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Three
Penelope strolled into the oversize ballroom on Zach’s arm. The mansion boasted enough round tables and slipcovered chairs to seat the mayor’s one-hundred-plus guests. Similar to a wedding, there was a head table for the guests of honor. In this case those guests were Mayor Chase Ferguson, Stefanie Ferguson, Zach and the recent addition of Penelope.
The rectangular table was set apart from the others and dotted with votive candles and low vases with flower arrangements.
A few staff members from the mayor’s office were also seated at the head table. A plucky, talkative woman named Barb, Roger, who looked and acted the part of secret service, and a scowling, large-framed man named Emmett Keaton.
Emmett, who had been introduced as the mayor’s “friend and confidant,” had short, cropped hair, a healthy dash of stubble on his face and eyed Stefanie with disdain the entire time he ate his pear and Gorgonzola salad. Stefanie had glared at him from her spot across the table before rolling her eyes and drinking down her white wine.
Clearly there was no love lost between those two.
Penelope wasn’t surprised. Stefanie’s recent scrape had drawn attention to the Ferguson family—and not the good kind. It would make sense that she wasn’t favored among the mayor’s staff.
Speaking of scrapes, Pen now had another to deal with in the form of Zach’s ex-wife. Pen didn’t know what shocked her more—that Zach had married the unhinged woman, or that he’d been married at all. It might be a tie.
Zach wasn’t the marrying type. He was the one-night-stand type. Or so Pen had thought.
Slicing into the sun-dried-tomato-crusted rack of lamb on her plate, she kept her voice low and asked Zach the million-dollar question.
“Were you married when we slept together two weeks ago?”
His jaw paused midchew before he continued, smiling with his mouth shut, and then swallowed down the bite. He swept his tongue over his teeth and took a drink of water before responding. Pen didn’t mind the delay. The lamb was spectacular. She sliced off another petite bite, this time plunging it into the ramekin of balsamic dipping sauce first.
“No,” he finally said.
She patted her lips with her napkin. “When did it happen?”
“Last New Year’s Eve.” He glanced around the table, but no one was paying them any attention. Barb was chattering to Stefanie, and Emmett and Chase were having a low conversation of their own. Roger wasn’t at the table any longer. When had he left? He was sneaky, but then—secret service, so it made sense.
“In Vegas,” Zach finished.
Pen laughed, drawing Emmett’s and Chase’s attention before they returned to their conversation. “Cliché, Zach.”
“Yeah, as was the annulment.”
“And the need for our betrothal?”
Zach shrugged muscular, tux-covered shoulders. “You helped Stef. You’re a good ally to have.”
“You could have introduced me as an adviser. As anyone.”
He stabbed a bite of meat with his fork and waved it as he said, “Fiancée had a nice ring to it.”
“Very funny.” Fiancée. Ring. At least his personality was the same as the night she’d invited him home with her. He’d been cheeky then, too.
She smiled, glued her eyes to his and enjoyed the sizzling heat in the scant space between them for the next three heartbeats. Then she focused on her food again.
Once the dinner dishes were cleared, dessert appeared in the form of a dark chocolate tart, a single, perfect raspberry interrupting a decadent white-chocolate drizzle.
“Speech time,” Zach prompted his brother.
“Go get ’em, Tiger,” Stefanie said, clearly teasing him.
Chase stood and buttoned his suit jacket, then glided to the podium. From her side of the table, Pen wouldn’t have to so much as turn her head to watch. Unlike everyone else who had swiveled in their chairs.
Chase had great presence. Elegant. Regal. He talked and the world quieted to listen. She remembered the first time she’d seen him on television and thought—
A gasp stole her throat when warm fingers landed on her knee.
