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

“Thanks to your past generosity, a lot of lives have been changed for the better. I know I can count on that generosity again tonight. The silent auction will close in another hour. If you aren’t lucky enough to take home one of the incredible items supplied by our various sponsors, you’re welcome to make a donation.

“In the meantime, please enjoy yourselves. We have a wonderful DJ, Dan Williams, on hand. So, let the dancing begin.”

After Tallulah exited the stage to applause, the music began to play. The DJ kicked off with a slow number in deference to the fact that people had just finished their meals. Dawson leaned back in his seat, biding his time. Another hour or so and he could leave, his duty to his family fulfilled as well as his duty to Eve. Surely by then she would have enough information to do her job.

She had turned sideways in her seat so that she could see the stage. Now that the music was playing, one of her feet had begun to tap. The polite thing to do would be to ask her to dance. His mother was giving him pointed looks in that regard. But he didn’t. Dancing required entirely too much physical contact for his comfort.

He should have known Eve wasn’t the sort of woman who would wait to be asked. Bold, he thought again, when her gaze locked with his and she smiled.

“Do you dance?”

He made a dismissive sound. “It’s been awhile.”

And it had. The last time he had been on a dance floor, he’d been here. With his wife. While their daughter slumbered safely at home under the watchful eye of a sitter. The realization caused him to frown.

“No need to look so distressed,” Eve assured him, misinterpreting his pained expression. “I hear it’s like riding a bike. You never forget how.”

“I’m not—”

But she was already laying her napkin aside and rising to her feet.

“Come on. It will be fun.”

Fun? He doubted that. But his family was watching, his mother nodding in approval, his sister’s eyes growing misty again.

“Very well.”

He and Eve were the first couple on the dance floor. The only couple, in fact. They might as well have had a spotlight shining down on them. The music was too loud to hear, but Dawson imagined the murmurs coming from the crowd as he took Eve in his arms.

In addition to feeling conspicuous, he felt wooden and awkward as the past and the present intertwined, making way for comparisons that he didn’t particularly like. Sheila had been petite, her build small and delicate. Eve was tall for a woman and her heels made them nearly the same height. He rested one palm just above her hip and grasped her hand, determined to keep a respectable distance between his body and her dangerous curves.

As soon as they began to move to the music, however, that space began to evaporate. Thighs mingled. Their hips bumped. Sheila had been pliant in Dawson’s arms, going in whatever direction he chose. Not Eve. It was clear almost immediately that he was not the one in control.

A tendril of her hair tickled his nose when he turned his head to whisper, “You’re leading.”

“Yes, I am.” She said it without a hint of apology. Then she asked sweetly, “Do you have a problem with taking instruction?”

“A problem? No. Not really. I simply prefer to give it.” He attempted to back away, but the scent of her perfume followed right along with the rest of her. Before he knew it, she was close enough to his body that he swore he could feel the vibration when she made a tsking sound.

“And here I thought you were original, Dawson. But that’s such a typical male response. It’s a good thing I’m wearing high heels or I’d be drowning in testosterone.”

“Funny.”

Eve executed a turn that Dawson wasn’t prepared for and he stepped on her toes. She grimaced.

“I should apologize for that, but I find myself wanting to say it serves you right. I’m a far better dancer when I’m allowed to take the lead,” he said meaningfully.

“Funny. I feel the same way.”

That had him frowning. “Do you mean to tell me you always lead?”

“For the most part. You could say it’s a habit.” Her shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug.

“Just what kind of men do you date that leading while dancing has become a habit for you?” he asked.

“The kind who are secure in their manhood,” she replied. She leaned back as she said it. Amusement glittered in her dark eyes. She knew she had him. There wasn’t much he could say in response to that without impugning himself.

Dawson exhaled slowly and shook his head. He felt irritated, frustrated and, God help him, invigorated. “You’re something else.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not sure I intended that as a compliment.”

“No? Well, that’s all right.” She brought her cheek close to his and he felt her breath caress his ear when she added, “I’m going to take it as one anyway. Lemons from lemonade, that’s my motto.”

