couldn’t enjoy the party.”
Tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear, an escapee from her upswept hairdo, she rolled her eyes. “It’ll take a lot more than champagne to get me to enjoy a black-tie party.”
There she went again with her outrageous statements. He smiled. “Should I be insulted that my party isn’t up to par?”
A horrified light dawned in her expression. “No! Your party is perfect because, well...you’re you and your house is amazing and the guests are great. I’m just clumsy with small talk. Obviously.”
She blinked up at him from under her lashes. On any other woman, that look would have been coquettish, designed to convey blatant invitation, and he would have walked away without regret. On her, it was a hint of vulnerability, of uncertainty. And together, they unexpectedly whacked him in the heart.
Hadn’t seen that coming. His attraction had deepened over a simple look.
“Not clumsy,” he corrected smoothly. “Honest. That’s refreshing.”
“I’m glad someone thinks so.” She scowled, but it was cute on her. “Numbers people like me are not usually sought out by party hosts. We tend to skulk about behind statues and embarrass ourselves with wardrobe problems.”
“Why did you come to the party if you don’t like dressing up?”
Obviously she hadn’t morphed into someone who liked black-tie affairs, which was a shame. She was looking less and less like a candidate for his permanent plus one. The problem was, the more he stood here with her, the more he wanted to chuck all his marriage rules.
“You know why.”
The undercurrents between them heated as their gazes locked. He couldn’t have walked away from Alex if his ancestral home caught fire. He was close enough to see the brown fleck in her eye and it was oddly intimate. His attraction to her was ungodly strong and a colossal problem.
“You came for me?” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question. Her smile answered affirmatively anyway. “I’m flattered you’d put on an uncomfortable dress and wear makeup just for me.”
“Call it a rare burst of spontaneity. Totally unlike me. But hopefully worth it in the end.”
He almost groaned. She was killing him. Why couldn’t they be two normal people meeting at a party, with no agenda other than to spend time together? “I’m a fan of spontaneous women.”
Especially since he didn’t have nearly enough opportunity to indulge in spontaneity. It was the enemy of someone eyeing the presidency. His life consisted of carefully worded statements and planned appearances, strenuously vetted acquaintances and photo ops. The chances of, say, happening across an intriguing woman in a shadowy corner were nearly nil.
Yet here he was. They shared an inability to be spontaneous. Just this once, he wanted to indulge in spontaneity alongside her. Maybe they could be two people who met at a party and had fun with no expectations.
His grin widened. This was probably the most he’d smiled without being ordered to in...a long time. “Let’s do something totally impulsive, then. Dance with me.”
As vigorously as she shook her head, it was a wonder it didn’t roll off her neck. Brown, glossy strands floated from her hairdo, drifting down around her face. “I can’t dance with you in front of all these people.”
“You can so. Your dress is appropriately adjusted. You’re over the age of eighteen and not married.”
That was the trifecta of scandal potentials and the three he always checked off the list automatically within the first half a second in a woman’s company. After his uncle had lost his Senate nomination over some risqué pictures starring a woman who was not his wife, Phillip had vowed to stay on the straight and narrow.
His career wasn’t just about the election but about making a difference. Changing the world. He refused to allow his star to be snuffed out early for any reason, least of all a woman. His life was privileged, no doubt, but with that privilege came great responsibility.
“This dress doesn’t have magical powers, Phillip. I’m clumsy with words and feet.”
“You don’t seem to realize that you’re a successful executive who cofounded a million-dollar company. You should be out on the dance floor, intimidating the hell out of all the people here because you are Alexandra Meer and you don’t care what they think.”
He held out his hand. There was no way he would let her spend the night in the corner. They were going to honor her spontaneous impulse to attend this party. Of course, that was just an excuse. He couldn’t help but steal a few more minutes of her company.
* * *
Alex hesitated, staring at Phillip’s outstretched hand.
She’d been hiding behind the statue for a reason. Other women must have some kind of special sticky skin that allowed them to wear strapless dresses without falling out of them. Alex didn’t. Dancing would make everyone else aware of it, too.
“Come on,” he pleaded in his deep voice that made her shiver tonight as much as it had the first time she’d heard it. “I can’t leave you back here, and if you don’t dance with me, I’ll be an absentee host at my own party. This is my house. It would seem weird.”
Alex glanced at the very large, very ugly statue she’d taken refuge behind. “You weren’t supposed to see me.”
No one was; that was the point. The statue was a great place to hide but still allowed her to sort of be in the midst of things. Parties always reminded her of why she didn’t attend them. Social niceties were a confusing, complex set of rules that she could never seem to follow. Alex liked rules. But only when they made sense, like in finance. Numbers were the same yesterday and today as they would be tomorrow.
Normally, she followed her own number one rule to the letter—stay out of the spotlight. But she’d developed a fierce attraction to Phillip and, well...parties seemed to be his natural habitat. Thus she had to attend one to see if things might heat up between them outside of Fyra. Because there were sparks between them, but he’d yet to make a move. She wanted to find out if his glacial pace had to do with lack of interest or something else.
Cass had bullied her into a makeover and pried Alex’s credit card out of her fingers to purchase this dress. It all felt very surreal and a little like trying too hard. Alex didn’t have a glamorous bone in her body, but the resulting image in her mirror had turned out pretty good, if she did say so herself.
And here she and Phillip were, flirting and having fun, and he’d just asked her to dance. This dress did have magical powers.
Maybe she could dance with him. Just once. Then she’d slink back to her hiding spot before someone else tried to talk to her. Someone who wasn’t as understanding as Phillip about her permanent foot-in-mouth syndrome.
Slowly, she reached out. It was almost harder to do that than it had been to walk through Phillip’s palatial double front doors, knowing he was on the other side, divinely, devastatingly handsome. Actually, just about everything she’d done in the name of advancing her relationship with Phillip had taken a huge amount of bravery.
Maybe the stars had finally aligned to alleviate
