slow smile curled her lips and he didn’t even have to ask what she was thinking.
His eyes growing dark with desire, he said, “Sweetheart, that’s dessert.”
“Grace!”
Hearing her name being called, she turned to see Dax approaching their table. Roman frowned. Though she was sure he hadn’t meant to, Dax had just killed what had been a very special, and very sensual, moment. Dax had called her a dozen times that week, on both her work and private lines. She’d had her assistant take a message, or let it go to voice mail, as her week had been too busy to get caught up in another one of the “projects” he always seemed to have on the back burner. Usually she didn’t mind his enthusiasm. She’d enjoyed working on his campaign. But it seemed that the more time she devoted to his causes, the more he expected from her.
“I was beginning to worry when you didn’t get back to me,” he said, all but ignoring Roman, who she could see was not at all happy with the rude interruption. And neither was she. Normally she would have risen and greeted Dax with a platonic hug, or air-kissed him on each cheek, but this time she stayed put.
But he was being a typical self-centered, pushy politician, she supposed.
“I’ve been very busy,” she told Dax, her irritation growing as he placed a heavy hand on her bare shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“I have some ideas I need to run past you for an event I’d like to sponsor.”
“This is a very busy time for me,” she said, hoping to brush him off. “Call my assistant. Maybe she can squeeze you in after the holidays.”
His smile never faltered. “I have a better idea. We’ll meet for dinner tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Was he asking her or telling her? Either way, the answer was no. “I’m busy tomorrow.”
He wasn’t swayed. “All right, Sunday, then.”
What the hell was wrong with Dax? He was almost acting as if they were an item. Or as if he was deliberately trying to piss off Roman, and sabotage their evening. And Roman was seriously pissed off. His jaw was tense, and she could see that he wanted to interject. He glanced at her questioningly and she shot him a look that she hoped said, let me handle it.
Turning to Dax, she was firm, but polite. “Dax, I don’t mean to be rude, but I just want to have a quiet evening with a friend. Call my assistant and I’ll see what I can do.”
He gave her shoulder another firm squeeze and she fought the urge to shrug his hand off, or bat it away. It wasn’t like him to be so forward. Not with her anyway. Maybe Roman was right and Dax had set his sights on her. But she wasn’t interested. Not even the least little bit. Sure, they had seen each other socially a few times, and had worked together, but she had never led him to believe she had any romantic intentions. If that’s what he thought, he couldn’t have been more mistaken.
“We’ll talk next week,” he said. He didn’t ask, he all but demanded. And she didn’t justify it with a response. She just wanted him to leave.
When he finally removed his hand, the ghost of his touch made her feel so...icky. And he walked off having never even acknowledged that Roman was there.
So much for his respect for a true war hero.
“I’m so sorry, Roman. I’m not sure why Dax just did that. If I didn’t know better I would say that he was jealous. Or trying to make you jealous.”
“You know what I think,” he said, sounding irritated.
She did, and she was beginning to believe he was right. “If he’s looking for something beyond a professional relationship, I’m not interested. And if he thinks that kind of behavior is appropriate in any way, he had better start looking for a new volunteer.”
“Good,” Roman said, sounding relieved. “I don’t trust him.”
Right now, neither did she. “I could see that you wanted to say something to him.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Roman said. “Let’s just say that he’s lucky he left when he did.”
“Well, thank you for letting me handle it.”
“I didn’t feel like it was my place,” he said. “As your friend.”
She could swear he almost sounded hurt. Or disappointed. They had agreed to this arrangement. Did this mean he wanted more? Or was she just imagining things?
And if he did want more, how did she feel about that? Maybe she wanted more, too, if she could shake off her apprehension? He had been nothing but honest and up front with her, and had never made any excuses for his betrayal seven years ago. And she now truly believed that he had nothing to do with the recent slurs against her family. He was a good man, and a good friend. So why was she clinging so firmly to that last shred of resentment?
Just let it go and enjoy the night, and what you do have together, she told herself. Don’t overthink it. Keep it simple.
“I don’t want this to ruin our evening,” she said.
“Neither do I.”
She lowered her voice and added, “Just so we’re clear, the only one getting into my panties is you.” She paused, then said, “Though that could be a problem tonight.”
“And why is that?”
She leaned forward, flashing him a sexy grin. “Because I’m not wearing any.”
Roman was pretty sure Grace was kidding when she made the crack about not wearing panties. She was using it as a way to dispel the tension of the senator’s rude interruption. Whether it was true or not, it worked.
Dax could have potentially ruined their evening, but Gracie didn’t let that happen. She seemed just as disgusted by the senator’s unnecessary intrusion as Roman was. And she finally seemed to be seeing the man for who he really was: a narcissistic, manipulative creep who had more on his mind than campaigns and fund-raising. After his stunt last Friday at the fund-raiser, Roman didn’t want him within a hundred yards of Gracie.
He hoped she meant what she said and this would be the push she needed to stop working with Dax altogether. Roman had done a little digging, and asked around, and though he hadn’t found anything outwardly corrupt in the senator’s dealings, the general consensus seemed to be that the man was as crooked as they come—just very good at hiding it.
And though Roman tried not to let it show, he was jealous. When the senator put his hand on Gracie’s shoulder Roman had caught himself clenching his fists. He didn’t condone violence, but if they hadn’t been in a crowded restaurant, his natural instinct to protect her would have left the senator with a broken hand.
But he’d let it go and they were able to eat and talk and enjoy each other’s company the way they used to. He wanted to reach across the table and hold her hand, but he had to settle for a discreet game of footsie. But she took it a step further when she nudged out
