Christmas with Him

Pot calling the kettle, she thought, since she did her best to make a stellar first impression. It was important to her.

Thanks to her penchant for sniffing out sales and spending her pennies on quality pieces, Eve knew what to wear. She also had no problem holding her own in social settings. One of the great aunts she’d lived with had been a stickler for etiquette. Eve knew how to sit with her legs crossed demurely at the ankle. She knew how to walk—head up, shoulders back. She knew which fork to use for the various courses served at dinner. And when it came to the art of small talk, she could hold her own with the best of them.

But she was a fraud. An absolute and utter fake underneath all of her props and polish.

She had not been born into money, and, as she’d learned with her last boyfriend, when it came right down to it, for some people it was the pedigree that made all the difference.

Eve notched up her chin, crooked her arm through Dawson’s and in her best haughty voice, asked, “Shall we go forth and mingle?”

He heaved a sigh. “I’d rather not, but yes. Just let me do most of the talking.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m a regular chameleon,” Eve assured him. “No one will ever suspect that I don’t belong here.”

He sent her a questioning look, which she ignored. Despite those noxious self-doubts, she continued to smile brightly.

Everyone with whom they stopped to chat seemed surprised to see Dawson and, oddly, a little tongue-tied around him. Eve might have thought that was because he was the sort of man who exuded power. Some people found that intimidating. But it was more than his importance. She felt an undercurrent here, something just below the surface of the polite conversations that seemed almost like sympathy. It didn’t make sense. Why would anyone feel sorry for Dawson Burke? The man had it made: a high-powered job, wealth, exceptional good looks and a body that appeared to have been chiseled from granite.

Yet for all that, he couldn’t manage a real date for an evening. Hmm…

As they made their way over to the tables where the items for the silent auction had been set up, Eve said, “I’m curious about something.”

“Yes?” he replied absently.

The first item they came to was a gift basket full of aromatherapy bath products. The opening bid was far more than the actual value of the individual components and yet several others had already topped it. Dawson scrawled his name down along with an outrageous amount. She added generous to his list of attributes.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with you,” Eve stated bluntly.

He straightened and regarded her from beneath furrowed brows. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you’re obviously successful and you’re attractive.” She gave one bicep a squeeze through the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket. “Your body’s definitely all male, even if you do have a penchant for lavender-scented bubble baths.”

“It’s for charity,” came his dry reply.

“Right.” She winked because she knew it would annoy him. The man seriously needed to lighten up.

“Charity,” he muttered a second time.

“So, why couldn’t you get a real date for tonight?”

Dawson looked perplexed by the question. “Aren’t you having a good time?”

Surprisingly, she was and so she admitted as much. “All things considered, I’m actually enjoying myself. I’m just, you know …” She motioned with her hand. “Curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Eve.”

She merely shrugged. “Cats have nine lives. So, why aren’t you dating?”

“Who says that I’m not?”

She settled a hand on one hip. “Everyone we’ve met tonight seems shocked to see you out at a social function.” She paused for effect before adding, “Especially in the company of a woman.”

“I have a very demanding position as the head of Burke Financial.” The excuse was weak and he knew it based on the way his gaze slid away after he said it.

“Okay, got it. Work is the love of your life, so you have no room for a flesh-and-blood woman,” Eve deduced, being purposefully blunt.

His gaze snapped back. “I enjoy what I do. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I agree wholeheartedly.” She crossed her arms. “I enjoy my job immensely. I’m paid to shop and that’s not a bad way to spend the day, in my humble opinion.”

Dawson snorted. “Name me a woman on the planet who doesn’t like to shop?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Got a pen and piece of paper handy? The list is long, which is why I’ve remained gainfully employed twelve months of the year since I started doing this. Not everyone who hires me is male or in need of someone to buy their holiday gifts.”

His smile was tight when he conceded, “Point taken.”

“Actually, my point is that while there’s nothing wrong with liking what you do for a living, you also need to enjoy, well, living. That’s hard to do when what goes on at the office sucks up nearly every waking hour.”