Dawson gave in and let Eve lead for the rest of the song. It was either that or he was going to continue to knock knees with her and step on her toes. He preferred not to make an even greater spectacle of himself, even if it meant handing over control.

Thankfully, by the time the song ended, they weren’t alone on the floor any longer. Several other couples had joined them, including his parents. Clive and Tallulah were smiling at him. He could only imagine what conclusions they were reaching, especially when, as another slow song started, Eve was still in his arms.

“Care to do this again?” she asked. She sweetened the deal by adding, “I’ll be good and let you lead.”

Because he felt just a little too tempted, he shook his head and released her. “Maybe another time.”

They stayed at the ball for another hour and a half, which was long enough to hear the results of the silent auction. Eve didn’t win the theater tickets, but then Dawson had known that her bid, generous though it was given her means, ultimately wouldn’t be enough. Indeed, the winner had outbid her by nearly five hundred dollars. This was for charity, after all.

“Oh, well,” she said when the winner was announced. “I’ve got the musical’s soundtrack.”

“Maybe you can listen to it while you dine on lobster,” he said, referring to her earlier mention of having to eat salads if she won.

But she was shaking her head. “Lobster? I’m from Maine. Once you’ve had it there, where it’s caught in the morning and on your plate that afternoon, you’re pretty well spoiled. I’ll have a steak. A nice, juicy T-bone cooked so rare that it melts in your mouth.”

His own mouth began watering when she made a little humming noise. To his mortification, her benign talk of red meat was whetting far different appetites. He glanced at his watch. It was just after ten. He was relieved that the evening was almost over, and not just because of his unexpected attraction to Eve.

Even though the point of bringing her had been to introduce her to his family and some of the other people on his Christmas list, he wasn’t sure he appreciated the way she’d been received. Everyone liked her. No surprise there. She was a likeable woman, not in spite of her outspoken nature, but in some ways because of it. But it was more than that. He saw the speculation in their gazes and read between the lines in their comments. He knew what they were thinking: he had finally moved on with his life.

Nothing illustrated this more than his mother’s question while he and Eve were saying their goodbyes.

“Will you be coming to dinner tomorrow afternoon?” Tallulah inquired.

Sunday dinner with his parents was a tradition, or at least it had been until the accident. He, Sheila and Isabelle had rarely missed it. In the intervening years, however, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d shown up.

So he shrugged. “I don’t know, Mom. I have a lot I want to wrap up.”

Tallulah nodded, not quite able to hide her disappointment. “Before you leave for Cabo.”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

She forced a smile to her lips and sidled closer. “Well, if you change your mind, I hope you’ll bring Eve. She’s delightful, Daw.”

He cleared his throat. “It’s not what you think, Mom. Eve and I aren’t … serious.”

“Maybe you should be.”

Dawson thought about his mother’s remark during the ride home. Eve was seated next to him on the limousine’s plush leather seat. She was wrapped up in her long wool coat. Even so, the scent of her perfume kept drifting to him, just as it had on the dance floor. It was sexy, dangerous. It slipped over and around him and cinched like a lasso. He found it a small consolation that the woman was completely unaware that his insides were being trussed up like a rodeo steer. She was talking business.

She had pulled a personal digital assistant from her clutch and was entering in some notes as she talked. “I couldn’t help but notice your mother’s jewelry. She’s obviously very fond of gemstones.”

He snorted at the understatement. As far as he knew, it was his mother’s one weakness. “If it sparkles, she’s got to have it.”

“There’s a boutique in town that carries one-of-a-kind pieces from a Venetian artisan. His work is quite remarkable and of the highest quality. I was in the shop last month to purchase something for another client and remember seeing some lovely rings. I’ll pay him a visit first thing Monday and let you know what I find.”

She shifted in her seat, undoing the top button of her coat and loosening the silk scarf beneath it. Her perfume wafted to him and once again had him thinking about sex—the act itself and how long it had been since he’d engaged in it. He’d work out when he got home. Thirty minutes with the free weights should do it. Followed by a cold shower, he amended when she began to suck on the end of the PDA’s stylus.

