“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.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Eloise Vaughn.”

“If I’m going out with you twelve times, then I’m getting twelve dates’ worth of help.”

“Deal.”

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. Real attraction.

Which would only wreck their deal and was the last thing in the world she wanted.

“This is where I draw the line. I’m fine walking myself upstairs.”

With that she turned and strode into her building. 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 Twelve Dates of Christmas
Susan Meier

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SUSAN MEIER spent most of her twenties thinking she was a job-hopper—until she began to write and realised everything that had come before was only research! One of eleven children, with twenty-four nieces and nephews and three kids of her own, Susan has had plenty of real-life experience watching romance blossom in un-expected ways. She lives in western Pennsylvania with her wonderful husband, Mike, three children, and two overfed, well-cuddled cats, Sophie and Fluffy. You can visit Susan’s website at: www.susanmeier.com.

For my sisters …

May we always take care of each other

the way Olivia, Eloise and Laura Beth do.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THERE WAS ALWAYS too much month left at the end of Eloise Vaughn’s money.

“Here, put these crackers in your purse.” Laura Beth Matthews gathered a handful of crackers from the party buffet of their newly married friend, Olivia Engle, and shoved them at Eloise.

She gasped. “So now we’re reduced to stealing crackers?”

“Five crackers are lunch.”

Eloise sighed but opened her Chanel purse and let her roommate dump the crackers inside.

“I’m sorry, Coco.”

Laura Beth said, “Coco?”

“Chanel...” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Hoping no one saw the crackers falling into her purse, Eloise glanced around the Christmas party at the women wearing shiny cocktail dresses in shades of red and green and the tuxedo-clad men. Subdued gold and silver decorations gave the Engles’ penthouse a sophisticated glow. The clink of ice in glasses, laughter of guests and the air of importance—wealth and power—wafted around her.

For fifty cents she could work this room and probably leave with a date. But she didn’t want a date. She’d had the love of her life and had lost him. Now, she wanted a job, a good-paying job, a permanent position that would support her. Unfortunately, her degree didn’t seem to translate well into actual work. In lieu of a job, she’d take another roommate, someone to help with the rent on the apartment she shared with Laura Beth. Then the pressure would be off, and the salary from the temp job she currently had at a law firm would be enough that she and Laura Beth could buy food again.

But she wouldn’t find a roommate here. All of these people could afford their own condos. Maybe two condos...and a beach house.

Laura Beth studied the remaining food. “It’s too bad we can’t pour some of this dip in our purses.”

Eloise shoved her purse behind her back. “I draw the line at dip. No dip. Not on the inside of my Chanel.”

“You do realize you could sell some of those overpriced clothes, handbags and shoes you own and probably eat for an entire year.”

“Most of my stuff is five years old. No one would want it.”

Laura Beth sniffed a laugh. “You make it work.”

“Only because I know how to change a collar or add a belt.”

“So update your stuff and then sell it.”

She couldn’t. Not that she loved clothes and dressing up so much that she’d die without accessories. It was more that these clothes were the last piece of herself she had. The last piece of the starry-eyed college junior, one year away from graduating, who’d run away and married her Prince Charming.

Her heart pinched. Prince Charming seemed like an odd description. Especially given that she and Wayne had had their troubles. After they married, her wealthy parents had disowned her, and Wayne couldn’t find a job. So she’d had to work as a waitress, and they’d fought. A lot. Then he’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, he’d died. Overwhelmed with grief and confused that death could be so swift and so cruel, she’d gone home, hoping her parents would help her cope. But they wouldn’t even come to the door. Through the maid, they’d reminded her that they had disowned her and didn’t want her and her troubles visiting their doorstep.

At first she’d been crushed, then she was sad, then she got angry. But that only fueled her determination. Come hell or high water she intended to make it. Big. She didn’t know where or how, but she intended to make it. Not just to show her parents, but so she could be happy again.

* * *

“I’d like you to meet my cousin.”

Ricky Langley glanced up in horror as his lawyer walked up to him with a thirty-something woman. With her hair in a tight black ball on the back of her head and her bright red dress clinging to her curves, she eyed him appreciatively.

“Janine Barron, this is Ricky Langley.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Her voice shivered just the tiniest bit, as if she were so thrilled to meet him she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

Another man might have been pleased—maybe even proud—that his lawyer liked him enough to introduce him to a relative. But since his son had died, he’d been besieged by a loss so intense that thoughts of love, romance or even meeting somebody weren’t anywhere on his radar.

