by Susan Meier
He hesitated but eventually said, “Yes.”
They walked down the steps and out into the frigid night. “We need snow.”
He sniffed again, an acknowledgment of her comment but not quite a reply. Still, she wasn’t daunted. The man had kissed her because he’d wanted to. She’d even tried to dissuade him by not kissing him back, but he hadn’t stopped. He’d deepened the kiss. He might be afraid to trust, but he was falling. She could feel it. And if she wanted him, then she had to give him time.
* * *
As they walked under the portico of the entryway of Santana Lawson’s Montauk beach house, an itch formed under Ricky’s collar. In her gorgeous pink dress, Eloise looked amazing. Even more amazing than she looked in the fancy, sparkly dresses she typically wore. The feeling of rightness with her had risen at least three times in the limo. He fought them all, not for himself, but to protect her. Still, this would be a long night.
He guided her into the entryway where Santana stood greeting guests. Wearing a black tux, a black shirt and a black tie, with his shoulder-length hair pulled into a tight ponytail at his nape, Santana played the part of unconventional investor to the hilt.
“So, somebody finally got this guy out into the circuit again.”
Eloise laughed lightly. “It wasn’t so difficult.”
Santana kissed her hand. “Not for somebody as beautiful as you, I’m sure.”
Jealousy licked in Ricky’s stomach like the strike of a match, but he shook it off. He couldn’t like her. Didn’t have anything to offer her but years of misery. Jealousy had no place in this deal.
Grasping Santana’s hand, he said, “Thank you for inviting us.”
Santana’s eyes sparked with curiosity. Ricky could see he wanted to ask a million questions, but he only said, “It’s my pleasure.” He pointed down the hall. “Ballroom’s the first door on the left.”
Eloise’s shoes clicked softly on the Italian marble floors. She sucked in a breath to compose herself, the way she always did before they entered a party. At the beginning of their arrangement, she hadn’t known most of his friends. She’d had to alter dresses to fit in. Yet, she’d never groused. Never complained. She just did what she had to do.
Admiration for her rattled through him, and he suddenly realized how intensely he would miss her. When he found her a job and they stopped seeing each other, he would sit in his quiet office and think of these nights...and miss her.
She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Ready?”
Their gazes met. He reminded himself that what he felt didn’t matter. He had to think about her. Her future. Her happiness.
“Yes. I’m ready.”
But the reminders didn’t make him feel any better. The sadness that flashed through him wasn’t the red-hot searing pain of missing Blake. It was softer. More like remorse than regret.
He walked them to their assigned table and was surprised to find world-renowned clothes designer Bob Barbie was headed there too. He only recognized Bob because the designer had hit a rough patch the year before and Ricky had lent him money.
“I’m not sure how I got to sit with you business geeks,” Bob said, laughing as he held out a chair for his date.
“We’re glad to have you, Bob,” Ricky said, turning to Eloise. “This is Eloise Vaughn.” He smiled. “Eloise, this is Bob Barbie.”
Her eyes widened. “The Bob Barbie?”
Bob smiled as if bored. “Yes.”
“Oh my gosh! It’s such a pleasure to meet you. I loved your fall collection.”
“Everyone did.” His eyes narrowed as he studied Eloise. He said, “Humph,” then he turned to his date, effectively closing the conversation.
Eloise leaned into Ricky and whispered, “I don’t think he liked my dress.”
He frowned. His gaze automatically fell to the strapless pink gown. Cleavage peeked at him and he licked his dry lips. Nothing about her was imperfect. Everything was touchable. Tempting. His fingers itched to touch her as his brain tingled with the longing to think about what it could be like for them.
He swallowed, fighting needs that struggled to overcome common sense.
Eloise tapped her fingers on the table. “Pink’s not a Christmas color. Maybe he doesn’t like people wearing un-holiday colors during the holidays.”
He cleared his throat. “Don’t be silly.”
She laughed. “I guess that is pretty silly.”
“All right. I give up.” Bob’s angry comment rolled across the table. “Who are you wearing?”
“Excuse me?”
“Whose gown? I’ve run through everybody I know and I can’t figure it out. So just tell me.”
Eloise laughed. “You can’t guess because I made this gown.”
Bob’s eyes narrowed. “Yourself?”
She winced. “Yes.”
“But you bought someone’s pattern...”
She shook her head. “No. I made it myself.”
He propped his hand on his waist. “You’re lying.”
Anger stiffened Ricky’s spine. “I hope you didn’t just call my date a liar, Bob.”
He waved a hand. “I’m just saying the dress is too good to have been made willy-nilly.”
“It wasn’t made willy-nilly.” Eloise said with a smile. “I made it from an old dress.”
“Well, now you’re just poking fun at me and my whole profession.”
Eloise might be laughing at snarky Bob, but Ricky’s defenses roared again.
As if sensing that, she put her hand on his arm and calmed him as she faced Bob. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“And you should. Good grief, woman, you’ve got some talent there.” He sucked in a breath. “I hope I’m not having dinner with my competition for next year.”