“Okay,” he managed.

“As for the boys, that’s easy. They’re salivating for that new gaming system.”

“Every kid in the country is,” he said on a snort. “It’s the hot toy this year.”

“I know. When we were in the ladies’ room, your sister admitted to me that she hasn’t been able to find one anywhere. All the stores she’s tried have been sold out and they can’t guarantee they’ll get another shipment in before Christmas. She was thinking of going online and paying a private seller whatever price it takes. I talked her out of it. I told her I was pretty sure you’d already gotten them one. You should have seen the look of relief on her face.”

“Great. How are you going to track one down if she’s been unsuccessful?” he asked.

She sent him a wink. “I have my ways.”

He meant it when he said, “If you pull this off, they’ll be in heaven.”

“Yes, and you’ll be their hero, Uncle Dawson.” She sent him a grin.

He glanced away, uncomfortable to be cast in that role. “I’ll just be happy to redeem myself for the chemistry set fiasco.”

“Did you pick out that gift yourself?” she asked.

“No. Actually, Mrs. Stern was the one who bought and sent it.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She waved a hand and then went on. “During dessert I heard Lisa say something to your mother about a Misty Stark dress she bought recently. I was thinking that a handbag from the designer’s new collection might be a winner.”

“She likes handbags,” he said. “She probably needs a walk-in closet just to accommodate the ones she has now.”

Eve smiled at him. “I knew I liked her.”

He folded his arms. “What is it with women and purses? How many do you need?”

“One to go with every outfit and to suit every mood. In other words, you can never have too many. Handbags are like shoes that way.”

“God, you sound like my wife.” The words were out and, judging from Eve’s stunned expression, he wasn’t going to be able to pretend he hadn’t said them.

Nor was he going to be able to change the subject, he realized, when she said, “Do you mean as in ex-wife?”

“No. As in late wife. She … she and my daughter died in a car accident.” He swallowed the bitter memories and absently rubbed a hand over the raised scar that was partially hidden in his hairline.

“My God, Dawson. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

She rested a hand on his forearm and gave it a squeeze. He nodded stiffly to accept her condolences and then moved slightly, forcing her hand to drop.

“When did this happen?”

“Three years ago.” He cleared his throat. “Look, no offense, but this isn’t something I care to talk about. Mind if we change the subject?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Even so, the remainder of the drive to her apartment was accomplished in silence.

* * *

Well, Eve thought, some things about the man—not to mention the interesting reactions he’d received all evening—finally made sense. But far from alleviating her curiosity, this new bit of information stoked it more.

Three years was a long time. But not when tragedy was involved. Tragedies changed people. Eve knew that firsthand. As young as she’d been at the time of her mother’s death, it had shaped her life. In a way, she’d lost both of her parents—her mother to an overdose, her father to the road. Her mother’s death had certainly changed her father.

How had tragedy changed Dawson? And she had little doubt it had, especially after meeting his family. What had he been like before the accident?

When they arrived at her apartment building, he walked her to her door. She expected that. He was a gentleman, and having met his mother, Eve knew good manners had been drilled into him.

“Tonight was very productive,” she said.

He was standing on the opposite side of the small elevator, studying her. “That was the purpose.”

“Yes. But I had a nice time anyway. You have a great family,” she told him.

His head jerked down in what resembled a nod. He said nothing.

They arrived at her door. Eve wasn’t sure what prompted the invitation, but she asked, “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

His jaw clenched. “It’s getting late.”

Because she felt foolish, she teased, “Worried that you’ll turn into a pumpkin?”

He snorted. “Worried that my driver might.”

“Jonas, right?” She’d forgotten about him.

“Right.”

She pulled the keys from her small clutch. “Well, I’d offer to invite Jonas in for a nightcap as well, but I wouldn’t want to give you the wrong impression about me.”

