One Winter's Night: The Twelve Dates of Christmas / Frozen Heart, Melting Kiss / A Cadence Creek Christmas

“The jewelry looks nice with your dress.”

She laughed. “Good evening, Norman.”

He tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”

They climbed inside. “You don’t have to pretend you enjoy talking about jewelry.”

“I don’t mind.” But he was clueless.

“I just sometimes get carried away.” She sighed. “I love to dress up.” She winced. “That makes me sound like a kid. I don’t love to dress up as much as I love fashion. I love it when Olivia calls for advice.” She paused, faced him. “You do know Olivia and Tucker will be at tonight’s party.”

That woke him up. “Really?”

“Yes. She called this morning, then texted pictures of two gowns. She almost wore something brown until I talked her into a beautiful red Vera Wang.”

He struggled with a smile. He’d forgotten how goofy women could get about clothes. And tonight Eloise was particularly goofy, talking nonstop, as if she were trying to prove to him that she was fine. Happy. Not going to get hysterical on him because he wanted to pretend last night hadn’t happened.

Appreciating that, he kept the conversation going. “That’s a tragedy averted.”

She playfully nudged his arm. “All right. All right. I get it. You think talking about clothes is silly.”

Laughter bubbled through him. The kind he’d almost forgotten he existed. Teasing, we-don’t-have-to-be-normal, merriment. “Tucker once called and asked for advice about his tux.”

She laughed. “Stop.”

“I said, ‘Tucker, go with the bow tie.’”

She swatted him. “Stop!”

“He went with the regular tie and all night long everybody kept giving him funny looks.”

“Stop!”

He laughed. “Sorry.”

But to Eloise he didn’t look sorry. He looked happy. The way he had when they were drinking tequila the night before. Three shots and some champagne hadn’t nearly put him under the table as it had done to her. But it had certainly relaxed him. And it appeared his good mood wasn’t gone.

She blanched remembering how she’d all but asked for a good-night kiss, and she was glad he’d not only walked away, but also seemed to have totally forgotten that she stood there wide-eyed, her lips parted, her brain chanting a litany hoping he’d telepathically get the message that he should kiss her.

Now that she knew he didn’t like her—he only felt sorry for her—she absolutely wanted him to forget her begging for a kiss the night before. If it killed her, she intended to project happiness. No sad puppy-dog eyes, as Tina said. Just a normal woman at a party. With him still happy and with Olivia and Tucker around, that should be relatively easy.

As they got out of the limo at the Ritz, Ricky reached for her hand. His warm fingers wrapped around hers and her heart stumbled. All right, need-to-look-like-a-normal-woman aside, she desperately wanted to have another fun night. Another night when he was warm and natural. She would be alone on Christmas day. She needed good memories of these nights with him, nights when they laughed and had fun together, to think about when she played carols on her phone and tried not to remember she had no one in her life.

They met Tucker and Olivia in the lobby. Eloise hugged her pregnant friend, who, to a baby novice, felt extremely large around the middle. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

Tucker said, “We couldn’t miss Fred Murphy’s party.”

His hand on the small of Olivia’s back, Tucker headed for the elevator to the ballroom, and Ricky leaned down and whispered, “He was the first banker to give Tucker money.”

She peeked up into his sleepy brown eyes, fighting the urge to believe his keeping her up-to-date with necessary information proved he liked her. Even though that might make her memories more interesting on Christmas Day, she didn’t want to get carried away. As Tina had said, that was how women got their hearts broken. She just wanted to have a good time. Something to think about on Christmas morning.

“So all this fuss is about a loan?”

He shook his head. “An investment.”

“Ah. Money he didn’t have to pay back.”

“Yes. But it was more the confidence he had in Tucker.”

“I get it.”

She and Ricky caught up to the Engles just as the elevator door opened. Eloise undid the buttons of her cape and Olivia gasped.

“So that’s what you did with that big black ball gown?”

She laughed. “Hard to believe this used to have eight layers of tulle, isn’t it?”

“It’s stunning. I should be coming to you for my gowns.”

“Oh, I don’t know. That Vera Wang suits you very well.”

