One Winter's Night

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?”