Christmas with Him: The Tycoon's Christmas Proposal / A Bravo Christmas Reunion / Marry-Me Christmas. Jackie Braun
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sipped his wine to wash away the memory before it could fully form. No, he wouldn’t think of Sheila tonight. He’d done that on his other dates, he realized, spent the time making comparisons, and finding his companions lacking. Both of them had been nice women, but it struck Dawson now how much they had been like his late wife, resembling Sheila in both looks and temperament. Had he unconsciously been seeking a substitute?
Eve was no stand-in. She and Sheila were polar opposites in everything from their personality to their physical characteristics. In fact, he couldn’t recall ever being attracted to a woman who was quite so outspoken, independent and vivacious. Making comparisons wouldn’t be fair to either woman. Besides, what purpose would they serve? Beyond making Dawson feel guilty.
He took another sip of his wine and swore he felt a couple shackles from the past fall away when he said, “I’m staring because you look lovely this evening.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
“Actually, I should thank you. I’m glad you asked me to accompany you to the theater tonight.”
Her brows rose at that. “Really?”
He set his wine aside. “Yes. I haven’t been to the theater in ages.”
Her expression turned incredulous. “Do you mean to tell me that your company has access to a pair of choice seats and you don’t bother to go?”
“I’ve been—”
“Busy,” she supplied for him, but her overly bright smile told Dawson exactly what she thought of his long-standing excuse.
“I have been busy,” he insisted. When his conscience delivered a sharp kick, he admitted, “All right, the truth is I don’t get out much these days.”
“No, the truth is you don’t make time to get out much these days,” she told him.
Yes, direct.
“They’re sort of the same thing.”
He thought she might argue, but she let it go and smiled instead. “Well, I suppose I should feel flattered then that you accepted my invitation.”
“You’re a hard woman to turn down, Eve.”
He meant it. He’d spent the past few days wondering why he’d agreed to go. Even amid his many doubts and regrets, though, he hadn’t considered canceling on her.
Her smile widened. “I like that answer.”
He chuckled. “I thought you might.”
The waiter came by to tell them about the evening’s dinner specials then. Eve gave the young man her undivided attention, nodding and making appreciative noises as he described the pressed duck.
“Ooh. It sounds wonderful, Danny,” she said, flashing a smile that was warm rather than flirtatious.
The woman had a way with people, Dawson thought. It was more than the fact that she treated them with respect. Eve made them feel singled out, special.
After they’d placed their orders and the waiter had gone, Dawson said, “You know, you’re very good at that.”
“At what?”
“At making people feel like they’re important,” he replied.
Her brows rose at the same time her chin dipped down. “That’s because people are important.”
He gave a dismissive wave with one hand. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. And I’m going to be very disappointed if you suddenly turn into a snob,” she informed him. Though she said it lightly, he didn’t doubt that she would be.
“I’m not a snob.” When she remained silent, he raised a hand palm up as if making a vow. “On my honor, I swear that I’m not. My mother wouldn’t allow it.”
Eve’s expression softened then. “As I’ve met your mother, not to mention the rest of your lovely family, I have no choice but to believe you.”
“Good. And for the record, I intended my observation to be a compliment. A lot of people wouldn’t bother to make eye contact with a waiter much less call him by his given name.”
“Oh, Danny and I go way back.”
“You know him?” Dawson asked, surprised.
She grinned. “We met when I ordered the appetizer.” Then she blew out an impatient breath. “Besides, his name was on a badge that was pinned to his shirt. How should I refer to him? ‘Hey, you?’”
“Sadly, I know some people who might not refer to him with even that much courtesy.”
She shook her head and frowned. “You need to start hanging around with a better class of friends.”
“I didn’t say they were my friends. I just said I knew such people. They think they’re better than everyone else simply because they were born into money.”
“Ah, yes.” She twirled her wineglass by its stem before taking a sip. Then she surprised him by saying, “I was in a relationship with one of those people for a couple of years, though it took me a while to figure it out.”
A couple of years? “It sounds like the two of you were pretty serious.”
“I thought so at the time.” She selected a piece of toast and scooped up some dip. Before popping it into her mouth, she said, “It turned out that while I was good enough to spend time with, neither he nor his parents felt I had the right pedigree to carry on the bloodlines or some such nonsense.”
“Sorry.” The evening of the ball, Dawson had sensed vulnerability. Despite her cavalier attitude now, it made an appearance again, and he thought he understood the reason for it.
“Drew did offer to keep seeing me provided that we met discreetly. He said that he had a lot of fun whenever we were together and he hated for that to end.”
I bet. “Good for you that you turned him down.”
“Well, he made it pretty easy. He’d already announced his engagement to a debutante that it turned out he’d been dating on and off since grad school. Hence the need for discretion.” She made a tsking sound and in a rueful voice asked, “Why is it that the other woman is always the last to know?”
“Sorry.” He half meant it when he said, “Does this Drew character live around here? Maybe I could go to his house and beat him up for you.”
“A tempting offer, but he’s back in Connecticut making the rounds with his bride.”
“Connecticut?” Dawson frowned. “I thought you said you were from Maine?”
“I said I was born in Maine,” she replied. “But I actually grew up in that state and a few others along the eastern seaboard. I ended up in Hartford after college.”
“It sounds like you moved around a lot.”
“I did.” She selected another piece of toast, and he got the feeling that no more information on her childhood would be forthcoming.
“So, I’d have to travel to Connecticut if I wanted to beat up your ex?”
“Nah. He’s not worth the price of airfare. Besides, I’m over it.”
Over it? Dawson thought as he helped himself to that appetizer. Perhaps Eve was over the man—and he chose not to examine too closely why he hoped that was the case—but she was not over the slight. No, that wound definitely had not healed yet.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, it doesn’t sound like his marriage will last very long let alone be very happy,” Dawson told her.
“No. Probably not.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin, pulling it away to reveal a devilish smile. “I know it’s incredibly small of me, but