He paused behind her, slid his arm around her shoulders and pointed at the third one down. His fingers accidentally brushed the back of her neck, and the tips tingled at the feeling of her soft, soft skin.

He cleared his throat. “I’m number three. Just accept a ride.”

She straightened regally. “All right.”

When they reached his car, Norman, his driver, opened the door. She slid inside. He slid in beside her. A minute later, Norman’s door closed and the engine hummed to life.

“Wanna give me your address so I can tell the driver where to take you?”

She told him, then sat staring at her coat while he used the internal intercom system to inform Norman.

The next five minutes passed in silence. Finally, unable to bear her misery anymore, he said, “I really was as poor as you when I moved to the city. I don’t mind taking you home. This isn’t an imposition. It isn’t charity. It’s a happy coincidence that we were leaving at the same time. Please, stop feeling bad.”

To his surprise, she turned on him. “Feeling bad? I don’t feel bad! I’m mad. I’m sick of people pitying me when all I want is a decent job. I’m educated enough to get one, but no one seems to want me.”

“What’s your degree in?”

“Human resources.”

“Ouch. You know human resources functions can be folded into administration or accounting. And that’s exactly what happens in a recession.”

“I know. Lucky me.”

She had enough pride to fill an ocean. But she also had a weird sense of humor about it. Enough that he’d almost laughed again. Twice. In one night. Both times because of her.

“Now, don’t get snooty. Surely, there are other things you can do.”

“I’ve waitressed, and apparently a degree can also get you a lot of temporary secretarial work because right now I’m in a six-week gig at a law firm.”

“That’s something.”

She sighed tiredly. “Actually, it is. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I know others have it a lot worse.”

He was one of those people who had it worse than she did. But he didn’t share that—not even with people who almost made him laugh. She’d go from treating him normally to feeling sorry for him. And for once, just once, he wanted to be with somebody who didn’t feel sorry for him.

He glanced at the floor and was nearly struck blind by the glitter of her shoes. His gazed traveled up her trim legs to the black cape she wore. Her shiny gold dress peeked above the coat’s collar.

For a struggling woman, she dressed very well. Of course, her clothes could be old. Or she could have gotten them from a secondhand store.

But even if she’d gotten them from a thrift store, she’d known what to choose and how to wear it. Actually, if he thought about it, she had the look of every socialite he’d been introduced to in the past year.

Except she wasn’t one. She didn’t have any money.

“What Laura Beth and I really need is another roommate.”

He spared her a glance. “That shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Huh! We’ve tried. We never seem to pick someone who fits with us.”

He turned on the seat. “Really? Why?”

“The first girl we let in had a record we didn’t know about until her parole officer called.”

He chuckled, amazed that she’d done it again. So easily, so effortlessly, she could make him laugh. “I dated somebody like that once. Turned out abysmally.”

“Yeah, well, Judy took my coffeemaker when she left.”

“Ouch.”

“The references for the second one were faked.”

“You need Jason Jones.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the search engine I created. Well, I came up with the idea. Elias Greene actually wrote the programs. It investigates people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s great. It’ll tell you things you never even realized you wanted to know.” He smiled politely. “I’d let you use it for free.”

She squeezed her eyes shut in distress. “I don’t want your handouts. I don’t want anybody’s handouts!”

Yeah. He could see that. He didn’t know where she’d come from, but she had guts and grit. She wanted to make it on her own.

“We could bargain for it.”

She gasped and scrambled away from him. “Not on your life.”

He laughed. Again. Fourth time. “I’m not talking about sex.”

She relaxed but gave him a strange look. “I don’t have anything to bargain.” She petted her coat. “Unless you’re into vintage women’s clothes.”

“Nope. But you do have something I want.”

Her gazed strolled over to his cautiously, wary. “What?”

“Time.”

“Time?”

“Yeah. I have ten Christmas parties, a wedding and a fraternity reunion coming up. I need a date.”

CHAPTER TWO

ELOISE STARED AT Ricky Whatever. “I don’t even know your last name.”