He said, “It’s nice to meet you,” and managed ten minutes of polite conversation, but when he found an opportunity, he slipped away.

He wove through conversation groups as he walked across Tucker Engle’s sleek living room. Although Tucker had married six months ago, his New York City penthouse still claimed the sophisticated furnishings of a bachelor pad. Chrome and black leather furniture sat on white shag carpet atop dark hardwood floors. The Christmas tree Tucker had decorated with his new wife, Olivia, glittered with all silver and gold ornaments. The cherrywood mantel over the fireplace boasted one stocking...for Baby Engle. Not yet born, the child hadn’t been named. They wouldn’t tell the sex either. It was all to be a grand surprise.

He pursed his lips as his breathing stuttered. He thought of the one and only Christmas he’d shared with his son. Blake had been born December twenty-seventh, so he was two days shy of a year on his first Christmas day. He’d clapped when he’d seen the tree lit with brightly colored lights that reflected off the tinsel. He’d eaten Christmas cookies. And he’d gone just a bit bananas when he’d awakened Christmas morning to find tons of gifts all for him. He couldn’t talk, so he squeaked and squealed for joy. He had torn off wrapping paper, liked the boxes better than the actual gifts and in general made a mess of Ricky’s pristine penthouse.

It had been the best Christmas of Ricky’s life. And now he had nothing.

He sucked in a breath. He shouldn’t have come to this party. He might be eighteen months into his grief, but some things, like Christmas celebrations, would always level him. Worse, he had twelve more of these events on his calendar. Ten parties, one wedding and one fraternity reunion. Last year, six months into his grief, he could reasonably bow out. This year, people were beginning to worry.

He turned to race away from the mantle and bumped into somebody’s purse. He swore he heard a crunch as his hands swung around to catch his victim.

“Damn it! I think you crushed my crackers.”

The scowl on the blonde’s beautiful face surprised him so much he forgot he was too unhappy to talk with anyone. “You have crackers in your purse?”

She sighed heavily and tucked a strand of her long yellow hair behind her ear. “Not usually.” She glanced at his tuxedo, gave him a quick once-over, then shook her head. “Never mind. You’re a little too rich to understand.”

“Oh, you took crackers from the buffet table for lunch next week.” At her horrified look, he inclined his head. “I used to be poor. Did the same thing at parties.”

“Yeah, well, this was my roommate’s idea. Typically, I’m not the kind of girl who steals.”

“You’re not stealing. Those crackers were set out for the guests. You’re a guest. Besides, it’s the end of the night. Once we all leave, the leftovers will probably be thrown away. Or given to a homeless shelter.”

She squeezed her eyes shut in misery. “Great. Now I’m taking crackers out of the mouths of homeless people. I hate this city.”

He gaped at her. “How can you hate New York?”

“I don’t hate New York, per se. I just hate that it costs so much to live here.”

She suddenly straightened. Right before his eyes she changed from a frantic working girl into a princess.

Her shoulders back, her smile polite and subdued, she said, “If you’ll excuse me, I want to say goodbye to Olivia and Tucker.”

He stepped out of her way. “Of course.”

Three things hit him at once. First, she was gorgeous. Her gold dress hugged her high breasts, slim waist and round bottom as if it were made for her. Second, she was refined and polite for someone reduced to taking the extra crackers from a party. Third, she’d barely given him a second look.

“Ricky!”

Ricky pivoted and saw his attorney scrambling toward him.

“I understand your reluctance to get back into the swing of things, but I’m not going to apologize for trying to find you someone. If you don’t soon start dating, people are going to wonder about you.”

Hadn’t he just thought the same thing himself? “I hope they come up with some good stories.”

“This isn’t funny. You’re a businessman. People don’t want to sign contracts with unstable men.”

“Being single doesn’t make me unstable. I can name lots of men who did very well as bachelors.”

“Yeah, but most of them don’t have a children’s video game line they’re about to release.”

He turned away. “I’ll take my chances.”

His attorney caught his arm and stopped him. “You’ll be wrong. Look, do you want support when you take this new company public next year? Then you’d better look alive. Like a guy worth supporting.”

His attorney stormed off at the same time Cracker Girl walked by, her head twisting from side to side as if she were looking for someone.

