Christmas with Him: The Tycoon's Christmas Proposal / A Bravo Christmas Reunion / Marry-Me Christmas

“Good. And for the record, I intended my observation to be a compliment. A lot of people wouldn’t bother to make eye contact with a waiter much less call him by his given name.”

“Oh, Danny and I go way back.”

“You know him?” Dawson asked, surprised.

She grinned. “We met when I ordered the appetizer.” Then she blew out an impatient breath. “Besides, his name was on a badge that was pinned to his shirt. How should I refer to him? ‘Hey, you?’”

“Sadly, I know some people who might not refer to him with even that much courtesy.”

She shook her head and frowned. “You need to start hanging around with a better class of friends.”

“I didn’t say they were my friends. I just said I knew such people. They think they’re better than everyone else simply because they were born into money.”

“Ah, yes.” She twirled her wineglass by its stem before taking a sip. Then she surprised him by saying, “I was in a relationship with one of those people for a couple of years, though it took me a while to figure it out.”

A couple of years? “It sounds like the two of you were pretty serious.”

“I thought so at the time.” She selected a piece of toast and scooped up some dip. Before popping it into her mouth, she said, “It turned out that while I was good enough to spend time with, neither he nor his parents felt I had the right pedigree to carry on the bloodlines or some such nonsense.”

“Sorry.” The evening of the ball, Dawson had sensed vulnerability. Despite her cavalier attitude now, it made an appearance again, and he thought he understood the reason for it.

“Drew did offer to keep seeing me provided that we met discreetly. He said that he had a lot of fun whenever we were together and he hated for that to end.”

I bet. “Good for you that you turned him down.”

“Well, he made it pretty easy. He’d already announced his engagement to a debutante that it turned out he’d been dating on and off since grad school. Hence the need for discretion.” She made a tsking sound and in a rueful voice asked, “Why is it that the other woman is always the last to know?”

“Sorry.” He half meant it when he said, “Does this Drew character live around here? Maybe I could go to his house and beat him up for you.”

“A tempting offer, but he’s back in Connecticut making the rounds with his bride.”

“Connecticut?” Dawson frowned. “I thought you said you were from Maine?”

“I said I was born in Maine,” she replied. “But I actually grew up in that state and a few others along the eastern seaboard. I ended up in Hartford after college.”

“It sounds like you moved around a lot.”

“I did.” She selected another piece of toast, and he got the feeling that no more information on her childhood would be forthcoming.

“So, I’d have to travel to Connecticut if I wanted to beat up your ex?”

“Nah. He’s not worth the price of airfare. Besides, I’m over it.”

Over it? Dawson thought as he helped himself to that appetizer. Perhaps Eve was over the man—and he chose not to examine too closely why he hoped that was the case—but she was not over the slight. No, that wound definitely had not healed yet.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it doesn’t sound like his marriage will last very long let alone be very happy,” Dawson told her.

“No. Probably not.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin, pulling it away to reveal a devilish smile. “I know it’s incredibly small of me, but I hope she takes him to the cleaners when they divorce.”

“It would serve him right,” Dawson agreed. “In my opinion, a man who can’t be faithful to a woman deserves to lose something even more, um, personal than money.”

Head tilted to one side, Eve grinned at him. “I knew there was a reason I liked you … well, besides your penchant for bubble bath.”

“Charity,” he replied on a long-suffering sigh, but then he was grinning back.

He liked her, too. She not only made it easy to carry on a conversation, she made it easy to joke. He’d almost forgotten that he possessed a sense of humor. It resurfaced now as he asked, “Do you mean my wit and charm weren’t reasons enough?”

“Witty and charming were not exactly the two adjectives I would have used to describe you at our first meeting.” Her eyebrows bobbed. “Even if I did appreciate the view.”

Dawson grimaced. “Is it too late to apologize for that?”

“As far as I’m concerned it’s never too late to apologize for anything,” she replied.

“Very magnanimous of you. In that case, I’m sorry.” He decided to come clean. “The truth is I wasn’t in the best mood that day. I was hoping to get rid of you.”

“I see.” She picked up her wine and sipped. “And, what, you thought I’d run screaming in the opposite direction at the sight of a naked man?”

Unfortunately, the waiter picked that exact moment to arrive with their dinner salads. The young man cleared his throat and glanced from Dawson to Eve as he set them on the table.

“Would you care for freshly ground pepper on your salad, miss?” He held out the wooden mill.

“Please,” Eve replied, looking not the least bit embarrassed. Dawson, on the other hand, was pretty sure he’d turned the same color as the raspberry vinaigrette dressing that was drizzled over his plate of mixed baby greens.

“And you, sir?”

Dawson cleared his throat. “No. Thanks.”

“Can I get either of you anything else?” the young man inquired.

“No, Danny.” She glanced across the table at Dawson and winked. “I think we’re … covered.”

When they were alone again, Dawson said, “Just as a point of clarification, I was not naked when we met.”

“Oh, that’s right.” But Eve caused him to blush all over again when she added, “You were wearing a sheet. I guess I let my imagination fill in the parts it concealed.”

On a strangled laugh, Dawson replied, “I hope your imagination did me justice.”

“I don’t think you need to be concerned on that score.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

His response and what it implied had both of them sobering. By the time Danny returned with their entrees they had returned to far safer topics of conversation than Dawson’s anatomy.

As they left the restaurant an hour later, Eve got an idea.

“You know, my Tahoe is in the parking ramp. Why don’t you give your driver the rest of the night off? I can take us to the theater.” She sent him an angelic smile. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman and drop you at your home well before you turn into a pumpkin.”

Dawson glanced toward the curb where the limousine was waiting. His omnipresent driver had already hopped out to open the rear door for them.