Dawson laughed at that remark. The sound was rusty but pleasing. “Since the first moment I met you, Eve, I’ve formed all sorts of impressions. I don’t think I’ve figured you out yet.” He sobered, leaned against the doorjamb and studied her in the hallway’s dim lighting. “You have a lot of layers.”

“If you compare me to an onion you’ll ruin what is otherwise a fairly interesting compliment.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why do I get the feeling you like to keep me guessing?”

She batted her lashes. “Maybe because mystery is half of my allure.”

He straightened and she thought he might turn to leave. In fact, she swore he started to, but then he was closing the space between them.

In that brief moment as his mouth hovered just above hers, Dawson whispered, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

As kisses went this one shouldn’t have rocked Eve’s world. It was brief, close-mouthed and nearly perfunctory. Yet her knees felt weak afterward.

She credited Dawson’s expression for that. She’d seen the man nearly naked, but at the moment he was far more exposed. Emotions played over his face in rapid succession, so many that she could barely keep track of them. But a couple stood out. He definitely looked angry and he most certainly was turned on.

We’re even, she thought, as he stalked down the hall and she closed the door.

CHAPTER SIX

“YOU might have mentioned something to me about Dawson’s having lost his wife and child,” Eve said.

She was at Carole’s comfortable home just outside Denver, making good on the movie, wine and Chinese food night that she’d previously had to cancel. Carole’s leg was propped up on a pillow on the couch and an old Cary Grant movie was playing on the television, though neither one of them was watching it.

Between bites of sweet and sour pork Carole admitted, “I thought about it. In fact, I nearly did when you said he wanted you to come to the charity ball. But I wanted you to form your own impression of the man without being prejudiced by his tragic history.”

“Why?”

Carole shook her head. “We’ll get to that in a minute. First, I want to hear what you think about him, especially after spending an entire evening in his company.”

“You make it sound like it was a date,” Eve said dryly. “It was work.”

Her gaze slid away. Well, it had been mostly work. The big exception of course was the kiss he’d given her at her apartment door. While it had ended well before turning into anything remotely passionate, it had been on her mind ever since. Were Dawson a different sort of man, Eve might have thought that was his intent.

Keep her guessing …

Keep her wanting …

As it was, she doubted he’d meant to lock lips with her in the first place. Afterward, he’d barely managed to bid her a curt good-night before stalking away.

“Are you going to tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself?” Carole asked.

“No. I enjoyed myself.” It was easier to concentrate on the event rather than the man, so she said, “It was a first-rate affair. You wouldn’t believe the food that was served, or the dishes it was served on, for that matter. It was like being at a five-star restaurant. And the dessert? Sin on a plate.”

“Chocolate?” Carole asked.

“You got it.”

Carole made a humming sound, but then she was back to the subject at hand. “Okay, so tell me what you thought of the man.”

Eve poked through the white takeout carton with a pair of chopsticks, coming out with a peapod. “Let’s see. He can be incredibly overbearing and arrogant. Oh, and he definitely needs to be in control all of the time,” she added as she recalled their dance and the jolt it had given him when she’d taken the lead.

She still wasn’t sure why she’d done that. She only knew that for some reason she’d felt the need to push him outside the rigid confines of his comfort zone.

“Anything else?” Carole’s smile turned knowing. “What did you think of him physically?”

Eve heaved a dramatic sigh. “Okay, he’s also seriously gorgeous and just about as sexy as they come.”

Carole laughed. “That was what I thought, too. Of course, he was married at the time and I’d just gone through a very ugly divorce. In fact, landing the Burke Financial account helped pay for my lawyer fees among other things,” she said wryly. “Officially, Clive hired me, but I worked mainly with Dawson via Rachel Stern.”

“Mrs. Stern. That woman needs a hobby.”

“She’s really not so bad. She’s just very protective of Dawson, almost like a second mother,” Carole said. “And speaking of mothers, what did you think of Tallulah and the rest of his family?”

Eve grinned. “I liked them all. Very much. They’re nice people. Normal. Not at all hoity-toity, if you know what I mean.”

“I know.”

“Dawson is different around them. He’s less … stuffy. They obviously love him. That much came through loud and clear.”

