her.

As she slid into it, his fraternity brothers came over and said their goodbyes. When all his goodbyes were made, he waved good-naturedly at the women, who still sat at the table.

They waved back, but he knew what they were thinking. That he still couldn’t handle being out. That he was defensive, a prima donna who wasn’t even trying to get over his grief.

He and Eloise stepped out into the cool air and he stopped. “I forgot to call Norman.”

She huddled into her coat. “Is he close enough to get here in a few minutes?”

“That’s his job.” He pulled out his cell phone, sent a text to Norman and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “You’re supposed to like me. You shouldn’t have been flirting with Kyle.”

“The guy was talking about a job. Everybody at the table heard every word we were saying. Everybody could see we weren’t flirting. He was offering me a job.”

“A nonexistent job.”

She huddled more deeply into her coat. “Well, I know that now that you embarrassed him.”

He ran his hand over his face. Damn. He had embarrassed him. He’d made an ass of himself and embarrassed a friend.

He was definitely losing it. “You should still know better than to think a half-drunk guy at a party is legit.”

“So in other words, I shouldn’t believe the guys you’ll be introducing me to at your other parties...oh, wait...the other people you’ve introduced me to haven’t actually talked about jobs. They’re only concerned with getting your attention.”

Norman pulled up and she strode to the limo. She didn’t wait for Norman to come around to the side, just opened the door herself.

Ricky raced up behind her. “It’s the fact that they want my attention that may get you noticed.”

She sniffed a laugh as she slid inside. Norman stood off to the right, waiting for Ricky to enter. Once he had, he closed the door.

“No one will ever notice me as long as you’re around.” She sighed, disgusted with herself for getting angry with him. But she was angry. She knew this relationship was fake, but after their discussion about Wayne, she felt he knew her. The real her. Plus, she’d promised herself she would help him enjoy the holiday.

Still, he was the one who had ruined this evening, not her. She shifted to the right. “Just forget it.”

“No. If you have something to say, I want to hear it.”

She sucked in a breath. As Christmas angels went, she was a failure. He was mad. She was mad. So maybe it was just time to end this thing.

“All right, you want the truth. You’ve already gotten a lot out of this deal. We’ve gone through almost half your parties, and I don’t have anything to show for it. So I saw an opportunity with Kyle and I pounced.”

He stared sullenly out the window. “You should have known what he told you was ridiculous.”

“And I’m an idiot for falling for it. Great. Fine. Thanks. I get it.”

She crossed her arms on her chest. They stayed silent until they reached her apartment building. When Norman opened the door, she slid out. He started to get out behind her, but she pushed him back inside.

“Norman heard our fight.” She glanced at Ricky’s driver. “Didn’t you?”

The man in the dark suit and driver’s hat winced.

“Which means he’ll perfectly understand when I say I don’t want your pigheaded behind walking me to my apartment.”

Norman winced again.

She slammed the door on Ricky and ran into the building. Not slowing down at the steps, she took them two at a time, raced into her apartment and back to her bedroom.

The stress of the night had destroyed her. When she put her head on her pillow, tears slid off her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks.

It hadn’t been easy remembering her marriage, Wayne getting sick, his death. She’d bared her soul to Ricky, not expecting understanding, but in trust. And the way he thanked her was to tell her she was foolish.

Yeah. Duh. She already knew that.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE NEXT MORNING a series of sharp knocks woke Eloise and Laura Beth. Both ran to the door, shrugging into long fleece robes. Eloise got there first, looked through the peephole and saw a man holding flowers.

Without disengaging the chain lock, she opened the door a crack.

“Are you Eloise Vaughn?”

“Yes.”

He set the tall vase on the hall floor. “These are for you.”

He turned to go.

Eloise fumbled with the chain lock. “Wait! I’ll give you a tip.”

The kid smiled. “Tip was included.” With that he raced down the hall.

She cautiously opened the door and picked up the vase. Tissue paper covered the flowers to protect them from the cold. She ripped it off. A holiday bouquet—roses, white mums, tinsel and mistletoe—greeted her.

Laura Beth closed the door. “Wonder who they’re from?”

She opened the card, smiled. “My fake date. He says our fight last night made everything look real.”

Laura Beth huffed away. “And his billions of dollars make it possible for him to wake a florist at—” She squinted at the clock. “My God, it’s not even five o’clock yet. And it’s Sunday!”

“He also says I was right. He hasn’t been fulfilling his end of the bargain. So he sent the flowers early to catch me before I planned my day. If I want him to, he’ll send his driver to pick me up and take me to his condo, where we can redo my résumé and look over my options.”

That stopped Laura Beth. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard a guy say.”

Eloise laughed. Poverty certainly changed a woman’s view of romance. “Yeah. Me too.” But she shivered. She wasn’t sure she was done being angry with him. And sometimes being with him made her feel like a selfish failure as a human being. He was hurting and he wouldn’t even tell her why. But she needed a job—so desperately needed a job—that maybe it was time to forget being a Christmas angel and just go back to their original deal.

She texted the number he’d put on the card and told him to send Norman. Then she found a copy of her résumé and got dressed.

Forty minutes later the driver texted her that he was downstairs, and she raced out into the cold, cold morning.

Norman held open the door. “Good morning, ma’am.”

Eloise smiled. “Good morning, Norman.”

He closed the door, got behind the wheel and sped off.

Surprise made her frown when he stopped the limo at a respectable but far from plush condo building. She rode up the normal elevator to a very normal hallway and knocked on a simple door.

Ricky opened the door immediately, as if he’d been waiting for her. “I am so sorry.”

She tried to smile, but being in his presence sent shivers down her spine. In a sweater and jeans, he looked gorgeous and approachable, making it difficult to remember they were from two different worlds. Worse, they didn’t seem to get along. She shouldn’t be attracted to him.

She shrugged out of her navy blue parka. “Your flowers said it, but helping me find a job would say it even better.”

As he took her coat to a convenient closet, she glanced around. Dark wood cabinets dominated the kitchen of the small open-plan condo and matched the dark table and chairs that took up the space before the living room.

“Have you eaten?”

She faced him. “No. But I’m not hungry.”

“You had one piece of pizza last night. Not enough to sustain you.” He walked into the kitchen and pulled a griddle from a lower cabinet. “I’m making pancakes.”

Himself? She almost smiled. “Where’s your maid?”

“She went with the penthouse.”

“You lost your penthouse and maid? Was it a bet? A poker game?”

“I sold the penthouse and she chose to stay with the new owner. Which is only right because there’s not a whole hell of a lot of housecleaning to do around here. This condo’s tiny.”

She liked his apartment, but she wouldn’t trade a penthouse for it. “Why did you sell your penthouse?”

He spared her a glance. “I didn’t need that much space.” He paused and pulled in a breath before he added, “I also wanted to be alone.”

She didn’t have to be a mind reader to conclude that he’d sold his penthouse and gotten rid of his maid after his tragedy. This was as close as he’d ever come to telling her something personal. So she appreciated the gesture, sort of a peace offering, and said, “Well, this is nice. Modern. Kind of bacheloresque.”

“Bacheloresque?”

“I made it up. It’s a word meaning like something a bachelor would own.”

He laughed as he gathered milk and eggs from the stainless steel refrigerator.

“You’re making pancakes from scratch?”

“No. I’ve got a box mix, but it allows me to add fresh ingredients so they taste better.”

It made sense to her, and she totally agreed a short while later when she took her first bite. “These are great.”

He smiled, and they ate their pancakes amid sporadic conversation about the food, the condo and the cold. She wanted to ask him so many things, especially because he knew so much about her. But now that they were back to being congenial acquaintances with a mission, she knew better than to breach boundaries, poke or prod. She wanted a job. He wanted to help her find one. And her Christmas mission? He seemed to like her best when she wasn’t trying to make him happy. So maybe it was time to scrap that.

He cleaned up, rinsing the dirty dishes and putting them into the dishwasher. Then they took mugs of coffee into the room he called his den.