A starburst of pleasure shot through him, surprising him. She was beautiful. Physically perfect. And with a conscience. Although taking crackers from a party didn’t rank up there with grand theft auto, he could see it upset her.

He laughed and shook his head, but he stopped midmotion. Good grief. She’d made him laugh.

* * *

With the party officially winding down, Eloise retrieved her black wool cape, a classic that never went out of style. By the time she reached the elevator, Tucker and Olivia were already there, saying goodbye to guests.

The plush little car took the couple in front of her away. She smiled at Olivia and caught her hands. “It was a wonderful party.”

Pregnant and glowing with it, blond-haired, blue-eyed Olivia said, “Thanks.”

“It was great seeing your parents too. Where did they run off to? I tried to find them to say goodbye but they were gone.”

“Dad wanted to be in bed early so he and Mom could get up early. We’re all going to Kentucky tomorrow.”

“Celebrating Christmas from the last Friday in November to January second,” Tucker said with a laugh.

“You’re taking more than a month off?”

“Yes!” Olivia joyfully said. “Five weeks! We’re coming back for one party mid-December, but other than that we’ll be in Kentucky.”

Eloise smiled. She’d wondered why Tucker and Olivia had had their Christmas party so early.

“It’s going to be such fun. We’ll sleigh ride and skate.” She smiled at her handsome husband, a dark-haired, thirty-something former confirmed bachelor she’d fallen in love with in Italy. “And drink hot chocolate by the fire.”

“Sounds perfect.” For Olivia. The woman lived and breathed the fairy tale. But Eloise wanted a real life. With her husband dead and most of the magic sucked out of life, all she wanted to be was normal, to get a job and never depend on anyone but herself again.

She glanced around. “Have you seen Laura Beth?”

Olivia caught Eloise’s hand and pulled her to the side. “She left ten minutes ago with one of Tucker’s vice presidents.”

Eloise’s chest tightened. “Really?”

“They were talking stock options and market fluctuations when they said goodbye to us. I overheard them saying something about going to a coffee shop.”

“Oh.”

“Do you need a taxi?”

She licked her suddenly dry lips. A taxi? Obviously Olivia had forgotten how much a taxi cost. The plan had been for her and Laura Beth to take the subway. Together. She didn’t want to ride alone this late at night and couldn’t believe Laura Beth had ditched her.

Still, that wasn’t Olivia’s problem. If anything, Eloise and Laura Beth had vowed to keep their financial distress from their now-wealthy friend so she wouldn’t do something kind, but awkward, like pay their rent.

“Um. No. I don’t need a taxi.” She smiled. “I’m taking the subway.”

“Alone?”

“I love the subway.” That wasn’t really a lie. She did love the subway. It was cheap and efficient. But at night, alone, it was also scary.

“Oh, Eloise! I don’t want you to risk it. Let Tucker call his driver.”

“We’re fine.”

“You’re alone.”

Drat. She’d hoped Olivia wouldn’t notice that tricky maneuvering use of “we” to make her think she had company for the subway.

Tucker caught Olivia’s hand to get her attention. “Ricky’s leaving.”

Eloise turned to see the guy who had tried to tell her stealing crackers was okay. He had dark hair and dark eyes, and he looked amazing in a tux. Sexy.

She sucked in a breath. Noticing he was sexy had been an accident. She refused to notice any guy until she was financially stable.

Olivia stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

All right. He was tall. It was hard not to notice someone was tall.

He straightened away from Olivia, and Eloise frowned. It was also hard not to notice smooth, sexy brown eyes that had a sleepy, smoldering way of looking at a woman. And that hair? Dark. Shaggy. So out of style she should want to walk him to a hair salon. Instead, she was tempted to brush it off his forehead.

Wow. Seriously? What was wrong with her? She had not intended to take note of any of that. But the guy was simply too gorgeous not to notice.

“Good night, Ricky. Thanks for coming to the party. I hope you enjoyed it.”

“It was great.”

He kissed Olivia’s cheek, and Eloise stood there like an idiot, realizing her mistake. When he’d walked over, she should have taken advantage of Olivia’s preoccupation and slipped into the elevator. Nothing was worse than the guilt of a former roommate who hadn’t just found the love of her life but also her calling. While Eloise and Laura Beth floundered, Olivia had hit the life lottery and was married, pregnant and a manager for young artists. And now she couldn’t stop worrying about her former roommates.

