Jane and Bingley (Countdown to Christmas Book 8) (8 page)

For the first time in days, she giggled. Yes, this is where she was meant to be. It felt right to go, and it was about time she listened to her heart over her brain anyway.

Charles waited in his car outside Jane’s apartment complex for thirty minutes—hoping she’d come out and he could offer her a ride—before driving over to the charity ball without her. His heart ached, and he wondered again for the eightieth time if he was doing the right thing. He wished he could take her dancing. He’d love to hold her close and be together. She didn’t have to talk—not one word—if she didn’t want to . . . he just missed her.

The charity event would last several hours. Several very boring and lonely hours. Charles sighed as he walked in and presented his invitation. He was welcomed kindly and shown to his table. Curious, he walked around the empty table and read the place cards. He’d been seated by some pretty influential people, though it didn’t look like anyone else had arrived as of yet. So he walked over to look at the items listed for auction instead of sitting down.

His $400 tickets had paid for a small hors d'oeuvres buffet table, and then there would be an exquisite five-course meal—that would be added to his tab if he accepted and handed in one of the place cards at the table. Each person had a few place cards to be used for the dinner, and other items available for purchase to help with the charity. These meals were usually a thousand dollars apiece, but Charles rarely bought a meal.

After hosting some of his own events through work—and witnessing firsthand how much the hotel gouged them with their usual 70% per meal fee, he realized it was much better to simply write a check for the amount of the dinner than to pay for some expensive chef’s wages and only give three hundred or so to the actual charity.

There were some nice items up for auction. Summer vacations in the Swiss Alps, Spain, France, Hawaii, and even one for three months on the beach in San Diego—that one was tempting. Oh, so tempting. There were also some cruises up for grabs, as well as fine jewelry, electronic gadgets, season tickets to the opera, theater, and even some sports teams. Choice seats at the upcoming Super Bowl and different hotel and ski resort packages. Fine restaurants and salon visits—it even looked like some plastic surgery too. Why were the people he associated with so desperate to change themselves? So much so that now, it was considered a nice prize to win something like plastic surgery at an auction? Sadly, even his own family had fallen for the cosmetic perfection trap too. Disgusted, he shook his head and turned away.

This night was going to be awful. He knew it.

As he made his way to the hors d’oeuvres, he overheard two women gushing over their gowns and jewelry. Their comments, though sweet, came out almost hostile, as if these women had spent years despising each other.

He looked over the array of foods before him, and all at once, his world seemed so shallow, as though it was lost in a sea of impressing and never truly living, where one was always attempting to one up the other. Maybe that was what he loved most about Jane. She seemed able to ground him, make him realize how nice it was to live in the moment. To enjoy the little things around you—like feeding peacocks and cooking in the kitchen, or even helping kids learn to love to read.

As more and more people came in, he kept away from the table as it began to fill up. He wasn’t in the mood to exchange pleasantries or improve his business contacts. No. He really wanted to be anywhere else.

After another hour or so, the dancing began. Couples drifted onto the dance floor, and they focused on the people they’d come with. Once the table was empty, Charles walked over to it and sat down. This really wasn’t the sort of place a man came to alone. Why was he here? He should write out his customary check, thank his hosts, and leave. He’d be much more comfortable without this blasted tux anyway.

Just as he reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his checkbook, he got a glimpse of a beautiful girl in a mask, in a very familiar black dress. Did Jane come, or was he imagining things?

Charles froze and waited until the crowd parted again, his heart beating rapidly. Yes, it was Jane. It had to be. There was only one woman who could attract such notice as she did. Several people turned and stared at her as she slowly made her way toward the tables. She was clearly looking for him through that incredibly tempting mask. Her neck craned this way and that, trying to spy him among the dancers. Did she really believe he’d be out there?

Charles stood and made his way over to the buffet table again. He purposely hid behind a cluster of older men hashing out business of some sort. As Jane walked into the back section of the ballroom toward the tables, he saw her skimming each one. From his vantage point, he admired the way the dress swayed with her as she walked. Never noticing him, she passed right by the men—who’d stopped to stare—and then she made her way farther into the dining area.

