Was she going to sleep with him? No.
She straightened her neck and looked over the seat in front of her, catching a quick glimpse of Tom, who sat across from Van, staring out the window. His blond hair tumbled over his forehead, and he rubbed his chin with his index finger as Van flirted shamelessly with the stewardess.
Absolutely not.
Although, in fairness, she was positive he wouldn't be bad in bed.
And with that thought, hidden muscles deep inside her body flexed and held, telling her they wouldn't mind finding out.
He was handsome. Sinfully handsome. But Eleanora had met many handsome men since she and Evie moved to Vail. What set Tom English apart was the way he'd looked at her when he said, "We'd have to go to Vegas"-like he was willing to take a chance on her, like she was somehow worth the chance he was taking.
Eleanora's mother had run out on them when she was five, and her father, who was a functioning alcoholic, had done his best with four kids, but there was very little time left for little Eleanora, who always had her nose in a book anyway. She'd only heard from him twice since leaving home three years ago with Eve Marie, who'd actually been their reason for leaving: her new stepfather was paying the sixteen-year-old way too much unwanted attention, and Eve Marie had confessed her fears to Eleanora. They'd hitchhiked to Vail, lied about Eve Marie's age, found jobs as waitresses at Auntie Rose's and used Eleanora's meager savings for a shabby one-bedroom apartment.
Enrolling herself in college courses had taken courage, but Eleanora had read enough books to know that the best way out of poverty was an education, and though she knew she'd likely be in her late thirties before her dreams took shape, at least she had dreams, and at least she was trying to make them come true.
And then Tom English had walked into her life, and suddenly she had the chance to fast-track her dreams.
She peeked over the seat again, and he looked up just in time to catch her eyes, locking his with hers. His mustache twitched a little as his lips quirked into a grin, and Eleanora's heart took off at a gallop, her own smile answering his. He lifted his Champagne glass and toasted her, his gaze never leaving hers as he tilted his head back and let the Champagne bubbles slide down his throat. Suppressing a whimper, Eleanora hunched down, turning to Evie, who was still rhapsodizing and scolding her older cousin in an unbridled stream of scattered, enthusiastic thought.
***
Tom chuckled softly, watching her blonde head disappear back behind the seat.
She reminded him a little of a gopher, looking over at him with those wide, liquid eyes before ducking back down.
"You think your gramps is going to buy this?" asked Van, checking out the stewardess's ass as she headed back to the galley.
"I don't know," answered Tom honestly. "Can't hurt to try, though. What's the worst he can do?"
"Disown you," said Van.
"Like I said, can't hurt to try."
Van's eyes were uncharacteristically serious when he asked, "What if she tries to get her hooks in you?"
"Who? Eleanora?"
"Yeah."
Not that Tom would necessarily mind having her hooks in him right this minute, but he appreciated that Van's question was sensible. "We'll have to sign something in Vegas. Something about her getting a million and me getting a divorce."
"I'll draw it up," said Van, who rarely used his law degree, though it certainly came in handy at times. "She's cute. I'll give you that. Maybe you can sample the goodies before you say sayonara."
Van turned to the window and closed his eyes while Tom straightened up to get another look at Eleanora. Cute? Nah. She was stunning. She was the hottest girl he'd ever seen. He stared at her blonde head unobserved, and a thought took over his brain: temporary nuptials or not, she deserved a nice decent wedding. Not some five-dollar cheesefest at an Elvis chapel, but something decent, something she could remember fondly after they'd gotten their money and said their goodbyes.
Taking a notebook out of the briefcase he'd stowed under the seat in front of him, he started a list that he didn't complete until they began their descent into Las Vegas.
***
"I'm sure you'll have everything you need," said Tom, grinning at Eleanora as he walked the cousins to their room at the Imperial Palace, the newest and best hotel on the Strip. "But if you don't, just call downstairs. They'll charge anything you need to me."
Not knowing what she could possibly need, she nodded at him, chancing a glance behind her to find Evie and Van making out in the hallway a ways back. She paused at her hotel room door, holding the key in her hand and turning around to look at Tom.
"Why are you doing this?"
He shrugged. "I was fairly certain that my inheritance was a lost cause. You made me wonder if I shouldn't give it one last chance."
Guilt embraced her. As much as Tom English's million dollars would help her start a whole new life, she felt mercenary taking his money for something as simple as saying "I do" once or twice at a sham wedding. Perhaps he had plans for the fifteen million. "Do you need it? The money?"
"Not really, I guess. I have a good education. I work with my father at my grandfather's financial firm, English & Son, but I could find another job at a different bank if I needed to." He flattened his hand against the wall by her door, caging her on two sides, and she fought the impulse to step into him. "But life will be easier with the money. More doors will stay open to me if I stay on at my family's firm. And . . ."
His eyes flickered as they stared into hers.
"And . . .?"
Did his cheeks flush a little, or was that her imagination?
He shrugged again. "I like it that you'll be able to chase your dream sooner than later. Buy your bookstores. Build a library. Go to Princeton. I could help you with that, you know." His grin brightened his whole face. "Funny thing, my great-great grandfather built the library there. Just say the word, and I'll make a few calls."
Her eyes had watered as he confessed that he wanted to help her. She wasn't the type of girl who'd had much help in life-no lucky breaks, no windfalls, no happy twists of fate. Not until Tom English had walked into her life.
And suddenly she heard herself whisper, "You're something between a dream and a miracle."
His eyes-his warm, kind eyes-widened suddenly, heating up and darkening as he took a step toward her.
"E-Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote that," she said quickly. "I didn't make that up. I borrowed it."
"Barrett," said Tom, reaching out to touch her cheek with his fingertips, the touch as soft as breath. "Not Burnett."
Leaning into his touch, she looked into his eyes and grinned curiously, uncertain of his meaning.
"Your cousin said ‘Burnett' this morning," he explained, grinning back at her.
"Oh," she whispered, chuckling softly. "Yes. Barrett."
His thumb swiped gently over her bottom lip, and Eleanora's breath caught. She wondered if he'd dip his head and kiss her. She hoped he would. Oh God, had she ever wanted anything more?
"You're the dream," he said softly, staring deeply into her eyes.
"Tom . . .," she sighed, taking another step toward him, the front of her sweater grazing the nubby tan corduroy of his jacket.
Suddenly he shook his head like he was coming out of a trance and took a step back, dropping his hand. She watched him fist it by his side, then flex his fingers, spreading them as though in punishment.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he muttered.
Then he turned and walked away.
His name lingered on the tip of her tongue as she watched him stalk away, his legs long in dark jeans, his shoulders hunched forward. As he passed Van and Evie, he stopped and whispered something by Van's ear that caused his friend to break away from Evie, give her a quick hug, and follow Tom down the hall toward the elevator. Eleanora watched until they were out of sight, then shifted her gaze to Evie.
"Someone's in a pissy mood," her cousin observed, hurrying down the hall. "I guess you didn't invite him in, huh?"
I would have, thought Eleanora, steadying her trembling fingers and working the key into the lock. "I think he was . . . just tired. Or something."
"Or something, all right. He practically growled at Van to join him for a drink downstairs."
Eleanora twisted the key and reached down for her suitcase, pushing the door open and feeling along the wall for a light switch. Evie tumbled into the room behind her, knocking into Eleanora, who was frozen in place.