Obviously designed to be a second bedroom, the small space barely had room for the big table with the huge computer system with three oversize screens, two keyboards and three printers. “Wow.”

“I design games and think up extraspecial search engines,” he said as he hit the button that turned everything on. Lights blinked, screens flashed, small motors hummed. “Did you bring your résumé?”

She pulled the folded sheet out of her jeans pocket.

He frowned. “I hope you don’t send it out like that?”

The implication that she wasn’t smart enough to send a neat résumé sent anger rumbling through her again. But looking around and remembering some of his conversations with his peers, she finally realized he might be one of those guys who was so intelligent he didn’t think before he spoke.

Still, she wasn’t going to let him get away with dissing her. “I’m not a dingbat. I print a fresh one every time I answer a classified ad or get a lead.”

He sat at the desk, scanned her résumé and brought it up on a screen. He read for a few seconds, then said, “I think your first mistake is that you emphasize the secretarial aspects of your temp jobs.” He faced her. “You’d be better off to list the jobs without giving too much explanation of what you actually do. That way you’re accounting for the time, proving that you’re working and not a slacker, but taking the emphasis off those skills, so people realize you’re looking for a job that uses your degree.”

She nodded.

Without asking for input, he revised her résumé, making it incredibly short, but also focusing on the skills she’d acquired while earning her degree.

Then he wrote a generic email introducing her and sent the email off to four friends with a copy of her updated résumé attached.

“These guys all owe me a favor. Your résumé will go directly to them.”

Blissful hope ricocheted through her. “That’ll get me a job?”

“Trust me. Two of them owe me favors big enough that if they can find you a job in your field within their companies, you’ll get it. Hiring a friend of someone you owe is an easy way to pay off big favors.”

Her heart lifted. But in the room filled with technology, he looked alone. She studied his solemn eyes, wishing she could fulfill her private vow to make him happy. But ever since she’d decided to make his Christmas wonderful, they’d actually become tenser around each other. They’d even fought.

Of course, he’d also sent her flowers and made her pancakes. And now he was trying in earnest to get her a job. To fulfill his part of the bargain. Early in the morning, as if he’d been so upset with himself he hadn’t slept.

Something prickled inside her heart. A nudge or a hint that she shouldn’t give up. A nice guy was inside him somewhere, a guy who had obviously been hurt. A guy who deserved a happy Christmas.

Deciding it was smarter not to wreck their current peace, she rose from the chair beside his. “Thanks.”

He stood, too. “You’re welcome.”

Ridiculous silence enveloped them again. They weren’t really dating. Technically, they weren’t even friends. Hell, if she was going to get technical, they didn’t actually know each other. So a vacuum existed. A couple saying goodbye would kiss. Friends saying goodbye might hug. People who were nothing to each other had nothing to do but be awkward.

She picked up her mug, chugged the now-cold coffee and grimaced. “Ugh.”

He sniffed a laugh. “Cold coffee is disgusting.”

“I know, but I was looking for one last swallow of warmth before I went outside.”

He frowned. “I have more coffee. Or if you want, I can make you a cup of cocoa before you go.”

She’d turned to leave, but the offer surprised her so much that she stopped. She knew that deep down inside Ricky Langley was a nice guy. And maybe he’d offered her cocoa because he didn’t want her to go. Maybe, if she stayed, he’d open up to her.

She faced him with a cautious smile. “I like cocoa.”

“Good.”

He led her to his compact kitchen and pressed a button. The appliance garage door rose and a shiny stainless steel one-cup coffeemaker appeared. She sighed with appreciation. “It’s beautiful.”

He laughed. “And I happen to have some of the very best cocoa.” He glanced back. “From Switzerland.”

She peered over his shoulder. “Yum.”

The cocoa took seconds to brew. He handed her the mug, then made a cup for himself.

Drink in hand, he pointed toward the seating area in the living room. “No sense standing while we drink this.”

As she followed him, nerves settled in. They’d been going to parties for two weeks, barely speaking except in a crowd of his friends and only discussing general topics. Unless he decided to open up immediately, they had nothing to talk about. No small talk to ease him into confiding.

Sitting on the chair, she noticed that some of the casual sculptures on his end tables and mantel weren’t exactly as “casual” as he displayed them. And most were works from some of Olivia’s clients.

She smiled. Something for them to talk about.

“I’m guessing Olivia helped you choose some of your art.”

“She’s persistent.”

“And good at her job.”

He laughed. “Yes.”

She sipped her cocoa. The chocolate flavor that burst on her tongue made her groan. “This is fantastic.”

He nodded, then said, “You and Olivia must be very close.”

“That’s what happens when you share an apartment. We’ve been together since university.”

“That’s right. Olivia’s from Kentucky, too.”

“And so is Laura Beth.”

“So you’re like the Three Musketeers?”

She shrugged. “I guess. We’ve gotten each other through some tough times.”

“Your husband’s illness?”

She shook her head and looked down at her cocoa. Hoping he was using talking about her to ease himself into talking about his tragedy, she said, “No. I was alone for that. Although Laura Beth, Olivia and I grew up in the same small town, we ran in different circles. When I went back to university to finish my degree, we found each other.” She peeked up. Not knowing how much of her story Olivia had shared, Eloise cautiously said, “Olivia had had something traumatic happen to her and my experiences seemed to help nurse her back to sanity.”

“She identified with your loss?”

She shook her head. It was good for them to have something to talk about to ease him into sharing his story, but she wouldn’t talk at the expense of Olivia’s privacy. Carefully crafting her answer, she said, “She identified more with being persecuted and abandoned.”

“You were persecuted and abandoned?”

She caught his gaze. If he was going to ease himself in, shouldn’t he have done it by now? Still, he already knew about Wayne. What did it matter to go a step or two further?

“Sort of. My parents disowned me.”

“What?”

“My parents have money. I had rebelled. Embarrassed them by marrying someone so far below their class. So they kicked me out.”

“Oh.”

Great. Now, to him, she wasn’t just a stupid girl. She was a stupid girl who was alone.

Fury with herself rattled through her. She never should have accepted the cocoa.

But she had. And she’d started a story that made her look bad. Again. She was just plain tired of looking bad to him, especially because this part of her problem wasn’t her fault; it was her parents’. And call her prideful, but once, just once, she’d like to look sane to him.

“Even though they’d disowned me, when Wayne died I went home with my tail between my legs, expecting a scolding and probably a time of penance but also expecting to be accepted back. And maybe getting some help with my grief. Some love. But my parents wouldn’t let me in.” She shook her head. “They didn’t even come to the door. A maid told me to leave and never come back.”

He stared at her. “You had told them your husband had died, right?”

“They could not have cared less.” She sighed. “I lost my family because I married a guy I loved when I was too young to realize all the consequences. And every year, especially at Christmas, I mourn the loss. Not just of my husband, but also of my family. Olivia and Laura Beth go home, and I have nowhere to go. No home. It hurt to be rejected. It hurt not having their emotional support. But it’s the aftermath of my mistakes that are killer. Years of loneliness. Years of regret. Getting kicked out of my family means I have no family. I have no one. I am alone.”

She combed her fingers through her hair. She’d gone too far. Said things she didn’t even admit to herself. And he was silent. He wasn’t going to confide, and he didn’t sympathize. He made no move to comfort her. She’d finally vocalized the thing she hadn’t even told Laura Beth and Olivia, and he sat there, saying nothing.

And it all started because she’d been stupid enough to think he would open up to her.

Man, she was a goof. Or she didn’t know very much about men. Or she didn’t know much about rich men. But this guy who so easily found all her secrets, and got her to confess the rest, wasn’t about to tell her anything.

She bounced off her seat. “You know what? Sunday is our cleaning day. I’ve got to get back to the apartment.”

He rose. “Sure.”

He walked to his closet, extracted her coat and helped her into it. “Let me call Norman to drive you.”

She faced him. “Yeah, thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

He pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and texted. “He’ll be downstairs in a second.”

“Thanks.”

