One Winter's Night

He laughed. “Microwave popcorn?”

“Hey, my dad loves the stuff...” Even as the words flipped out of her mouth, her heart tugged. Her stomach plummeted. As gruff and socially conscious as her parents were, they were her family and they didn’t want her.

How could she miss people who didn’t want her around?

Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. Someone’s knocking on the door. I’ve gotta run. See you Thursday night. In a gown.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, just clicked off, tossed her phone to the sofa and laid her head on her knees. She refused to be pathetic, refused to let tears fall for the loss of people who didn’t want her. She’d done that enough in her twenty-five years. All she wanted was a job, a way to support herself. And once she got it, she’d be fine.

She repeated that mantra as she went to bed, got up, showered, dressed for work, jumped on the subway, rode up in the average elevator to the law office and made coffee for the senior partners, none of whom even acknowledged her existence.

CHAPTER SIX

THURSDAY NIGHT RICKY walked up the four flights of stairs to Eloise’s apartment, trepidation riding his blood. Every Christmas decoration reminded him of his son. Even the cold air reminded him of bundling Blake in a snowsuit, buying knit caps.

Wanting to roll up in a ball of misery and privately mourn Blake, he was tempted by thoughts of ending this charade. He could bow out of the rest of the parties. All he had to do was go to Jamaica or Monaco, and everybody would be jealous of his vacation. Nobody would wonder why he wasn’t attending any more of the parties.

Except Eloise didn’t have a job. Taking her to these events was his best way of keeping her in front of his friends who might want to hire her. Lord knows, sending emails hadn’t worked.

Not sure what he’d find when she came to the door, he sucked in a breath before he knocked. When the door opened, she stood before him looking beautiful in a simple straight gown. Red and shiny, it complimented her hair, which she’d put in some curly creation on top of her head and spun thin tinsel through.

“You look great.” The words popped out naturally, and he almost shook his head in wonder that just seeing her had him feeling better.

When she smiled, relief poured through him. It would have been a long night if she’d been as depressed as she had been on Sunday morning and in their phone call. Instead, she’d pulled herself together. He admired that.

He returned her smile. “Every dress gets better.”

She laughed as she handed him her black cape. “That’s because the closer we get to the actual holiday, the more Christmas-y I feel. Just wait till you see what I’m pondering for Christmas Eve.”

They walked to the limo and, when Norman opened the door, they slid in. With the advanced stage of the season, more and more shops and apartment windows were decorated for the holiday. Bright lights winked. Tinsel blew in the bitter breezes. Because it was cold, everything had a sparkly, icy look, but it wasn’t quite as pretty as if there had been snow.

“I like snow too.”

He spun to face her. Had he said that out loud? “I...um...grew up near the Finger Lakes.” Damn. So much for trying not to be personal. “By now, they’re probably knee-deep in the white stuff.”

“Probably? You don’t know?”

He peeked at her. “If there’s snow?”

She nodded.

He winced. “I haven’t talked to my parents in a while.”

She said, “Oh. Okay,” as if she understood. And he supposed if anybody understood complicated relationships with parents, it would be her.

But that only reminded him of how difficult her life was, and when she turned away from him, that ridiculous sadness for her filled him again. Fighting it, he squeezed his eyes shut. She would be fine. Once he helped her land a job, she’d be ecstatic. He did not have to feel sorry for her.

They walked into the hotel, and he dropped off their outerwear at the coat check. Just before they entered the ballroom, he saw her shift her face and change her countenance. She formed a smile big enough to remove the sad expression in her eyes, but he saw no light in them. Then she slid her hand in the crook of his elbow and they walked into the ballroom.

Guilt buffeted him. She was going the whole nine yards for him and he wasn’t really doing anything for her.

Seated with another group of his friends, he held out her chair as he made quick introductions, and the discussion immediately zoomed to stock options.

This was why he’d never worried that anyone at any of the parties they attended would tell Eloise about Blake. His friends didn’t talk about anything but business. And the wives who didn’t join in on the discussion of stocks and strategies generally sat dutifully at the husbands’ sides or chatted among themselves about inconsequential, party-worthy topics, not ridiculously sad things that would bring everybody down. He wasn’t saying they were fake. They were more like courteous. Proper.

