One Winter's Night: The Twelve Dates of Christmas / Frozen Heart, Melting Kiss / A Cadence Creek Christmas. SUSAN MEIERЧитать онлайн книгу.
believe the guys you’ll be introducing me to at your other parties...oh, wait...the other people you’ve introduced me to haven’t actually talked about jobs. They’re only concerned with getting your attention.”
Norman pulled up and she strode to the limo. She didn’t wait for Norman to come around to the side, just opened the door herself.
Ricky raced up behind her. “It’s the fact that they want my attention that may get you noticed.”
She sniffed a laugh as she slid inside. Norman stood off to the right, waiting for Ricky to enter. Once he had, he closed the door.
“No one will ever notice me as long as you’re around.” She sighed, disgusted with herself for getting angry with him. But she was angry. She knew this relationship was fake, but after their discussion about Wayne, she felt he knew her. The real her. Plus, she’d promised herself she would help him enjoy the holiday.
Still, he was the one who had ruined this evening, not her. She shifted to the right. “Just forget it.”
“No. If you have something to say, I want to hear it.”
She sucked in a breath. As Christmas angels went, she was a failure. He was mad. She was mad. So maybe it was just time to end this thing.
“All right, you want the truth. You’ve already gotten a lot out of this deal. We’ve gone through almost half your parties, and I don’t have anything to show for it. So I saw an opportunity with Kyle and I pounced.”
He stared sullenly out the window. “You should have known what he told you was ridiculous.”
“And I’m an idiot for falling for it. Great. Fine. Thanks. I get it.”
She crossed her arms on her chest. They stayed silent until they reached her apartment building. When Norman opened the door, she slid out. He started to get out behind her, but she pushed him back inside.
“Norman heard our fight.” She glanced at Ricky’s driver. “Didn’t you?”
The man in the dark suit and driver’s hat winced.
“Which means he’ll perfectly understand when I say I don’t want your pigheaded behind walking me to my apartment.”
Norman winced again.
She slammed the door on Ricky and ran into the building. Not slowing down at the steps, she took them two at a time, raced into her apartment and back to her bedroom.
The stress of the night had destroyed her. When she put her head on her pillow, tears slid off her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks.
It hadn’t been easy remembering her marriage, Wayne getting sick, his death. She’d bared her soul to Ricky, not expecting understanding, but in trust. And the way he thanked her was to tell her she was foolish.
Yeah. Duh. She already knew that.
THE NEXT MORNING a series of sharp knocks woke Eloise and Laura Beth. Both ran to the door, shrugging into long fleece robes. Eloise got there first, looked through the peephole and saw a man holding flowers.
Without disengaging the chain lock, she opened the door a crack.
“Are you Eloise Vaughn?”
“Yes.”
He set the tall vase on the hall floor. “These are for you.”
He turned to go.
Eloise fumbled with the chain lock. “Wait! I’ll give you a tip.”
The kid smiled. “Tip was included.” With that he raced down the hall.
She cautiously opened the door and picked up the vase. Tissue paper covered the flowers to protect them from the cold. She ripped it off. A holiday bouquet—roses, white mums, tinsel and mistletoe—greeted her.
Laura Beth closed the door. “Wonder who they’re from?”
She opened the card, smiled. “My fake date. He says our fight last night made everything look real.”
Laura Beth huffed away. “And his billions of dollars make it possible for him to wake a florist at—” She squinted at the clock. “My God, it’s not even five o’clock yet. And it’s Sunday!”
“He also says I was right. He hasn’t been fulfilling his end of the bargain. So he sent the flowers early to catch me before I planned my day. If I want him to, he’ll send his driver to pick me up and take me to his condo, where we can redo my résumé and look over my options.”
That stopped Laura Beth. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard a guy say.”
Eloise laughed. Poverty certainly changed a woman’s view of romance. “Yeah. Me too.” But she shivered. She wasn’t sure she was done being angry with him. And sometimes being with him made her feel like a selfish failure as a human being. He was hurting and he wouldn’t even tell her why. But she needed a job—so desperately needed a job—that maybe it was time to forget being a Christmas angel and just go back to their original deal.
She texted the number he’d put on the card and told him to send Norman. Then she found a copy of her résumé and got dressed.
Forty minutes later the driver texted her that he was downstairs, and she raced out into the cold, cold morning.
Norman held open the door. “Good morning, ma’am.”
Eloise smiled. “Good morning, Norman.”
He closed the door, got behind the wheel and sped off.
Surprise made her frown when he stopped the limo at a respectable but far from plush condo building. She rode up the normal elevator to a very normal hallway and knocked on a simple door.
Ricky opened the door immediately, as if he’d been waiting for her. “I am so sorry.”
She tried to smile, but being in his presence sent shivers down her spine. In a sweater and jeans, he looked gorgeous and approachable, making it difficult to remember they were from two different worlds. Worse, they didn’t seem to get along. She shouldn’t be attracted to him.
She shrugged out of her navy blue parka. “Your flowers said it, but helping me find a job would say it even better.”
As he took her coat to a convenient closet, she glanced around. Dark wood cabinets dominated the kitchen of the small open-plan condo and matched the dark table and chairs that took up the space before the living room.
“Have you eaten?”
She faced him. “No. But I’m not hungry.”
“You had one piece of pizza last night. Not enough to sustain you.” He walked into the kitchen and pulled a griddle from a lower cabinet. “I’m making pancakes.”
Himself? She almost smiled. “Where’s your maid?”
“She went with the penthouse.”
“You lost your penthouse and maid? Was it a bet? A poker game?”
“I sold the penthouse and she chose to stay with the new owner. Which is only right because there’s not a whole hell of a lot of housecleaning to do around here. This condo’s tiny.”
She liked his apartment, but she wouldn’t trade a penthouse for it. “Why did you sell your penthouse?”
He spared her a glance. “I didn’t need that much space.” He paused and pulled in a breath before he added, “I also wanted to be alone.”
She didn’t have to be a mind reader to conclude that he’d sold his penthouse and gotten rid of his maid after his tragedy. This was as close as he’d ever come to telling her something personal. So she appreciated the gesture,