The Twelve Dates of Christmas

“Oh, no. It’s not a problem.” Most guys would kill for the opportunity to touch you like this. But, of course, he didn’t add that out loud. He looked down into her smiling face. “You seem like you’re having fun.”

“Honestly, the steak alone with worth the evening for me.”

He twirled them around. “Not much steak in the diet of someone scrambling to make a living.”

“Or champagne. Or even salad most days.” She caught his gaze and smiled. “Thanks.”

His heart flip-flopped. It had been a long time since he’d made someone happy. It humbled him that this woman was so broke she thanked him for food.

He winced. “You’re welcome. But we still have to introduce you to a few people tonight, so you get your side of the arrangement too.”

“Maybe tonight should just be my getting-my-feet-wet night.” She glanced around. “Is this your usual crowd?”

“Usual crowd?”

“You know. Are these the people who typically get invited to the events you attend?”

Puzzled, he let his gaze ripple from face to face of the people on the dance floor. She was right. He did have a “usual” crowd. He’d see most of these people again and again until January second, when the party circuit would end.

“Yes. But other parties will have additional guests, depending on the event. You won’t see any of these people at my office party. You’ll see one or two at the fraternity reunion. You’ll see them all at Elias and Bridget’s wedding. And you probably saw most of them at Tucker and Olivia’s.”

He twirled them around again, and she laughed.

His gut tightened. Every instinct he had came to life. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made someone laugh. Or the last time he’d had fun. But he was having fun now.

* * *

When the music ended, he removed his hand from the softness that was the small of her back and immediately directed her to the couple beside them, Mimi and Oliver French.

She politely shook their hands. “I think I read about you in the Journal last week.”

Oliver feigned humility. “I don’t know why they wrote that piece.”

Eloise laughed. “Because your firm made billions of dollars for your clients last year.”

Mimi playfully swatted her husband’s arm. “He’s such a goose. Never likes to take credit. But we did have a banner year.” She smiled at Eloise. “So tell me, dear, where did you get that dress?”

“A little boutique a few streets over from here,” Eloise said with a smile. She didn’t mention that it had been five years ago on a shopping trip with her mom. Or that the dress had been a conservative gown with a full back, high collar and slim belt to accent her waist. Andi might have loved hearing that, but Mimi behaved a little too much like Eloise’s mom. She wouldn’t see talent. She’d sniff out desperation.

“I must take a look at their stock.”

“You really should.”

“Eloise has only been in the city a short time,” Ricky said, obviously having decided three years was a short time.

Oliver said, “Really.”

“Yes.” She smiled pleasantly. “I got my degree, and now I’m job hunting.”

The band began to play. The couple smiled and turned away to dance again.

Ricky put his hand on the small of her back and they moved in time to the music.

“That went well.”

“It did, but it feels odd.” With the gooseflesh raised on her skin from his hand warming the small of her back, her voice came out a little huskier than she intended.

His eyebrows rose. “Feels odd?”

She carefully met his gaze. “Like I’m asking for a job.”

He swung them around. “Okay. There’s problem number one for you. You should be proud of the fact that you’re looking for a job.”

“I feel desperate.”

“And that’s problem number two. Do you think these people got to the top by not being able to smell desperation?”

“I know they can.”

“You’ve gotta get rid of that.”

“Okay.”

The dance ended, and their conversation was cut short by someone else who came up to talk to Ricky. Unlike the Mr. and Mrs. French, this guy was not interested in Ricky’s date. Not at all. Proposing a new business venture, he’d barely reacted when Ricky introduced her.

Eloise looked around. The winking diamonds shimmering through the crowd on throats, wrists and fingers told the story of just how rich, just how important, these people were. Yet Ricky looked totally comfortable. Listening as he explained that he couldn’t invest because of the upcoming release of his new line of children’s video games after which he would take that company public, she realized he was so casual because he was so smart. He belonged here. He was as sharp as any billionaire, any magnate, any tycoon.

Ridiculous pride surged in her. The whole group wanted to know his thoughts on something, but he was with her.

She shook her head to clear it of the unexpected thought. He wasn’t with her because he liked her. He was with her because they’d made a deal, and he’d only made a deal because he needed protection. She was nothing more than a symbol to his friends that he had moved beyond the breakup that must have really hurt him.

She had best remember that.

After the set of waltzes, the band began to play a slow, mellow tune. Expecting Ricky to bow out and direct her back to the table, she was surprised when he pulled her close.

She met the solid wall of his chest as his hand slid up her back, raising gooseflesh that she prayed he couldn’t feel. Snuggled against him like a lover, she had to fight the urge to close her eyes and melt into him.

He’s not a real date.

He’s not a real date.

He’s not a real date.

She rolled the litany through her brain until it sunk in. She’d had her Prince Charming and he was gone. If she didn’t find a way to stop her reactions to Ricky, she might just lose the chance to continue going out with him.

Then there’d be no job. No future. Just endless days of temp jobs, struggling for rent money and eating packaged noodles.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_a3561f87-2b66-5d15-a71e-6fd5e575157a)