Eloise didn’t want to be anybody’s burden. She was smart, educated. With the right job, she could be happy as a clam. It was finding that job that seemed impossible. Until she did, she’d be poor. And Olivia would worry.

Olivia glanced at Eloise and, as if just seeing the obvious, she gasped. “You’ve met Eloise, right?”

The guy named Ricky looked over at her. “I bumped into her by the fireplace.”

“She’s on her way home, but her friend left early.” Olivia winced. “Talking business with one of Tucker’s employees.”

Eloise supposed she shouldn’t be angry because that might lead to a better job for Laura Beth, but she knew the next words coming out of Olivia’s mouth before she even heard them.

“You have your limo, right?” She put her hand on her tummy, looking beautiful and Madonna like, the kind of woman no man could refuse. “You wouldn’t mind taking Eloise to her apartment, would you?”

Eloise immediately said, “No. I’m fine.”

At the same time, Ricky said, “Actually, I think I owe her a favor.”

Olivia beamed. “Great.”

The elevator doors swished open.

Ricky smiled at her and motioned to the door. “After you.”

She stepped inside. As the doors closed, she waved to Olivia. “Thanks again for inviting me.”

Tucker and Olivia waved back, looking like the perfect couple. “Thanks for coming.”

The doors met and the little car began its descent.

“So...your friend dumped you.”

“We’re both trying to find jobs that pay better than what we have so we can afford our rent. She was talking business with one of Tucker’s executives. I can’t fault her for that.”

“How long have you been in New York?”

“Three years.”

“That’s a long time to still be scraping by.”

“We were fine until Olivia left us.”

Even though she had a good excuse for her poverty, embarrassment rumbled through her. She might have been born into money, but she’d gone to the school of hard knocks. Paid her dues. Gotten her education in spite of her grief and confusion. Now all she wanted was a job.

Was that really so much to ask?

* * *

Ricky waited in silence as the elevator descended. From the tension crackling off Eloise Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Was, he could tell she wasn’t happy that he was taking her home. Actually, he could tell she wasn’t happy period. Her financial situation was abysmal. Her friend Olivia was living a great life. Her other friend had deserted her.

She had a lot of pride. Which he couldn’t argue. He had a bit of pride himself. But he wasn’t going to let a pretty single girl ride the subway alone after midnight. Especially not one who had made him laugh.

The elevator door opened and she sped out into the frosty cold night. He ambled behind her. When she reached the sidewalk, she stopped dramatically.

He wasn’t the only one who had called for his limo. Four long black cars sat in a cluster in front of the building. No way for her to pass. No way for her to hail a cab.

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.

“If it’s any consolation, cameras are off-limits in the party.”

“Yes. It is a consolation.”

He presented his invitation at the discreet desk by the entry, and they were routed to the greeting line for the host and hostess.

Paul Montgomery’s eyes lit when he saw Eloise. “My darling, however did you get this guy to finally break down and bring a date somewhere?”

She laughed and slid her arm through Ricky’s. “We met at the party of a mutual friend.”

“Tucker and Olivia Engle,” Ricky said, shaking the old man’s hand. “She’s a friend of Olivia’s. I’m a friend of Tucker’s.”

“Oh, we love Olivia,” Mrs. Paul Montgomery said, leaning in to air kiss Eloise’s cheek. “She simply glows with her pregnancy.”

Eloise smiled. “She certainly does. She will make an amazing mother.”

Their twenty seconds of greeting time expended, Ricky and Eloise were guided to the next section, where they were given their table number and a hand-carved Christmas ornament as a gift from the Montgomerys.

The huge ballroom shimmered with laughing, talking people. Rich red velvet drapes billowed from ceiling-high windows and glittered festively as if they’d been sprinkled with stardust. Round tables boasted gold tablecloths and huge centerpieces of calla lilies and evergreens accented by a ribbon of gold that wove through them.

Ricky took Eloise’s hand and guided her through the sea of round tables. “That went smoothly.”

“Our story’s very believable.”

“Then we’ll stick with it.” He paused, turned and caught her gaze. Now that he’d realized the impact gorgeous Eloise would make on his friends, a bit of fear tugged at his gut.

“We’re seated with some of my best friends. I don’t want them to know you’re a fake date. These are the people I most want to reassure that I’m fine. Dating someone is the living, breathing symbol of that. If we’re convincing enough, they won’t ask questions. They’ll see I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

“But if anybody even suspects you’re a fake date, I’m going to look pathetic. This has to be as real as possible for my friends to buy in. That means I’m going to put my arm around you.”

