“Boston.”
His eyes mesmerized her, the dark flint slashes embedded in the mahogany depths glinting in the sunlight. “You’re leaving?”
She sniffed as she nodded. “It’s best if I go before I cause more damage.”
Ben dropped his head to watch his fingers interlace with hers. “You shouldn’t go, not yet at least.”
All the air left Rose’s lungs in a shaky whoosh. “Why not?”
Ben pursed his lips and exhaled before meeting her gaze. “This attraction… it’s inconvenient.”
“I don’t understand.”
His jaw ticked. “Because you drive me to distraction. Because you make me lose focus.” He was nearer somehow; had he stepped closer or had they drifted together, swept into the other’s inescapable orbit? “Because I don’t carry on with women in my building.”
“And I don’t belong here.” The back of her hand brushed against his thigh now, their chests brushing with each inhale.
“You don’t. And we should stay away from each other.” Ben lifted his hand as though he would touch her, but stopped. “But—”
The surprised shriek from the doorway pierced the bubble surrounding them, and Ben looked away from Rose with a low growl. Both turned to where Abby stood, wide-eyed and with a mischievous grin spreading across her face.
“Well,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t this adelightfulturn of events?”
“What is it, Abby?” Ben scowled, rubbing the back of his neck.
She smirked. “I’m so sorry tointerrupt, but Garrett is here. Are we still meeting in your apartment?”
Ben grunted and paced toward the door, then stopped. “Are you coming?”
Her lips parted in surprise. In her periphery, Rose saw Abby bouncing on her toes, watching the pair as though they were a show on Drury Lane. “Why would I?”
He held his breath for a moment, then exhaled through pursed lips. “Until you leave for Boston, you’re one of us.”
“Bollocks.”
Despite having lived most of his life in America, Garrett’s Scottish brogue, inherited from his father along with his red hair, became almost impenetrable when he was tired, frustrated, or drunk. After an hour of discussing their next steps after the failed rally, he had resorted to monosyllabic utterings and the occasional request for whisky, which Ben denied.
“I can’t believe Linden is trying to get this bill passed.” Cass shook her head at Garrett. “If I even mention the possibility of contraception, I’d be imprisoned.”
Abby grabbed Cass’s hand and squeezed, and Ben’s chest ached. He rubbed at his sternum, wishing he had the power to undo this mess, to ease the fear on their faces. “Is there any chance it won’t make it to a vote?” Ben asked.
“Doubtful.” Garrett cracked his knuckles in what he probably thought to be an intimidating gesture, but on him seemed merely uncomfortable. “Linden is up for re-election in two months, and he’s making vice and immorality the bedrock of his campaign.”
“Who is Linden?”
“Griswold Francis Linden.” Ben said, catching Rose’s gaze for the barest moment to answer her question before turning away. “Assemblyman for the Upper West Side.”
Ben’s cheeks heated. He had been about to fall over the precipice of his desire for Rose, Cass’s encouragement ringing in his ears. While Abby bursting into a room typically only led to trouble, this time it saved him from his apparent self-destructive tendencies, and he was grateful for it.
Yes, grateful. Not profoundly disappointed. That would be ridiculous.
“He’s using this bill to win traditional voters,” Ben continued.
“And women willdiein the process!“ Abby hissed, stomping her foot. Cass squeezed her hand and made a low, soothing noise.
“Utter shite.”
“Thank you for the contribution, Garrett,” Cass said, her tone droll.
