Executive Pursuit. Andrea Laurence
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“But you could’ve let the press splash my name and picture everywhere. And you didn’t.”
Kellan smiled and her insides melted like she was twenty again. “I didn’t want to share you with the world. They would’ve found a way to turn our relationship into another one of my scandals, and you deserved better than that. I didn’t want to ruin us.”
“You couldn’t have ruined us,” she said.
Kellan narrowed his eyes as he listened to her speak. “What happened to that sweet, southern accent I used to love?”
Penelope was grateful for the change in subject. “I’ve been living in D.C. too long, I guess.” The truth was more that she’d deliberately tried to shake her accent. She’d wanted to sound more professional when she started to work at the White House full-time. She didn’t want to be the only Elly May in the office.
Kellan frowned at her. He could see the truth in her eyes. “There was nothing wrong with you the way you were. My Penny was perfect. You didn’t have to change for my mother.”
“I didn’t,” she started to argue, but she stopped. She had changed for Mrs. Ramsey. She’d realized that no amount of knowledge of etiquette or calligraphy would help her if she sounded like she was fresh from the holler. “I wanted to sound like everyone else.”
“But you’re not like everyone else. Everyone else is boring. That’s what makes you special.”
The music in the ballroom swelled and the New Year countdown began. It was a good excuse for her to shake this uncomfortable conversation. “I need to get back in there.”
“Wait,” Kellan said, blocking her escape. “I’ve already lost the last six years with you. Please spend the next seven seconds with me.”
His voice was a soft plea she couldn’t ignore. She could give him a few more seconds…but that was all. “Six, five, four…” she counted, her eyes locked on his.
Kellan took her hand in his own and pulled it away from his chest. He stepped forward, closing the gap between them. He wasn’t pressed against her the way she craved, but she was close enough to climb up to her toes and—
“Happy New Year!” the crowd roared from the other room and the familiar notes of ‘‘Auld Lang Syne’ began to play.
“Happy New Year, Penelope.”
“Happy New Year.”
Kellan slipped a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to him. His lips met hers. They were warm and soft, tasting of the champagne she’d chosen for the night. She couldn’t help leaning forward, drinking him in and getting tipsy from the sensation of his mouth against hers.
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