Before I can do anything, the energy in the space shifts. Mr. Pickner notices too, because he immediately takes a step away from me. Everything in the room seems to be drowned out, the air once filled with laughter and scooting chairs is now saturated with the scent of expensive spice.
My eyes flitter to my right to see Barrett Landry. His deep blue tie has been loosened a bit, his cufflinks gone, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looks elegant in his custom-fit suit. I’ve never seen a man look this put together and pull it off like he woke up this way.
He smiles and I immediately relax, my body instinctively responding to him. He holds my gaze for a long second, both stealing my breath and giving me oxygen at the same time, before a coolness falls over his face as he turns to my boss.
Mr. Pickner puts on his game face, the one he doesn't use with his employees, and outstretches a hand. His eyes are a bit wide, like he's as star-struck as the rest of us.
"Mr. Mayor! I do hope you're enjoying yourself. It's been an honor to cater this event for your campaign."
Barrett shakes his hand firmly, and I can see the muscles flex in his forearm. It's pure arm porn as I watch the veins pop and his tanned skin tighten.
"Tonight has been exemplary, thank you," Barrett says, letting his hand drop to his side. "I couldn't help but overhear a conversation between you and the lady by your side."
The vein in my boss’s temple pulses and I know I'm screwed. My stomach twists, a pit of acid churning, as I wait to see where this conversation goes. I consider excusing myself, but I think that'll make things worse.
Instead, I throw back my shoulders and brace myself, preparing to hear my boss and this gorgeous man discuss some impropriety I've unknowingly committed and wait to be fired. My mind ticks off possible replacement jobs, a way to make the kind of money that is currently going into a fund to help pay for the rest of my schooling.
God help me.
"I'm sorry about that,” Mr. Pickner says. “My employees are under strict orders not to disturb you or your guests. Please accept my apologies and assurance that I will deal with this and it won't happen again."
"I'd hope not," Barrett says, his voice stern. "I'd hope you wouldn't reprimand your employee for taking a few minutes to answer my questions. This is a social gathering, Jim," he says, looking pointedly at him, "and it is one I'm paying for. If I'd like to socialize with . . .”
He looks at me with raised eyebrows and waits on me to find my voice.
"Alison Baker," I say, trying to look away, but unable to pull my eyes away from his.
"If I'd like to socialize with Alison, it seems as though I'm paying for the honor."
Mr. Pickner’s face pales. He stumbles to recover but fails spectacularly. "Oh, I, um, I'm sorry, Mr. Landry. I had no idea. I . . .”
"I'm sure you didn't, which is why I find your readiness to discipline her insulting. In business, it's best you have the facts before you leap into action." He watches Mr. Pickner’s face fall further and further towards the plush carpeting until he's satisfied. "Let me also point out that it is never okay for you to put your hands on a woman."
"I just—” he begins, but Barrett cuts him off.
"Never okay." He takes the tray away from me and sits it on a table nearby. He picks up my arm gently, sending a ripple of shivers throughout my body. My voice is gone again, and I try to remember everything I once knew about keeping calm and maintaining courtesy.
"Are you okay, Alison?"
His voice wraps around me like a warm blanket, and I'm certain if I weren’t okay, whatever would've been wrong would suddenly be healed. My hand tingles where his is touching it, all of my senses buzzing. He grins, not his usual wide, disarming smile, but a softer one I haven't had the pleasure of seeing before. It's the one I won't forget.
"I'm okay," I say, pulling my hand away. "Really."
Barrett pauses, his eyes narrowing again, searching me. “I’d like to take you for some fresh air, if that would be okay with you?”
I can hear the words my brain wants to say in my head. It's a long ramble of stuttered words laced with a string of lewd offers my body is demanding. I press my lips shut and opt not to risk it.
The mayor turns to my boss and they begin a conversation, but I don't hear them. I just watch Barrett, taking in the beauty in front of me—the dimple that's barely visible in his left cheek, the tiny scar above his right eye. He's clearly in charge, my boss now seeming no more than a little boy.
Finally, they turn to me and I gulp. I have no idea what's been discussed, and I feel like they expect me to know.
Damn it.
"Alison," Mr. Pickner says, "please forgive me for earlier. Feel free to enjoy the rest of your night." He dips his head and skitters back into the kitchen.
I look up into the handsome face of Mayor Landry. He's studying me, an intensity in his gaze that makes my stomach flutter.
This is how I didn't pay attention. Gah! Pay attention, Ali!