One Winter's Night: The Twelve Dates of Christmas / Frozen Heart, Melting Kiss / A Cadence Creek Christmas

She slid her hand down her cape, which looked foolish compared to the furs being worn by the other women exiting limos, and turned to Ricky. “I’m guessing the guy knows a few wealthy people.”

He smiled, motioning for her to walk under the portico and to the steps leading to the hotel. “Expect a camera or two on the way in. A photographer for the society pages will take a shot of everyone in the hope of getting something for tomorrow’s paper.”

She faltered. “Oh.” Her mother might live in Kentucky, but she got all the New York papers so she could “keep up” with her own kind. She lived and breathed the society pages.

Fear shimmied along her nerve endings. She couldn’t seem to make her feet move. She hadn’t seen her parents in five years. Not since they’d disowned her. But if they saw her at a society event with a wealthy man, God only knew what they’d do. Happy she’d finally come to her senses, would they call her? Pretend nothing had happened? And if they did, what would she do? Was she lonely enough, desperate enough, to pretend it was okay that they hadn’t cared that her husband had died and that she was struggling to get her bearings?

She squeezed her eyes shut. Why hadn’t she thought of this?

Ricky’s voice came to her slowly, softly. “You don’t mind getting your picture taken, do you?”

She popped her eyes open. “It depends on where it will end up.”

He took her elbow and guided her up the steps to the entryway. “Probably nowhere. We’d have to be important enough for a society columnist to want to comment on us.”

“And you’re not important?”

Another uniformed hotel employee opened the door and they walked inside. “Last year I was everybody’s charity case. This year, I’m nothing. You’re safe.”

Relief poured through her, but it was short-lived. Not only was she in a dress from five years ago, updated by collar-and-belt removal, but also no one could predict who a society columnist might deem important to write about. If Ricky Langley hadn’t dated anybody in a year, his suddenly appearing with a woman might spark curiosity.

As they walked through the ornate lobby, she saw a camera raised toward her, and as smoothly as possible, she ducked behind Ricky.

He turned. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I just thought because you have the invitation, you should go first.”

He frowned. “The lobby is wide enough that we can walk side by side.”

Seeing the photographer’s attention had been caught by another guest, she laughed. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

They entered the elevator and rode up to the ballroom in silence. Ricky noticed that she’d kept hugging her cape, almost as if she was trying to hide it, and winced a bit internally. She clearly believed she didn’t belong here and was embarrassed.

But wariness overcame his worry. This was their first date. He wanted her to have a good time and meet perspective employers, but he was more concerned with how his friends reacted to her. If they didn’t believe their dating was real, then all bets were off, and she wouldn’t have to worry about how she looked.

The doors opened, and they walked out of the elevator together.

He caught her gaze. “Let me take your cape for coat check.”

She slid it off and handed it to him. He shrugged out of his top coat and gave the two to the young woman manning the station.

They turned to go into the dimly lit foyer that would take them to the ballroom, and a photographer snapped their picture. Eloise’s face drained of color. He would’ve sworn she swayed.

At Tucker and Olivia’s party, she’d given him the impression she was as close to a princess as a woman could be without actually being royalty. Yet she was suddenly shaking in her shoes.

“Are you okay?”

She faced him with an overbright smile. “Yeah. Sure. I’m fine.”

He knew she wasn’t. Her eyes shone with fear. Her face was pasty white.

“You’re not afraid to meet these people, are you?”

She sucked in a breath. “I need to meet these people.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“I hate to have my picture taken.”

Which explained all the questions she’d had about the photographers...but raised new ones about why she wouldn’t want her picture taken.

Before he could say anything, regal Eloise reappeared. She straightened to her full height. Her expression shifted. The green dress that she’d altered slid along her curves like decadence incarnate. She turned and headed for the entrance to the ballroom, and Ricky’s eyes bulged.

The neckline might be normal in the front, but the back dipped to the bottom of her spine. Smooth yellow hair flirted with her naked skin, swishing back and forth.

His mouth watered.

How the hell had he missed that her dress had virtually no back?

Realizing he wasn’t following her, she stopped and faced him. “Do you like getting your picture taken by people you don’t know?”

He raced to catch up with her. “I’ve been getting my picture taken by strangers for so long I guess it doesn’t faze me anymore. Especially because they rarely turn up anywhere.”

She shook her mane of yellow hair down her back and strode ahead again. “Fine.”

Watching her walk away, he stood frozen. The smooth material of her dress caressed her perfect butt so well the fact that she didn’t like getting her picture taken faded into insignificance. At Tucker and Olivia’s he’d noticed she was gorgeous, but in that dress she was a showstopper.

Which was perfect. One look at her and everybody would totally understand why he had come out of his self-imposed social hiatus and was going out with her.

Imagining his friends’ reactions to her, he bit back a cheesy grin and caught up to her right before the desk where he’d present his invitation. There could be a million reasons why she didn’t like getting her picture taken, and most of them were innocent. He wasn’t going to ruin what could be the perfect return to the party scene with unfounded suspicions.

“If it’s any consolation, cameras are off-limits in the party.”

“Yes. It is a consolation.”

He presented his invitation at the discreet desk by the entry, and they were routed to the greeting line for the host and hostess.

Paul Montgomery’s eyes lit when he saw Eloise. “My darling, however did you get this guy to finally break down and bring a date somewhere?”

She laughed and slid her arm through Ricky’s. “We met at the party of a mutual friend.”

“Tucker and Olivia Engle,” Ricky said, shaking the old man’s hand. “She’s a friend of Olivia’s. I’m a friend of Tucker’s.”

“Oh, we love Olivia,” Mrs. Paul Montgomery said, leaning in to air kiss Eloise’s cheek. “She simply glows with her pregnancy.”

Eloise smiled. “She certainly does. She will make an amazing mother.”

Their twenty seconds of greeting time expended, Ricky and Eloise were guided to the next section, where they were given their table number and a hand-carved Christmas ornament as a gift from the Montgomerys.