“It’s Langley.” He smiled at her. Those silky brown eyes held her prisoner. “And yours?”

“Vaughn.”

He reached out and shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Eloise Vaughn.”

“So you have twelve places to go for Christmas and you want me to go out with you?”

“No. I want you to be my date. Big difference.”

She eyed him askance. “I’m not sure how.”

“There’d be nothing romantic between us.” He winced. “Except to pretend that there is. I need space. A reason to bow out of conversations. Bringing a date to parties has a way of giving a guy options.”

She studied him, realized he was serious and said the thing he was dancing around but wouldn’t quite say. “And you want people to stop fixing you up all the time. With someone at your side, they’d leave you alone.”

“It’s more complicated than that. Really what it comes down to is easing myself back into the world and into my social circle. A date at my side would be like a living symbol to my friends that I’m fine, and they can all stop worrying about me.”

Eloise got comfortable against the supple leather seat. He talked like a guy coming off a bad relationship. Nobody wanted to have to go to parties when they were smarting from a breakup. He probably didn’t want to have to explain where his ex was. Or, worse, have to flirt or be flirted with.

“So you’re looking for ways to be able to go to parties without being social.”

“I don’t mind being social. I just don’t want to have to be too social. Look, I’m not in the market for something romantic, so you’d be perfectly safe. You might even enjoy yourself. Meet some new people. Make some work contacts.”

Yep. Anybody who wasn’t in the market for something romantic was still hurting over a bad breakup. But he’d also said the magic words. Work contacts. The employment market was so tight she couldn’t even get interviews. But if she could meet the higher-ups of some companies, she might impress them and maybe open a door for herself.

“And I don’t have to do anything but smile and be polite?”

“And pretend to like me.”

She already sort of liked him. He was handsome and just a little bit scruffy, the way a man was when there was no woman in his life. And he was honest. So pretending to like him wouldn’t be hard.

“We’d need a story.”

“A story?”

“How we met. Why we’re dating.”

“Why don’t we just say we met at Olivia and Tucker’s party and hit it off?”

“It’s only half a lie. We did meet at the party. But we didn’t exactly hit it off. We barely spoke.”

“We’re talking like two friends now.”

She thought about that. “Yeah. I guess we are.” She sucked in a breath. “And you’d help me find a job?”

“You don’t want to use Jason Jones to find a roommate?”

“A roommate is temporary. I want a permanent solution. I want a career.”

His brow wrinkled. “Are you asking me to hire you?”

She gaped at him. “God, no! I don’t want to be the girl in the office who got her job by dating the boss. Sheesh! Talk about instant pariah. I want you to get me job with one of your friends.”

“I can’t getyou hired, but I could help you make contacts.”

She shook her head. “If I’m going out with you—” She did the math in her head...ten parties, one wedding, one fraternity reunion “—twelve times, then I’m getting twelve dates’ worth of help.”

“What do you want me to do? Run an ad saying that someone should hire you?”

“I don’t care what you do. Pick your friends’ brains to see who’s looking for an HR person and get me interviews, and I’ll go out with you twelve,” she deliberately exaggerated the word so he’d see the significance of the big number, “times.”

His eyes told her he was doing a bit of mental calculating—proving he took her seriously—before he stuck out his hand to shake hers. “Deal.”

She took it. “Deal.”

They reached her apartment building. She slid out of the limo, and he did too. “You don’t have to walk me upstairs.”

“Someone could be hiding—”

She put her hand on his chest and was surprised that she met a solid wall. He was a lot stronger than he looked. Probably all muscle under that trim tux.

Now that they were going to spend a lot of time together, that meant something. She took in his handsome face. The fine lines that created his chiseled features. Those beautiful brown eyes.

A strange feeling worked its way through her. It took a second to recognize it, but it was attraction. Real attraction. Not just the I-think-he’s-handsome feeling. But more like the I-could-sleep-with-him-someday feeling.