Charles fetched a drink from the table, stepped up behind her, and whispered, “Hello, fair lady. Fancy meeting you here tonight.”

Jane shivered slightly and then turned toward him. Those incredible exotic eyes met his, and he was certain she’d never looked more striking than she did right then. “Thank you for coming,” he said.

“How long did it take you to recognize me?”

He chuckled and handed the drink to her. “Are you hiding? As soon as I saw you, I knew.”

She glanced down and nodded, and then her eyes met his again. She was here. She was really here. And he knew they’d be okay. No matter what else the world threw at them, they’d make it. “Would you care to dance?”

Her lips formed a delightful smile. “Of course. It’s why I came.”

“I’ve missed you.”

She glanced away and then met his gaze again. “I’ve missed you too.”

Every single breath seemed to matter. “Let’s not talk yet. Let’s just enjoy ourselves. And when you’re ready, you can tell me everything. Does that work? Or would you rather go ahead and talk? We can find a quiet corner and—”

Jane leaned over and stopped him with a long kiss on the cheek. His collar felt tighter and his breathing much more rapid as her faint perfume mingled with the warm breath on his jaw. Not one to miss an opportunity, Charles wrapped his arms around her, gently grasping her hand and then pulling her in so her sweet breath never stopped tickling his neck. Jane melted into him, her head resting perfectly on his shoulder—one feather from her mask tickling his brow—and ever so slowly, he began to rock with the music.

This was heaven. This was where he was always meant to be. And now that she was here, there was no way he’d ever let her go.

* * *

Jane released a long, giddy breath as she said good-bye to Charles after the ball. It was perfect—even better than she could imagine—and he was the perfect gentleman. He gave her space, never once questioning her motives over the last couple of days, and kept things lighthearted and fun. It was as if he was gently reminding her of everything she’d been missing. If that was his ploy, it worked. Without the heavy discussions, there were plenty of moments to enjoy and be in the moment.

Jane had forgotten how comfortable she was around him. How easily they slid into playful banter. Deep down, there was a strong friendship there. They could easily talk for hours about absolutely nothing. That night, they had—and danced and laughed and got outbid over and over again by some pretty high fliers. But none of it mattered—what mattered was that they were together, and she was allowing her heart to be sewn back together again stitch by stitch.

As they approached her apartment and he walked her to the door, her spine tingled from the light touch of his hand on the hollow of her back under her coat. So warm, so protective.

Charles tugged slightly and turned her toward him. “I have a gift to give you tomorrow. Will you be here?”

She grinned and looked up at him coyly through her lashes—her mask had been removed hours before. “Maybe.”

His eyes stared into hers for a little while, then roamed over her features—she loved seeing him smile. “I’ll take my chances.”

“I bet you’ve got something fun planned up your sleeve for ten leaping lords.”

“Of course I do. However, if you’ve rather have a night in and catch up, we could do that too. It’s up to you.”

It was up to her. It was such a simple concept, it amazed her how profound it seemed. All of the joy or sadness depended on her. “When were you planning to come over?”

He shrugged. “The gift is best opened during the evening, so I figured I’d start there. Well, I wasn’t sure if I would be seeing you tonight, so honestly, the plans I had were more like dropping the gift at your door again.”

She tried not to feel ashamed, but she did. A little. It was time they actually cleared the air. “Would you like to come over for brunch and stay awhile?”

“Are you sure you want me?”

He looked so handsome in his tux, trying to appear nonchalant and not too eager for her answer. It was charming, really. “I think we should talk.”

Charles straightened and cleared his throat. “Uh-oh, that sounds a bit ominous.”

She tilted her head and swung the mask around her hand. “I don’t know if it’s ominous, but I think I’m finally ready to explain myself. So, does tomorrow work?”