Olivia glanced down at her red gown. “It is pretty.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

Olivia shook her head. “Yeah, and I’m glad you talked me into it. You have such a talent for this stuff.”

* * *

The discussion of gowns and sewing swirled around Ricky’s head, and he almost laughed again at the silly conversation he and Eloise had had in the car. When he was with her, something about her always made him smile, and that wasn’t good. When he was happy, he let his guard down and if he let his guard down too much, he’d kiss her. And if he started kissing her, he’d hurt her.

The opening of the elevator doors came as a grand relief, and they stepped out. Eloise handed Ricky her cape, and, as she turned, he saw the back of her dress.

Or lack thereof.

Walking to the coat check desk, he silently prayed for strength. She was making him laugh, forget himself and tease her. He was only human. With his attraction and sense of comfort with her, he kept inching closer and closer to the place where he wouldn’t be able to resist kissing her. And tomorrow he’d regret it and pull back and probably hurt her.

He could not hurt her. No matter how hard he had to fight, he would do everything in his power to keep his distance.

Still, after dinner and the short, humorous awards ceremony Fred put on, he and Eloise were one of the first couples on the dance floor. Everyone knew he loved to dance, but, more than that, Tucker and Olivia were also here. As much as he wasn’t the kind to fool his close friends, the charade was well under way. Despite fighting feelings for Eloise, he couldn’t end their deal when he hadn’t found her a job. And he couldn’t tell his best friend that he wasn’t really dating his wife’s BFF, that it had been a bargain. They’d both look crazy.

So he pulled Eloise into his arms and she nestled against him. When her softness met his chest, he struggled with the desire to just close his eyes and enjoy.

He looked down. She looked up. Their gazes met in acknowledgment of the fact that their tequila night had brought them closer. But he didn’t want to be close. He wanted them to go back to being polite strangers who could pretend they liked each other.

So he pulled several inches away, putting enough space between them to retain his sanity. Still, every time they moved, his hand on the small of her back slid against her satiny skin. He remembered the sparkle in her eyes at her apartment door last night. How she’d wanted him to kiss her. How he’d longed to do just that.

But he also remembered that he was grieving his son, filled with guilt and remorse over his death. She had troubles of her own. Neither one was in a position to indulge an attraction that might end up hurting them both.

He held himself stiffly for the first set and was relieved when the band took a break. Eloise chatted with Olivia about her clients and art in general, and he and Tucker bounced around ideas about the stock market.

When the second set began, he was a little too tired to hold himself away from her. When she melted, his body tried to resist, but it was no use. Her breasts met his chest. Their thighs brushed as they moved to the music. His hormones awoke like a band of angels ready to sing the “Hallelujah Chorus.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many diamonds in my life.”

Glad to get his mind off his hormones and also curious about where her mind had gone, he laughed. “Cumulatively or at this party?”

“It almost doesn’t matter.” She pulled back and looked at him. “Something odd has been striking me tonight.”

With the feeling of the velvet skin of her back pressed against his hand, something had been striking him all night, too. He’d love to run his hand down her back just once. Just for the thrill of it.

But talking about that wouldn’t do either one of them any good. So he smiled and politely said, “What’s that?”

“My mom doesn’t have a diamond necklace.”

He bit out a laugh. “What?”

“Look at all these necklaces. Or just think about the one around Olivia’s throat. Tucker adores his wife so he showers her with diamonds. That’s how wealthy men show their love.”

He smiled. “It is?”

“Sure. If you can’t say the words, you buy a gift. A necklace. A bracelet. A fur.”

His mouth twisted. He wanted to buy her a fur, but that didn’t mean he loved her. “It’s not always about love.”

“True. It could be about respect or appreciation. You know, a thanks-for-putting-up-with-me gift.”

He coughed. That was exactly why he wanted to buy her a fur. “You seem so sure.”

“People are transparent. But none of this is actually my point.”

“What’s your point?”

“My mother doesn’t have a diamond necklace.”

“You think your dad doesn’t love her or doesn’t appreciate her?”

“I think he doesn’t have hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars to spend on jewelry.”

Ricky stopped dancing. Confused, he said, “Everybody here does.”