Which would only wreck their deal and was the last thing in the world she wanted. She’d gone the route of love. Now she realized having a job was a more secure happily-ever-after. Plus, he’d said he wasn’t interested in anything romantic. She couldn’t be either.

She removed her hand. “This is where I draw the line. I’m fine walking myself upstairs. And you need to believe me.”

“But—”

“No.” With that she turned and strode into her building. He was handsome, but neither of them was in the market for a romance. And she needed their deal. She hadn’t been able to make job inroads for herself. He might be able to help her. She wouldn’t risk being alone with him outside her apartment door when there was so much goodnight-kiss potential. She might be strong, but she wasn’t perfect. She’d learned a long time ago that a smart woman didn’t tempt fate.

* * *

The next morning she woke confused. Or maybe disoriented. She hadn’t gotten drunk, so she didn’t have a hangover. But that meant she also didn’t have an excuse for agreeing to go on twelve dates with a stranger.

Although he wasn’t really a stranger. He was a friend of Olivia and Tucker’s. Someone Olivia liked enough that she’d gone up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Olivia would have the scoop on him.

She grabbed her phone from the bedside table and headed for the kitchen. After throwing together a pot of coffee in an old drip coffeemaker instead of her sleek one-cup one stolen by Judy, she speed dialed Olivia.

“Hi, this is Olivia Engle. You’ve reached my voice mail. Please leave a message after the beep.”

Drat. She’d forgotten Olivia and her family were leaving early for Kentucky. She wouldn’t have her phone on. Heck, she might not turn on her phone for the entire month of December. What had she said? She and Tucker would be having family time?

She tossed her phone to the table before she sat. So much for asking Olivia about Ricky Langley.

Laura Beth trudged into the kitchen. Her long brown hair lay in disarray on her shoulders. Her green eyes were barely open. “Who were you calling?”

“Olivia. I needed some insider information, but then I remembered she’s flying to Kentucky today.”

Reaching into the cupboard for a cup and a tea bag, Laura Beth asked, “What kind of insider information?”

“A little background on a guy. I think I may have found a way to get a job.”

Laura Beth’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes. And, by the way, thanks for deserting me last night.”

“Sorry. Bruce heads Tucker’s newly created IT department. I went for coffee and got an interview.”

“Yeah, well, the guy I met last night wants a date for some parties.”

“Oh my God, you’re not—” Her eyes grew as big as two dinner plates and she couldn’t finish.

“Not that kind of date. Ricky Langley seems to be coming off a big breakup, and he doesn’t want to go to his Christmas social engagements alone. So he asked me to go to all his parties. In exchange, he’ll introduce me to influential people and pick their brains about job openings.”

“That sounds almost as promising as my job interview. Maybe more promising because you could get a couple of prospects.”

The comment eased away the little bit of confusion Eloise had had about this deal. Ricky was Olivia and Tucker’s friend. He hadn’t made a pass. He’d made a deal. She liked deals. She liked giving something to get something. She absolutely hated charity.

So she’d try this, giving him one date to prove himself. And if he didn’t, she’d end it.

This did not have to be something to stress over.

He called around ten o’clock, apologetic because the first party he needed her to attend with him was that night.

“Already? It won’t even be December for two days.”

“My friends start early.” He paused, then said, “Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s fine. It might be Saturday, but I don’t date and I don’t have enough money to go out myself.” She winced, realizing how pathetic she sounded. “I meant that to be reassuring, not whiny.”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“So what time will you pick me up?”

“Around eight.” He hesitated, not sounding any more sure of this weird arrangement than she was, then added, “This party is being thrown by my banker.”

“Any idea how I should dress?”

“I think the same way you did for Tucker and Olivia’s party.” He paused. “You looked nice.”

The simple compliment gave her far too much pleasure. She shook it off. “Thanks. But that was a cocktail dress. If this event is formal, I may need to wear a gown.”

“It’s black tie at the Waldorf.”

“I’m wearing a gown.”

