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“Fine. Would you rather make love on the veranda or in the servants’ quarters?”
The first notes of my laughter are lost when he kisses me again. He helps divest me of my burdensome clothing and I, in turn, help him as well. Soon it’s hot skin and wet mouths, and naked bodies.
We split the difference of his request. We “did it” on the couch, but it felt a lot like making love to me.
“Champagne?” A waiter approaches with a tray and Barrett politely shakes his head. I take one of the flutes filled with bubbly and enjoy a sparkly, delicious sip.
“You must be feeling better.” Barrett accepts a beer in a pilsner glass from a different member of the waitstaff.
“Champagne wasn’t what downed me last night.”
He leans close, hand at my waist and lips to my ear. “Champagne wasn’t what downed you a few hours ago, either. Seems your weakness for shots is equal to your weakness for me.”
I crane an eyebrow. “Wrong. I’ll never drink a shot like that one again, but I plan on having you several more times.”
The heat in his eyes mingles with mine. I wonder if anyone else has picked up on the serious eye-banging we’re doing in the center of the governor’s grand hall.
“Darlings,” Mia, in rare form tonight, glides over in a silver and black sequined sheath. Her hair is smooth and straight rather than its usual bird’s nest.
“You look great.”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Catarina. I’m not you with your nipped waist and perfect calves. Not to mention the pink apples of your cheeks.” She downs the rest of her champagne and burps under her breath, gesturing to Barrett with her empty flute glass. “If I looked as good as you, I’d fake-date him, too.”
She smiles at her own joke, then assesses us. I have the irrational worry that she can tell that Fox and I had sex today.
“When you dated North you were hyper-focused on work,” Mia continues. “Very serious about your job. Now you’re meeting deadlines but with half the intensity. I’m not sure if I like it. Guess it’ll depend on the number of advertising dollars your articles earn.”
I’m not sure how to take her remarks. Was that a threat or an honest assessment?
“Tomorrow morning will be a big determining factor. If your column does well, I’ll need to post the others closer together.”
“No problem,” I agree, belatedly realizing I’ve spoken for both Fox and myself. “As long as it’s okay with Barrett. I don’t want to rush him.”
“It’s not a problem.” He jerks his chin, his expression made of stone.
“None at all?” Mia asks with a head tilt. The challenge in her eyes doesn’t intimidate him in the least.
“No, ma’am.” He pulls me close, a possessive arm around my waist.
“Very well. I’m off to hobnob with the governor. Have you said hello yet?”
“Not yet,” I answer. “But we’ll make our way over there.”
“See that you do.” She turns on her square-heeled shoes and clicks off, leaving us alone in a sea of black and white formal wear.
“Yikes.” I let out a breath. “Either my job’s on the line, or she’s feisty tonight.”
“Your job’s not on the line, Kitty Cat. I won’t allow it.” He glances around the room while that promise warms my belly. Being the modern, capable woman I am, I can take care of myself, but damn, I appreciate his support. “Dance with me?”
“Dance? Here?”
The four-piece band is playing softly in the background, but no one dances. Everyone’s too busy eating or drinking or bitching about work.
“Unless you want me to sing. I know a Sinatra tune.”
At the mention of him singing again, I let out a soft hum. He notices, and a low laugh rumbles through him.
“To think that you used to hate me.” He leads me to the center of the room and places his hands on my waist. My fingers naturally link at the back of his neck, my arms draping on his shoulders as I look up at him.
