So he pulled Eloise into his arms and she nestled against him. When her softness met his chest, he struggled with the desire to just close his eyes and enjoy.
He looked down. She looked up. Their gazes met in acknowledgment of the fact that their tequila night had brought them closer. But he didn’t want to be close. He wanted them to go back to being polite strangers who could pretend they liked each other.
So he pulled several inches away, putting enough space between them to retain his sanity. Still, every time they moved, his hand on the small of her back slid against her satiny skin. He remembered the sparkle in her eyes at her apartment door last night. How she’d wanted him to kiss her. How he’d longed to do just that.
But he also remembered that he was grieving his son, filled with guilt and remorse over his death. She had troubles of her own. Neither one was in a position to indulge an attraction that might end up hurting them both.
He held himself stiffly for the first set and was relieved when the band took a break. Eloise chatted with Olivia about her clients and art in general, and he and Tucker bounced around ideas about the stock market.
When the second set began, he was a little too tired to hold himself away from her. When she melted, his body tried to resist, but it was no use. Her breasts met his chest. Their thighs brushed as they moved to the music. His hormones awoke like a band of angels ready to sing the “Hallelujah Chorus.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many diamonds in my life.”
Glad to get his mind off his hormones and also curious about where her mind had gone, he laughed. “Cumulatively or at this party?”
“It almost doesn’t matter.” She pulled back and looked at him. “Something odd has been striking me tonight.”
With the feeling of the velvet skin of her back pressed against his hand, something had been striking him all night, too. He’d love to run his hand down her back just once. Just for the thrill of it.
But talking about that wouldn’t do either one of them any good. So he smiled and politely said, “What’s that?”
“My mom doesn’t have a diamond necklace.”
He bit out a laugh. “What?”
“Look at all these necklaces. Or just think about the one around Olivia’s throat. Tucker adores his wife so he showers her with diamonds. That’s how wealthy men show their love.”
He smiled. “It is?”
“Sure. If you can’t say the words, you buy a gift. A necklace. A bracelet. A fur.”
His mouth twisted. He wanted to buy her a fur, but that didn’t mean he loved her. “It’s not always about love.”
“True. It could be about respect or appreciation. You know, a thanks-for-putting-up-with-me gift.”
He coughed. That was exactly why he wanted to buy her a fur. “You seem so sure.”
“People are transparent. But none of this is actually my point.”
“What’s your point?”
“My mother doesn’t have a diamond necklace.”
“You think your dad doesn’t love her or doesn’t appreciate her?”
“I think he doesn’t have hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars to spend on jewelry.”
Ricky stopped dancing. Confused, he said, “Everybody here does.”
“Which is the conclusion of my point.” She nudged him to start dancing again. “My parents have lots of money. But they’re not in this class.”
He frowned, not quite understanding what she was getting at. “So?”
“So maybe that’s why they were so mad that I embarrassed them.”
He thought back to his beginnings in New York City society. He remembered renting a tux because he didn’t own one and hiring a limo with a driver. He hadn’t done it for the sake of impressing anyone. He simply wanted to fit in. Not look like an upstart. Not look like somebody who didn’t belong. If Eloise’s parents were image conscious, her embarrassing them might have shaken them more than normal people. That is, if they thought more of their station in society than their daughter. And it appeared they did.
“Maybe.”
“The few times we came to New York City for Christmas events, they were extremely clear with me and my older brother that we shouldn’t do anything to embarrass them.”
He frowned, catching her gaze. “Where is all this coming from?”
She shrugged. “I did some thinking today. Came to some conclusions.”
A happy thought filled him with hope. He might not have found her a job, but maybe being with him had caused her to see some things about her life, things that might help her stop being so sad.
“So the past couple of weeks with my friends has been good for you?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
He twirled them around. “Of course it matters. You miss your parents. You’re trying to figure it out because you’re trying to find an angle or reason to go home.”
She glanced away. “I don’t think so.”
He desperately wanted her to be able to go home, to have the acceptance she needed. Not just to make sure she got something from their deal, but because no one should be alone for Christmas. Especially not somebody so pretty and so nice.
He waited a second, then said, “What would you have to do to be able to go home?”
She smiled devilishly. “Buy my mom a diamond necklace?”
He huffed out a sigh. “I’m being serious here.”
“I don’t think I can go home.”
He glanced down. “Why not?”
She looked away for a few seconds, then caught his gaze again. “I’ve found more love and acceptance with Olivia and Laura Beth than I ever had with my parents. And with their acceptance I realized how dysfunctional my own family is.”
He thought about how he hadn’t been home in nearly two years. Didn’t call. Didn’t take his mother’s calls. Because everything about his family reminded him of Blake.
“Everybody’s family is dysfunctional to a degree.”
“Not like this. My parents don’t know how to love. Even though it hurts to have no one, sometimes a person is better off being alone than living around people who only use them.”
Or sometimes a person is better off being alone than being with people who only revive their sorrow.
“Maybe.”
“Okay, here’s the best example. My parents would love to see me with you. They’d use that like a stepladder. They’d treat me like royalty to get to you. And then they’d use you for introductions or insider information or whatever they thought they could get. But when you and I stopped seeing each other, they’d put me back on a shelf again. Like something they pulled out when they needed it.” She shook her head. “As a kid, when they’d put me back on the shelf, I’d jump through hoops to get their attention, their affection. I’d do well in school or volunteer to work for a very visible charity. Sometimes they’d pat me on the head, but most of the time they’d ignore me. Even in their home, at their dinner table, I was alone. Lonely. I don’t want to go back to that.”
He