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“But think of the pictures that would show up in tomorrow’s society pages.”
She laughed and shook her head. “It would probably be the newspaper’s best issue ever.”
The music stopped and, as always, one of his friends slid over. After introductions, he asked Ricky a question about a company he was considering partnering in and, as Ricky answered, his gaze slid to Eloise.
She stood at his side, smiling, playing the part. But they never touched. Aside from when they danced. Or when she put her hand in the crook of his elbow. Or when she fixed his bow tie.
He’d never touched her with affection. Never held her hand. Never put his arm around her. To a woman who lived her life without family, without affection, his lack of touch probably seared her.
He reached out and took her hand. Her gaze swung to his. He smiled. She smiled. He tugged her closer. And while they held hands, his conversation continued until the band began to play again.
This time when he pulled her into his arms, he felt her relax against him. He relaxed a little himself. He wasn’t making this real. Just realistic. And, all right, he also wanted her to feel wanted. He might only need her to help him get through the holiday. But he needed her, which meant he wanted her around.
And she needed to know that somebody wanted her. Albeit for a little while.
When the band took a break, he walked her to their table, then excused himself. When he returned, he had two shots of tequila. She burst out laughing. Their tablemates frowned.
He nodded at the shots, as he sat by Eloise. “Private joke.”
He picked up a shot and motioned for her to do the same. “Ready?”
“I think this is kinda nuts.”
“It’s been a long, hard couple of years for both of us. Maybe one night of I-don’t-care is in order.”
“One night of I-don’t-care?”
“One night of forgetting everything and just having a good time.”
She picked up her shot. “I could handle that.”
They downed the tequila. She shuddered in distaste but laughed, and when the band began to play again, they were both more comfortable.
The music shifted to a quiet, mellow tune, and he pulled her into his arms for a slow dance. She melted against him. Loose from the tequila, he rested his chin on the top of her head and inhaled the fragrance of her hair. For the first time in eighteen months, he just let go.
When the band took a break, they took another shot and washed it down with a glass of champagne. Dancing took a lot of the sting out of the alcohol. Still, by the time they returned to her apartment, they were just tipsy enough to clamor up the stairs.
The “shh” she sent back to him from the step above his only made him laugh.
When they stopped in front of her apartment door, she said, “We’re gonna get me kicked out of my building.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. He wasn’t one for medicating pain with alcohol, but tonight wasn’t about getting rid of pain. It had been about acknowledging it and telling it to go to hell for a few hours.
“If I get you kicked out of your building, I’ll find you another apartment.”
She snorted a laugh. “Laura Beth and I can barely afford the one we have.”
Her words slurred endearingly. He smiled stupidly. “I had a good time.”
“So I’m guessing you’re thinking we should have tequila shots at every party.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to form any bad habits, but...” He glanced around, searching his alcohol-numbed brain for the words that should follow that but, and in the end he couldn’t help stating the obvious. “It was good to loosen up a bit. I really had fun.”
She put her hands on his chest. “Doesn’t happen for you much, does it?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t happen at all.”
“So, I’m good for you.”
She was. When her life didn’t make him feel like an ingrate, she was. Thinking of her, instead of himself, instead of his grief, instead of his guilt, was so much easier.
The urge to kiss her swam through his blood, making it tingle. But it was the very fact that he was so tempted that stopped him. She was good for him. But he wasn’t good for her. He was broken. She was broken, too. But that meant she needed someone strong, someone filled with love to shower her with affection. And that wasn’t him.
He stepped back. “Good night, Eloise.”
“Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve said my name?”
“I say your name all the time.”
“Yeah, when you introduce me.” Her gazed locked with his. “But you’ve never said it to me.”
The urge to kiss her shimmied through him again. She was so pretty, so perfect. So wonderful sometimes. And thanks to Preston he knew her lips were as soft as a cloud, the inside of her mouth like silk.
He took a step closer.
She put her hands on his lapels again and slid them up his chest.
Need surged. Not just from the intimacy of her touch, but from hope. He longed for her to put her hands around his neck, something she didn’t do in their very proper dancing. He yearned for her to hold him. To hug him. To pull him close.
Instead, she straightened his tie and smiled up at him.
She wouldn’t make the first move, but she clearly was telling him she wanted him to kiss her.
Desire pleaded with him. Just do it. Just bend your head. Just kiss her.
His breath faltered. Dear God, he wanted this.
But he knew himself. When the tequila wore off, he’d regret it. And even if he didn’t, he’d leave her. Not in a big, splashy departure scene. But after these parties, he’d stop calling. He’d drift back to his own dark, quiet world because his guilt wouldn’t let him handle the bright optimistic world she wanted. And he’d forget her.
He would hurt a woman who’d been hurt enough.
He closed his fingers around her hands and removed them from his lapel. “Good night, Eloise.”
Then he turned and walked away, his mouth yearning for a kiss, his limbs longing to hold her, his heart telling him he was a fool.
* * *
Ten o’clock the next morning, Eloise’s pride could no longer hold off the pounding in her head. She rose from her desk and walked into the employee break room, where СКАЧАТЬ