Still, with his mission in mind, he tried to work human resources into the conversation but couldn’t. Frustration wound through him. No wonder Eloise couldn’t find a job. No one seemed to care about the administration of their projects. All they cared about was the project itself.

When the dancing started, he and Eloise moved to the dance floor. He slid his hand across the smooth material covering her back. Attraction slithered through him. With every inch of his heart and soul, he longed to pull her to him and just give her what she needed. A little bit of affection. But although he might be able to hug her tonight, maybe kiss her, who knew what he’d be like tomorrow? And if he held her tonight, kissed her tonight and then couldn’t get out of bed the next day because of debilitating grief...wouldn’t he hurt her?

Yes. He would. And he refused to do that to her.

Needing to get his mind off how good she felt, he said, “So this is a pretty nice party.”

She met his gaze and smiled. “They’re all wonderful.”

“I’m glad you enjoy them.”

“I do.”

His conscience tweaked again. While he took all this for granted, she was happy to get a good meal and a nice glass of wine, even though he basically ignored her. With the exception of dancing, he was generally occupied with his friends, and when he wasn’t, his fear of getting too close kept him from really talking to her.

“Even with a grouch like me?”

She laughed lightly. “Oh, you’re not so bad.”

But he was. He knew he was. Ever since she’d told him about being alone and made him realize he had an abundance of things to be thankful for, he’d seen the signs. Short temper with his staff. Nothing but cool professionalism with Norman. Presents for his friends and his family bought by David. Hell, he didn’t even know what he’d bought his own mother for Christmas. Since Blake’s death, he’d insulated himself inside a bubble of sadness. He didn’t think that was wrong, but he did see he was letting Eloise down. He’d made a promise that he couldn’t seem to keep. And suddenly it became overwhelmingly important that he at least do something for her, even if it was only make her happy for one night.

“We should do tequila shots.”

She laughed and pulled back so she could see his face. “What?”

He’d surprised himself as much as her with the suggestion. But now that he’d said it, it sort of made sense.

“Tequila shots. This party might be nice, but we’ve gone to six of these. They’re getting boring. Tequila shots would liven up this place.”

Another laugh spilled out of her, causing his heart to tug and his chest to tighten with something that felt very much like pride that he’d made her laugh for a change.

“I’m sure the hosts would be thrilled.”

“Why not? Isn’t the purpose of giving a party to make your friends happy?”

“Yes.” She said the word slowly, as her eyes rose, and she met his gaze. Soft but curious, the light in her crystal blue orbs told him she was cautious about the shots, but the idea appealed to her.

Pleasure rolled through him. He spun her around, mentally thanking Tucker Engle for forcing him to take ballroom dancing classes so he wouldn’t be awkward at these parties. Not only had it turned out that he loved to dance, but tonight he loved seeing that light in her eyes.

“So, if we asked the bartender to set up shots, maybe eighteen or twenty, we could probably get that many people to join us. I’ll bet with every shot, our crew would grow.”

“Our crew? Are you nuts?” She shook her head, but her eyes glowed.

He spun her around again. “Maybe. But I see at least three of my fraternity brothers. I’ll bet we could have this place rocking in three shots.”

She laughed gaily. “I’ll bet you’d have a room full of drunks in three shots.”

“But think of the pictures that would show up in tomorrow’s society pages.”

She laughed and shook her head. “It would probably be the newspaper’s best issue ever.”

The music stopped and, as always, one of his friends slid over. After introductions, he asked Ricky a question about a company he was considering partnering in and, as Ricky answered, his gaze slid to Eloise.

She stood at his side, smiling, playing the part. But they never touched. Aside from when they danced. Or when she put her hand in the crook of his elbow. Or when she fixed his bow tie.

He’d never touched her with affection. Never held her hand. Never put his arm around her. To a woman who lived her life without family, without affection, his lack of touch probably seared her.

