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“I’m overstepping. Sorry, Dom—” She cut herself off, eyes lifting to the ceiling, and I followed her gaze to the chandelier overhead.
“Something interesting up there?” I asked.
Her skin was bronzed, so I had to assume she went to grad school somewhere with better weather than D.C., but her tan couldn’t hide the touch of embarrassment fighting its way to her cheeks. “Just searching for what to say. But no teleprompter on the ceiling.”
Fuck, I almost laughed. It’d been so long since I’d been around someone as honest and sweet as her, I almost forgot how to communicate myself.
“I’m trying to figure out what to call you now. You once said Dom or the devil, but you’re actually Carter.” She began talking with her hands. “Or I suppose you’re all three.”
My smile morphed into a light laugh. “I’m whoever you want me to be.” I swallowed the moment I spied her throat do the same thing. Shit, was that flirty? What the fuck is wrong with me? “Carter.” I began distracting myself by uncuffing my sleeve, prepared to roll it up. Where are you, Rebecca? I cast a quick look toward the door, noting her politician friends had joined her out there, too.
“Mister Dominick? Is that perhaps a better name since you’re married to my mother’s friend, and?—”
“I’m old?” Turning to face her, I arched a brow, only to see her eyes focused on the tattoos now exposed on my forearm, the sleeve cuffed at the elbow. I’d nearly forgotten they were there, and in this politician haunt of a restaurant, my wife would probably have my head for exposing them.
“You’re not old.” She seemed to welcome the blush to her face that time.
Deciding fuck it, I rolled up my second sleeve while shifting closer to Diana.
“And ohhhh, I’ve got a tattoo now, too.”
We were surrounded by other people, but it felt like we were back on that embassy floor years ago. I wasn’t sure why the world faded away, but it did. I also didn’t want to think about if that was supposed to mean anything, because I couldn’t think about that.
When she redirected her attention to the ceiling, I couldn’t help but murmur, “Are we looking for that writing again?”
She turned her cheek, catching my eyes. We were too close, and it felt . . . well, wrong. Wrong to have my face and body near another woman. And definitely wrong to feel like we’d shared some kind of moment.
I immediately straightened and backed up a step. Because never, not fucking ever, did I have any kind of moment with a woman who wasn’t my wife. I wasn’t about to start now.
Diana probably reminded me of my old life with the Army, being part of a team where I’d truly belonged. Now I just felt alone.
Worried she was still nervous or embarrassed about her tattoo remark, I went ahead and asked, “What’s it of?”
The gratitude in her smile was clear as she extended her arm and pushed her sleeve up to show the inside of her wrist. “It’s small and sideways, but?—”
“Double helix intertwined with a tree of life,” I said, not meaning to interrupt, but it was perfect for her.
“Good eye.” She tugged at her sleeve, concealing it again. “My mom hates it.”
“Well, I like it.” I pushed my hands into my dress pants’ pockets, unsure what was taking Rebecca so damn long. I was close to finding my way outside to her when my work cell began buzzing from a message. Shit, that meant one thing—I wouldn’t be making it to Easter dinner Sunday. “Excuse me one second.” I pulled out the phone and turned my back to check the text. Urgent, as expected. I had to get to Langley as of yesterday.
At the sight of Rebecca finally coming in with a hoard of Washington elitists, I pocketed my phone.
“We’re going to see if we can all eat together,” Rebecca said before her shoulders fell in disappointment, getting an accurate read on me. “You’re leaving?”
“Can we have a word?” I tipped my head toward the door, ignoring the crowd of her friends huddling inside while Susan talked with the hostess about new seating arrangements.
“Don’t bother.” She brushed past me, and I circled my hand around her wrist, stopping her.
Dropping my mouth over her ear, I begged, “Ask me to stay. To give up this job, and I will.” Please, give me that ultimatum before this work kills me from the inside out . . . or this job destroys our marriage.
“Go,” was all she said, and I released her, feeling my walls go right back up at that one word. I tore my hand through my hair as I stood there motionless, unsure what to think or do. “I love you,” she forced out, then left.
I turned to see her catching up with some guy in a suit. A senator, from what I remembered. I’d forgotten his name. She started laughing at something he said, and now I was the one searching the ceiling for writing. For a fucking sign. A clue what to do.
“Find anything there this time? I mean, if we keep looking, just maybe . . .”
I slowly lowered my eyes to see Diana, the area by the door now empty except for us.