“Which is the conclusion of my point.” She nudged him to start dancing again. “My parents have lots of money. But they’re not in this class.”

He frowned, not quite understanding what she was getting at. “So?”

“So maybe that’s why they were so mad that I embarrassed them.”

He thought back to his beginnings in New York City society. He remembered renting a tux because he didn’t own one and hiring a limo with a driver. He hadn’t done it for the sake of impressing anyone. He simply wanted to fit in. Not look like an upstart. Not look like somebody who didn’t belong. If Eloise’s parents were image conscious, her embarrassing them might have shaken them more than normal people. That is, if they thought more of their station in society than their daughter. And it appeared they did.

“Maybe.”

“The few times we came to New York City for Christmas events, they were extremely clear with me and my older brother that we shouldn’t do anything to embarrass them.”

He frowned, catching her gaze. “Where is all this coming from?”

She shrugged. “I did some thinking today. Came to some conclusions.”

A happy thought filled him with hope. He might not have found her a job, but maybe being with him had caused her to see some things about her life, things that might help her stop being so sad.

“So the past couple of weeks with my friends has been good for you?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

He twirled them around. “Of course it matters. You miss your parents. You’re trying to figure it out because you’re trying to find an angle or reason to go home.”

She glanced away. “I don’t think so.”

He desperately wanted her to be able to go home, to have the acceptance she needed. Not just to make sure she got something from their deal, but because no one should be alone for Christmas. Especially not somebody so pretty and so nice.

He waited a second, then said, “What would you have to do to be able to go home?”

She smiled devilishly. “Buy my mom a diamond necklace?”

He huffed out a sigh. “I’m being serious here.”

“I don’t think I can go home.”

He glanced down. “Why not?”

She looked away for a few seconds, then caught his gaze again. “I’ve found more love and acceptance with Olivia and Laura Beth than I ever had with my parents. And with their acceptance I realized how dysfunctional my own family is.”

He thought about how he hadn’t been home in nearly two years. Didn’t call. Didn’t take his mother’s calls. Because everything about his family reminded him of Blake.

“Everybody’s family is dysfunctional to a degree.”

“Not like this. My parents don’t know how to love. Even though it hurts to have no one, sometimes a person is better off being alone than living around people who only use them.”

Or sometimes a person is better off being alone than being with people who only revive their sorrow.

“Maybe.”

“Okay, here’s the best example. My parents would love to see me with you. They’d use that like a stepladder. They’d treat me like royalty to get to you. And then they’d use you for introductions or insider information or whatever they thought they could get. But when you and I stopped seeing each other, they’d put me back on a shelf again. Like something they pulled out when they needed it.” She shook her head. “As a kid, when they’d put me back on the shelf, I’d jump through hoops to get their attention, their affection. I’d do well in school or volunteer to work for a very visible charity. Sometimes they’d pat me on the head, but most of the time they’d ignore me. Even in their home, at their dinner table, I was alone. Lonely. I don’t want to go back to that.”

He wouldn’t either. No matter how much he stayed away, he knew the second he came home, his family would smother him with love.

Familiar sadness for her filled him, but he stopped it from totally taking over. She’d figured all this out on her own, clearly come to terms with it. She was a strong woman. A unique, wonderful person. No one needed to pity her. He might wish he could help her, but he would never, ever feel sorry for her.

The band took a break, and Ricky and Eloise walked back to the table. Tucker and Olivia leaned in together, as if they were telling secrets. But Olivia’s face was pinched and Tucker’s brow had furrowed.

Ricky tensed.

Eloise walked over and stooped beside Olivia’s chair. “Wanna tell me what’s going on here?”

Close enough to hear and not wanting to look overly interested in case it was a lover’s quarrel, Ricky took his seat.

Tucker said, “We think Olivia might be in labor.”

Eloise gasped. “And she flew? You let her get on an airplane this close to her due date?”

“She’s not due for another month. Her doctor said it was fine.”

Olivia panted out a breath. “Seriously. I’m not due for a month. This might not be labor. Everybody said it was fine for me to fly.”

