Christmas with Him: The Tycoon's Christmas Proposal / A Bravo Christmas Reunion / Marry-Me Christmas. Jackie Braun
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your note.”
“It seemed a shame for them to go to waste when I knew how much you wanted to see the show.”
“Still, I’m grateful, but I find myself in a bit of a quandary.” She nibbled her lip.
“And why is that?” he asked.
“Well, I know what these tickets go for. I feel a little awkward accepting something so valuable from a client.” Which was partly true.
She pictured Dawson shrugging as he suggested, “Consider it a bonus.”
“Thanks, but my commission is all the bonus I require.” Eve twisted a lock of hair around her index finger as an idea took shape. “Perhaps you would consider coming to see the play with me?”
The invitation was met with deafening and prolonged silence, making her regret her haste in issuing it.
“Okaaaay. Apparently not. It was just a thought. You’ve probably already seen the show,” she said in an attempt to save face. Not that that was actually possible at this point. “I’ll let you get back to work now. Bye.” She hung up without giving him a chance to say anything, although she thought she heard him call her name just before she did so.
“God, I’m such an idiot.” She groaned in mortification and shuffled backward a couple of steps so she could flop onto the couch.
What had she been thinking, asking him out? The man was probably seriously regretting his generosity right about now. The cordless phone was still in her hand. It trilled to life as she lay amid the throw pillows mentally berating herself. Eve answered it from her prone position.
“Hello?” Home of the Perpetually Foolish, she almost added, and was mighty glad she hadn’t when she heard Dawson’s voice.
“You hung up awfully fast. I didn’t get a chance to give you an answer.”
She straightened to sitting, ran a hand through her mussed hair. “I guess I took your silence for an answer.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I was just a little … surprised,” he told her.
“I got that,” she said. Indeed, it had come through loud and clear.
“When I sent the tickets I assumed you’d have someone else in mind for the second one,” he said.
“Such as?” she prodded.
“Such as the date you had to cancel on the night of the ball,” he replied.
“Oh, that.” Because he couldn’t see her expression, she let her grin unfurl. “It was nothing serious. I was just getting together with a friend.”
“A friend.” He cleared his throat. “And would this friend be male or female?”
“Female.”
“Ah.”
He was quiet again. Too quiet. Eve began counting. When she got to ten she said, “You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Not saying anything, which forces me to draw my own conclusions.”
“And what might those be?” His tone held what sounded like amusement.
Pinching her eyes closed, she gave in to impulse once again. “You’re trying to figure out which restaurant you want to take me to for dinner before we head to the theater Friday night.”
While Eve held her breath, she heard a mild oath and then strangled laughter. Her lungs felt close to bursting by the time Dawson finally got around to saying, “You’re a mind reader.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE telephone rang as Eve reapplied her lipstick in the mirror that hung by her apartment door. Though it wasn’t her style to appear eager, she was wearing her coat and trying not to watch the clock.
“Eve, it’s Dawson. Sorry, but I’m running a little behind,” he said unnecessarily. She’d expected him to arrive twenty minutes earlier. Their dinner reservation was for six o’clock and that time was fast approaching.
“Everything … okay?” she inquired.
“Wondering if I’ve changed my mind?”
“I’d understand,” she said. And she would, given everything she now knew about his past.
While Eve wasn’t considering this a full-fledged date, neither would her conscience allow her to classify it as mere business. She found Dawson interesting, handsome and definitely sexy. Generally speaking, she’d made it a rule not to become personally involved with male clients. But since the Burke account was hers only temporarily courtesy of Carole, she felt safe making an exception.
“I’m not going to stand you up, Eve.” His tone was resolute. “Something came up at the last minute.”
“Okay. How about I meet you at Tulane then?” she suggested. The restaurant wasn’t far from her apartment and it would save him from having to backtrack, as the place was located between them.
He hesitated and Eve was reminded of the fact that he preferred to lead. But then he said, “All right. But give me another fifteen minutes before you leave.”
“Okay.”
“And, if I’m not there when you arrive, order an appetizer,” he added.
“Should I start dinner without you, too?” she asked dryly.
“No. I’ll be there.”
Dawson walked through the doors at Tulane just as the waiter brought the artichoke dip. He’d shed his overcoat, beneath which he wore a tailored charcoal suit, white shirt and muted print tie. He looked sophisticated, sexy and a tad arrogant as he scanned the tables. When he spotted her, he didn’t smile exactly, but his intense expression relaxed even as it brightened. Eve sucked in a breath and exhaled it slowly between her teeth.
“Sorry I’m late,” he apologized again as he slipped onto the chair opposite hers.
Her heart rate back to normal, she offered an easy smile. “That’s okay.”
“I see you ordered an appetizer.”
“Yes, hope you like artichoke dip and toast squares,” she said.
“You won’t hear me complaining.”
“I also took a chance and had the waiter bring us some wine.” She nodded toward the glass that was in front of Dawson on the table.
He picked it up and took a sip. His brow beetled as his gaze connected with hers. “Pinot noir?”
“It’s what you were drinking the other night.”
“You certainly pay attention.”
Eve picked up her glass and shrugged. “I tend to remember details.”
Dawson studied her over the rim of his glass. He remembered details, too. When it came to Eve Hawley, he recalled far too many of them for his own peace of mind.
Details such as the golden flecks that could be teased from her otherwise brown eyes. The candlelight was accomplishing that. And the paleness of her skin that contrasted with a trio of beauty marks at the base of her throat.
She was wearing black tonight. The dress’s cut was simple, elegant, and though it sported three-quarter-length sleeves and a rather demure neckline, it was every bit as sexy as the siren-red number she’d had on the other evening. As for her hair, she’d left it down. It hung in a glossy dark cloud of curls around her shoulders. Dawson wondered if it would feel as soft as it looked. If it would smell …
“You’re staring at me and not saying anything,” Eve said, snapping him out of his stupor. Her full lips bowed when she added, “I’d wonder if I had a piece of artichoke stuck in my teeth, but I haven’t tried