“Your father and I don’t give a damn about the business,” she snapped. The fact that his mother had used even a mild curse had Dawson blinking in surprise. This was a woman who rarely raised her voice let alone lost her temper. Neither had ever been necessary. She’d always had more effective ways of getting her children to toe the line. She pulled out one of the big guns now. “I hate to say this, Dawson, but I’m very disappointed in you.”

He sank back in his chair and closed his eyes. Whether he was eight or thirty-eight, that particular weapon never failed to hit the mark.

His tone was contrite when he said, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mom. That’s certainly not my intent.”

“I know.” But, of course, she wasn’t through. “Have you made plans for the holidays?”

It was a Burke tradition to gather for dinner at his parents’ estate on Christmas Eve. In fact, that had been his destination the evening of the crash. Ever since then, he hadn’t been able to make it. He expelled a ragged breath. “You know that I have.”

“San Tropez again?” she inquired, dismay obvious in her tone.

He’d gone to that tropical paradise the past two years, unable to remain in snowy Denver for the anniversary of that fateful night. This year, however, he’d decided on a different destination. “Actually, I thought I’d try Cabo. I’ve rented a condo ‘til just after the new year.”

Like San Tropez, it was warm and sunny with gorgeous beaches and, most importantly, no one who knew him. People wouldn’t ask how he was doing, tilting their head to one side in sympathy as they spoke, or regard him with an overly bright smile that failed to camouflage their pity.

“Alone?” his mother asked.

“Mom—”

But she talked over his objections. “You know, it wouldn’t bother me so much that you refuse to spend the holidays with loved ones in Denver if I at least knew you were spending them with someone special.”

“I’m fine.” He repeated the old saw.

But she threw him a curve. “Are you seeing anyone, Dawson?”

“I’ve gone out a couple times,” he admitted. The dates had been unmitigated disasters, from the stilted conversations at the beginning to the awkward good-night kisses at the end. Both attempts had left him feeling guilty and angry at fate all over again, but he didn’t see any reason to divulge that information to his mother.

She apparently figured it out, though, because she said in a quiet voice, “Oh, son, at some point you need to move on with your life.”

“I have,” he insisted. He got up each day, didn’t he? He went to work. He’d turned the company into an even bigger success than it had been under his father.

As usual, though, his mother cut to the chase. “But you haven’t forgiven yourself.”

No. He hadn’t forgiven himself. He couldn’t do that. He closed his eyes, only to see it all happening again. He’d been the one behind the wheel of the car on that snowy Christmas Eve, the one firmly in control of all their destinies until a patch of black ice had changed everything.

Dawson had been the only one to survive the impact with the bridge abutment. He’d walked away with a nasty gash on his forehead and a busted arm. His wife had died instantly, while his daughter had hovered on the brink for several more hours with internal injuries before a surgeon had come out of the operating room to deliver news Dawson still wasn’t ready to accept.

“Sorry, Mr. Burke. We did all we could, but we couldn’t save her.”

How could Dawson forgive himself for that?

His mother’s voice snapped him back to the present. “I want you to be happy,” she said.

He opened his eyes, rubbed them with his free hand. She didn’t get it. No one did. For him, happiness had ceased to be relevant. “Don’t worry about me, Mom,” he told her for the second time.

But she was saying, “You know, the Harrisons’ daughter recently moved back from California.”

At that an alarm bell began to sound in his head. He silenced it by saying, “The one who got married a couple of years ago?”

“Yes, but she’s divorced now.” The alarm sounded a second time as his mother continued. “I ran into her at the club a couple weeks ago. She still has that same lovely, bubbly personality. She’ll be at the ball tomorrow evening. I was thinking of asking her to sit with us. That would give us an even number at our table. And you know how I like an even number.”

Dawson straightened in his seat. This was the last thing he needed. The last thing he wanted.

“Mom, I’d really rather you didn’t do that.”