Horrible awkwardness once again enveloped them as they stood in his entryway, humiliation cascading from her head to her toes. Why would she think he would confide in her? And why did she think he should care about her troubles? He didn’t like her. She was a fake date. He’d helped her with her job search because that was his part of the bargain. Not because he liked her.

And she was an adult. She might not have a family, but she had good friends in Laura Beth and Olivia. Soon she’d have a job. She wasn’t really alone. She was just alone on Christmas.

She sent him her fake smile. “I really appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome...again.”

She winced. “I already said thanks, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. You did.”

Again, the little foyer grew quiet, and she suddenly realized why this awkwardness felt different, stronger. She had no reason to be standing there.

She was such an idiot. Always an idiot.

She turned to the door and, a gentleman, he reached around her to open it.

She slipped outside and headed down the silent, empty hall to the elevator. When would she learn none of this was real?

* * *

Ricky stood in front of the closed door, filled with pain for her. As she’d told him her story, it had taken every ounce of restraint he had not to pull her into his arms and comfort her.

But to what end? He was wounded as badly, if not worse than she was. She needed someone strong, someone whole, to be whole for her, to fill her stocking at Christmas and tell her it didn’t matter that her parents didn’t want her... She had him.

Yearning rose in him. How he wanted to do that. Wanted to give her that. She’d cared for a husband with cancer. She’d nursed him. She’d probably watched him die. Her parents had abandoned her. Rejected her in her hour of need.

Then she’d moved to New York City and found nothing but failure and more rejection.

He understood what it was like to be alone. Still, even in his darkest hours, he knew he could pick up the phone and call his mom and dad.

She had no one. Any scrap of consolation or comfort could fill her. But he didn’t have anything to give. He couldn’t be a boyfriend for real.

So he’d kept his hands at his sides, measured his words, hadn’t given her false hope.

Now he ached for her.

The next day, he went to work carrying the ache, trying to console himself with the reminder that he’d done something good for her when he’d gone the extra mile, brought her to his home and sent out her résumé. But it didn’t work. The ache stayed with him. It sometimes even nudged aside the guilt he felt over Blake’s death.

Somebody, somewhere had to really help this woman. Not just be a roommate or listen to her troubles, but do something tangible. And finding her a job suddenly seemed like the salvation she needed and also the way for him to feel better.

His secretary came into his office with that day’s mail. “Good morning, Mr. Langley.”

“Just set the mail on my desk—”

He stopped himself. He knew he was upset about Eloise, but that had sounded gruff and rude.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Halfway to the door, Janey paused. Peered back at him. “It’s fine.”

“No. I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s just that I had a weird weekend.”

She took the few paces that brought her to his desk. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Why?”

She shook her head. “You’ve never said you were sorry before.” She smiled. “Never mind. Not important.”

She left the room, and he didn’t think anything of it until his personal assistant forgot to ship his mother’s Christmas gift and he exploded. “It’s Christmas season! Holiday mail is a mess. It takes weeks to get a parcel delivered. You can’t—”

Thoughts of Eloise rumbled through him. Her parents wouldn’t even accept gifts from her. He had parents who loved him. They not only loved his presents; they sent him presents also. They wanted him home for Christmas. They wanted him home anytime. Any day. It was his own sadness and guilt that kept him away.

Why was he shouting over something so trivial?

He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sure if you get it out today, it will be fine.”

David, his gray-haired assistant, nodded. “Okay. I’ll get right on it.”

“Great.”

David started toward the door but stopped and turned around. “You didn’t need to apologize. I don’t take it personally when you yell. I know that’s how you are.”

“How I am?”

“Sometimes you talk loud. I’m accustomed to it. It doesn’t bother me.”

David left his office. Ricky walked to the window and blew his breath out on a sigh.

Sometimes he talked loud?

Sheesh. Was he a grouch? A Grinch? Somebody who yelled so much people thought it abnormal when he didn’t?

Thoughts of Eloise shamed him. She was alone, yet never once had he seen her bite anyone’s head off. Even when they’d argued after his frat party, she’d been reasonable.

He sighed. He didn’t like discovering he was a grouch. Especially because he wasn’t. He was sad about his son. Lonely for his son. And everyone understood that.

He sat down and squeezed his eyes shut. He remembered Blake’s one and only Christmas. He could hear the sound of his little boy’s laugh. See wrapping paper strewn on the floor. Remember the way Blake loved cookies, chattered nonsensical baby words with Ricky’s mom, sat on his dad’s lap.

He swallowed.

If he was grouchy with his staff over missing Blake, over feeling guilty about Blake’s death, he had a right. Even his staff knew that.

Feeling sorry for a woman he barely knew? It didn’t make sense. Her making him feel bad for something he had no right to be guilty about? Well, that didn’t make any sense either. Why should a woman he barely knew affect him like this?

He had to fix it. The best way would be to get his relationship with Eloise back to where it was supposed to be.

A deal.

Not a friendship, and certainly not a romance.

Simply a deal.

* * *

He didn’t hear anything from the CEOs he’d sent her résumé to, and by Wednesday that bothered him. Once he got her a job, everything between them would balance out, and they could go back to being strangers pretending to date. So no response annoyed him. Still, his friends might not have called him because she was the one who wanted the job.

Given that it was Wednesday, the day before their next party—so he needed to call her with the information about that weekend’s events—he picked up his phone. He wouldn’t interrogate her, but if the subject of interviews came up, he wouldn’t waste it.

“I wanted to let you know that Thursday’s party is formal again.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

He winced, waiting for her to mention if she’d gotten calls from his friends, if she’d gotten interviews. When twenty seconds passed in silence, he sighed. “You didn’t hear from my friends, did you?”

“No.”

“Which means you didn’t get a job.”

“Nope.”

Annoyance with his friends buffeted him. But sorrow for her sneaked in there too. This woman could not get a break. Still, he had troubles of his own. Guilt of his own. Shame of his own. A baby boy he missed so much sometimes his chest ached. He had enough trouble without getting involved with her and her problems. He had to help her find a job, but he couldn’t get personally involved.

Needing to get them back to their deal and get himself out of this conversation, he said, “Even if someone hires you, the deal is twelve dates for a job. Not you get a job, then you quit.” He grimaced, even more frustrated with himself. In trying to keep his distance, he’d made himself look like a grizzly bear. “I didn’t mean that to sound as grouchy as it did.”

She sighed. “I know.”

He grimaced again. He almost told her how he’d noticed ten thousand times in the past three days how surly he was. How difficult he was to deal with. He knew it was the result of losing a child. And suddenly, he longed to tell someone. To share his pain. Or maybe he longed to tell her because he knew she’d understand?

But all he said was, “Good.”

“So you want me to wear a gown.”

“Yes.” He paused. “Do you want me to make follow-up calls with the guys I sent your résumé to?”

“You can do that?”

“They are my friends. But they also owe me.”

Silence greeted him. Finally she said, “Although I appreciate the offer, I still have some pride. I’d like to get a job based on my qualifications.”

“You really don’t have many.”

“Thanks.”

Damn it. He might not want to confide in her, but there was no reason to hurt her. He slapped his desk. “See? There I go again. I have no filter on my tongue when it comes to business, and sometimes I’m just a little too honest.”

“I think your honesty is your best quality.”

He winced. “Tell my employees that.”

“Why do you think your friends come to you for advice?”

“Because I tell them the truth?”

“Sometimes brutally.”

He laughed, then marveled that he’d laughed even though he continually said the wrong thing. Even though he couldn’t stop thinking about Blake. Even though he had guilt that swallowed him whole some days, she kept making him laugh and he kept making her miserable. “Let me call my friends.”

“No. I don’t want to be that girl in the office who only got her job because of her boyfriend. It’s why I didn’t want a job from you. I can’t be the girl in the office who only got her job because her boyfriend pulled strings.”

It wasn’t so much what she said but how she said it that caused him to shake his head. “It’s been a long time since anybody called me a boyfriend.”