He reached out and took her hand. Her gaze swung to his. He smiled. She smiled. He tugged her closer. And while they held hands, his conversation continued until the band began to play again.

This time when he pulled her into his arms, he felt her relax against him. He relaxed a little himself. He wasn’t making this real. Just realistic. And, all right, he also wanted her to feel wanted. He might only need her to help him get through the holiday. But he needed her, which meant he wanted her around.

And she needed to know that somebody wanted her. Albeit for a little while.

When the band took a break, he walked her to their table, then excused himself. When he returned, he had two shots of tequila. She burst out laughing. Their tablemates frowned.

He nodded at the shots, as he sat by Eloise. “Private joke.”

He picked up a shot and motioned for her to do the same. “Ready?”

“I think this is kinda nuts.”

“It’s been a long, hard couple of years for both of us. Maybe one night of I-don’t-care is in order.”

“One night of I-don’t-care?”

“One night of forgetting everything and just having a good time.”

She picked up her shot. “I could handle that.”

They downed the tequila. She shuddered in distaste but laughed, and when the band began to play again, they were both more comfortable.

The music shifted to a quiet, mellow tune, and he pulled her into his arms for a slow dance. She melted against him. Loose from the tequila, he rested his chin on the top of her head and inhaled the fragrance of her hair. For the first time in eighteen months, he just let go.

When the band took a break, they took another shot and washed it down with a glass of champagne. Dancing took a lot of the sting out of the alcohol. Still, by the time they returned to her apartment, they were just tipsy enough to clamor up the stairs.

The “shh” she sent back to him from the step above his only made him laugh.

When they stopped in front of her apartment door, she said, “We’re gonna get me kicked out of my building.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. He wasn’t one for medicating pain with alcohol, but tonight wasn’t about getting rid of pain. It had been about acknowledging it and telling it to go to hell for a few hours.

“If I get you kicked out of your building, I’ll find you another apartment.”

She snorted a laugh. “Laura Beth and I can barely afford the one we have.”

Her words slurred endearingly. He smiled stupidly. “I had a good time.”

“So I’m guessing you’re thinking we should have tequila shots at every party.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to form any bad habits, but...” He glanced around, searching his alcohol-numbed brain for the words that should follow that but, and in the end he couldn’t help stating the obvious. “It was good to loosen up a bit. I really had fun.”

She put her hands on his chest. “Doesn’t happen for you much, does it?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t happen at all.”

“So, I’m good for you.”

She was. When her life didn’t make him feel like an ingrate, she was. Thinking of her, instead of himself, instead of his grief, instead of his guilt, was so much easier.

The urge to kiss her swam through his blood, making it tingle. But it was the very fact that he was so tempted that stopped him. She was good for him. But he wasn’t good for her. He was broken. She was broken, too. But that meant she needed someone strong, someone filled with love to shower her with affection. And that wasn’t him.

He stepped back. “Good night, Eloise.”

“Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve said my name?”

“I say your name all the time.”

“Yeah, when you introduce me.” Her gazed locked with his. “But you’ve never said it to me.”

The urge to kiss her shimmied through him again. She was so pretty, so perfect. So wonderful sometimes. And thanks to Preston he knew her lips were as soft as a cloud, the inside of her mouth like silk.

He took a step closer.

She put her hands on his lapels again and slid them up his chest.

Need surged. Not just from the intimacy of her touch, but from hope. He longed for her to put her hands around his neck, something she didn’t do in their very proper dancing. He yearned for her to hold him. To hug him. To pull him close.

Instead, she straightened his tie and smiled up at him.

She wouldn’t make the first move, but she clearly was telling him she wanted him to kiss her.

Desire pleaded with him. Just do it. Just bend your head. Just kiss her.

His breath faltered. Dear God, he wanted this.

But he knew himself. When the tequila wore off, he’d regret it. And even if he didn’t, he’d leave her. Not in a big, splashy departure scene. But after these parties, he’d stop calling. He’d drift back to his own dark, quiet world because his guilt wouldn’t let him handle the bright optimistic world she wanted. And he’d forget her.