He frowned and said nothing, but for just a moment, when she’d spoken of enjoying life, his expression had turned grim and almost haunted. She’d struck a nerve, of that she was sure. Which nerve, however, remained a mystery.

They moved to the next item up for auction. When Eve saw what it was, she squealed in delight: two tickets to the stage production of Les Misérables. Its limited run at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts was scheduled to come to an end just before Christmas. The set of seats being auctioned were prime, a fact that was reflected in the most recent bid. Even so, she snatched up the pencil and jotted down a sum that topped the previous one by twenty-five dollars.

Dawson was rubbing his chin when she straightened. “Your line of work pays very well.”

She laughed ruefully. “I’ll be eating salad for a month, but I’m dying to see this show. Tickets for seats this good are impossible to get at this point. I’ve checked. And checked. And checked.”

He tapped the paper with the tip of his index finger. “Well, if you really want them, you’re going to have to bid higher than that.”

“You think?”

“I know. The evening’s young yet and the people with the fattest wallets tend to arrive fashionably late to these things.”

“Great,” she muttered.

“You can always buy the soundtrack.”

“I have the soundtrack.” She listened to it so often she could sing every song from memory. Sucking a breath between her teeth, she leaned over to erase her first bid. Then she raised the previous amount by fifty dollars. Afterward, she sent him a weak smile. “I like salad and I’ve been meaning to lose a few pounds anyway.”

His gaze detoured south and his brows rose right along with her pulse rate. Though he said nothing, his eyes communicated something quite clearly. She knew that look. It was all male and interested. Her heart thudded in response, which struck her as outrageous since she wasn’t even sure she liked Dawson Burke. Of course, like and lust weren’t mutually exclusive.

Then he shrugged and his expression once again turned aloof and arrogant, leaving her libido feeling duped.

They moved on. Standing before the next auction item was a couple Dawson apparently knew well.

“Hey, look who’s here,” the man said, smiling as he reached out to clasp Dawson’s hand.

“Hi, Tony. Christine,” he added, leaning over to buss the woman’s cheek. “It’s been awhile.”

“That’s because you haven’t returned any of our phone calls,” Tony reprimanded lightly.

Apparently he made a habit of that, Eve thought.

“We’ve been worried about you,” Christine added.

Dawson cleared his throat as he sent a fleeting glance in Eve’s direction. “There’s no need to worry about me.”

The couple followed the direction of his gaze, spied Eve and attached a far different meaning to his glance.

“So we see. We’re glad for you, Daw,” Christine said. “Really, glad.”

“Yeah,” her husband added. “It’s about damned time you returned to the land of the living.”

Because he hadn’t actually introduced her, Eve did the honors herself. She recognized their names from Dawson’s gift list, so she discreetly sized them up during the brief conversation, trying to concentrate on the kind of item that might suit their tastes, rather than their curious comments that Dawson had already made clear related to something that was none of her business.

“Well, we probably should make our way to the head table,” he said, winding up the conversation just after Christine mentioned running into the parents of someone named Sheila at the theater recently. “It was nice seeing you both again.”

“Yes. We’ll be having our annual party weekend after next. The invitations go out on Monday. Do you think you might make it this year?” Tony asked. “And, of course, Eve is welcome to come, too.” He sent a smile in her direction.

Uh-oh.

But she was saved from having to answer. Dawson was shaking his head. “Sorry. Other plans.”

“Oh.” Tony shrugged, though he was clearly disappointed. “Maybe we can get together for dinner one night between Christmas and New Year’s. Christine and I have been meaning to try out that new steak house.”

“Sorry,” Dawson said again. “I’ll be in Cabo from Christmas Eve ‘til the first of the year.”

“Cabo?” Tony glanced at Eve and then back at Dawson. “I guess I thought that maybe this year …” His words trailed off awkwardly.

“We should head to our table, too,” Christine said, taking her husband’s arm and sending a tight smile in Dawson’s direction. “It was nice meeting you, Eve. Hopefully we’ll see you again.”

Though it was the other couple who moved away, Eve was left with the distinct impression that Dawson was the one who had gone somewhere else.

CHAPTER FOUR

“DAWSON?”

He blinked twice and seemed to snap out of whatever fog he’d been in. “Yes?”