“Fake or not, that’s what you are.” She settled onto the wide sill of her living room window, wishing, like Binnie Margolis, for snow. Laura Beth was out. Olivia was in Kentucky. Christmas was getting close. Telling her story to Ricky on Sunday morning had pounded home the fact that she’d soon be facing another holiday by herself, without even a blanket of snow to make her feel cozy in her empty apartment with her eighteen-inch plastic tree and the cookies Olivia’s mom would mail to her.

She swallowed. Desperate to get her mind off her troubles, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “So how was your day?”

He sniffed. “Same. Kinda boring.”

“Really? Rich wheeler-dealer like you has boring days?”

He hesitated, as if he really didn’t want to talk anymore, but he said, “It was fun when I started out. Now things are routine.”

“Maybe you need a new venture.”

“A new venture?”

“You know. Instead of writing new video games, invent a different kind of microwave popcorn. Try taking that to market. I’ll bet you’ll meet some challenges.”

He laughed. “Microwave popcorn?”

“Hey, my dad loves the stuff...” Even as the words flipped out of her mouth, her heart tugged. Her stomach plummeted. As gruff and socially conscious as her parents were, they were her family and they didn’t want her.

How could she miss people who didn’t want her around?

Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. Someone’s knocking on the door. I’ve gotta run. See you Thursday night. In a gown.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, just clicked off, tossed her phone to the sofa and laid her head on her knees. She refused to be pathetic, refused to let tears fall for the loss of people who didn’t want her. She’d done that enough in her twenty-five years. All she wanted was a job, a way to support herself. And once she got it, she’d be fine.

She repeated that mantra as she went to bed, got up, showered, dressed for work, jumped on the subway, rode up in the average elevator to the law office and made coffee for the senior partners, none of whom even acknowledged her existence.

CHAPTER SIX

THURSDAY NIGHT RICKY walked up the four flights of stairs to Eloise’s apartment, trepidation riding his blood. Every Christmas decoration reminded him of his son. Even the cold air reminded him of bundling Blake in a snowsuit, buying knit caps.

Wanting to roll up in a ball of misery and privately mourn Blake, he was tempted by thoughts of ending this charade. He could bow out of the rest of the parties. All he had to do was go to Jamaica or Monaco, and everybody would be jealous of his vacation. Nobody would wonder why he wasn’t attending any more of the parties.

Except Eloise didn’t have a job. Taking her to these events was his best way of keeping her in front of his friends who might want to hire her. Lord knows, sending emails hadn’t worked.

Not sure what he’d find when she came to the door, he sucked in a breath before he knocked. When the door opened, she stood before him looking beautiful in a simple straight gown. Red and shiny, it complimented her hair, which she’d put in some curly creation on top of her head and spun thin tinsel through.

“You look great.” The words popped out naturally, and he almost shook his head in wonder that just seeing her had him feeling better.

When she smiled, relief poured through him. It would have been a long night if she’d been as depressed as she had been on Sunday morning and in their phone call. Instead, she’d pulled herself together. He admired that.

He returned her smile. “Every dress gets better.”

She laughed as she handed him her black cape. “That’s because the closer we get to the actual holiday, the more Christmas-y I feel. Just wait till you see what I’m pondering for Christmas Eve.”

They walked to the limo and, when Norman opened the door, they slid in. With the advanced stage of the season, more and more shops and apartment windows were decorated for the holiday. Bright lights winked. Tinsel blew in the bitter breezes. Because it was cold, everything had a sparkly, icy look, but it wasn’t quite as pretty as if there had been snow.

“I like snow too.”

He spun to face her. Had he said that out loud? “I...um...grew up near the Finger Lakes.” Damn. So much for trying not to be personal. “By now, they’re probably knee-deep in the white stuff.”

“Probably? You don’t know?”

He peeked at her. “If there’s snow?”

She nodded.

He winced. “I haven’t talked to my parents in a while.”

She said, “Oh. Okay,” as if she understood. And he supposed if anybody understood complicated relationships with parents, it would be her.

But that only reminded him of how difficult her life was, and when she turned away from him, that ridiculous sadness for her filled him again. Fighting it, he squeezed his eyes shut. She would be fine. Once he helped her land a job, she’d be ecstatic. He did not have to feel sorry for her.

They walked into the hotel, and he dropped off their outerwear at the coat check. Just before they entered the ballroom, he saw her shift her face and change her countenance. She formed a smile big enough to remove the sad expression in her eyes, but he saw no light in them. Then she slid her hand in the crook of his elbow and they walked into the ballroom.

Guilt buffeted him. She was going the whole nine yards for him and he wasn’t really doing anything for her.

Seated with another group of his friends, he held out her chair as he made quick introductions, and the discussion immediately zoomed to stock options.

This was why he’d never worried that anyone at any of the parties they attended would tell Eloise about Blake. His friends didn’t talk about anything but business. And the wives who didn’t join in on the discussion of stocks and strategies generally sat dutifully at the husbands’ sides or chatted among themselves about inconsequential, party-worthy topics, not ridiculously sad things that would bring everybody down. He wasn’t saying they were fake. They were more like courteous. Proper.

Still, with his mission in mind, he tried to work human resources into the conversation but couldn’t. Frustration wound through him. No wonder Eloise couldn’t find a job. No one seemed to care about the administration of their projects. All they cared about was the project itself.

When the dancing started, he and Eloise moved to the dance floor. He slid his hand across the smooth material covering her back. Attraction slithered through him. With every inch of his heart and soul, he longed to pull her to him and just give her what she needed. A little bit of affection. But although he might be able to hug her tonight, maybe kiss her, who knew what he’d be like tomorrow? And if he held her tonight, kissed her tonight and then couldn’t get out of bed the next day because of debilitating grief...wouldn’t he hurt her?

Yes. He would. And he refused to do that to her.

Needing to get his mind off how good she felt, he said, “So this is a pretty nice party.”

She met his gaze and smiled. “They’re all wonderful.”

“I’m glad you enjoy them.”

“I do.”

His conscience tweaked again. While he took all this for granted, she was happy to get a good meal and a nice glass of wine, even though he basically ignored her. With the exception of dancing, he was generally occupied with his friends, and when he wasn’t, his fear of getting too close kept him from really talking to her.

“Even with a grouch like me?”

She laughed lightly. “Oh, you’re not so bad.”

But he was. He knew he was. Ever since she’d told him about being alone and made him realize he had an abundance of things to be thankful for, he’d seen the signs. Short temper with his staff. Nothing but cool professionalism with Norman. Presents for his friends and his family bought by David. Hell, he didn’t even know what he’d bought his own mother for Christmas. Since Blake’s death, he’d insulated himself inside a bubble of sadness. He didn’t think that was wrong, but he did see he was letting Eloise down. He’d made a promise that he couldn’t seem to keep. And suddenly it became overwhelmingly important that he at least do something for her, even if it was only make her happy for one night.

“We should do tequila shots.”

She laughed and pulled back so she could see his face. “What?”

He’d surprised himself as much as her with the suggestion. But now that he’d said it, it sort of made sense.

“Tequila shots. This party might be nice, but we’ve gone to six of these. They’re getting boring. Tequila shots would liven up this place.”

Another laugh spilled out of her, causing his heart to tug and his chest to tighten with something that felt very much like pride that he’d made her laugh for a change.

“I’m sure the hosts would be thrilled.”

“Why not? Isn’t the purpose of giving a party to make your friends happy?”

“Yes.” She said the word slowly, as her eyes rose, and she met his gaze. Soft but curious, the light in her crystal blue orbs told him she was cautious about the shots, but the idea appealed to her.

Pleasure rolled through him. He spun her around, mentally thanking Tucker Engle for forcing him to take ballroom dancing classes so he wouldn’t be awkward at these parties. Not only had it turned out that he loved to dance, but tonight he loved seeing that light in her eyes.

“So, if we asked the bartender to set up shots, maybe eighteen or twenty, we could probably get that many people to join us. I’ll bet with every shot, our crew would grow.”

“Our crew? Are you nuts?” She shook her head, but her eyes glowed.