“She’s nice, dear. You’ll both have a good time. It doesn’t have to lead to anything. In fact, I’m not sure she’s ready for a relationship yet herself. Her divorce was final only a few months ago. But at least it will give you both an opportunity to get your feet wet again.” Sounding pleased with her plan, she added, “I’ll phone her after I hang up.”

Good God! His mother setting him up on a date with a newly divorced woman who probably was every bit as unenthusiastic about the matter as he was.

“No!” His gaze caught on the questionnaire Eve had left with him and inspiration struck. Perhaps there was a way he could kill two birds with one stone. His lips curved with a smug smile. “What I mean is, there’s no need to do that. As it happens, I already have a date.”

Eve was on her way to Boulder, the rear of her Tahoe already laden with the morning’s finds in Denver, when her cell trilled. Normally, she didn’t like to operate a vehicle and talk on the phone at the same time, but when she saw the number of the person who was calling, she decided to make an exception.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hi. It’s Dawson Burke.”

“Well, this is unexpected.”

He sounded confused when he asked, “Didn’t my secretary tell you I would be calling?”

“Mrs. Stern? Yes, she did. Which is why I’m in a state of shock. I mean, if I had a dollar for every time your secretary has told me you’d get back with me …” She let her words trail off.

“Very funny,” he muttered. “Are you this flippant with all of your clients?”

“Nope. You seem to bring it out in me.” But she moderated her tone and added, “Thank you for returning my call.”

“You’re welcome.”

“The reason I phoned you earlier is that I’m on my way down to an art gallery in Boulder to pick up some pieces by a local artist for another client of mine. Buying artwork for someone is like buying clothes. It has to fit the recipient’s style.”

“Which makes it personal,” he said.

“Exactly. So I was wondering if art might be something that would appeal to any of the friends or family members on your list?”

He made a humming noise, then said, “My parents’ walls are pretty full at this point and I wouldn’t presume to know my sister’s taste in art as she’s made a hobby out of redecorating her home. My friends … I don’t know.”

“Oh, well, it was just a thought.” Her exit was coming up, so Eve shifted her vehicle to the right lane. “How’s the questionnaire coming along?”

She heard him clear his throat. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“You haven’t filled it out,” she guessed.

“Not yet, no.”

“Mr. Burke—”

“Dawson, please.”

“All right. And you can call me Eve. But I really want that information. I need it, as I explained to you the other night,” she said.

“A matter of principle, I believe you said.”

“Yes.”

“And if I refuse?” he asked. The question sounded almost like a dare.

The dollar signs flashed again, but Eve thought about her father and she remembered her disappointment and heartache. She wasn’t willing to pass on those emotions to someone else. Her tone was firm when she replied, “I’d have to ask you to find another personal shopper. So, are you refusing?”

“No, but I have a better idea,” he said. “Do you have plans for tomorrow evening?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Since moving to Denver, Eve had spent nearly every Saturday night alone. But as it happened, she did have something going on. She’d told Carole she would stop by with Chinese food, a bottle of wine and some Christmas movies for the two of them to watch.

“I see.” Then he surprised her by asking, “Would it be possible for you to change them?”

Her curiosity was good and stoked. “Why? What do you have in mind?”

“Each year around this time my mother throws a really big to-do. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? The Tallulah Malone Burke Charity Ball and Auction.”

She put on her blinker and maneuvered the Tahoe onto the exit ramp. “No, sorry, but I haven’t been in Denver long.”

“That’s all right. Stick around and you will.” There was pride in his tone when he added, “It’s been an annual event for the past twenty-five years, drawing in the well-heeled and well-connected to raise money for the area’s less fortunate.”

“How nice,” Eve said and meant it.

“Yes, well, the party is tomorrow night.”

Comprehension dawned and something Eve didn’t want to admit might be interest danced up her spine. After all, the man wasn’t her type at all. Too arrogant. Too domineering. “Are—are you asking me out?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “I need an escort for the evening. And you will be compensated.”