“Fine. But don’t be waiting in the lobby of your building. Let me come up. I don’t want my driver telling his other driver buddies that I make my dates meet me on the street.”

She hadn’t wanted them to get too personal, but the whole point was for this to look real. He was right; it would be odd if she was waiting for him in her building lobby. “Okay.”

She headed back to her bedroom to find something to wear. With twelve cocktail dresses, several ball gowns and just about anything he needed her to wear for any occasion, she had plenty of possibilities. Except everything she owned was out of style.

She pulled a red gown from the rack. She would think bankers would like red... No. No. Green. Like money. With a laugh, she reached for a green velvet gown. It would need tons of updating, but she didn’t care. In the past few years, she’d developed a way with scissors and a needle and thread. She’d gotten so good at refurbishing old clothes that she’d actually bought a secondhand sewing machine so she could make real alterations.

Smiling as she went in search of her scissors, she realized she was really looking forward to going out. She would meet people in a position to hire her. But also she had a reason to dress up. To socialize. Maybe even dance. It would be fun.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had fun.

As long as Ricky Langley really was a gentleman, this arrangement could be good for a bundle of reasons.

He arrived a little before eight. Still excited, she opened the door, and her eyes widened. She’d forgotten how good-looking he was. Dressed in a tux with a black top coat, he was so gorgeous, so sophisticated, he could have been the king of a small country.

She quickly pulled herself together. His amazingness did not matter. She did not want to be attracted to anybody. She wanted a job.

“Let me get my coat.”

Nodding, he strolled into her apartment, but she didn’t give him a lot of time to look around. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her living space. Actually, she was proud of the fact that she had come as far as she had with absolutely no help. But she was eager to get out the door and go to a party. In a pretty gown. Something she’d made even prettier.

She flipped her cape over her back and walked toward him.

“You look incredible.”

Pride sizzled through her. He wouldn’t have said that if he’d seen this dress five hours ago. “Thanks. I loved this dress when I bought it.” They walked to the door, and she closed it behind them. “So it was fantastic to have a reason to bring it up to date.”

She led the way down the stairs.

“You updated your dress?”

“Yes. I took off the collar and the belt and did a little something to the back.”

“Oh.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You don’t have to worry that I’m going to embarrass you. I don’t have money to buy new things, but I have plenty of old things I can fix or update. And I’ve gotten very good with a sewing machine. No one will even notice that this dress used to look totally different.”

The conversation died, and they stayed silent on the drive to the Waldorf. The building façade had been covered in white lights, which were also woven through the branches of the fir trees standing like sentinels on both side of the entryway.

Memories of the time she’d come here with her parents flooded her. It had been her first formal party, and she was so nervous at meeting her dad’s friends and business associates that she’d sworn real butterflies were in her tummy.

Mind your manners.

Don’t speak unless spoken to.

You are a guest. The daughter of a wealthy man. Your comportment should say that.

The doorman came over and opened the door of Ricky’s limo.

She drew in a breath and let him help her out. That’s when she saw the other attendees. Furs. Diamonds. Hair coiffed to perfection.

She slid her hand down her cape, which looked foolish compared to the furs being worn by the other women exiting limos, and turned to Ricky. “I’m guessing the guy knows a few wealthy people.”

He smiled, motioning for her to walk under the portico and to the steps leading to the hotel. “Expect a camera or two on the way in. A photographer for the society pages will take a shot of everyone in the hope of getting something for tomorrow’s paper.”

She faltered. “Oh.” Her mother might live in Kentucky, but she got all the New York papers so she could “keep up” with her own kind. She lived and breathed the society pages.

Fear shimmied along her nerve endings. She couldn’t seem to make her feet move. She hadn’t seen her parents in five years. Not since they’d disowned her. But if they saw her at a society event with a wealthy man, God only knew what they’d do. Happy she’d finally come to her senses, would they call her? Pretend nothing had happened? And if they did, what would she do? Was she lonely enough, desperate enough, to pretend it was okay that they hadn’t cared that her husband had died and that she was struggling to get her bearings?

