Christmas with Him: The Tycoon's Christmas Proposal / A Bravo Christmas Reunion / Marry-Me Christmas. Jackie Braun
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Inside her head, a small voice whispered, Am I special enough to make you let go of the past and start thinking about the future? She ignored it, stepped back and straightened the hem of her sweater. “I really do need to be going.”
“Work?” he inquired.
“Yes.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“I know. There’s a great sale at Macy’s that started an hour ago. I try to save my clients money whenever I can, but at this point I’ve probably already missed out on most of the best deals.”
Half his mouth lifted in a smile. “Then I suppose I should thank you for staying as long as you have.”
She kissed him a second time and, despite the questions and doubts swirling in her head, Eve meant it when she said, “It was my pleasure.”
The house seemed especially quiet after Eve left and empty in a way it hadn’t felt as long as she’d been in it. Dawson felt empty, too. This emptiness was different than how he’d felt for the past three years and, oddly, less easy to accept. Perhaps because he didn’t have to. He had a choice. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have a choice.
Restless, he spent the next few hours wandering from room to room. Reminders of Sheila and Isabelle were everywhere in the house. Isabelle had taken her first steps in the great room. She’d earned her first major time-out in there too after she’d taken a crayon to the wallpaper.
Sheila had used their budding Picasso’s artwork as justification for redoing the entire room. As he had throughout the house, Dawson had given his late wife free rein. So it was no surprise that everything reflected her appreciation for muted hues and soft fabrics. He’d never had a problem with the décor, but perhaps it was time for a change. He recalled the bold color choices in Eve’s loft apartment. Maybe something along those lines.
Especially in the bedroom.
He stood at the side of the bed. Eve had straightened the covers. He picked up one of the pillows and brought it to his face. He swore he could smell her perfume. It haunted him. She haunted him. The woman was on his mind, under his skin. That was especially true now that he’d made love to her.
He sank down on the side of the bed with a groan, recalling how soft her skin had felt, how responsive she’d been to his touch, how smug her smile had been when she’d curled up against his side afterward.
Dawson had worried that he would regret making love to her. Not the actual act, but the fulfillment and sense of completion it brought. Surprisingly, he hadn’t. He’d meant it when he’d told her that he’d been intimate with no one since the accident. Guilt had always managed to quell any arousal. But he hadn’t felt guilty with Eve. In fact, even when he’d wakened with her beside him in the very bed he’d shared with his late wife, he hadn’t felt guilty. He’d felt happy and optimistic and eager to not only start the day, but to end it … with Eve.
For the first time in three long years, Dawson had felt truly alive.
That was what had finally stoked his guilt.
Of course, he’d botched things horribly when he’d tried to keep Eve from reading too much into their lovemaking. Temporary. Was that really what he wanted it to be?
Even now he could see her happy expression cloud over, though she’d managed to rally admirably. She wasn’t the sort to stay down for long. Or more likely she wasn’t the sort to let someone see her down.
He’d hurt her. Of all his regrets, that was by far the biggest.
By midafternoon, he couldn’t stand being alone in his house any longer. He considered going to his office at Burke Financial. He’d spent more than one Saturday tucked behind his desk browsing through spreadsheets and tracking market trends. But burying himself in work held no appeal today. Another option did. Before he could change his mind, he called for his driver.
“Where to?” Jonas asked as the limo idled in the drive.
“I’m not sure. Know a store where I can get a nice pair of women’s boots?”
It was nearly six o’clock and Eve had just come in from shopping when the bell chimed. She expected to find a deliveryman at her door. She shopped online for hard-to-find items, so packages were arriving daily. When she opened the door, however, it was Dawson who stood on the other side. He looked tired and a little lost.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said.
“I know. Sorry. I probably should have called. I won’t stay long. I just came to drop this off.”
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