Indignation blasted along with the horn of the car behind her, and she realized she’d come to a full stop even though she had the right of way. She sent the other driver a wave of apology and turned into the nearest parking lot.

“Eve?”

She waited until the vehicle was in Park before she let loose. “Maybe I wasn’t clear about the nature of the services I provide. I’m a personal shopper, not a personal anything else.”

She heard Dawson cough. Actually, he sounded as if he might have choked a little, which suited her just fine. He deserved it. Then, he said, “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. Compensation was a poor choice of words. What I meant by it was that many of the people on my gift list will be in attendance. In addition to my parents, sister and her family, a number of business acquaintances and longtime Burke Financial clients attend.”

“Oh.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize when he added, “I thought seeing them, meeting them, might help you do your job more effectively. You know, live up to those high principles you speak of.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No.” He expelled a breath. “For the record, Eve, I admire you for taking a stand. I haven’t met many people in business whose principles can hold up under pressure from the bottom line.”

He sounded sincere, which went a long way toward soothing her temper. “So, this would be sort of like a business function.”

“It would be exactly like a business function,” he corrected. “But with better food. No rubber chicken or cheap champagne. My mother doesn’t believe in doing anything halfway.”

As Eve was privy to Dawson’s gift budget she decided it was a trait he had inherited.

“It sounds very fancy.”

“Black tie required. Do you have something to wear?”

“I think I can find something suitable in my closet,” she replied blandly. She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly between her teeth. “Where and what time?”

“Does that mean you’ll come?” He sounded surprised and maybe even a little relieved.

She was probably going to hate herself for it later, but she said, “Yes.”

“And your other date? I trust that the last-minute change in plans won’t cause any … problems.”

Eve nearly laughed out loud as it dawned on her that he thought the plans she’d mentioned earlier were with a man. She saw no reason to enlighten him.

So she said, “Don’t worry. I can reschedule it. After all, this is work.”

CHAPTER THREE

DAWSON cursed and yanked at his bow tie as he stood in front of the vanity mirror. This was his third attempt at tying it and it still had turned out lopsided. He wasn’t sure why his hands wouldn’t cooperate, any more than he could put a finger on the origin of the nerves fluttering in his stomach.

He hadn’t felt keyed up before either of the other dates, disasters that they’d wound up being. And his evening with Eve wasn’t a date at all. It was business, he reminded himself, as he finished with his tie, checked his watch and called for his driver to bring the car around.

Business was forgotten, however, the moment Eve opened her apartment door. She was wearing red, her lips and nails painted the same dangerous shade. She’d done something different with her dark hair, pulling it back and up to reveal the slim line of her neck. Diamond studs caught fire on her ear lobes as she tilted her head to one side and regarded him with a smile that he was pretty sure dated back to the original Eve.

“Hello, Dawson.”

“You look …” Words failed him. For a moment, he thought his heart might fail him, too. The woman should come with a cardiac arrest warning.

“This works for the occasion, right?” She did a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn that made him wish he had a defibrillator handy. “I wouldn’t want to stand out.”

“You’ll stand out, but for all the right reasons,” he replied with more honesty than he’d intended.

Her smile bloomed again. “That’s quite a compliment. You look pretty good yourself. It’s a sin there are so few places for a man to wear a tuxedo nowadays.”

“I doubt you’ll get many men to agree.” He pulled at his collar as he said it. The damned thing seemed to have grown too tight.

Eve laughed. It was a husky sound, entirely too provocative for the mere reason that it wasn’t intended to be. “Come on, a tuxedo can’t be as uncomfortable as my shoes. My arches are going to hate me by the end of the night.”

Dawson allowed his gaze to skim down, which he regretted almost immediately. He’d already known she had a pair of killer legs. Tonight they were accentuated by black pumps that added a good three inches to her already respectable height. His pulse took flight along with the little butterfly tattooed on her ankle. He didn’t particularly care for the reaction. Business, he reminded himself.