He spun her around again. “Maybe. But I see at least three of my fraternity brothers. I’ll bet we could have this place rocking in three shots.”

She laughed gaily. “I’ll bet you’d have a room full of drunks in three shots.”

“But think of the pictures that would show up in tomorrow’s society pages.”

She laughed and shook her head. “It would probably be the newspaper’s best issue ever.”

The music stopped and, as always, one of his friends slid over. After introductions, he asked Ricky a question about a company he was considering partnering in and, as Ricky answered, his gaze slid to Eloise.

She stood at his side, smiling, playing the part. But they never touched. Aside from when they danced. Or when she put her hand in the crook of his elbow. Or when she fixed his bow tie.

He’d never touched her with affection. Never held her hand. Never put his arm around her. To a woman who lived her life without family, without affection, his lack of touch probably seared her.

He reached out and took her hand. Her gaze swung to his. He smiled. She smiled. He tugged her closer. And while they held hands, his conversation continued until the band began to play again.

This time when he pulled her into his arms, he felt her relax against him. He relaxed a little himself. He wasn’t making this real. Just realistic. And, all right, he also wanted her to feel wanted. He might only need her to help him get through the holiday. But he needed her, which meant he wanted her around.

And she needed to know that somebody wanted her. Albeit for a little while.

When the band took a break, he walked her to their table, then excused himself. When he returned, he had two shots of tequila. She burst out laughing. Their tablemates frowned.

He nodded at the shots, as he sat by Eloise. “Private joke.”

He picked up a shot and motioned for her to do the same. “Ready?”

“I think this is kinda nuts.”

“It’s been a long, hard couple of years for both of us. Maybe one night of I-don’t-care is in order.”

“One night of I-don’t-care?”

“One night of forgetting everything and just having a good time.”

She picked up her shot. “I could handle that.”

They downed the tequila. She shuddered in distaste but laughed, and when the band began to play again, they were both more comfortable.

The music shifted to a quiet, mellow tune, and he pulled her into his arms for a slow dance. She melted against him. Loose from the tequila, he rested his chin on the top of her head and inhaled the fragrance of her hair. For the first time in eighteen months, he just let go.

When the band took a break, they took another shot and washed it down with a glass of champagne. Dancing took a lot of the sting out of the alcohol. Still, by the time they returned to her apartment, they were just tipsy enough to clamor up the stairs.

The “shh” she sent back to him from the step above his only made him laugh.

When they stopped in front of her apartment door, she said, “We’re gonna get me kicked out of my building.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. He wasn’t one for medicating pain with alcohol, but tonight wasn’t about getting rid of pain. It had been about acknowledging it and telling it to go to hell for a few hours.

“If I get you kicked out of your building, I’ll find you another apartment.”

She snorted a laugh. “Laura Beth and I can barely afford the one we have.”

Her words slurred endearingly. He smiled stupidly. “I had a good time.”

“So I’m guessing you’re thinking we should have tequila shots at every party.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to form any bad habits, but...” He glanced around, searching his alcohol-numbed brain for the words that should follow that but, and in the end he couldn’t help stating the obvious. “It was good to loosen up a bit. I really had fun.”

She put her hands on his chest. “Doesn’t happen for you much, does it?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t happen at all.”

“So, I’m good for you.”

She was. When her life didn’t make him feel like an ingrate, she was. Thinking of her, instead of himself, instead of his grief, instead of his guilt, was so much easier.

The urge to kiss her swam through his blood, making it tingle. But it was the very fact that he was so tempted that stopped him. She was good for him. But he wasn’t good for her. He was broken. She was broken, too. But that meant she needed someone strong, someone filled with love to shower her with affection. And that wasn’t him.

He stepped back. “Good night, Eloise.”

“Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve said my name?”

“I say your name all the time.”

“Yeah, when you introduce me.” Her gazed locked with his. “But you’ve never said it to me.”

The urge to kiss her shimmied through him again. She was so pretty, so perfect. So wonderful sometimes. And thanks to Preston he knew her lips were as soft as a cloud, the inside of her mouth like silk.

He took a step closer.

She put her hands on his lapels again and slid them up his chest.

Need surged. Not just from the intimacy of her touch, but from hope. He longed for her to put her hands around his neck, something she didn’t do in their very proper dancing. He yearned for her to hold him. To hug him. To pull him close.

Instead, she straightened his tie and smiled up at him.

She wouldn’t make the first move, but she clearly was telling him she wanted him to kiss her.

Desire pleaded with him. Just do it. Just bend your head. Just kiss her.

His breath faltered. Dear God, he wanted this.

But he knew himself. When the tequila wore off, he’d regret it. And even if he didn’t, he’d leave her. Not in a big, splashy departure scene. But after these parties, he’d stop calling. He’d drift back to his own dark, quiet world because his guilt wouldn’t let him handle the bright optimistic world she wanted. And he’d forget her.

He would hurt a woman who’d been hurt enough.

He closed his fingers around her hands and removed them from his lapel. “Good night, Eloise.”

Then he turned and walked away, his mouth yearning for a kiss, his limbs longing to hold her, his heart telling him he was a fool.

* * *

Ten o’clock the next morning, Eloise’s pride could no longer hold off the pounding in her head. She rose from her desk and walked into the employee break room, where she rifled through the cabinet above the sink until she found painkillers.

Getting water from the cooler beside the refrigerator, she glanced up sharply when Tina Horner walked in with her empty mug and ambled to the coffeemaker.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” She popped the two pills into her mouth, chugged her water and headed for the door and up the hall to her office. She and Tina weren’t supposed to leave their cabinets full of confidential files unattended. A fact Tina frequently forgot...or ignored...because she was a full-time employee with little fear of being fired or replaced.

A few seconds later, Tina caught up with her. “Come on. You can’t tell me nothing’s wrong. I’ve worked beside you for weeks. You never need painkillers.”

“Ricky and I went to a party last night.”

Tina’s face glowed with curiosity. “Another formal one?”

“Yep.”

“On a Thursday?”

“Rich people don’t need to keep the same schedule you and I do. I’m guessing if there’s a party on Thursday, they don’t work on Friday.”

Tina took the left at the hall that led to their office. “So while you’re here nursing a hangover, your date’s probably still in bed?”

“Yep.” But now that she thought about it, she doubted it. She’d never met anybody with the work ethic Ricky had. Plus, he had enough technology in his den that he could work in his pajamas. The thought made her laugh.

Tina narrowed her eyes at her. “So add a hangover to a silly laugh, and I’m guessing you had a really good time last night.”

She slipped into their office and over to her desk. “Yes. I had a good time.”

Tina sat and eyed Eloise. “Let’s see... What is it you aren’t telling me?” She tapped her index fingers on her cheeks. “You drank too much. You probably also danced a lot.” Her expression grew thoughtful. “But you’ve been doing that all along.” She considered that for another second, then her mouth fell open. “He kissed you good-night.”

Getting to work, Eloise examined the files list on her screen and said, “I wish.”

Tina gasped. She bounced from her chair and over to Eloise’s desk. “Your fake dating has turned into real dating!”

Eloise shook her head. “I said I wish. I didn’t say it happened.” And because of how happy dancing snuggled against him had made her feel, the realist in her had wept with sadness when he’d walked away from that kiss. A chance to bond. A chance to express that their feelings were changing. A chance to actually be themselves.

And he’d walked away from it.

“You really like him, don’t you?”

Eloise squeezed her eyes shut. Memories from the night before flooded her. The joy of simple human contact had morphed into happiness, which had shifted into an acknowledgment that she more than liked this guy. “Sometimes I think I might be falling in love with him.”

“Oh, honey!” Tina leaned her hip on Eloise’s desk. “It’s one thing to want to kiss and feel like you’re living a fairy tale with a rich guy. It’s another to start believing it’s real.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to get your heart broken. And this isn’t going to be like whatever heartbreak you had in college that drove you to New York City.”

Eloise frowned. “What makes you think getting my heart broken drove me to New York City?”