“You mentioned something about taking our seats,” Eve reminded him.

“Right.” He put a hand on the small of her back, guiding her away. He didn’t sound irritated, but weary, when he said, “I’ve done just about all of the mingling I can stand.”

The head table was at the front of the ballroom just to the right of a raised stage, presumably for easy access to the podium and microphone. The table was round and had place settings for eight. A woman with two young boys was already seated there. The boys were slouched down in their chairs, looking sullen and subdued, but their expressions brightened considerably when they spied Dawson.

“Uncle Dawson!” they squealed in unison.

“You’re here!” the older one said.

To which the younger one added, “Mom bet Dad that you’d find an excuse not to show up, even though you promised Nana you’d come this year.”

“You’re not supposed to tell him that,” the other boy said, rolling his eyes in disgust.

“Why not? It’s true.”

“You’re so lame.”

“Boys, no name calling,” their mother warned. Then she said, “Hello, Daw.”

“Hello.” But he returned his attention to his nephews. “Nice suits.” Like all of the men in the room, the boys were outfitted in black tuxedos. The only difference was that their ties were askew and their white shirts were looking wrinkled and coming untucked. Eve found them adorable.

“Mom made us wear them,” the younger one grumbled, pulling at his collar.

“I know how you feel,” Dawson said on a chuckle. He put his hand behind Eve’s back and drew her forward. “I’d like you to meet my guest, Eve Hawley. Eve, these are my nephews, Brian and Colton. Brian is eight and Colton is ten.”

“I’m nine, Uncle Dawson,” Brian corrected.

“And I turned eleven over the summer. Remember? You couldn’t make it for dinner, but you sent me that chemistry set.” The way Colton’s mouth twisted on the words told Eve exactly what the boy thought of the gift. She’d bet someone else—Carole, perhaps?—had purchased it.

“Ah. Right. Nine and eleven,” he repeated on a nod, looking slightly embarrassed. Was that because he’d forgotten their ages or because the gift had obviously been “lame,” to use the boy’s vernacular.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you both,” Eve said and she meant it. She was determined that by the end of the evening she would have a good idea of the kind of gift they would cherish from an uncle they clearly adored.

“Are you going to introduce us, Daw?” the woman asked. Dawson’s sister shared his dark coloring, with the added bonus of having their mother’s startlingly blue eyes. She was a striking woman—a striking woman who at the moment also looked openly curious.

“I’m not sure I should,” he said.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself.” She stood and smiled at Eve. “I’m Lisa Granderson, this ill-mannered buffoon’s younger sister.”

“Hello, Lisa. It’s nice to meet you.” That seemed to be Eve’s stock phrase this evening … and the evening was young yet.

The other woman studied her a moment. Eve felt herself brace. But all Lisa said was, “I love your dress, by the way. That color looks incredible on you.” Her gaze slid to Dawson. “Don’t you agree?”

“Incredible,” he said stiffly.

“Thank you.”

“Why don’t you sit next to me?” Lisa invited. “We can talk fashion and you can tell me how you were able to drag my reclusive brother out of his cave for the evening.”

“Sorry. Mom has the seating arranged,” Dawson said before Eve could respond. Picking up a small place card, he told his sister, “Eve is next to Colton. It looks like Mom’s put you next to David.” He glanced around then. “Speaking of your husband, where is he?”

“He and Dad are out by the coat check.” Lisa rolled her eyes as she added, “They’re listening to the last period of the hockey game on David’s iPod.”

“The Avalanche are playing the Red Wings,” Colton supplied.

Dawson snorted as he shook his head. “Does Mom know what they’re doing?”

“What do you think?” Lisa said.

“I think if she catches them, there’s going to be hell to pay.” Dawson chuckled after saying it. The sound was a bit rusty at first, but it wound up rich and inviting.

His reaction surprised Eve. She hadn’t been aware the man knew how to smile let alone give in to mirth. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one in shock. All eyes at the table had turned to him. But it was his sister’s expression that caught Eve’s notice. Lisa looked wistful and … hopeful?

