What had turned him off completely to winter weather, of course, was the accident, which is why he’d opted to work from home this day.
It came as an absolute shock then when, halfway through the afternoon, his housekeeper tapped at his door to announce he had a guest.
“Eve Hawley is here,” Ingrid said.
Leather creaked as he settled back in his chair. He didn’t want to see her and yet he did.
“Send her in, please.”
She appeared in the doorway a moment later, smiling apologetically and looking lovely enough to snatch his breath away.
“Sorry to disturb you.”
“That’s all right.” He rested his elbows on the desk blotter and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Did we have an appointment?” he asked.
“No. Actually, I wasn’t expecting to see you at all. I figured you would be at your office.”
Once his ego had absorbed the blow, he replied, “I decided to work from home today.”
“So I see.”
“What can I do for you, Eve?” he asked curtly.
He saw hurt flash in her dark eyes just before she blinked, and hated himself for it. This wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault.
“I have some gift ideas as well as some actual things that I purchased for family members. I was planning to leave them for you to look over.”
“Okay.”
At that single, sparse word, she backed up a step, nodding. None of the spunk she’d exhibited on her first visit to his home was evident when she said, “Well, I’ll just leave them with Ingrid. Thanks.”
She’d already turned and gone before Dawson managed to launch himself from his seat. He caught up with her in the front foyer just as she was pulling on her jacket.
“Eve, wait.”
She turned, a manufactured smile tilting up her lips. “Yes?”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t go. Not like this.”
“Like what?”
“Angry.”
“I’m not angry. Why in the world would I be angry?” she asked, tossing the end of her scarf over one shoulder.
“Because I was being a jerk.”
She stopped in the process of pulling on her gloves. “Yes,” she agreed with a considering nod. “You were. A rude jerk to be precise.”
Dawson’s laughter was strained, even though the ice had been broken. “You don’t believe in cutting a guy any slack, do you?”
“To what purpose?”
He ran his tongue over the outside of his top teeth. “Okay, how about this? Do you have any plans for dinner?”
“Tonight?” she inquired.
The woman was definitely playing hardball.
“Yes, tonight.”
“Hmm. Let me think.” She tapped her lower lip with the tip of one gloved index finger. “Not exactly, although I did take a chicken breast out of the freezer to thaw.”
It was a bit of a blow to learn he could lose out to poultry. “I believe Ingrid is making a pork roast.”
“Ah, the other white meat,” she said, repeating the industry’s slogan.
“Yes. She’s a very good cook,” he added in the hopes of aiding his cause.
Eve eyed him stoically. “Is that an invitation, Dawson?” she asked.
“It is.”
“I see.”
She was silent for so long that he was forced to ask, “Does that mean you accept?”
She tilted her head to one side. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On what else is on the menu,” she said.
He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure. Probably some sort of rice or potato dish and a vegetable. Maybe a salad. Do you have a preference? I can let Ingrid know and I’m sure she’ll try to accommodate it,” he offered.
“Actually, I meant in the way of conversation.”
“Oh.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Are you going to talk to me?”
“Of course I am,” he replied, somewhat indignant.
“I mean an actual conversation, Dawson. No chitchat about the weather or diatribes on the economy. I can get that watching the news while I eat Chinese takeout.”
He blew out a breath. “Good God, Eve. You’re a hard woman to please.”
She unzipped the quilted down jacket she wore and laid it over his arm. Her smile was purely female when she replied, “You don’t know the half of it.”
CHAPTER NINE
SINCE they had some time to kill before dinner was served, Dawson suggested they sit in the great room where a fire blazed cheerfully in the hearth. Eve agreed and he helped her carry in the purchases she’d made.
In the past, he’d given Carole carte blanche to buy his family’s gifts. Afterward, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with them. Eve, of course, insisted on running everything past him.
“At the very least you should know what you bought so that when they thank you, you won’t appear baffled.”
“I’m never baffled,” he responded. Her brows rose fractionally as if to say, “Right.”
“Another one of your principles?” he asked.
“Exactly.”
As they sat on the sofa and went through the goods she’d brought with her, Dawson was impressed. The woman had a good eye. She’d pegged his mother’s taste perfectly with a specially designed amethyst ring that was surrounded by smaller stones. Tallulah was going to love it. He told Eve as much.
She smiled, looking pleased. “That was my thought, too. As for your dad, he was difficult. I went out on a limb with this since it cannot be returned, but since Clive seemed to be a real hockey fan, I thought he might appreciate it.”
She pulled a red game jersey from the bag that was on her lap.
“That’s Gordie
