Читать книгу The Twelve Dates of Christmas - SUSAN MEIER, Susan Meier - Страница 9
ОглавлениеREMINDING 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.
