?
“So, when the chef brought my meal back for the third time still wrong, I knew I’d have to use the full force of my office to make a point,” the Polish ambassador to some country I’ve never heard of says.
I grip onto the edge of the table. Not for balance, but to restrain myself from picking up my salad fork and stabbing myself in the ear with it, just so I don’t have to listen to this anymore. I’m going to lodge an extremely cross complaint with Uncle Jon, letting him know in no uncertain terms that I’m never coming to another presidential event if this buffoon is the type of person I must force myself to politely converse with.
A light tap on my shoulder makes me lift my head and I find Cruce smiling down at me. He’d been off talking to my uncle’s press secretary, who’d also served with him during his term as vice president.
“Would you like to dance?” Cruce asks, holding his hand out palm up.
I consider the fork, decide a dance is a better option than stabbing myself, and place my hand in his. When he tugs me from my chair, I don’t spare a glance at the Polish ambassador, even though I’ll be leaving him all alone at the table. He’d managed to chase everyone else off, and I’d been the last one stuck listening to his pompous ramblings.
“I know your job is to save me from kidnappers,” I murmur as Cruce leads me to the parquet dance floor in the middle of the room. “But that was quite possibly the best save of your career.”
Chuckling, Cruce brings me in close. His free hand slides to rest on my lower back, and I bring mine to his shoulder. We start a passable job at a slow waltz. Because I’m not tall enough to see over his shoulder, I peek around Cruce’s broad chest, spotting my aunt and uncle smiling as they watch us.
I duck out of sight, hiding my own smile. They love me so much, and they constantly fret over how hard I work. But I’m no fool—I’d already recognized my uncle ordering me to attend as his way of trying to assure I have a social life, too.
“Think we can leave soon?” I ask Cruce hopefully. “I could get in a few hours of work tonight.”
Cruce’s smirk is chiding. “Can’t you just relax for one evening?”
I shake my head. “Nearly impossible.”
“Come on, Barrett,” he taunts with a laugh. “You’re amazingly gorgeous tonight, the music is great, and the champagne is flowing. Live it up a little.”
Gorgeous?
Amazingly gorgeous?
I blush again, feeling it all the way to the roots of my hair for some weird reason. Shyly, I drop my gaze. But Cruce isn’t letting me off that easy. Next thing I know, his fingertips are pressing under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. It’s such an intimate touch that my face gets hotter, and I’m afraid he can feel it.
His head dips closer as he murmurs, “You can take one night off, Barrett. Okay?”
His blue eyes locked on mine are mesmerizing, not as icy as I once thought. Rather, they seem all-knowing—magically understanding something about me that even I haven’t quite figured out.
I’m hypersensitive to the weight of his hand on my back. The thought if I were to go to my tiptoes, I’d be close enough to kiss him flits through my mind.
Not that I would.
I mean… I’m his client. It would be totally inappropriate.
But damn… he’s so handsome and well built. And… he smells so good tonight.
Just how long has it been since I’ve had sex?
“Barrett?” Cruce says, and I shake my head to clear it.
I blink, smiling. “Yes?”
“Had a funny look on your face,” he almost whispers, expression concerned. “You okay?”
Other than shamelessly wondering what it would be like to have sex with you, I’m totally fine.
“I’m good,” I say, which is a flat-out lie. But I step in just a bit closer, deciding I might as well enjoy dancing with this enigmatic man.
To my surprise, Cruce’s hold on me tightens just a bit, causing my breasts to brush against his chest. I suck in a breath, but I don’t read anything into it.
Nothing could ever come of it, anyway.CHAPTER 6Cruce“Damn it, Barrett,” I growl as she heads out the front door. “Slow down a minute.”
But she’s gone, and a curse flies from my mouth as I finish lacing up my shoe.
Despite being out late last night for the State dinner, Barrett was up half an hour earlier than usual. Apparently, it doesn’t matter it’s Saturday and most people are enjoying a leisurely morning. To Barrett, it’s just another workday.
And it’s fine… I was already up, too, but I was surprised by the speed in which she completed her normal morning routine.