She squeezed her eyes shut. Why hadn’t she thought of this?

Ricky’s voice came to her slowly, softly. “You don’t mind getting your picture taken, do you?”

She popped her eyes open. “It depends on where it will end up.”

He took her elbow and guided her up the steps to the entryway. “Probably nowhere. We’d have to be important enough for a society columnist to want to comment on us.”

“And you’re not important?”

Another uniformed hotel employee opened the door and they walked inside. “Last year I was everybody’s charity case. This year, I’m nothing. You’re safe.”

Relief poured through her, but it was short-lived. Not only was she in a dress from five years ago, updated by collar-and-belt removal, but also no one could predict who a society columnist might deem important to write about. If Ricky Langley hadn’t dated anybody in a year, his suddenly appearing with a woman might spark curiosity.

As they walked through the ornate lobby, she saw a camera raised toward her, and as smoothly as possible, she ducked behind Ricky.

He turned. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I just thought because you have the invitation, you should go first.”

He frowned. “The lobby is wide enough that we can walk side by side.”

Seeing the photographer’s attention had been caught by another guest, she laughed. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

They entered the elevator and rode up to the ballroom in silence. Ricky noticed that she’d kept hugging her cape, almost as if she was trying to hide it, and winced a bit internally. She clearly believed she didn’t belong here and was embarrassed.

But wariness overcame his worry. This was their first date. He wanted her to have a good time and meet perspective employers, but he was more concerned with how his friends reacted to her. If they didn’t believe their dating was real, then all bets were off, and she wouldn’t have to worry about how she looked.

The doors opened, and they walked out of the elevator together.

He caught her gaze. “Let me take your cape for coat check.”

She slid it off and handed it to him. He shrugged out of his top coat and gave the two to the young woman manning the station.

They turned to go into the dimly lit foyer that would take them to the ballroom, and a photographer snapped their picture. Eloise’s face drained of color. He would’ve sworn she swayed.

At Tucker and Olivia’s party, she’d given him the impression she was as close to a princess as a woman could be without actually being royalty. Yet she was suddenly shaking in her shoes.

“Are you okay?”

She faced him with an overbright smile. “Yeah. Sure. I’m fine.”

He knew she wasn’t. Her eyes shone with fear. Her face was pasty white.

“You’re not afraid to meet these people, are you?”

She sucked in a breath. “I need to meet these people.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“I hate to have my picture taken.”

Which explained all the questions she’d had about the photographers...but raised new ones about why she wouldn’t want her picture taken.

Before he could say anything, regal Eloise reappeared. She straightened to her full height. Her expression shifted. The green dress that she’d altered slid along her curves like decadence incarnate. She turned and headed for the entrance to the ballroom, and Ricky’s eyes bulged.

The neckline might be normal in the front, but the back dipped to the bottom of her spine. Smooth yellow hair flirted with her naked skin, swishing back and forth.

His mouth watered.

How the hell had he missed that her dress had virtually no back?

Realizing he wasn’t following her, she stopped and faced him. “Do you like getting your picture taken by people you don’t know?”

He raced to catch up with her. “I’ve been getting my picture taken by strangers for so long I guess it doesn’t faze me anymore. Especially because they rarely turn up anywhere.”

She shook her mane of yellow hair down her back and strode ahead again. “Fine.”

Watching her walk away, he stood frozen. The smooth material of her dress caressed her perfect butt so well the fact that she didn’t like getting her picture taken faded into insignificance. At Tucker and Olivia’s he’d noticed she was gorgeous, but in that dress she was a showstopper.

Which was perfect. One look at her and everybody would totally understand why he had come out of his self-imposed social hiatus and was going out with her.

Imagining his friends’ reactions to her, he bit back a cheesy grin and caught up to her right before the desk where he’d present his invitation. There could be a million reasons why she didn’t like getting her picture taken, and most of them were innocent. He wasn’t going to ruin what could be the perfect return to the party scene with unfounded suspicions.

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