He would hurt a woman who’d been hurt enough.

He closed his fingers around her hands and removed them from his lapel. “Good night, Eloise.”

Then he turned and walked away, his mouth yearning for a kiss, his limbs longing to hold her, his heart telling him he was a fool.

* * *

Ten o’clock the next morning, Eloise’s pride could no longer hold off the pounding in her head. She rose from her desk and walked into the employee break room, where she rifled through the cabinet above the sink until she found painkillers.

Getting water from the cooler beside the refrigerator, she glanced up sharply when Tina Horner walked in with her empty mug and ambled to the coffeemaker.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” She popped the two pills into her mouth, chugged her water and headed for the door and up the hall to her office. She and Tina weren’t supposed to leave their cabinets full of confidential files unattended. A fact Tina frequently forgot...or ignored...because she was a full-time employee with little fear of being fired or replaced.

A few seconds later, Tina caught up with her. “Come on. You can’t tell me nothing’s wrong. I’ve worked beside you for weeks. You never need painkillers.”

“Ricky and I went to a party last night.”

Tina’s face glowed with curiosity. “Another formal one?”

“Yep.”

“On a Thursday?”

“Rich people don’t need to keep the same schedule you and I do. I’m guessing if there’s a party on Thursday, they don’t work on Friday.”

Tina took the left at the hall that led to their office. “So while you’re here nursing a hangover, your date’s probably still in bed?”

“Yep.” But now that she thought about it, she doubted it. She’d never met anybody with the work ethic Ricky had. Plus, he had enough technology in his den that he could work in his pajamas. The thought made her laugh.

Tina narrowed her eyes at her. “So add a hangover to a silly laugh, and I’m guessing you had a really good time last night.”

She slipped into their office and over to her desk. “Yes. I had a good time.”

Tina sat and eyed Eloise. “Let’s see... What is it you aren’t telling me?” She tapped her index fingers on her cheeks. “You drank too much. You probably also danced a lot.” Her expression grew thoughtful. “But you’ve been doing that all along.” She considered that for another second, then her mouth fell open. “He kissed you good-night.”

Getting to work, Eloise examined the files list on her screen and said, “I wish.”

Tina gasped. She bounced from her chair and over to Eloise’s desk. “Your fake dating has turned into real dating!”

Eloise shook her head. “I said I wish. I didn’t say it happened.” And because of how happy dancing snuggled against him had made her feel, the realist in her had wept with sadness when he’d walked away from that kiss. A chance to bond. A chance to express that their feelings were changing. A chance to actually be themselves.

And he’d walked away from it.

“You really like him, don’t you?”

Eloise squeezed her eyes shut. Memories from the night before flooded her. The joy of simple human contact had morphed into happiness, which had shifted into an acknowledgment that she more than liked this guy. “Sometimes I think I might be falling in love with him.”

“Oh, honey!” Tina leaned her hip on Eloise’s desk. “It’s one thing to want to kiss and feel like you’re living a fairy tale with a rich guy. It’s another to start believing it’s real.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to get your heart broken. And this isn’t going to be like whatever heartbreak you had in college that drove you to New York City.”

Eloise frowned. “What makes you think getting my heart broken drove me to New York City?”

Rising from Eloise’s desk, Tina laughed. “The sad look that doesn’t often leave your eyes.”

“I have a sad look?”

“Sort of like a lost puppy.”

Her head swam. All this time she’d thought she was a rock of sanity, when she was giving off a sad look. “I look like a dog?”

“You look like somebody who needs a hug. You’re a sweet, wonderful person. If someone gets to know you and like you, it’s hard not to want to help you.”

“People want to help me?”

“Not everyone.” Tina returned to her desk and put her attention on her computer screen. “But it’s not easy to watch you struggle every day. It makes me want to do something nice for you. If only bring you a doughnut.”

She remembered the once-a-week doughnut Tina bought her and then thought of the conversation she’d had with Ricky before he’d suggested the shots. “Or tequila.”