“God, I’ve missed you,” she said, her eyes turning bright. “I’m so glad you came tonight, Daw.”

He unbuttoned his jacket and tucked his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. Though his shrug was intended to be casual, Eve saw the discomfort he tried to hide. “You know Mom. She wouldn’t take no for an answer since this is the silver anniversary of the party.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here. And it’s good to hear you laughing again,” Lisa said.

Dawson glanced Eve’s way, but then his attention was diverted by an older man, who slapped his back before pulling him in for a bear hug.

“Dawson! You made it.”

The man was the same height as Dawson, although his build was a little thicker and less muscled. He was handsome, distinguished in the way men get from the same crow’s feet and silver hair that women paid big money to diminish and conceal. Eve would have figured out his identity even if Dawson hadn’t said, “Hello, Dad. How are you?”

“Better now that you’re here.”

Was Dawson the black sheep of the family? The prodigal son returning? Eve couldn’t help but wonder given all of the comments.

“So, what’s the score of the hockey game?” Dawson asked.

The older man shook his head in disgust. “The Avalanche are down by two. They should have traded that goalie when they had the chance.”

“Actually, they’re down by three now,” inserted a younger man Eve assumed was Lisa’s husband, David. “Detroit just scored during the power play.”

At this, Lisa stood. “That’s it.” She settled one hand on her hip and held out the other. “Give me the iPod before Mom gets to the table and pitches a fit.” She nodded in Eve’s direction then. “And before Dawson’s date gets the impression that his family is completely backward.”

“Dawson has a date?” David asked as he handed over the iPod, earpiece and all.

“Yes, he does.” This comment came from Tallulah as she joined them at the table. Eve felt her stomach knot. And that was before the woman smiled brightly and said, “Why don’t you introduce Eve to everyone, Daw, and then we can all sit down and start getting better acquainted.”

After he made the introductions, Tallulah said, “Eve, dear, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?”

She smiled easily even as she straightened in her seat. “What exactly would you like to know?”

“Anything you wish to share. This isn’t an inquisition, dear.” Tallulah laughed, intending to put her at ease.

“No, that comes later,” David inserted sotto voce. Lisa slapped his arm and the boys giggled. Dawson’s expression softened.

“Why don’t you start with where you’re from?” Tallulah said. “I detect an accent of sorts in your speech.”

“Actually, I was thinking the same thing about all of you,” Eve replied without missing a beat. Then she added, “I’m from Maine originally. I was born in Bangor. I guess to folks here it probably sounds as if I flatten my vowels.”

“Maine? You’re a long way from home,” Tallulah said.

“Do you have family here?” Lisa asked.

“No. No family here.” At least she didn’t think so. But her father tended to get around. In college she’d gone into a Daytona Beach bar while on spring break only to discover her dad was the opening act for the band.

“What brought you to Denver?” Dawson asked.

“I came here for the view.”

“That’s an interesting reason to pull up stakes and move across the country,” he said.

“I was ready for a change of scenery.”

“What about a job?” his father asked. “Did you have something lined up here?”

“Not exactly, but I had no problem finding employment once I arrived.”

“What line of work are you in?” his mother asked.

Eve felt Dawson’s foot nudge hers beneath the table. He needn’t have worried. She’d told him she wouldn’t lie and once again she didn’t have to. “I specialize in sales,” she said.

“Well, if you ever need any investment advice, go see Daw. He’s got the Midas touch when it comes to picking stocks.” Tallulah beamed with pride.

Eve eyed him speculatively. “Really? The Midas touch.” She wondered what other things could be said about the man’s touch. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

For the next several minutes, while his family subtly grilled Eve, she returned the favor. And not just for work purposes. They were an interesting and likeable bunch. Despite their obvious curiosity about her, they were warm and inviting. They were not in the least what she’d expected. Given Dawson’s wealth, she’d figured his family for upper crust, emphasis on crust. She’d been prepared for them to be distant or act superior. Drew’s family had been outright judgmental of those who came from less affluent families.

The Burkes were anything but.

Dawson was turning out to be a surprise, too. There was far more to the man than first met the eye, which was saying a lot given how little he’d been wearing at their first meeting.