Eloise laughed again, but Ricky looked from Bob to Eloise. He glanced at her gown, then back at Bob. His mouth fell open slightly. She might not be good enough to be Bob’s competition, but something flashed through his brain. An insight. An intuition.
Maybe he should be introducing her to designers instead of CEOs. She might not have any human resources experience, but he’d seen her remake at least eight dresses. And she could sew. She was perfect intern material for a designer. In fact, he already knew the changes he’d make to her résumé. He could see himself selling her, getting her a job—a job she could not only do, but also probably like better than being stuck in a stuffy office.
His heart lightened but only for a second, then it dipped with sorrow. The sooner he found her a job, the sooner he’d stop seeing her.
But she needed a job. And she needed to be away from him. He might be incredibly sad to lose their last few dates, but walking out of her life was the right thing to do.
* * *
He spent the first hour of dancing looking for designers he could waltz her in front of and failing miserably. He knew CEOs. He didn’t know designers, except the one he’d lent money to.
Plus, he’d assumed she wanted to work with a designer. What if she didn’t? He’d easily come to the conclusion this was what she should want, but until she realized it, he couldn’t really change her résumé or send her on interviews.
Preoccupation with his mission kept him too busy to remember their attraction, too busy to regret that he couldn’t have anything to do with her. But as they walked up the steps to her apartment at the end of the night, his chest tightened.
The closer they got to the spot where he’d kissed her, the more he remembered. The softness of her lips and the feeling that loving her was right closed in on him, stealing his breath.
He stopped after only two flights. “You know what?”
She faced him with a smile.
He worked up enough energy to return her smile but just ba
rely. “I’m going to skip the second two flights of stairs tonight.”
“Oh.” He watched myriad emotions flutter through her soft blue eyes, but she said only, “Okay.”
Still, when he turned to walk away, he knew he hadn’t fooled her. She realized he was dodging a kiss. A kiss she wanted. A kiss he wanted.
The urge to pivot again and yank her into his arms spiked. He could kiss her senseless in thirty seconds. He could take command, take control, love her the way she deserved to be loved—and ultimately hurt her.
He kept walking.
* * *
Eloise stepped into her dark apartment, once again regretting that she didn’t have anyone to talk to. He’d pulled back so far it was as if their kiss hadn’t happened, and she wondered about the wisdom of not calling him on it, demanding he explain how he could be so affectionate one night and so distant the next.
She ambled to her room, her dress swishing, her spirits struggling to remember that she’d said she would give him time and that she had a job to do too.
She had to prove herself trustworthy. But how could a person prove herself trustworthy in a sea of people having fun? She couldn’t. And when their dates were done, she would lose him.
* * *
The following Saturday night when Ricky picked her up for yet another formal party, his heart stumbled in his chest. He didn’t know the proper name for the style of her dress and could only describe it as something he’d seen worn by ancient Greek goddesses in history books. Her hair piled on top of her head, with curls tickling her nape, also reminded him of a goddess.
If he’d thought he’d had trouble keeping his distance before, the way she looked tonight blew every other night out of the water.
He’d think himself in deep trouble, except her being beautiful in an exquisite dress actually worked for his plan. Instead of trying to search out designers, he’d stacked the deck. And he’d gotten the idea from Bob being seated with them accidentally the week before. This week, he’d called their hosts, the Connors, and asked for a favor.
He helped her up the few steps to the hotel. They smiled at the doorman and eased their way into the elevator. They’d taken only three steps into the ballroom when Jason Grogin caught his arm. “Hey! Ricky! Good to see you.”
He shook Jason’s hand, not quite as happy to see Jason as Jason seemed to be to see him. Jason was one of the people Ricky had originally sent Eloise’s résumé to. And neither one of them had heard a word from him—in spite of the fact that he owed Ricky a huge favor.
Instead of, “Good to see you, too,” Ricky merely said, “Jason.”
Jason faced Eloise. “And this must be Eloise Vaughn.”
“Yes.” She shot Ricky a questioning look as Jason shook her hand.
“Your résumé landed in my in-box a few weeks ago, but I have to apologize for being out of town.”
Her face lit. “You’ve been out of town?”
“Yes. So I didn’t see Ricky’s email until yesterday.” He smiled. “I’d hoped we’d run into each other tonight.” He caught Ricky’s gaze. “We do have a job for you.”
Eloise all but jumped for joy. “You do!”
He handed her a business card. “I spoke with my human resources person today, and she penciled you in for an interview after the holidays. It’s just a formality, mostly about having the correct paperwork for our files. As far as I’m concerned, you’re our newest employee. Assistant to the director. Who, I might add, is in her sixties and will probably be looking to retire in four or five years.”
Eloise’s mouth fell open. “Oh, my God! Thank you.”
Jason smiled. “You’re welcome.” He slapped Ricky’s back. “Enjoy the party.”
Ricky said, “Thanks,” but the muscle in his jaw twitched. “It’s just like him to waltz up to us weeks later and offer you a job.”
Eloise blinked. “I don’t care if he was late.” She caught his arm. “You did it! You got me a job!”