She nodded.

He sucked in a breath. “And we’re going to dance because I love to dance, and it will look odd if I bring a date and don’t dance.”

She straightened the collar of his tux, then tightened his bow tie, the gesture both casual and intimate. His nerves shivered. Not from fear of her touch, but from easy acceptance of her fingers on him. Which scared him to death. She was gorgeous and, probably like every other man in this room, he wanted to touch her and be touched by her. Their situation might be fake, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get the feelings.

“Relax. Not only do we seem to be compatible, but I have dated a guy or two. I know how to act.”

He sniffed a laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. We’re actually doing better than people on a real date because we’re not afraid to be honest.”

He fought a wince. She would not be pleased if he’d honestly tell her that her little ministrations with his bow tie had shot white-hot need through his veins. “I guess that’s true.”

“So if either one of us does anything wrong, we know we can be honest and tell the other one.”

Okay. As long as they weren’t admitting things like awakening hormones, he could get on board with that. “That’s good.”

She took his hand. “We are going to ace this.”

He led the way to the table and introduced Eloise to his first business partner, Elias Greene, and his fiancée Bridget O’Malley, the couple getting married on Christmas Eve. As they sat down, another friend, George Russell and his wife, Andi, joined them.

When introduced, Eloise smiled and nodded, and the knots in Ricky’s stomach began to unravel. He expected the husbands to fawn all over her, but he would have never guessed the wives would instantly like her.

Andi leaned over and caught Eloisa’s hand. “I love your dress.”

She laughed. “What? This old thing?”

Andi sniffed. “Okay. Don’t tell me where you got it.”

“Actually, I do a lot of my own designing.”

Andi’s mouth fell open. “You made that?”

“I bought it, then sort of reorganized it to suit my tastes.”

Ricky liked the way she stuck with the truth. She didn’t announce that she was broke, but she didn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t. He took a sip from his water glass, his nerves settling and his faith in their deal reviving. She was doing very well.

They ate salad, filet mignon and simple baked potatoes, and an elaborate chocolate mousse creation for dessert, then Paul gave a toast that was more of a thank-you for coming and blessing to all in the new year, Then the dancing started.

Eloise turned to him with a smile. “I know you’re dying to dance.”

For the first time in his life, he wasn’t. Her dress had no back. He was going to have to put his hands on her.

But his friends expected him to dance, so he gave her points for being a step ahead of the game.

He rose and took her hand. They threaded through the tables to the dance floor and kept going until they were in the center of the throng of people. This far into the dancers, they couldn’t be seen by his friends at their table or even by anyone curious enough to seek them out.

As he pulled her to him, he let his hand fall to the small of her back and found soft, supple skin. But a quick mental review of her dress told him that if he were to lower his hands until he found fabric, he’d be fondling her butt.

Leaving his hand where it was, he cleared his throat. “Interesting back on this dress.”

She laughed and winced. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no. It’s not a problem.” Most guys would kill for the opportunity to touch you like this. But, of course, he didn’t add that out loud. He looked down into her smiling face. “You seem like you’re having fun.”

“Honestly, the steak alone with worth the evening for me.”

He twirled them around. “Not much steak in the diet of someone scrambling to make a living.”

“Or champagne. Or even salad most days.” She caught his gaze and smiled. “Thanks.”

His heart flip-flopped. It had been a long time since he’d made someone happy. It humbled him that this woman was so broke she thanked him for food.

He winced. “You’re welcome. But we still have to introduce you to a few people tonight, so you get your side of the arrangement too.”

“Maybe tonight should just be my getting-my-feet-wet night.” She glanced around. “Is this your usual crowd?”

“Usual crowd?”

“You know. Are these the people who typically get invited to the events you attend?”

Puzzled, he let his gaze ripple from face to face of the people on the dance floor. She was right. He did have a “usual” crowd. He’d see most of these people again and again until January second, when the party circuit would end.

“Yes. But other parties will have additional guests, depending on the event. You won’t see any of these people at my office party. You’ll see one or two at the fraternity reunion. You’ll see them all at Elias and Bridget’s wedding. And you probably saw most of them at Tucker and Olivia’s.”

He twirled them around again, and she laughed.

His gut tightened. Every instinct he had came to life. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made someone laugh. Or the last time he’d had fun. But he was having fun now.