Eloise sighed. “It might have been fine for you to fly, but you’re not fine now.” She reached across the table, grabbed her small handbag, retrieved her phone and dialed 911. “This is Eloise Vaughn. I’m at the Ritz with a woman who is in labor.”

Olivia said, “Really Eloise, that’s not necessary.... Oh my God!”

Tucker stiffened. “What?”

Olivia caught Eloise’s hand. “Tell them to hurry.”

When Eloise finished the call, Olivia squeezed her fingers. “If it’s possible, I want to get down to the lobby.”

Eloise gaped at her. “The lobby?”

“I don’t want to make a scene. Get me downstairs, hide me somewhere. I don’t want anybody to see if my water breaks or hear me if I scream.”

There wasn’t a woman in the world who wouldn’t understand that and Eloise couldn’t refuse. “Can you walk?”

Olivia nodded.

She motioned for Ricky to come over to them. “Tucker’s going to help Olivia to the door. You and I are going to walk behind them just in case.”

Ricky nodded, but memory after memory of Blake’s birth tumbled through him. He hadn’t been in love with Blake’s mother. Basically, they’d been nightclub friends who’d slept together, and she ended up pregnant. He hadn’t gone to birthing classes, didn’t really want to be in the delivery room—and he hadn’t been—but he’d gone to the hospital when Blake was born. The same hospital where his son had ultimately died. And that was probably the same hospital Tucker would direct Olivia to, if only because, like Ricky, he was on their board of directors.

Eloise caught his arm and pulled him in step behind Tucker and Olivia. “Get with the program, slick.”

He shook himself out of his reverie. If this were anybody but Tucker and Olivia, the torrent of memories assaulting him right now would have frozen him solid.

But when Olivia’s steps faltered, he was right behind her, ready to catch her.

* * *

Ricky’s limo pulled onto the emergency entrance ramp behind the ambulance with Olivia and Tucker inside. Eloise leaped out the second the car stopped.

She was at the door of the ambulance as they pulled the gurney off and Tucker jumped down.

The pair, Olivia’s best friend and her husband, hustled with Olivia into the emergency room.

Ricky held back. Everything inside him told him to leave. Too many bad memories were associated with this hospital. Yet he couldn’t seem to get his mouth to form the words to tell Norman to go. His best friend’s baby was coming early. Olivia’s life could be in jeopardy.

And Eloise was upset. She might have taken control, but he’d felt her vibrating with fear through the entire drive over. He could not leave her.

He slid out of the limo, leaned inside his still open back door and sent Norman home. Blake had taken nineteen hours to make his appearance. Tucker and Olivia’s child could take as long or longer.

He ambled into the emergency room, gave his name at the desk and flashed his ID as a member of the board. “I want to be apprised of Olivia Engle’s condition every step of the way.”

The receptionist shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. But our privacy policy prevents that unless you’re family.” She gave him a hopeful look, clearly not wanting to get into a battle of wills with a hospital director.

Tucking his key card into his jacket pocket, he put her out of her misery. “Check with Mr. Engle. He’ll tell you it’s okay.”

She walked away, and, a few minutes later, she returned and told him that Olivia had been taken upstairs to the maternity ward.

Haunted, afraid to go back to the part of the hospital that had the good memories, memories of Blake being born, of holding his son for the first time, of wrapping the tiny, squiggly bundle in a blanket before securing him in his car seat, Ricky took his time walking to the elevator and then down the long cool corridor to the waiting room of the maternity ward.

An hour went by. He sat. He paced. He sat some more, elbows on his knees, hands dropped between his legs. Eventually, he stood, untied his tie, undid the first two buttons of his shirt and walked to the intensive care unit in the children’s ward, where he stood by the window and stared at the empty cribs.

If he closed his eyes, he could see his son bandaged and bruised, an IV locked into his hand, his little chest barely rising and falling as a ventilator did his breathing for him.

Tears filled his eyes, reviving his shame. Then he realized Tucker’s baby might be too small, too weak, and the newest member of the happy Engle family might spend his or her first days or weeks or even a year in the same crib as Blake.

