Jackie Braun - Christmas with Him

“Sounds like he’s really changed.”

“Oh, he has.” Carole nodded. “Do you feel sorry for him, Eve?”

“Well, of course I do. How can I not? The man lost his wife and daughter.”

“Yes. In a car accident on Christmas Eve three years ago.” Carole’s expression turned grim. “Dawson was the one driving at the time.”

“And he was the only one to survive,” Eve finished. She closed her eyes, imagining his horror. Her chest ached. “Oh, God.”

“Exactly. The Burkes are highly regarded in the community not just because of the business, but because of their overall involvement. In addition to the charity ball, they’ve got their finger in just about every philanthropic venture that comes along. Dawson’s late wife’s family is well-known, too, so the accident received plenty of media coverage. There was even some ugly speculation about drunken driving before police revealed that his blood alcohol level had been well below the legal limit.”

“How horrible,” Eve said.

“Yes,” Carole said. “He also was cleared of any negligence. He was driving within the speed limit at the time and, with the exception of that patch of black ice, road conditions were fine.”

“It was an accident.”

“Yes. An accident. And it could have happened to anyone. Still, from what I’ve seen and from what those who know him well say, Dawson blames himself.”

Of course he does, Eve thought. He was that type of man. Duty, responsibility, family—he took such things very seriously. They were his foundation and in one fell swoop that foundation had been reduced to rubble.

“I really wish you had given me a heads-up, Carole. I’m the first to admit I can be too blunt at times. I might have been a little more diplomatic, a little more sensitive if I’d understood why he needed a personal shopper to purchase gifts for family.”

“Actually, that’s one of the reasons I didn’t tell you,” her friend surprised her by saying. “I won’t presume to know Dawson well. He’s more of a give-orders sort than the sit-down-and-chat kind. But I’ve always liked him and respected him. And from what I’ve seen since the accident, he doesn’t want coddling or pity. In fact, I’d say those are the last things he needs.”

“What does he need?” She hadn’t intended to ask that question. In reality, what business was it of hers?

But Carole was smiling coyly when Eve glanced in her direction. “I’m not sure, but maybe someone as resourceful as you will be able to figure it out.”

It was half past midnight and though Dawson had gone to bed nearly two hours earlier, he was wide awake. There was nothing new about that. Since the accident he’d had a hard time falling asleep and an even harder time staying asleep once he had. The only time he actually slumbered straight through until morning was when he relied on prescription medication. He didn’t like taking that, though. So, instead, he used the wee hours of the morning to make lists of things he needed to do and to catch up on his reading. Sadly, not even the boring article he was scanning in a business journal was making him heavy-eyed this night.

He laid the magazine aside on an oath, turned off the bedside lamp and rolled over. Giving his pillow a couple of punches, he admitted that the insomnia from which he’d suffered for the past several nights was different. He blamed Eve for that.

He also blamed himself.

“I never should have kissed her,” he muttered.

Why that mere peck should haunt him, he wasn’t sure. At the end of his two dates, he’d kissed both women and with far more intimacy than he had Eve. Yet neither encounter had left him wanting. Quite the opposite.

In the dark, he pictured Eve, her dark eyes wary and going wide as he breached her personal space and settled his mouth over hers. Her lips were soft, inviting. They were tempting, which was why Dawson had ended things quickly. Despite the brief contact, though, he’d felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time: sexually interested.

And alive , his subconscious whispered.

He rolled over and ignored it. “I never should have kissed her,” he mumbled a second time.

Yet when he finally drifted off an hour later he dreamed of doing it again, and properly this time.

Eve was preparing to leave for the day when a courier knocked at her door with an official-looking envelope from Burke Financial. She tipped the young man who delivered it and went back inside her apartment to peel back the seal. Then she nearly fell over.

Inside was a pair of theater tickets for the same, sold-out musical that she’d bid on in the silent auction the previous Saturday night, only these were for better seats.

The note read:

Eve,

Burke Financial keeps a box at the theater. No one was going to this Saturday’s performance. It seemed a shame to let them go to waste.

Enjoy yourself.

Dawson

She called him at his office immediately, and of course got his secretary.

“He has a meeting in half an hour and he’s prepping for it,” Mrs. Stern informed her. It sounded like a brush-off to Eve. “Can I take a message?”

She’s like a second mother , Carole claimed. Eve decided to play on that. Mothers liked nothing better than women with good manners.

“He was kind enough to send me a pair of theater tickets. I just need a moment of his time to thank him properly. Do you think you could put me through?” she asked.

“Just a moment,” Mrs. Stern said. Eve was still congratulating herself when Dawson came on the line.

“Hello, Eve.”

“Hi. I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to call and say thank you.”

“I take it the tickets arrived.”

“Yes. Just a moment ago. For once I was glad to be running a little behind schedule.” As she spoke, she paced the length of her living room in front of the big windows that brought some of the city’s skyline inside. “It’s incredibly generous of you, Dawson.”

“They weren’t being used,” he replied.

“So you mentioned in 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.”