* * *

When the music ended, he removed his hand from the softness that was the small of her back and immediately directed her to the couple beside them, Mimi and Oliver French.

She politely shook their hands. “I think I read about you in the Journal last week.”

Oliver feigned humility. “I don’t know why they wrote that piece.”

Eloise laughed. “Because your firm made billions of dollars for your clients last year.”

Mimi playfully swatted her husband’s arm. “He’s such a goose. Never likes to take credit. But we did have a banner year.” She smiled at Eloise. “So tell me, dear, where did you get that dress?”

“A little boutique a few streets over from here,” Eloise said with a smile. She didn’t mention that it had been five years ago on a shopping trip with her mom. Or that the dress had been a conservative gown with a full back, high collar and slim belt to accent her waist. Andi might have loved hearing that, but Mimi behaved a little too much like Eloise’s mom. She wouldn’t see talent. She’d sniff out desperation.

“I must take a look at their stock.”

“You really should.”

“Eloise has only been in the city a short time,” Ricky said, obviously having decided three years was a short time.

Oliver said, “Really.”

“Yes.” She smiled pleasantly. “I got my degree, and now I’m job hunting.”

The band began to play. The couple smiled and turned away to dance again.

Ricky put his hand on the small of her back and they moved in time to the music.

“That went well.”

“It did, but it feels odd.” With the gooseflesh raised on her skin from his hand warming the small of her back, her voice came out a little huskier than she intended.

His eyebrows rose. “Feels odd?”

She carefully met his gaze. “Like I’m asking for a job.”

He swung them around. “Okay. There’s problem number one for you. You should be proud of the fact that you’re looking for a job.”

“I feel desperate.”

“And that’s problem number two. Do you think these people got to the top by not being able to smell desperation?”

“I know they can.”

“You’ve gotta get rid of that.”

“Okay.”

The dance ended, and their conversation was cut short by someone else who came up to talk to Ricky. Unlike the Mr. and Mrs. French, this guy was not interested in Ricky’s date. Not at all. Proposing a new business venture, he’d barely reacted when Ricky introduced her.

Eloise looked around. The winking diamonds shimmering through the crowd on throats, wrists and fingers told the story of just how rich, just how important, these people were. Yet Ricky looked totally comfortable. Listening as he explained that he couldn’t invest because of the upcoming release of his new line of children’s video games after which he would take that company public, she realized he was so casual because he was so smart. He belonged here. He was as sharp as any billionaire, any magnate, any tycoon.

Ridiculous pride surged in her. The whole group wanted to know his thoughts on something, but he was with her.

She shook her head to clear it of the unexpected thought. He wasn’t with her because he liked her. He was with her because they’d made a deal, and he’d only made a deal because he needed protection. She was nothing more than a symbol to his friends that he had moved beyond the breakup that must have really hurt him.

She had best remember that.

After the set of waltzes, the band began to play a slow, mellow tune. Expecting Ricky to bow out and direct her back to the table, she was surprised when he pulled her close.

She met the solid wall of his chest as his hand slid up her back, raising gooseflesh that she prayed he couldn’t feel. Snuggled against him like a lover, she had to fight the urge to close her eyes and melt into him.

He’s not a real date.

He’s not a real date.

He’s not a real date.

She rolled the litany through her brain until it sunk in. She’d had her Prince Charming and he was gone. If she didn’t find a way to stop her reactions to Ricky, she might just lose the chance to continue going out with him.

Then there’d be no job. No future. Just endless days of temp jobs, struggling for rent money and eating packaged noodles.

CHAPTER THREE

REMINDING HERSELF OF her dire straits did not stem Eloise’s attraction.

Dancing with Ricky and watching him between dances, it was obvious that he was strong and smart. And he treated her like royalty. He brought her drinks, eased her into most conversations and basically behaved as if she were someone he cared about...like a real date.

Was it any wonder she was having trouble separating fact from fiction?

The second time they slow danced, she’d felt a stirring inside her that went beyond attraction. She liked him. A lot. So she spent a little extra time in the ladies’ room, reminding herself again this was only a deal, not a relationship.

But every time they slow danced, her reactions increased. Warmth flooded her when he held her. Pinpricks of delight raced through her when he did something sweet. He smiled at her when he held her cape for her at the end of the night, and her heart about shot out of her chest.

She groaned internally, finally figuring out what was wrong. Her brain might know this was only an act, but her body and her hormones reacted as if it were real.