Tina peered around her computer monitor at Eloise. “Tequila?”

She shook her head. “Never mind.” But mortification filled her. Ricky Langley had been seeing her “sad face” for weeks. And last night she’d been particularly sad. So, like Tina, he’d wanted to cheer her up. He wasn’t falling for her. That was why he hadn’t kissed her. He didn’t want to get romantic. He just wanted her to stop her sadness.

What an idiot she was! No wonder she couldn’t get a job. Her ability to read people and their actions was nonexistent. And people looked at her and saw sadness. Not competence. Not reliability. Sadness.

She had to fix that.

* * *

Ricky got up late with no sign of a hangover. Smug, he showered, congratulating himself for remembering to hydrate before going to bed. But even as he had the thought, he wondered if Eloise had drunk enough water—

His heart stuttered. Eloise. He’d damn near kissed her the night before. Just the memory of that almost kiss put the need in his blood again, tightened his chest. He’d desperately wanted to kiss her, but he’d risen above it.

Thank God. Because he wasn’t good for her. He lived in a world of guilt and sadness. He refused to bring her into that.

Norman arrived, and he got into the limo and tried to focus on that day’s meetings, but he failed. Even thoughts of Blake drifted away when memories of laughing with Eloise filled his head. The noisy way they climbed up her stairway. Those thirty seconds he could have kissed her—

He frowned. He might have risen above the temptations of last night, but what about the next time?

The “next time” he’d be tempted wasn’t a week away, time enough to shore up his defenses. Tonight they had another party. And he still had a tingle in his blood. A funny feeling that pressed into his heart every time he thought her name.

He groaned. She liked when he said her name. He liked saying her name. This was bad.

He entered the private elevator to his office suite.

He could handle the desire. That sweet need that nudged him to touch his lips to hers was a natural male urge. Especially with a woman as beautiful as Eloise. But that yearning to be held? The longing for connection that he’d nearly drowned in the night before? That was just wrong.

He didn’t need connections. He didn’t even want connections. Being alone was better for him. Then he didn’t worry about snarling at his employees or insulting his friends. Ever since he’d met Eloise, his entire life had kept getting confused. Even his work life.

He paused his thoughts. That was the real problem. She was drawing him back into the world again, as if he belonged there. She made him forget he had trouble in his life. But he did. He had troubles that wouldn’t go away with a wave of a magic wand. He couldn’t pretend they didn’t exist.

He scrubbed his hand across his mouth. If he were smart, he’d have David call Eloise and tell her that her services were no longer needed. But they had made a deal, and he hadn’t fulfilled his end of the bargain.

He couldn’t back out. True leaders never reneged on deals. That was how otherwise-smart business professionals got bad names. He had to take her to the party that night. And every night until he found her a job.

Which meant holding her and talking to her.

He scrubbed his hand across his mouth again. If there was one thing he hadn’t expected from this deal it was that he would like her. But, surely, he could get beyond that.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THAT NIGHT ELOISE wore a black gown paired with bright silver jewelry.

Feeling awkward and wishing he’d called and canceled, Ricky said, “As always, you look amazing.”

She caught his gaze, her eyes searching his. He stood very still, very proper, under her scrutiny, hoping to make her believe it had been nothing but the tequila that had made him so affectionate the night before. That he didn’t really want to kiss her. That he didn’t really want anything from her except to finish their deal.

Eventually, she smiled slightly. “As always, you’re good for my ego.”

She handed him her cape, and, closing his eyes, he slid it on her shoulders, so relieved that she was handling this with grace and discretion that he couldn’t even put the feeling into words.

But an unexpected urge hit him. His end of the deal was to help her find a job. Although that hadn’t yet panned out, he would see to it that it did. And it would cost him nothing but a little time and effort.

But she spent every darned Friday and Saturday night with him. Not to mention a Thursday and some Sundays. Buying her an evening jacket, a fur, something better than her worn cape, wouldn’t be out of line. To his bank account, it would be small token of appreciation. Just as going out with her had become difficult; going out with him couldn’t be easy either. Yet she handled it like a trooper.