The Twelve Dates of Christmas

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.”