Rising from Eloise’s desk, Tina laughed. “The sad look that doesn’t often leave your eyes.”

“I have a sad look?”

“Sort of like a lost puppy.”

Her head swam. All this time she’d thought she was a rock of sanity, when she was giving off a sad look. “I look like a dog?”

“You look like somebody who needs a hug. You’re a sweet, wonderful person. If someone gets to know you and like you, it’s hard not to want to help you.”

“People want to help me?”

“Not everyone.” Tina returned to her desk and put her attention on her computer screen. “But it’s not easy to watch you struggle every day. It makes me want to do something nice for you. If only bring you a doughnut.”

She remembered the once-a-week doughnut Tina bought her and then thought of the conversation she’d had with Ricky before he’d suggested the shots. “Or tequila.”

Tina peered around her computer monitor at Eloise. “Tequila?”

She shook her head. “Never mind.” But mortification filled her. Ricky Langley had been seeing her “sad face” for weeks. And last night she’d been particularly sad. So, like Tina, he’d wanted to cheer her up. He wasn’t falling for her. That was why he hadn’t kissed her. He didn’t want to get romantic. He just wanted her to stop her sadness.

What an idiot she was! No wonder she couldn’t get a job. Her ability to read people and their actions was nonexistent. And people looked at her and saw sadness. Not competence. Not reliability. Sadness.

She had to fix that.

* * *

Ricky got up late with no sign of a hangover. Smug, he showered, congratulating himself for remembering to hydrate before going to bed. But even as he had the thought, he wondered if Eloise had drunk enough water—

His heart stuttered. Eloise. He’d damn near kissed her the night before. Just the memory of that almost kiss put the need in his blood again, tightened his chest. He’d desperately wanted to kiss her, but he’d risen above it.

Thank God. Because he wasn’t good for her. He lived in a world of guilt and sadness. He refused to bring her into that.

Norman arrived, and he got into the limo and tried to focus on that day’s meetings, but he failed. Even thoughts of Blake drifted away when memories of laughing with Eloise filled his head. The noisy way they climbed up her stairway. Those thirty seconds he could have kissed her—

He frowned. He might have risen above the temptations of last night, but what about the next time?

The “next time” he’d be tempted wasn’t a week away, time enough to shore up his defenses. Tonight they had another party. And he still had a tingle in his blood. A funny feeling that pressed into his heart every time he thought her name.

He groaned. She liked when he said her name. He liked saying her name. This was bad.

He entered the private elevator to his office suite.

He could handle the desire. That sweet need that nudged him to touch his lips to hers was a natural male urge. Especially with a woman as beautiful as Eloise. But that yearning to be held? The longing for connection that he’d nearly drowned in the night before? That was just wrong.

He didn’t need connections. He didn’t even want connections. Being alone was better for him. Then he didn’t worry about snarling at his employees or insulting his friends. Ever since he’d met Eloise, his entire life had kept getting confused. Even his work life.

He paused his thoughts. That was the real problem. She was drawing him back into the world again, as if he belonged there. She made him forget he had trouble in his life. But he did. He had troubles that wouldn’t go away with a wave of a magic wand. He couldn’t pretend they didn’t exist.

He scrubbed his hand across his mouth. If he were smart, he’d have David call Eloise and tell her that her services were no longer needed. But they had made a deal, and he hadn’t fulfilled his end of the bargain.

He couldn’t back out. True leaders never reneged on deals. That was how otherwise-smart business professionals got bad names. He had to take her to the party that night. And every night until he found her a job.

Which meant holding her and talking to her.

He scrubbed his hand across his mouth again. If there was one thing he hadn’t expected from this deal it was that he would like her. But, surely, he could get beyond that.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THAT NIGHT ELOISE wore a black gown paired with bright silver jewelry.

Feeling awkward and wishing he’d called and canceled, Ricky said, “As always, you look amazing.”

She caught his gaze, her eyes searching his. He stood very still, very proper, under her scrutiny, hoping to make her believe it had been nothing but the tequila that had made him so affectionate the night before. That he didn’t really want to kiss her. That he didn’t really want anything from her except to finish their deal.

Eventually, she smiled slightly. “As always, you’re good for my ego.”

She handed him her cape, and, closing his eyes, he slid it on her shoulders, so relieved that she was handling this with grace and discretion that he couldn’t even put the feeling into words.

But an unexpected urge hit him. His end of the deal was to help her find a job. Although that hadn’t yet panned out, he would see to it that it did. And it would cost him nothing but a little time and effort.

But she spent every darned Friday and Saturday night with him. Not to mention a Thursday and some Sundays. Buying her an evening jacket, a fur, something better than her worn cape, wouldn’t be out of line. To his bank account, it would be small token of appreciation. Just as going out with her had become difficult; going out with him couldn’t be easy either. Yet she handled it like a trooper.

“I was actually thrilled to find a way to wear this jewelry.”

Pulling himself out of his reverie, he realized they’d not only clattered down the four flights of stairs, but he’d missed a chunk of conversation. He opened the building door for her and she strolled outside.

“The jewelry looks nice with your dress.”

She laughed. “Good evening, Norman.”

He tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”

They climbed inside. “You don’t have to pretend you enjoy talking about jewelry.”

“I don’t mind.” But he was clueless.

“I just sometimes get carried away.” She sighed. “I love to dress up.” She winced. “That makes me sound like a kid. I don’t love to dress up as much as I love fashion. I love it when Olivia calls for advice.” She paused, faced him. “You do know Olivia and Tucker will be at tonight’s party.”

That woke him up. “Really?”

“Yes. She called this morning, then texted pictures of two gowns. She almost wore something brown until I talked her into a beautiful red Vera Wang.”

He struggled with a smile. He’d forgotten how goofy women could get about clothes. And tonight Eloise was particularly goofy, talking nonstop, as if she were trying to prove to him that she was fine. Happy. Not going to get hysterical on him because he wanted to pretend last night hadn’t happened.

Appreciating that, he kept the conversation going. “That’s a tragedy averted.”

She playfully nudged his arm. “All right. All right. I get it. You think talking about clothes is silly.”

Laughter bubbled through him. The kind he’d almost forgotten he existed. Teasing, we-don’t-have-to-be-normal, merriment. “Tucker once called and asked for advice about his tux.”

She laughed. “Stop.”

“I said, ‘Tucker, go with the bow tie.’”

She swatted him. “Stop!”

“He went with the regular tie and all night long everybody kept giving him funny looks.”

“Stop!”

He laughed. “Sorry.”

But to Eloise he didn’t look sorry. He looked happy. The way he had when they were drinking tequila the night before. Three shots and some champagne hadn’t nearly put him under the table as it had done to her. But it had certainly relaxed him. And it appeared his good mood wasn’t gone.

She blanched remembering how she’d all but asked for a good-night kiss, and she was glad he’d not only walked away, but also seemed to have totally forgotten that she stood there wide-eyed, her lips parted, her brain chanting a litany hoping he’d telepathically get the message that he should kiss her.

Now that she knew he didn’t like her—he only felt sorry for her—she absolutely wanted him to forget her begging for a kiss the night before. If it killed her, she intended to project happiness. No sad puppy-dog eyes, as Tina said. Just a normal woman at a party. With him still happy and with Olivia and Tucker around, that should be relatively easy.

As they got out of the limo at the Ritz, Ricky reached for her hand. His warm fingers wrapped around hers and her heart stumbled. All right, need-to-look-like-a-normal-woman aside, she desperately wanted to have another fun night. Another night when he was warm and natural. She would be alone on Christmas day. She needed good memories of these nights with him, nights when they laughed and had fun together, to think about when she played carols on her phone and tried not to remember she had no one in her life.

They met Tucker and Olivia in the lobby. Eloise hugged her pregnant friend, who, to a baby novice, felt extremely large around the middle. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

Tucker said, “We couldn’t miss Fred Murphy’s party.”

His hand on the small of Olivia’s back, Tucker headed for the elevator to the ballroom, and Ricky leaned down and whispered, “He was the first banker to give Tucker money.”