At first she’d pegged him as a workaholic who was too busy to buy gifts even for his family. Then she’d thought that maybe he was a self-absorbed CEO who was indifferent to everyone around him and estranged from his loved ones.

But his family obviously adored him, and though he wasn’t overly demonstrative, it appeared the feeling was mutual.

“Eve?” He leaned over to say it.

“Hmm, yes?” When she turned, their cheeks brushed.

“Come to any conclusions?” he whispered.

“No,” she admitted. Then blinked. “Oh, do you mean about gifts?”

He frowned. “Of course I mean gifts. What were you referring to?”

She shook her head and worked up a smile. “Nothing.” Because he was still frowning, she added, “I might not have actual gifts in mind, but I’m definitely getting a good idea of personalities.”

With that she reminded herself that her reason for being there this evening wasn’t to probe into Dawson’s motivations for hiring her or to delve into his past. She was at the charity ball to find out more about the people on his list, in particular the members of his family. So, after Tallulah took the stage to welcome everyone and ask them to be seated for dinner, Eve took her assigned seat next to Colton. In between making polite conversation with the adults, she began to subtly pump both boys for information about their hobbies and extracurricular activities. By the time the salad plates were being removed to make way from the main course, she was pleased to have already come up with some excellent leads.

While the waitstaff brought dishes laden with pork tenderloin, grilled salmon, chicken marsala and an assortment of steamed vegetables, rice and boiled red-skinned potatoes to each table, Dawson pretended to follow his father’s lament over the Fed’s decision to raise the interest rate a quarter point. In truth he was listening to Eve and his nephews discuss videogame strategies.

She was talking them through level six of what was apparently one of the hottest games among prepubescent boys if his nephews’ reactions were any indication. Brian and Colton were absolutely enthralled.

Dawson was, too. But in his case it had less to do with her tips on how to defeat a dragon and secure extra lives than the effect her laughter was having on him. Though she had a job to do, she obviously liked kids.

Eve glanced up and caught him staring. “What?” she mouthed.

He shook his head and mouthed back, “Nothing.”

How could he tell her that he hadn’t expected someone who looked as glamorous as she did to be such a natural with kids?

She’d probably be insulted, though he considered it a compliment. A lot of women he knew weren’t overly fond of kids. Even his late wife hadn’t been comfortable around children. Oh, she’d adored their daughter, and Dawson had been close to persuading Sheila to try for a second just before the accident. But she hadn’t been the hands-on sort, preferring to relinquish what she called “the minutia of child-rearing” to a nanny. That had been a source of friction in their marriage, since their opinions of what constituted minutia differed greatly.

Like Sheila, Dawson had grown up with every advantage and luxury at his disposal thanks to his parents’ wealth. But while his mother had been practical enough to delegate certain responsibilities such as cooking, cleaning and, at times, carpooling to the hired help, she’d been integrally involved in all aspects of her children’s lives.

That hadn’t changed even though they’d grown up and moved out. Across the table, he heard his sister and mother arguing over the current length of hemlines.

“There’s nothing wrong with showing a little more leg,” Lisa said.

“If you’re young and have long, slim legs like yours or Eve’s, no,” Tallulah agreed. In the dim light, he thought Eve flushed. “But women my age or who have put on a few too many pounds, shouldn’t show so much skin. It’s not attractive.”

“You could show a little more skin for my taste,” Clive said, sending his wife of forty years a bold wink.

Tallulah wagged a finger in his direction. “Stop flirting with me in front of the children.”

Laughter erupted. Eve joined in. Dawson did as well. Afterward, his chest ached. He’d missed this, he realized. The good-natured bickering, the teasing, the laughter.

He’d always been the most serious of the Burke bunch, a trait his father claimed had skipped a generation and come directly to Dawson from Clive Senior.

Grandfather had been an imposing man, downright rigid in some ways. Dawson’s father had called the older man Sir until the day he died. Perhaps that was why he insisted that his own children call him Dad and his grandkids call him the more informal Grandpa or Gramps. So, the comparison to Clive Senior wasn’t exactly a compliment. These days, Dawson supposed, it was more apt than ever.