Sliding into the limo, she sat as far away from him as she could.

As Norman started the engine, Ricky tapped his hands on his knees, studied her for a few seconds and finally said, “Tomorrow night’s event is a private dinner at the home of an investment banker who is also a college buddy.”

From the far end of the seat, she smiled politely. “Sounds nice.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to wear anything fancy.”

“Probably not. A cocktail dress should be good.”

“Great.”

The conversation died, and Eloise leaned back. It was clear from his nervous gestures that he wasn’t feeling any of the attraction she felt. So, if he’d noticed her overlong glances or the way she snuggled into him when they danced, that might be why he was so uncomfortable with her now.

She winced. Gazing into his eyes, nestling into him when they danced, she was breaking rule number one of their bargain: no romance. And if she didn’t watch herself, he could end this deal.

To head off the curiosities of his driver, she politely let him walk her to her door—up all four flights of stairs, just in case the chauffer was the type to sneak into the building and check on things.

Outside her apartment, she smiled. “I had a great time.” Too great. She’d been so angry with her parents and just plain life in general for so long that she’d never anticipated she’d actually enjoy going out again. Or that she’d be so attracted to someone again. And now here she was nervous, with their deal in jeopardy, trying not to look smitten.

He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “Thanks. I had a good time too.”

She cleared her throat. “So. Um. Okay.” Stammering. Great. Now she looked like an even bigger fool. Knowing how to end this torment, she caught the gaze of his dark, sleepy eyes and simply said, “Good night.”

He stepped back. “Good night.”

She turned, opened her door and jumped inside.

Braced against the solid steel, she groaned. What the hell was she doing? She needed a job! Since when did she let a man tempt her like this?

They were in an arrangement. They were not dating. She could not lose this opportunity to make contacts that might net her a job just because her hormones had unexpectedly awakened. Particularly because he was not feeling anything for her.

And wouldn’t that be humiliating? Her growing to like a guy who’d essentially hired her to be a date?

She’d had her fair share of mortification in her life, thank you very much. She wouldn’t be so stupid again.

* * *

Ricky jogged down the stairs. Eloise had been the absolute perfect date. Gorgeous. A cuddler when they danced. She even had him believing she liked him. She was so perfect, he found himself humming as he jumped back into the limo.

But the second he realized he was humming, he thought of Blake and cursed. What right did he have to be happy when his son, his baby, was gone? He’d been as responsible for the death of his beautiful baby boy as Blake’s mother had been. He did not deserve to be happy.

As Norman pulled the car out into the street, his phone rang. He automatically pulled it from his pocket and glanced at caller ID. His head research and development guy. He had to take it.

“What’s up, Tom?”

“I’m sorry, Ricky. We hit a snag.”

“A snag? We’re in production. There shouldn’t be any R&D snags.”

“Which is why you might want to call your lawyer. A manufacturer in Berlin has just released a game exactly like game number two in your three-game package.”

His stomach fell. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. I have a team comparing the games. Unfortunately, it will take days. But that gives you time to call your lawyers and bring everybody into the loop.”

“I want to know the very second you have a verdict.”

He disconnected the call and dialed his lawyers.

* * *

At six the following evening, he hung up from yet another call with his R&D team. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten. He felt like his phone was growing out of his ear. Exhausted, he considered not going to Tim and Jennifer’s dinner party. But, in the end, he knew missing the quiet gathering of friends might spur more questions than he cared to deal with. Until he figured out whether he and a German manufacturer had come up with the same game at the same time, or one of his employees had sold his idea, he had to pretend nothing was wrong. And, luckily, he already had Eloise Vaughn in place.

He knocked on her door. She opened it with a smile and immediately handed him her black wool cape.

Sliding it on her shoulders, he said, “You look great.”

She did. Even in a simple black dress and pearls, she was a knockout. His eyes might be heavy from lack of sleep, and his brain dead from conversations about patents and corporate spies, but he still could see she was gorgeous.

She turned and smiled at him. “You look great, too.”

He glanced down at his black suit with a white shirt and thin black tie. “Think I’m okay for a dinner party?”

“You have squarely hit semiformal. You’ll be fine.”

She headed for the door and all but ran down the four flights of stairs to the building lobby. Tired, he could barely keep up with her. He wondered again about the wisdom of not canceling this party. He hadn’t had any sleep, and her running was odd, as if she were trying to get this night over with. That wouldn’t be good at all for their charade. She raced outside to the limo and, after Norman opened the door for her, slid in.