She peeked up into his sleepy brown eyes, fighting the urge to believe his keeping her up-to-date with necessary information proved he liked her. Even though that might make her memories more interesting on Christmas Day, she didn’t want to get carried away. As Tina had said, that was how women got their hearts broken. She just wanted to have a good time. Something to think about on Christmas morning.

“So all this fuss is about a loan?”

He shook his head. “An investment.”

“Ah. Money he didn’t have to pay back.”

“Yes. But it was more the confidence he had in Tucker.”

“I get it.”

She and Ricky caught up to the Engles just as the elevator door opened. Eloise undid the buttons of her cape and Olivia gasped.

“So that’s what you did with that big black ball gown?”

She laughed. “Hard to believe this used to have eight layers of tulle, isn’t it?”

“It’s stunning. I should be coming to you for my gowns.”

“Oh, I don’t know. That Vera Wang suits you very well.”

Olivia glanced down at her red gown. “It is pretty.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

Olivia shook her head. “Yeah, and I’m glad you talked me into it. You have such a talent for this stuff.”

* * *

The discussion of gowns and sewing swirled around Ricky’s head, and he almost laughed again at the silly conversation he and Eloise had had in the car. When he was with her, something about her always made him smile, and that wasn’t good. When he was happy, he let his guard down and if he let his guard down too much, he’d kiss her. And if he started kissing her, he’d hurt her.

The opening of the elevator doors came as a grand relief, and they stepped out. Eloise handed Ricky her cape, and, as she turned, he saw the back of her dress.

Or lack thereof.

Walking to the coat check desk, he silently prayed for strength. She was making him laugh, forget himself and tease her. He was only human. With his attraction and sense of comfort with her, he kept inching closer and closer to the place where he wouldn’t be able to resist kissing her. And tomorrow he’d regret it and pull back and probably hurt her.

He could not hurt her. No matter how hard he had to fight, he would do everything in his power to keep his distance.

Still, after dinner and the short, humorous awards ceremony Fred put on, he and Eloise were one of the first couples on the dance floor. Everyone knew he loved to dance, but, more than that, Tucker and Olivia were also here. As much as he wasn’t the kind to fool his close friends, the charade was well under way. Despite fighting feelings for Eloise, he couldn’t end their deal when he hadn’t found her a job. And he couldn’t tell his best friend that he wasn’t really dating his wife’s BFF, that it had been a bargain. They’d both look crazy.

So he pulled Eloise into his arms and she nestled against him. When her softness met his chest, he struggled with the desire to just close his eyes and enjoy.

He looked down. She looked up. Their gazes met in acknowledgment of the fact that their tequila night had brought them closer. But he didn’t want to be close. He wanted them to go back to being polite strangers who could pretend they liked each other.

So he pulled several inches away, putting enough space between them to retain his sanity. Still, every time they moved, his hand on the small of her back slid against her satiny skin. He remembered the sparkle in her eyes at her apartment door last night. How she’d wanted him to kiss her. How he’d longed to do just that.

But he also remembered that he was grieving his son, filled with guilt and remorse over his death. She had troubles of her own. Neither one was in a position to indulge an attraction that might end up hurting them both.

He held himself stiffly for the first set and was relieved when the band took a break. Eloise chatted with Olivia about her clients and art in general, and he and Tucker bounced around ideas about the stock market.

When the second set began, he was a little too tired to hold himself away from her. When she melted, his body tried to resist, but it was no use. Her breasts met his chest. Their thighs brushed as they moved to the music. His hormones awoke like a band of angels ready to sing the “Hallelujah Chorus.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many diamonds in my life.”

Glad to get his mind off his hormones and also curious about where her mind had gone, he laughed. “Cumulatively or at this party?”

“It almost doesn’t matter.” She pulled back and looked at him. “Something odd has been striking me tonight.”

With the feeling of the velvet skin of her back pressed against his hand, something had been striking him all night, too. He’d love to run his hand down her back just once. Just for the thrill of it.

But talking about that wouldn’t do either one of them any good. So he smiled and politely said, “What’s that?”

“My mom doesn’t have a diamond necklace.”

He bit out a laugh. “What?”

“Look at all these necklaces. Or just think about the one around Olivia’s throat. Tucker adores his wife so he showers her with diamonds. That’s how wealthy men show their love.”

He smiled. “It is?”

“Sure. If you can’t say the words, you buy a gift. A necklace. A bracelet. A fur.”

His mouth twisted. He wanted to buy her a fur, but that didn’t mean he loved her. “It’s not always about love.”

“True. It could be about respect or appreciation. You know, a thanks-for-putting-up-with-me gift.”

He coughed. That was exactly why he wanted to buy her a fur. “You seem so sure.”

“People are transparent. But none of this is actually my point.”

“What’s your point?”

“My mother doesn’t have a diamond necklace.”

“You think your dad doesn’t love her or doesn’t appreciate her?”

“I think he doesn’t have hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars to spend on jewelry.”

Ricky stopped dancing. Confused, he said, “Everybody here does.”

“Which is the conclusion of my point.” She nudged him to start dancing again. “My parents have lots of money. But they’re not in this class.”

He frowned, not quite understanding what she was getting at. “So?”

“So maybe that’s why they were so mad that I embarrassed them.”

He thought back to his beginnings in New York City society. He remembered renting a tux because he didn’t own one and hiring a limo with a driver. He hadn’t done it for the sake of impressing anyone. He simply wanted to fit in. Not look like an upstart. Not look like somebody who didn’t belong. If Eloise’s parents were image conscious, her embarrassing them might have shaken them more than normal people. That is, if they thought more of their station in society than their daughter. And it appeared they did.

“Maybe.”

“The few times we came to New York City for Christmas events, they were extremely clear with me and my older brother that we shouldn’t do anything to embarrass them.”

He frowned, catching her gaze. “Where is all this coming from?”

She shrugged. “I did some thinking today. Came to some conclusions.”

A happy thought filled him with hope. He might not have found her a job, but maybe being with him had caused her to see some things about her life, things that might help her stop being so sad.

“So the past couple of weeks with my friends has been good for you?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

He twirled them around. “Of course it matters. You miss your parents. You’re trying to figure it out because you’re trying to find an angle or reason to go home.”

She glanced away. “I don’t think so.”

He desperately wanted her to be able to go home, to have the acceptance she needed. Not just to make sure she got something from their deal, but because no one should be alone for Christmas. Especially not somebody so pretty and so nice.

He waited a second, then said, “What would you have to do to be able to go home?”

She smiled devilishly. “Buy my mom a diamond necklace?”

He huffed out a sigh. “I’m being serious here.”

“I don’t think I can go home.”

He glanced down. “Why not?”

She looked away for a few seconds, then caught his gaze again. “I’ve found more love and acceptance with Olivia and Laura Beth than I ever had with my parents. And with their acceptance I realized how dysfunctional my own family is.”

He thought about how he hadn’t been home in nearly two years. Didn’t call. Didn’t take his mother’s calls. Because everything about his family reminded him of Blake.

“Everybody’s family is dysfunctional to a degree.”

“Not like this. My parents don’t know how to love. Even though it hurts to have no one, sometimes a person is better off being alone than living around people who only use them.”

Or sometimes a person is better off being alone than being with people who only revive their sorrow.

“Maybe.”

“Okay, here’s the best example. My parents would love to see me with you. They’d use that like a stepladder. They’d treat me like royalty to get to you. And then they’d use you for introductions or insider information or whatever they thought they could get. But when you and I stopped seeing each other, they’d put me back on a shelf again. Like something they pulled out when they needed it.” She shook her head. “As a kid, when they’d put me back on the shelf, I’d jump through hoops to get their attention, their affection. I’d do well in school or volunteer to work for a very visible charity. Sometimes they’d pat me on the head, but most of the time they’d ignore me. Even in their home, at their dinner table, I was alone. Lonely. I don’t want to go back to that.”

He wouldn’t either. No matter how much he stayed away, he knew the second he came home, his family would smother him with love.

