The Twelve Dates of Christmas

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.