He should have been happy. His debt was paid. Instead, annoyance rattled through him. He’d finally seen what was right before his eyes all along—that Eloise had chosen the wrong career—but before he could get her in front of a designer who would realize her talents, Jason’s offer would spoil it.
He found their table and pulled out her chair just as Artie Best pulled out the chair across the table for his date, a pouting redhead, undoubtedly a model.
Ricky smiled. The Connors had come through. This battle wasn’t over yet.
As he sat, he motioned to Artie. “Eloise, I’d like you to meet Artie Best.”
Her eyes grew, as he’d hoped they would. “Artie Best of Artie Best Dresses?”
Artie laughed. “The same. Still trying to get as popular as Jimmy Choo of Jimmy Choo shoes. But my name doesn’t have quite the ring.”
“Oh, your name rings fine with me.” She sighed dreamily. “Your fall collection knocked me out.”
His eyes narrowed unhappily. “Then why are you wearing someone else’s gown?”
Eloise glanced down at her royal blue dress.
Glad he’d reacted the same way jealous Bob Barbie had, Ricky jumped in. “She’s not wearing someone else. She’s a designer herself. She’s wearing her own dress.”
“No kidding?” More businessman than Bob, Artie stood and motioned for her to do the same. “Let me take a look.”
With a quick glance at Ricky, she rose cautiously.
Ricky slid his chair back so Artie could get a full view. But he hadn’t needed to. Artie wasn’t shy about pulling her away from the table and turning her around so he could examine all sides of her gown.
“I have to admit I’ve noticed you before.”
She blinked at him. “You have?”
“Yes. You wore two dresses that were almost identical.” He smiled. “The ones with no back.”
She laughed. “The style is kind of a crowd favorite.”
Artie said, “With your behind I have no doubt.”
Ricky rose. “You know, Eloise is looking for a job.”
“Really?”
“She has a degree in human resources, and though that probably doesn’t translate into design, I think it’s pretty clear she has talent.”
Eloise faced him, her eyes round and questioning. “And no experience in fashion or design!”
Artie batted a hand. “Oh, please. Did you sew this?”
“Yes.”
“Then you have experience.” He turned her around for one more look at the blue gown. “I’m going to the Bahamas for the holidays, but I’d love to talk to you about coming to work for me when I get back.”
“That’ll be too late,” Ricky said, helping Eloise to sit again as Artie walked back to his chair. “She has an interview with a company for an HR job and her rent is due.”
Eloise’s mouth fell open and her eyes flashed fire, but Artie laughed. “Working girls, right, sweetie?” He squeezed the shoulders of his beautiful red-haired date who looked totally bored with the conversation. “I remember the days when rent was a problem.” He sighed, pulled out a card and wrote on the back. He handed it to Eloise. “That’s my office. I’m leaving for the Bahamas tomorrow afternoon, but if you get there by eight tomorrow morning, I can run you through some paces.”
Eloise blinked at him. “I...I...”
“She’ll be there,” Ricky said. “I’ll have Norman drive her.”
“Great.”
* * *
Eloise didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. She’d spent two years all but starving, desperate for a job, and finally she had a job, and Ricky didn’t seem to want her to take it.
As soon as they got on the dance floor, away from the table full of designers they’d been seated with, she pounced. “What are you doing?”
&nbs
p; Looking smug and handsome, he said, “What am I doing about what?”
“I got a job and you totally disregarded that and got me an interview.”
“An interview for a job I think you’re much better qualified for.”
“Designing?”
“Or learning the ropes in a low-level position that’ll get your foot in the door of the industry where your talents really lie.”
She gaped at him. “Life isn’t about talent. It’s about skill.”
“And you have the skills.” He glanced down at her. “What are you afraid of?”
With her gaze holding his, her pulse stuttered. I’m afraid of you. I’m so in love with you my heart hurts. But you want me to prove myself and I don’t know how. And we’re just about out of time. That’s what I’m afraid of.
Instead, she looked away and said, “I went off on my own once before, remember? Followed my heart. Married a guy I loved. And it ended abysmally.”
“Yeah, it did.”
“Yet you want me to follow my heart again?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Did you ever stop to think that you don’t get a vote?”
“Of course I don’t. But I know you. And I think of you like a friend.”
Her gaze met his again. That was what he’d said the night at the hospital. Friendship. Not love—
Oh, Lord. Had she made too much out of that kiss? She knew he’d felt something. She’d thought she only needed to prove herself, but what if he really did just think of her as a friend?
“You have more energy and enthusiasm than my staff all put together. But not for business...” He winced. “For your clothes. I don’t mean to insult you or trivialize it, but I think you’d have more fun in fashion.”
She glanced away. What had she expected? That he’d say, “I love you. That’s why I want you to be in the job where you’re more suited? That’s why I want you to be happy?” The man was wounded. He’d trusted a woman who didn’t deserve trusting. He might have kissed her with real emotion, but after that he’d shut down. She’d thought all she had to do was prove herself, but what if he’d shut down because he simply didn’t want her?
