“There’s a boutique in town that carries one-of-a-kind pieces from a Venetian artisan. His work is quite remarkable and of the highest quality. I was in the shop last month to purchase something for another client and remember seeing some lovely rings. I’ll pay him a visit first thing Monday and let you know what I find.”
She shifted in her seat, undoing the top button of her coat and loosening the silk scarf beneath it. Her perfume wafted to him and once again had him thinking about sex—the act itself and how long it had been since he’d engaged in it. He’d work out when he got home. Thirty minutes with the free weights should do it. Followed by a cold shower, he amended when she began to suck on the end of the PDA’s stylus.
“Okay,” he managed.
“As for the boys, that’s easy. They’re salivating for that new gaming system.”
“Every kid in the country is,” he said on a snort. “It’s the hot toy this year.”
“I know. When we were in the ladies’ room, your sister admitted to me that she hasn’t been able to find one anywhere. All the stores she’s tried have been sold out and they can’t guarantee they’ll get another shipment in before Christmas. She was thinking of going online and paying a private seller whatever price it takes. I talked her out of it. I told her I was pretty sure you’d already gotten them one. You should have seen the look of relief on her face.”
“Great. How are you going to track one down if she’s been unsuccessful?” he asked.
She sent him a wink. “I have my ways.”
He meant it when he said, “If you pull this off, they’ll be in heaven.”
“Yes, and you’ll be their hero, Uncle Dawson.” She sent him a grin.
He glanced away, uncomfortable to be cast in that role. “I’ll just be happy to redeem myself for the chemistry set fiasco.”
“Did you pick out that gift yourself?” she asked.
“No. Actually, Mrs. Stern was the one who bought and sent it.”
“Why am I not surprised?” she muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She waved a hand and then went on. “During dessert I heard Lisa say something to your mother about a Misty Stark dress she bought recently. I was thinking that a handbag from the designer’s new collection might be a winner.”
“She likes handbags,” he said. “She probably needs a walk-in closet just to accommodate the ones she has now.”
Eve smiled at him. “I knew I liked her.”
He folded his arms. “What is it with women and purses? How many do you need?”
“One to go with every outfit and to suit every mood. In other words, you can never have too many. Handbags are like shoes that way.”
“God, you sound like my wife.” The words were out and, judging from Eve’s stunned expression, he wasn’t going to be able to pretend he hadn’t said them.
Nor was he going to be able to change the subject, he realized, when she said, “Do you mean as in ex-wife?”
“No. As in late wife. She … she and my daughter died in a car accident.” He swallowed the bitter memories and absently rubbed a hand over the raised scar that was partially hidden in his hairline.
“My God, Dawson. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
She rested a hand on his forearm and gave it a squeeze. He nodded stiffly to accept her condolences and then moved slightly, forcing her hand to drop.
“When did this happen?”
“Three years ago.” He cleared his throat. “Look, no offense, but this isn’t something I care to talk about. Mind if we change the subject?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
Even so, the remainder of the drive to her apartment was accomplished in silence.
* * *
Well, Eve thought, some things about the man—not to mention the interesting reactions he’d received all evening—finally made sense. But far from alleviating her curiosity, this new bit of information stoked it more.
Three years was a long time. But not when tragedy was involved. Tragedies changed people. Eve knew that firsthand. As young as she’d been at the time of her mother’s death, it had shaped her life. In a way, she’d lost both of her parents—her mother to an overdose, her father to the road. Her mother’s death had certainly changed her father.
How had tragedy changed Dawson? And she had little doubt it had, especially after meeting his family. What had he been like before the accident?
When they arrived at her apartment building, he walked her to her door. She expected that. He was a gentleman, and having met his mother, Eve knew good manners had been drilled into him.
“Tonight was very productive,” she said.
He was standing on the opposite side of the small elevator, studying her. “That was the purpose.”
“Yes. But I had a nice time anyway. You have a great family,” she told him.
His head jerked down in what resembled a nod. He said nothing.
They arrived at her door. Eve wasn’t sure what prompted the invitation, but she asked, “Would you like to come in for a drink?”
His jaw clenched. “It’s getting late.”
Because she felt foolish, she teased, “Worried that you’ll turn into a pumpkin?”
He snorted. “Worried that my driver might.”
“Jonas, right?” She’d forgotten about him.
“Right.”
She pulled the keys from her small clutch. “Well, I’d offer to invite Jonas in for a nightcap as well, but I wouldn’t want to give you the wrong impression about me.”
Dawson laughed at that remark. The sound was rusty but pleasing. “Since the first moment I met you, Eve, I’ve formed all sorts of impressions. I don’t think I’ve figured you out yet.” He sobered, leaned against the doorjamb and studied her in the hallway’s dim lighting. “You have a lot of layers.”
“If you compare me to an onion you’ll ruin what is otherwise a fairly interesting compliment.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do I get the feeling you like to keep me guessing?”
She batted her lashes. “Maybe because mystery is half of my allure.”
He straightened and she thought he might turn to leave. In fact, she swore he started to, but then he was closing the space between them.
In that brief moment
