Ricky trudged up Eloise’s four flights of steps on
Friday night, so sad he’d nearly cancelled 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. He’d seen the difficulties she’d had fitting Blake into
her life. She probably would have been happy to give him custody of Blake, as
long as she got visitation, but he’d never asked.
Anger with himself had made his pulse race, and he couldn’t stay in the children’s ward activity room that night. He’d bowed out
before the kids even knew he’d come there to read, so there was no harm done to
them. But as he’d struggled to get through his week without thinking of Blake,
without berating himself for not asking for custody, for not taking his son
away from a woman who clearly wanted an out, he’d simply forgotten about Eloise
Vaughn.
He almost laughed. Another man would think it
impossible that he could forget a woman so beautiful she could be a princess.
But that was his life.
When she opened her door to him, and he looked
down at her dress, he blinked. The pale blue fabric complemented her pink skin tone
and yellow hair, but it also glittered as if someone had woven tinsel into the
material. She looked like a princess trapped in a snow globe.
His heart lifted a bit. “Wow.”
She smiled. “You know, even if nothing else comes
of fake dating you, I’m getting a real sense of satisfaction out of your
compliments on my sewing.”
He took her cape. When she turned for him to help
her into it, he noticed this dress had a full back and sighed with relief. The
gloom that hung over him like a dome loosened a bit. “You deserve to be
complimented. I’d never guess you were taking old clothes and making them new.”
They headed down the hall to the stairs. “It’s not
like I’m redoing things from the last century. Five years ago, my clothes were
in style.”
“Then you went to university and your money had to
go for tuition.”
She stopped at the top step and faced him. “Something
like that.”
“Hey, unless you’re born into money, you’re going
to suffer through university.”
A strange expression crossed her face. He wouldn’t
be this far in his business dealings if he couldn’t read the look of someone
who had something to say. The pinch of pain in her eyes told him it wasn’t
something good.
But instead of a confession, she said, “Or starve.”
He smiled, but curiosity ruffled through him. She’d
told him about her job problem, but it had never crossed his mind to think she
might have had personal troubles in her past. Something that had broken her
heart.
Still, he pushed it from his mind. He had problems
of his own. And wondering about her wasn’t part of their deal. Getting to know
her wasn’t even part of their deal. In fact, with as pretty as she was and as
tempting, he might be wise not to ask questions.
In the limo, they talked generically about her job
and his busy schedule as they drove to a hotel in the theater district. Lit for
Christmas, Times Square took his breath away. So many lights. So much
creativity in the Santa and sleigh that rode the tickertape around the jumbo
video screens, and the Santa’s workshop filled with elves in the toy store
windows.
He shoved back the memory of bringing Blake here
for a private tour of the toy store and focused on getting himself and Eloise
out of the limo.
Again, the night was cold and, as they stepped
out, Eloise shivered. His arm rose in a natural reaction to pull her close, but
just before he would have touched her, he stopped himself.
Too many things happened naturally with this
woman, and although that probably added to the success of their charade, it
wasn’t good for either of them personally. When they weren’t actually at a
party, he would keep his distance.
A small stairway took them to the hotel lobby,
where they were directed to an elevator to the ballroom. Lively music blared at
them as the doors opened.
Eloise turned to him. “Are we late?”
“No. We’re right on time. Preston’s a music
promoter. Expect the unexpected. Including the fact that he might have started
the party early just because he wanted to.”
“Cool.”
A laugh escaped, and he relaxed a little.
Technically, he had to have fun and talk to her for the charade to work. “Cool?
Maybe yes. Maybe no. But I’m betting on no.”
She happily exited the elevator and nearly walked
into Preston Jenkins’s arms. High as a kite, their host took their coats and
handed them off to a huge, beefy man who looked like a bodyguard.
He hugged Eloise effusively. “You are as gorgeous
as the gossip mills are reporting.”
Her eyes grew round and shiny with what looked to
be fear, and Ricky remembered how she hadn’t liked getting her picture taken
the week before. Now she appeared deathly afraid of gossip.
“Which is why,” Preston slurred, “I’m thrilled
that we are about ten feet away from mistletoe.”
Her eyes grew even larger, and this time Ricky understood.
No woman wanted to be slobbered over by a stranger, regardless of how much
mistletoe hung over doorways. Protectiveness rose up in him. She was his
date. She wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t brought her. He needed to get her out
of this.
His brain scrambled for a way to save her, and
eventually he simply opened his mouth and said, “Do you really think I’d let a
schmoozer like you kiss my date?”
Preston slapped his arm. “Oh, such a kidder. I
wasn’t going to kiss her. I’m getting pictures of everybody kissing their dates
under the mistletoe.” He pointed to the huge bodyguard type, who displayed a
camera.
His heart did something that felt like a samba. “You
want me to kiss Eloise?”
Nudging Eloise and Ricky under the mistletoe,
Preston grinned drunkenly. “Yeah. You kiss Eloise.”
Happiness tumbled through him before he could stop
it, before he could think of Blake, before he could think of the myriad reasons
this was wrong. It was as if time froze and there was only him and Eloise and
mistletoe. No crowd. No past. No future. Just a kiss.
Eloise blinked up at him. Her pretty blue eyes
round and curious. The curls of her soft blond hair framing her face. Her pink
lips parted.
His pulse scrambled. He hadn’t kissed a woman in
almost two years. And just touching the skin of Eloise’s back had set his
hormones dancing. What would happen when their lips met?
Fireworks probably.
His pulse kicked up again. He hadn’t felt
fireworks in forever.
Longing, swift and sharp, rose up in him.
He silenced it. They were only fake dating.
Kissing took them to dangerous ground.
Except he hadn’t kissed a woman in almost two
years. Hadn’t felt alive in almost two years—
He glanced back at Preston, who waved
dramatically. “Go on! Camera’s waiting!”
He caught Eloise’s gaze again. Need prickled his
skin. Desire swelled. And he had to admit he wanted this. He wanted to feel
alive again, if only for a few seconds. It was foolish. But it was also only a
kiss. One kiss when he’d been so long deprived hardly seemed earth-shattering,
and he could go back to being miserable after that. Plus, if he didn’t kiss her,
he would ruin their charade.
He bent his head and barely touched his mouth to
hers. Soft, smooth lips met his. She tasted like peppermint and felt like
heaven, and his head spun. Had he said this wouldn’t be earth-shattering? He’d
been wrong.
His mouth pressed against hers, and simple need
bubbled like a witch’s brew in his gut. He knew he was flirting with disaster. But
he couldn’t stop himself. He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted to
simply lose himself in her. The softness, the sweetness he’d never found in
another woman.
One kiss. Then he would walk away.
*