“The Burkes are a close bunch,” Carole agreed.

Eve frowned. “Yes, but he won’t shop for them. And he told a friend that he’ll be heading out of town at the end of the month to spend the holidays in Cabo San Lucas. From the various comments I overheard, I couldn’t help but feel he’s avoiding them.”

“He’s avoiding life and has been since the accident,” her friend replied. “In fact, it wasn’t until the accident that he added his personal shopping needs to my duties. Before then, I just took care of the business end.”

“Sounds like he’s really changed.”

“Oh, he has.” Carole nodded. “Do you feel sorry for him, Eve?”

“Well, of course I do. How can I not? The man lost his wife and daughter.”

“Yes. In a car accident on Christmas Eve three years ago.” Carole’s expression turned grim. “Dawson was the one driving at the time.”

“And he was the only one to survive,” Eve finished. She closed her eyes, imagining his horror. Her chest ached. “Oh, God.”

“Exactly. The Burkes are highly regarded in the community not just because of the business, but because of their overall involvement. In addition to the charity ball, they’ve got their finger in just about every philanthropic venture that comes along. Dawson’s late wife’s family is well-known, too, so the accident received plenty of media coverage. There was even some ugly speculation about drunken driving before police revealed that his blood alcohol level had been well below the legal limit.”

“How horrible,” Eve said.

“Yes,” Carole said. “He also was cleared of any negligence. He was driving within the speed limit at the time and, with the exception of that patch of black ice, road conditions were fine.”

“It was an accident.”

“Yes. An accident. And it could have happened to anyone. Still, from what I’ve seen and from what those who know him well say, Dawson blames himself.”

Of course he does, Eve thought. He was that type of man. Duty, responsibility, family—he took such things very seriously. They were his foundation and in one fell swoop that foundation had been reduced to rubble.

“I really wish you had given me a heads-up, Carole. I’m the first to admit I can be too blunt at times. I might have been a little more diplomatic, a little more sensitive if I’d understood why he needed a personal shopper to purchase gifts for family.”

“Actually, that’s one of the reasons I didn’t tell you,” her friend surprised her by saying. “I won’t presume to know Dawson well. He’s more of a give-orders sort than the sit-down-and-chat kind. But I’ve always liked him and respected him. And from what I’ve seen since the accident, he doesn’t want coddling or pity. In fact, I’d say those are the last things he needs.”

“What does he need?” She hadn’t intended to ask that question. In reality, what business was it of hers?

But Carole was smiling coyly when Eve glanced in her direction. “I’m not sure, but maybe someone as resourceful as you will be able to figure it out.”

It was half past midnight and though Dawson had gone to bed nearly two hours earlier, he was wide awake. There was nothing new about that. Since the accident he’d had a hard time falling asleep and an even harder time staying asleep once he had. The only time he actually slumbered straight through until morning was when he relied on prescription medication. He didn’t like taking that, though. So, instead, he used the wee hours of the morning to make lists of things he needed to do and to catch up on his reading. Sadly, not even the boring article he was scanning in a business journal was making him heavy-eyed this night.

He laid the magazine aside on an oath, turned off the bedside lamp and rolled over. Giving his pillow a couple of punches, he admitted that the insomnia from which he’d suffered for the past several nights was different. He blamed Eve for that.

He also blamed himself.

“I never should have kissed her,” he muttered.

Why that mere peck should haunt him, he wasn’t sure. At the end of his two dates, he’d kissed both women and with far more intimacy than he had Eve. Yet neither encounter had left him wanting. Quite the opposite.

In the dark, he pictured Eve, her dark eyes wary and going wide as he breached her personal space and settled his mouth over hers. Her lips were soft, inviting. They were tempting, which was why Dawson had ended things quickly. Despite the brief contact, though, he’d felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time: sexually interested.

And alive, his subconscious whispered.

He rolled over and ignored it. “I never should have kissed her,” he mumbled a second time.

Yet when he finally drifted off an hour later he dreamed of doing it again, and properly this time.