Two steps behind her, Ricky got in beside her. “You’re in a hurry tonight.”

“I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be. Tim and Jennifer are very casual.” He stifled a yawn.

* * *

Relief swooshed through her. Not just because he’d eased her fears about the dinner party, but because he’d almost yawned. He wasn’t nervous around her anymore. If anything, he seemed bored, which had to mean she was successfully hiding her attraction to him. As long as she played it cool, the deal would not be in jeopardy.

She straightened on the seat and smiled at him. “I’ll be fine.”

Ricky’s cell phone rang and he sighed. “I have to take this.”

She waved her hand in dismissal, grateful for any chance to look like a woman who wasn’t interested in him. “No problem.” She smiled. “Take the call.”

He clicked the button to answer his phone, and she glanced out the window at the city, which was beginning to dress up for the holiday. Tall Christmas trees had been erected in the lobbies of office buildings, their lights twinkling in the darkness. Shop windows featured elaborate Christmas displays. Salvation Army bell ringers stood beside street vendors with carts covered in tinsel. Steam rose from manhole covers.

Ricky was still on the phone when the driver pulled up to a luxury apartment building and opened the door. He talked as he got out of the limo, talked as they walked to the door and finally disconnected the call when the doorman offered them entry.

“Sorry about that.”

Fake date smile in place, Eloise happily said, “It’s fine. Really. You don’t need to apologize.” She gave him a significant look. “Remember?”

He frowned. “Right.”

Drat! Now she’d gone too far in the other direction. Instead of reassuring him, she was behaving like a hired hand. Exactly what he didn’t want.

They rode up in the elevator in silence. The doors opened onto a plush penthouse. A huge Christmas tree stood in front of a wall of windows. Bright lights and tinsel had been strung around the tree, and that theme continued on coffee tables and archways. Two red stockings decorated the marble fireplace mantel. Awash in lights and color, the main room had a warm, cozy, old-fashioned Christmas feel.

Tim and Jennifer welcomed them with hugs, got them drinks and slid them into the group of couples in front of the elegantly simple marble fireplace.

Conversation flowed easily until the butler announced dinner was served. The hostess pointed out seats at the long mahogany table set with fine china and crystal. Once everyone was comfortable and salads had been served, the lively discussion resumed.

Something light and airy floated through Eloise. Amid the colorful Christmas lights, tinsel and easygoing people, she totally relaxed. This was her second meal, good wine and simple conversation in two days, but, best of all, the odd tension between herself and her fake date had evaporated. With no dancing or touching of any kind required, she didn’t have to worry about her attraction or his lack of attraction. All she had to do was talk. And that came easily.

After dinner, the men retreated to the den for a cigar.

Proud of herself for controlling her attraction to Ricky, Eloise breathed a sigh of relief. But when she turned to the women seated with her in front of the fireplace, she found herself facing four round-eyed wives.

“I thought he’d never date again.”

Glad for the chance to really play her role and fulfill her commitment, she smiled as she picked up her wineglass. “Oh, he wasn’t such a tough nut to crack.”

Jennifer’s face fell. “Sweetie, it was four months after the tragedy before he even spoke to anyone.”

Eloise kept her facial features neutral, but internally she winced. Wasn’t tragedy a bit of an odd way to refer to a breakup?

Muriel, who owned a string of restaurants and was married to Fred, who Eloise had learned was the prankster of their fraternity, said, “Fred was positive he was going to lose everything. All his businesses and all his prospects for more business. But then...” She turned to Jennifer. “What was it? Six months in, he finally picked himself up and got back to work.”

And wasn’t missing six months of work a bit extreme for a breakup?

Surely she’d misinterpreted.

“He missed work for six months?”

“Oh, sweetie, I don’t think he ate for six months.”

Her heart stuttered. This had been no ordinary breakup. Everything inside her wanted to ask what had happened. But she caught herself before she opened her mouth. She was supposed to be dating Ricky. These women assumed she knew—assumed he’d told her—about whatever had happened. If she didn’t behave accordingly, she’d ruin everything.

She quietly said, “It was a difficult time for him.”

Jennifer patted her hand. “Which is why we are so glad he found someone.”

She smiled. “I’m glad he found me, too.” She replied easily enough, but her brain began to scramble for answers. What kind of breakup hit a man so hard he didn’t work for six months?

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.

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