She laughed ruefully. “I’ll be eating salad for a month, but I’m dying to see this show. Tickets for seats this good are impossible to get at this point. I’ve checked. And checked. And checked.”
He tapped the paper with the tip of his index finger. “Well, if you really want them, you’re going to have to bid higher than that.”
“You think?”
“I know. The evening’s young yet and the people with the fattest wallets tend to arrive fashionably late to these things.”
“Great,” she muttered.
“You can always buy the soundtrack.”
“I have the soundtrack.” She listened to it so often she could sing every song from memory. Sucking a breath between her teeth, she leaned over to erase her first bid. Then she raised the previous amount by fifty dollars. Afterward, she sent him a weak smile. “I like salad and I’ve been meaning to lose a few pounds anyway.”
His gaze detoured south and his brows rose right along with her pulse rate. Though he said nothing, his eyes communicated something quite clearly. She knew that look. It was all male and interested. Her heart thudded in response, which struck her as outrageous since she wasn’t even sure she liked Dawson Burke. Of course, like and lust weren’t mutually exclusive.
Then he shrugged and his expression once again turned aloof and arrogant, leaving her libido feeling duped.
They moved on. Standing before the next auction item was a couple Dawson apparently knew well.
“Hey, look who’s here,” the man said, smiling as he reached out to clasp Dawson’s hand.
“Hi, Tony. Christine,” he added, leaning over to buss the woman’s cheek. “It’s been awhile.”
“That’s because you haven’t returned any of our phone calls,” Tony reprimanded lightly.
Apparently he made a habit of that, Eve thought.
“We’ve been worried about you,” Christine added.
Dawson cleared his throat as he sent a fleeting glance in Eve’s direction. “There’s no need to worry about me.”
The couple followed the direction of his gaze, spied Eve and attached a far different meaning to his glance.
“So we see. We’re glad for you, Daw,” Christine said. “Really, glad.”
“Yeah,” her husband added. “It’s about damned time you returned to the land of the living.”
Because he hadn’t actually introduced her, Eve did the honors herself. She recognized their names from Dawson’s gift list, so she discreetly sized them up during the brief conversation, trying to concentrate on the kind of item that might suit their tastes, rather than their curious comments that Dawson had already made clear related to something that was none of her business.
“Well, we probably should make our way to the head table,” he said, winding up the conversation just after Christine mentioned running into the parents of someone named Sheila at the theater recently. “It was nice seeing you both again.”
“Yes. We’ll be having our annual party weekend after next. The invitations go out on Monday. Do you think you might make it this year?” Tony asked. “And, of course, Eve is welcome to come, too.” He sent a smile in her direction.
Uh-oh.
But she was saved from having to answer. Dawson was shaking his head. “Sorry. Other plans.”
“Oh.” Tony shrugged, though he was clearly disappointed. “Maybe we can get together for dinner one night between Christmas and New Year’s. Christine and I have been meaning to try out that new steak house.”
“Sorry,” Dawson said again. “I’ll be in Cabo from Christmas Eve ‘til the first of the year.”
“Cabo?” Tony glanced at Eve and then back at Dawson. “I guess I thought that maybe this year …” His words trailed off awkwardly.
“We should head to our table, too,” Christine said, taking her husband’s arm and sending a tight smile in Dawson’s direction. “It was nice meeting you, Eve. Hopefully we’ll see you again.”
Though it was the other couple who moved away, Eve was left with the distinct impression that Dawson was the one who had gone somewhere else.
CHAPTER FOUR
“DAWSON?”
He blinked twice and seemed to snap out of whatever fog he’d been in. “Yes?”
“You mentioned something about taking our seats,” Eve reminded him.
“Right.” He put a hand on the small of her back, guiding her away. He didn’t sound irritated, but weary, when he said, “I’ve done just about all of the mingling I can stand.”
The head table was at the front of the ballroom just to the right of a raised stage, presumably for easy access to the podium and microphone. The table was round and had place settings for eight. A woman with two young boys was already seated there. The boys were slouched down in their chairs, looking sullen and subdued, but their expressions brightened considerably when they spied Dawson.
“Uncle Dawson!” they squealed in unison.
“You’re here!” the older one said.
To which the younger one added, “Mom bet Dad that you’d find an excuse not to show up, even though you promised Nana you’d come this year.”
“You’re not supposed to tell him that,” the other boy said, rolling his eyes in disgust.
“Why not? It’s true.”
“You’re so lame.”
“Boys, no name calling,” their mother warned. Then she said, “Hello, Daw.”
“Hello.” But he returned his attention to his nephews. “Nice suits.” Like all of the men in the room, the boys were outfitted in black tuxedos. The only difference was that their ties were askew and their white shirts were looking wrinkled and coming untucked. Eve found them adorable.
“Mom made us wear them,” the younger one grumbled, pulling at his collar.
“I know how you feel,” Dawson said on a chuckle. He put his hand behind Eve’s back and drew her forward. “I’d like you to meet my guest, Eve Hawley. Eve, these are my nephews, Brian and Colton. Brian is eight and Colton is ten.”
“I’m nine, Uncle Dawson,” Brian corrected.
“And I turned eleven over the summer. Remember? You couldn’t make it for dinner, but you sent me that chemistry set.” The way Colton’s mouth twisted on the words told Eve exactly what the boy thought of the gift. She’d bet someone else—Carole, perhaps?—had purchased it.
“Ah. Right. Nine and eleven,” he repeated on a nod, looking slightly embarrassed. Was that because he’d forgotten their ages or because the gift had obviously been “lame,” to use the boy’s vernacular.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you both,” Eve said and she meant it. She was determined that by the end of the evening she would have a good idea of the kind of gift they would cherish from an uncle they clearly adored.
“Are you going to introduce us, Daw?” the woman asked. Dawson’s sister shared his dark coloring, with the added bonus of having their mother’s startlingly blue eyes. She was a striking woman—a striking woman who at the moment also looked openly curious.
“I’m not sure I should,” he said.
“Fine, then I’ll do it myself.” She stood and smiled at Eve. “I’m Lisa Granderson, this ill-mannered buffoon’s younger