His shame morphed into fear. Real fear that Tucker and Olivia might face the devastation of losing a child. He could feel every bit of sorrow that would overwhelm them and cursed. That shouldn’t happen to anyone. But Olivia and Tucker? They were special. They didn’t deserve this.

The rustle of skirts interrupted the quiet, and he turned to see Eloise walking down the hall.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He frowned. “This is a private ward. How’d you get in here?”

She showed him a key card. “Tucker gave me this and said to find you. How did you get in here?”

He pulled the key card just like Tucker’s from his tuxedo jacket pocket.

“Wow. You two must be some big-time donors.”

“We’re on the board.” He sucked in a breath. “How’s Olivia?”

She winced. “Not in labor. The doctor’s keeping her overnight just to be sure, but she’s fine.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, so glad Tucker and Olivia’s baby would be okay that for several seconds he couldn’t function. Finally, he ran his hand across the back of his neck and forced his muscles and brain to relax. “That’s good.”

She looked around. “It’s so quiet here.”

“That’s normal in the children’s ICU.”

He expected a question or two. She’d earned the right to ask them. He felt her curiosity like a living, breathing thing. Still, she said nothing.

His respect for her grew. He’d told her he didn’t want her to know his past, his pain, because he didn’t want her to treat him any differently—or, worse, to pity him. And if the casual way she behaved around him was anything to go by, she hadn’t looked him up on the internet and hadn’t asked his friends for information.

It boggled his mind that she hadn’t investigated him. If the tables were turned, he would have been driven crazy until he gave in to his curiosity, but he would have given in. She’d been a rock. She was probably the most trustworthy person on the planet.

“Good evening, Mr. Langley.” Regina walked up to them, giving Eloise a quick once-over. “And who is this?”

He looked from Regina to Eloise, who met his gaze with as much curiosity about how he’d answer as Regina had.

Their gazes locked. She’d gone to all his parties with him, always kept up the charade and always looked pretty for him, even though it probably meant working like a Christmas elf to get that party’s dress altered. He’d refused to tell her his secrets and she’d accepted it.

He couldn’t think of her as nothing but a fake date anymore. He might not be her real boyfriend, but she was more than a partner in a charade.

He caught her hand and squeezed it. “She’s a friend.”

Eloise smiled.

Regina said, “Well, it’s quiet up here tonight. Stay as long as you like.”

It didn’t seem right to stand with Eloise at the window to the room where his son had died. He didn’t want her to see his grief. Plus, with Olivia fine and the baby out of danger, there was no reason to stay.

“Actually, we were just on our way out.”

“Good night then.”

“Good night, Regina.” He directed Eloise to the elevator. “I sent Norman home. We’re going to have to get a taxi.”

“A taxi! Do you know how expensive taxis are?”

He laughed, then realized that’s exactly what she’d intended for him to do. But the sights and the sounds of the hospital kept him grounded in reality, and he suddenly felt guilty for those three seconds of happiness.

No matter how much Eloise lifted his spirits, in his heart he knew he didn’t deserve to be whole.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ELOISE ROLLED OVER in bed the next morning, not able to get herself to crawl out and face the day.

She wasn’t the kind to overthink things, but why would someone choose to wait in the intensive care unit of the children’s ward instead of the maternity waiting room?

She let the obvious reasons flit through her brain. Maybe Ricky had spent time there himself as a child. Or maybe one of his siblings had. Or maybe he’d had a child who’d been there. Maybe a child born prematurely, as Tucker and Olivia’s child had almost been the night before.

The last one made so much sense that new scenarios began rolling through her head. Scary scenarios. Things his friends’ wives would call a tragedy. Things she had no basis to believe. Things that had no grounding in reality.

With a growl, she shoved off the covers, climbed out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen. Laura Beth already sat at the little round table, drinking tea.

“Hey.”

“Hey. You’re up early for someone who was at a party last night.”

She walked to the counter and started making a pot of coffee. “We took Olivia to the hospital.”

Laura Beth gasped. “Last night? Is she okay?”

“False labor. She’s fine. Baby’s fine.”

“But...”

She faced Laura Beth. “But what?”

“There’s but in your voice. Like there’s a catch. She’s fine but she’s on bed rest or something. What’s the catch?”