“You’re trying to convince me that you’re not nuts, but you’re failing miserably. Everett, people don’t go around spending thousands on a whim to give something back to a complete stranger. Not with no strings attached. Nobody is that selfless.”
“You should talk to my friend Brandon. He’s always on me about doing stuff like this. Figures I did enough when I started New Day. But what the hell good is an inheritance if you can’t spend it to make people’s lives better?”
Sylvie stared at him. He’d started New Day? It was his company? She’d thought he was Neal’s opposite, but she had no way of knowing how right she’d been. Neal had been a selfish con man, pretending to be rich to take advantage of the unsuspecting. And here was Everett, apparently legitimately wealthy, trying to use that wealth for the benefit of others.
When Everett took a step to close the distance between them, Sylvie held her ground.
“You don’t owe me a date or dinner or even a chance to ever see you again, if you don’t want.” He lifted her hand, curled her fingers around the box. “This belongs to you.” He stepped away and put his hands behind his back, as if to keep her from handing the ring over again. “It’s paid for, free and clear. You can check with Mr. Vandevelde yourself, if you want.”
“I believe you,” she murmured. The stones glittered in the faint wash of light from El Charro. Sylvie ran a light finger over them, feeling the comforting contours. Her grandmother’s ring, back in her hand. Because of the extraordinary kindness of a stranger. Throat tight with emotion, she looked up at Everett. “Can you possibly be for real?”
He reached over and pinched his wrist. “Ow. See, flesh and blood. Seriously, my only motive was to do something spontaneous and nice for someone at Christmas. I didn’t—don’t expect anything in return. You don’t have to finish dinner, even. If you want to go on home, I absolutely understand.”
He meant it. Sylvie could see it in his face.
What a guy, she thought again.
Saying nothing, she reached up and unclasped the chain around her neck, sliding the ring back on. Feeling the faint weight of it settle against her chest, something inside her eased and opened. With a sigh, she stepped toward Everett and laid a hand against his cheek. “You can’t know what this means to me.”
~*~
But Everett did know. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the careful way she cupped his cheek. And he was pretty sure that no matter how many people he helped, in how many ways, nothing else was ever going to feel quite like this, mean quite this much to him personally.
“Glad I could help,” he said, his voice a trifle ragged at the edges.
“Thank you,” said Sylvie. She eased in closer, rose to her toes.
Everett froze. “You don’t have to—”
“I know,” she said and laid her lips over his.
Just a light, sweet pressure, but his heart leapt into his throat. His hands fisted to keep from reaching for her, and it took everything he had to hold himself still, accepting what she offered without giving any pressure in return. Her body swayed closer, the warmth of her thighs, belly, chest brushing up against his, cooking what remained of his brain cells, making him want to touch. Everett fought back a groan. He was pretty sure this might kill him, but he’d be damned if he’d do anything to make her feel threatened or used.
Sylvie eased back, just a fraction, hand still curved against his cheek.
Everett swallowed hard, eyes still closed. “You’re welcome,” he managed.
“Everett?” she said softly.
“Yeah?” He should really open his eyes now, but he didn’t want to lose the remembered sensation of her mouth on his.
“You could kiss me back. I wouldn’t mind.”
His eyes popped open at that to find her mouth curved in that half smile again. God, if she had any idea what that smile did to him.
Sylvie’s hand slid from his face to twine in the hair at his nape. Everett framed her face, loving the smooth feel of her skin against his palms as he lowered his lips to hers, tasted her smile. She sighed and softened against him, a surrender that had him angling his head, diving just a little bit deeper to torture them both. Her arms wrapped around him, but he kept his hands at her face, where they were safe and in control. He stroked the edge of her cheekbones with his thumbs and enjoyed one last taste before edging back.
“Wow,” he said again.
“I own an art gallery,” blurted Sylvie.
Everett blinked at her. “Sorry?”
“I’ve been letting you do all the talking. Before this little diversion, we were working on that get to know each other portion of the night. I figured maybe it was time for some quid pro quo.” Her smiled turned suddenly shy. “That is, if you’d still like to see me.”
Everett smiled and dropped his brow to hers. “I would. I really really would.”
“Do you suppose they’ve already cleared our table?”