He nodded, his eyes going a bit serious. “Thank you.” Then he unexpectedly stepped forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips and then another. “Thank you for coming tonight. You stole the show—everyone was definitely looking at you.”

Oh, good grief. She blushed and went to pull away, but he caught her elbow and tugged her in for another kiss. This one was a bit more wonderful than the last two. His free hand came up to her shoulder and then cradled her head. Jane was completely lost.

Charles suddenly pulled back.

“Are you okay? Did I…?” She trailed off, not sure what to say.

He seemed to be having a hard time breathing. “No. I mean, yes, I’m okay. I’m more than okay. You . . . uh, you . . .” He cleared his throat. “I forgot how well you kissed.”

Jane could feel herself going bright red, and she bit her lip before she said something stupid.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He shook his head and then grinned. “I want to push open this door right now and never leave.”

It sounded like heaven to her. What would it be like to be married to him?

“But we’ve still got some things to sort out, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She didn’t move, and neither did he.

“I mean it. I’m going to walk away right now.”

Jane’s grin grew.

“Those lips are incredibly tempting. Are you trying to kill my resolve here?”

Yes. “No.” She blushed. “Go home, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Neither moved.

Then all at once, he pulled her in. “Just one more for the road.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ten Lords-a-Leaping

Charles showed up bright and early at eleven the next morning. Thank goodness it wasn’t any earlier. After being up so late the night before, Jane had only just woken up when he knocked on the door. She answered it with a yawn. “Hello there.”

“Howdy!” He didn’t even hesitate, or ask, or anything. She was greeted with a friendly kiss as he brushed past, his arms loaded full of goodies. He was completely light and cheery. Jane wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d started to whistle. She followed him into the kitchen, where he dumped everything on the table.

“What’s going to happen when we go back to normal and you stop spoiling me all the time?”

He laughed. “Who says anything is going back to normal? I’m loving this way too much.”

A tinge of guilt flashed through her. It really was odd to be given so much stuff. But he was happy, and a small part of her loved that doing this brought out the little boy in him. It was so fun to see him like this.

“So, are you going to see what I brought?” He waved her over. “Come here and see.”

Jane peeked into one bag and saw a ton of veggies and eggs. “Omelets?” she asked.

“Or a quiche. You get to decide.”

“Quiche? I don’t think I’ve ever had a bell pepper in a quiche before.”

“Then you’ve never lived! A southwestern quiche is amazing. That’s it, we’re making one. Now hurry and look at the rest so I can start.”

“So demanding.” She grinned and peeked into the second bag. Confused, she pulled out an envelope.

“Ten lords-a-leaping!” He seemed so proud of himself.

“But . . . ?” She opened it up and then laughed. There were two tickets to see a Utah Jazz basketball game. “Clever. There will definitely be men leaping all over the place.” He really was ingenious. “I never would have come up with this idea if I had years to think about it.”

Charles wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Stick with me, kid, and maybe I’ll begin to rub off on you.”

She touched her hair. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d want my head to grow as big as yours. I like my hats!”

“Hey! Now, get out of my way. I’ve got a masterpiece to prepare.”

“Fine. I’m going to get ready for the day. Tell me when it’s safe to come out again.”

By the time Jane stepped out of the shower, the place smelled amazing. When she was dressed and came out of her room, the quiche was cooling on the stovetop. “It looks wonderful.” She lightly touched the top. It sprang back perfectly. “I have to say, I’m impressed. After the last time you used my kitchen, I wasn’t sure you’d be able to pull it off, but this is better than anything I’ve ever attempted before.”

“Don’t get too excited. Wait till you try it first.”

A few minutes later, she was exclaiming all over again. “It’s amazing! I could seriously get used to this. So, when did you learn how to cook?”

For the next twenty minutes or so, they gabbed playfully. It was nice—cozy—
good
.

As the afternoon wore on, they took their conversation into the comfortable living room. When the reality of why he had come over couldn’t be ignored anymore, Jane leaned back on her side of the couch and broke into the middle of a trivial thing they were discussing, blurting out, “So, about the last few days…”