“Ready to go?” he asked. “While I have no problem arriving fashionably late, my mother is a stickler for punctuality.”

“Ah. Right. So, exactly what have you told her about me?”

“Your name.”

“A man of few words,” she said on a laugh. “Just let me get my coat.”

He glanced around while she did so. Her apartment was a loft in a former commercial building that had been converted to residential use. Its exposed ductwork, distressed wood floor and battered brick walls gave it an almost industrial feel. It was small, its total square footage probably not equal to that of his master suite, but Eve certainly had made the most of every inch.

Her taste was as bold and uncompromising as the woman. Vivid colors were splashed against neutrals and a rather eclectic mix of artwork adorned the walls. At the far end of the room, he spied a slim staircase that led to the sleeping loft. A horizontal chrome railing defined the space up top and allowed a tantalizing glimpse of a platform bed beyond. He saw more bold colors there, rich crimsons, plums and golds. For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder what one might interpret from her decorating choices.

“Dawson?”

He turned to find her standing directly behind him. She held a small clutch in her hands and was already wearing her coat, a long wool number that was cinched in at the waist with a belt. Even covered up with not so much as a scrap of red showing, she still exuded far too much sex appeal for his comfort.

He glanced away and cleared his throat. “Nice place you have here.”

“Thanks. I like it.”

“Excellent location given your job.” He made a circular motion with one hand. “Close to shops and all.”

“Yes.” She smiled. “But work wasn’t the only reason I chose it. I like being in the thick of things.”

She would. Though he didn’t know her very well, he’d already figured out that Eve was the sort of woman who grabbed life with both hands and held on tight, even when the ride got wild.

“Well, we should be going.” As he followed her out the door, Dawson wondered why he felt both eager to leave and disappointed that they couldn’t stay.

He knew the answer to at least half that question when they arrived at the Wilmington Hotel twenty minutes later. The large ballroom could accommodate seven hundred guests. Only a fraction of that number had arrived, as it was early yet. But his mother gave him a pointed look when she spied him. Dawson sent her a wink and purposely steered Eve in the opposite direction. He needed a little fortification before he faced his family and began fielding their questions. He also needed to clue Eve in on a few pertinent facts.

“How about a glass of wine?” he suggested.

“I suppose that even though this is technically a work function for me a nice glass of Chardonnay wouldn’t be out of line,” she replied.

“Not at all.”

As he ordered their drinks from a bar that had been set up in one corner, Eve said, “I guess you weren’t kidding when you said your mother doesn’t believe in doing things halfway. I wasn’t expecting the party to be quite this large. This room must be set up for at least a few hundred people to dine.”

“Seven hundred, actually.”

She blinked in surprise. “Is everyone in Denver on the guest list?”

“Sometimes it feels that way,” he said. He swept an arm out to the side. “But what you see here are the people with the deepest pockets. My mother’s specialty is getting them to reach in, grab a wad of bills and make a donation.”

“She sounds like a formidable woman,” Eve said.

He merely smiled. She could be, he thought, recalling the previous day’s conversation. At times, Tallulah could be downright relentless. The bartender handed them their wine.

“So, is your family here?” Eve inquired, taking a sip. “I’m eager to meet them.”

“Some of them are, I believe.” He cleared his throat. “Before I introduce you, though, I need to ask a favor of you. I would prefer that they didn’t know what it is you do for a living.”

“Ashamed of me?” She tilted her head to one side, sounding more amused than insulted, although he thought he saw something akin to vulnerability flicker briefly in her dark eyes.

“Of course not. It’s just that I don’t want them to feel …” He groped for the right word.

“Like you brought in a designated hitter because you couldn’t be bothered to shop for their gifts yourself?” She smiled sweetly before taking another sip of her wine.

Because his conscience had delivered a swift kick to his nether region, he replied, “You know, you can be annoyingly blunt at times.”

Her shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug. “I know. It’s a gift.”