Familiar sadness for her filled him, but he stopped it from totally taking over. She’d figured all this out on her own, clearly come to terms with it. She was a strong woman. A unique, wonderful person. No one needed to pity her. He might wish he could help her, but he would never, ever feel sorry for her.

The band took a break, and Ricky and Eloise walked back to the table. Tucker and Olivia leaned in together, as if they were telling secrets. But Olivia’s face was pinched and Tucker’s brow had furrowed.

Ricky tensed.

Eloise walked over and stooped beside Olivia’s chair. “Wanna tell me what’s going on here?”

Close enough to hear and not wanting to look overly interested in case it was a lover’s quarrel, Ricky took his seat.

Tucker said, “We think Olivia might be in labor.”

Eloise gasped. “And she flew? You let her get on an airplane this close to her due date?”

“She’s not due for another month. Her doctor said it was fine.”

Olivia panted out a breath. “Seriously. I’m not due for a month. This might not be labor. Everybody said it was fine for me to fly.”

Eloise sighed. “It might have been fine for you to fly, but you’re not fine now.” She reached across the table, grabbed her small handbag, retrieved her phone and dialed 911. “This is Eloise Vaughn. I’m at the Ritz with a woman who is in labor.”

Olivia said, “Really Eloise, that’s not necessary.... Oh my God!”

Tucker stiffened. “What?”

Olivia caught Eloise’s hand. “Tell them to hurry.”

When Eloise finished the call, Olivia squeezed her fingers. “If it’s possible, I want to get down to the lobby.”

Eloise gaped at her. “The lobby?”

“I don’t want to make a scene. Get me downstairs, hide me somewhere. I don’t want anybody to see if my water breaks or hear me if I scream.”

There wasn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t understand that and Eloise couldn’t refuse. “Can you walk?”

Olivia nodded.

She motioned for Ricky to come over to them. “Tucker’s going to help Olivia to the door. You and I are going to walk behind them just in case.”

Ricky nodded, but memory after memory of Blake’s birth tumbled through him. He hadn’t been in love with Blake’s mother. Basically, they’d been nightclub friends who’d slept together, and she ended up pregnant. He hadn’t gone to birthing classes, didn’t really want to be in the delivery room—and he hadn’t been—but he’d gone to the hospital when Blake was born. The same hospital where his son had ultimately died. And that was probably the same hospital Tucker would direct Olivia to, if only because, like Ricky, he was on their board of directors.

Eloise caught his arm and pulled him in step behind Tucker and Olivia. “Get with the program, slick.”

He shook himself out of his reverie. If this were anybody but Tucker and Olivia, the torrent of memories assaulting him right now would have frozen him solid.

But when Olivia’s steps faltered, he was right behind her, ready to catch her.

* * *

Ricky’s limo pulled onto the emergency entrance ramp behind the ambulance with Olivia and Tucker inside. Eloise leaped out the second the car stopped.

She was at the door of the ambulance as they pulled the gurney off and Tucker jumped down.

The pair, Olivia’s best friend and her husband, hustled with Olivia into the emergency room.

Ricky held back. Everything inside him told him to leave. Too many bad memories were associated with this hospital. Yet he couldn’t seem to get his mouth to form the words to tell Norman to go. His best friend’s baby was coming early. Olivia’s life could be in jeopardy.

And Eloise was upset. She might have taken control, but he’d felt her vibrating with fear through the entire drive over. He could not leave her.

He slid out of the limo, leaned inside his still open back door and sent Norman home. Blake had taken nineteen hours to make his appearance. Tucker and Olivia’s child could take as long or longer.

He ambled into the emergency room, gave his name at the desk and flashed his ID as a member of the board. “I want to be apprised of Olivia Engle’s condition every step of the way.”

The receptionist shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. But our privacy policy prevents that unless you’re family.” She gave him a hopeful look, clearly not wanting to get into a battle of wills with a hospital director.

Tucking his key card into his jacket pocket, he put her out of her misery. “Check with Mr. Engle. He’ll tell you it’s okay.”

She walked away, and, a few minutes later, she returned and told him that Olivia had been taken upstairs to the maternity ward.

Haunted, afraid to go back to the part of the hospital that had the good memories, memories of Blake being born, of holding his son for the first time, of wrapping the tiny, squiggly bundle in a blanket before securing him in his car seat, Ricky took his time walking to the elevator and then down the long cool corridor to the waiting room of the maternity ward.

An hour went by. He sat. He paced. He sat some more, elbows on his knees, hands dropped between his legs. Eventually, he stood, untied his tie, undid the first two buttons of his shirt and walked to the intensive care unit in the children’s ward, where he stood by the window and stared at the empty cribs.

If he closed his eyes, he could see his son bandaged and bruised, an IV locked into his hand, his little chest barely rising and falling as a ventilator did his breathing for him.

Tears filled his eyes, reviving his shame. Then he realized Tucker’s baby might be too small, too weak, and the newest member of the happy Engle family might spend his or her first days or weeks or even a year in the same crib as Blake.

His shame morphed into fear. Real fear that Tucker and Olivia might face the devastation of losing a child. He could feel every bit of sorrow that would overwhelm them and cursed. That shouldn’t happen to anyone. But Olivia and Tucker? They were special. They didn’t deserve this.

The rustle of skirts interrupted the quiet, and he turned to see Eloise walking down the hall.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He frowned. “This is a private ward. How’d you get in here?”

She showed him a key card. “Tucker gave me this and said to find you. How did you get in here?”

He pulled the key card just like Tucker’s from his tuxedo jacket pocket.

“Wow. You two must be some big-time donors.”

“We’re on the board.” He sucked in a breath. “How’s Olivia?”

She winced. “Not in labor. The doctor’s keeping her overnight just to be sure, but she’s fine.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, so glad Tucker and Olivia’s baby would be okay that for several seconds he couldn’t function. Finally, he ran his hand across the back of his neck and forced his muscles and brain to relax. “That’s good.”

She looked around. “It’s so quiet here.”

“That’s normal in the children’s ICU.”

He expected a question or two. She’d earned the right to ask them. He felt her curiosity like a living, breathing thing. Still, she said nothing.

His respect for her grew. He’d told her he didn’t want her to know his past, his pain, because he didn’t want her to treat him any differently—or, worse, to pity him. And if the casual way she behaved around him was anything to go by, she hadn’t looked him up on the internet and hadn’t asked his friends for information.

It boggled his mind that she hadn’t investigated him. If the tables were turned, he would have been driven crazy until he gave in to his curiosity, but he would have given in. She’d been a rock. She was probably the most trustworthy person on the planet.

“Good evening, Mr. Langley.” Regina walked up to them, giving Eloise a quick once-over. “And who is this?”

He looked from Regina to Eloise, who met his gaze with as much curiosity about how he’d answer as Regina had.

Their gazes locked. She’d gone to all his parties with him, always kept up the charade and always looked pretty for him, even though it probably meant working like a Christmas elf to get that party’s dress altered. He’d refused to tell her his secrets and she’d accepted it.

He couldn’t think of her as nothing but a fake date anymore. He might not be her real boyfriend, but she was more than a partner in a charade.

He caught her hand and squeezed it. “She’s a friend.”

Eloise smiled.

Regina said, “Well, it’s quiet up here tonight. Stay as long as you like.”

It didn’t seem right to stand with Eloise at the window to the room where his son had died. He didn’t want her to see his grief. Plus, with Olivia fine and the baby out of danger, there was no reason to stay.

“Actually, we were just on our way out.”

“Good night then.”

“Good night, Regina.” He directed Eloise to the elevator. “I sent Norman home. We’re going to have to get a taxi.”

“A taxi! Do you know how expensive taxis are?”

He laughed, then realized that’s exactly what she’d intended for him to do. But the sights and the sounds of the hospital kept him grounded in reality, and he suddenly felt guilty for those three seconds of happiness.

No matter how much Eloise lifted his spirits, in his heart he knew he didn’t deserve to be whole.

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