“I don’t know,” I hedge, enjoying the opportunity to mess with himandBen simultaneously. “It’s always felt a little too Barbie and Ken for my taste.”
“But for me you’d make an exception?” He wags his brows.
I giggle. “You’re fun.”
“Thanks, I try.”
Ben clears his throat, and when I glance at him, he’s folding his arms across his chest, mouth set in a firm line. I lean toward Marcus conspiratorially.
“I think we’re pissing him off. He’s doing his angry bouncer pose again.”
Marcus hoots, then throws me a wink before turning and clapping Ben on the shoulder. “I think I owe you a beer, buddy. Kate, if you’ll excuse me. It has been an absolute delight to finally meet you.”
Ben glares at his back as he disappears into the crowd, then turns to me. “Please ignore everything he said. He’s just trying to fuck with me.”
“And clearly he’s quite good at it. So, I’m famous, huh? What exactly have you told people?”
He sighs heavily and shakes his head, scanning the bar over myhead and looking everywhere but at me. I let my question hang in the air for a moment, but he looks so agitated I decide to cut him a break. “Relax, you’re famous around my office too, so we’re even.”
“I am?”
“Maybe I’m letting the cat out of the bag here, but just about everything I send you is a team effort.”
“Really?” He looks surprised. And pleased.
“Really. Not the tampon,” I clarify with a grin. “That was all me. But everything else, yeah. It takes a village to keep up with you.”
I’m sure I’ll regret feeding his ego like this. I think of a sign at the zoo:DON’TFEED THE ANIMALS.
I nod in the direction of the bar. “So how long have you and Marcus been friends?”
“Who says we’re friends? I’m hisboss.”
“Only true friends throw each other under the bus like that.”
“Friendis such a strong word.”
When I laugh, he relaxes a little. “Five years. Minus the last five minutes. I brought him over with me from the Ways and Means Committee when I got the job with Hammond.”
As if he can hear us talking about him, Marcus shows up, shoves a beer into Ben’s hand with a “Here you go, Mack,” then keeps right on walking.Smart man.
“Mack,” I echo, trying that nickname on for size.Nah.Too nice.
With no warning, the crowd at my back surges and I’m shoved violently into Ben’s chest. Wine goes flying, soaking my sleeve to the elbow. Ben grabs my arm with one hand and my glass in the other, steadying me with a firm grip. The guy has serious catlike reflexes.
“You okay?” His eyes search my face with concern and I feel it heat.
“I’m okay. My shirt is not.” I wince and shake out my arm.
“Let’s get out of traffic.”
He tugs me toward a back wall, grabbing some napkins from a nearby table along the way and passing them to me. I swipe at my sleeve uselessly and he hands back my glass when I give up.
“You’ve got a little...” he says, pointing, and then his hand is coming toward my neck. My heart does a little flip-flop as he gently disentangles a few strands of hair from my necklace, a cross made of tiny pearls hanging on a gold chain. It’s a hand-me-down from my grandmother, and one of my most prized possessions.
For such a huge guy, he sure has a soft touch. Perhaps I was wrong to call him an oaf. “Thanks,” I murmur.
He nods and leans a shoulder against the wall, holding his beer in front of him like a shield. “This is different,” he says, motioning to my hair.