“It’s something,” he muttered. “Maybe you should sign up for a Dale Carnegie course.”

“I already took one. Passed with flying colors, as a matter of fact. A star pupil.” She smiled at him over the rim of her glass. “So, who exactly do they think I am?”

Dawson felt as if he had been dumped back into junior high school when he admitted, “They think you’re my date.”

“Ah. Your date.” She was enjoying his embarrassment. Of that much he was sure. “And how long have we been an item?”

“We’re not an item,” he groaned.

“First date. Got it.” She grinned. “Well, I promise I’ll try not to be obvious while I’m plying them with questions to get an idea of their likes and dislikes.”

Eve wouldn’t be the only one with questions, Dawson thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his mother. She was homing in on them with the precision of a heat-seeking missile, not even stopping to chat with the people who greeted her along the way. There would be no avoiding her this time.

He put his arm around Eve, leaned close and whispered, “My mother is headed this way.”

“Uh-oh. Should I bat my eyelashes at you or something?” she asked.

“This was a bad idea,” he mumbled, not quite sure if he felt that way because of her glib reply or because he’d caught a whiff of her perfume. It was sexy, sinful. He ignored the tug of lust it inspired and pasted a smile on his face as his mother reached them.

“Dawson, darling,” Tallulah called. “I thought I saw you come in a moment ago.”

He kissed her cheek. “Hello, Mom. You look as radiant as ever. Is that a new dress?”

“It is, though I doubt you could give a fig,” she replied on a chuckle, letting him know that his attempt at flattery had not sidetracked her in the least. Indeed, speculation lit her eyes even as her lips curved into a smile. “And who might this lovely young woman be?”

Eve knew she was being inspected from head to toe even if Tallulah Burke was smiling and greeting her in as gracious a fashion as she did it.

Dawson performed the introductions, all the while looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. All of his usual cockiness was gone. Eve liked him all the more for it.

“Mom, this is Eve Hawley. Eve, my mother, Tallulah Burke.”

“Eve, it’s very nice to meet you.” Tallulah shook Eve’s hand, covering it with both of hers, which were fine-boned and heavily bejeweled. She didn’t let go immediately afterward. No. She held on as she added, “I have to say, I was a little surprised when my son mentioned yesterday that he would be bringing a guest to the party this evening. I wasn’t aware he was dating anyone. I guess the mother is the last to know.”

Even as she said it, Eve got the feeling that very little got past Dawson’s mother. This was no flighty society maven. Her blue eyes were keen with intelligence and, at the moment, a great deal of curiosity.

“Eve and I haven’t known one another very long,” Dawson hedged.

“Oh?”

“First date,” Eve supplied. She didn’t quite bat her eyelashes, but came close. Dawson scowled.

“Really? How exactly did you meet?” Tallulah asked, her gaze never wavering from Eve.

“A mutual friend got us together.” Since it wasn’t exactly a lie, Eve had no problem supplying the information.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dawson nod, apparently pleased with her response. Then, before his mother could probe any further, he added, “It was no one you know, Mom.”

Someone called her name then. Tallulah turned and waved. “Well, I need to mingle. You should do the same, Daw. It’s expected.”

“Right.”

She turned to Eve then. “I’ll look forward to getting to know you better over dinner.”

Oh, I bet you will, Eve thought.

Will I measure up?

The question had her stomach knotting and some of the old insecurities managed to sneak in, despite the fact that her relationship with Dawson wasn’t the romantic one his mother had been led to believe.

“I have a feeling that the salmon won’t be the only thing grilled here tonight,” she murmured once she and Dawson were alone.

“Don’t worry. My mother is harmless.”

Eve decided to reserve judgment. Admittedly, her first impression of Tallulah had been a positive one. The woman seemed kind, and the very fact that she threw an annual ball to raise funds for charity elevated Eve’s opinion of her. But Eve had had enough negative experiences in her past to know better than to trust first impressions.

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.

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