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Anne nodded decisively. “I do. I promise, I’ll do all I can. What are you doing in the meantime? Does your husband have any idea of what you’re thinking?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve been very careful. I don’t want to lose my son.”
Abdul had begun squirming in her lap. She absently dug in her purse, pulling out a small Ziplock bag filled with tiny goldfish crackers, opened it, and handed it to him.
“Keep being careful and act normal. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”
Anne saw them out, then returned to her office for her coat and purse. Another long day filled with people in situations that were altogether foreign to her, but were real and sad and dangerous and heartbreaking. Tonight she was going to a Broadway show with a United States senator and she’d wear pretty clothes and be surrounded by powerful, wealthy people.
It was like stepping into another world.
Anne scoured her closet, trying to figure out what to wear. What look was she going for? Classy, elegant, with just a hint of sexy? With her coloring, red was always a showstopper. She thumbed through the hangers. Her closet was organized by clothing type, then color, so the red dresses were easy to find. She had three of them and pulled them all out.
One was a short dress, which she immediately discarded. A night at the theater in D.C. meant a gown. That left two.
Of the two, one was a sheath that flared at mid-calf and had a sweetheart neckline and straps. The second was one Maria had insisted she buy when she’d dragged Anne with her on one of her shopping sprees in New York. The designer was up-and-coming, and the dress was one-of-a-kind. The price had been within Anne’s budget, barely, though not anymore. The designer had made a name for herself, and her prices had skyrocketed along with it.
The dress was two pieces. The top was off-the-shoulder and stopped at her midriff, leaving her skin bare for about four inches before the skirt began. While the top hugged her body, the skirt was made of layers and layers of deep scarlet tulle over a layer of satin, fluffing into a flowering bell that offset the somewhat risqué top with a fairytale finish.
A little sexier than she’d intended, but it was best for the job.
Anne didn’t have the time to do her hair in an updo, there was just so much of it. Instead, she did a half-and-half—half of it curled and pinned back, the rest curled and left to fall down her back. A bit of eyeliner wings and contouring, add lipstick, a spray of perfume and…done. Her shoes were silver and Louboutin.
She had a black velvet wrap that she grabbed, thinking she was going to freeze her ass off anyway, when the doorbell rang. Glancing at the clock, she saw he was twenty minutes early. Hmm.
Her skirt swished gently as she went to answer the door, taking a deep breath before opening it. Turned out, she needed it because what was on the other side took her breath away.
Chapter Seven
Blane stood there in a black tuxedo, his hair carefully styled and his jaw freshly shaven. The tuxedo was obviously tailored to his frame, encasing his wide shoulders and falling perfectly to his waist. The crisp white of the shirt contrasted against the tan of his skin. His skin and hair were golden, even when past the summer months.
His lips curved into a wicked smile as his gaze traveled down, then back up, making her skin feel as if it were on fire. She carefully schooled her expression into something pleasant rather than gaping at him in awe.
“You’re early,” she said. Okay, that was a brilliant observation. Sheesh.
Blane held up a bottle of champagne. “I thought we’d have a drink first.” He held up his other hand, brandishing a bouquet of deep red roses. “And thought you’d want to put these in some water.”
“Wow,” Anne said, recovering from her surprise. “Rosesandchampagne. You went all out.” She stood aside, allowing him in.
“Considering how amazing you look, it’s a mere pittance.” He handed her the flowers, then brushed by, landing in the kitchen and began working on opening the bottle. Anne retrieved two champagne glasses as the bottlepopped!open. Blane filled the glasses and handed one to her.
“To how beautiful you are,” he said, “and a wonderful evening ahead.” He lightly clinked his glass against hers, then drank.
“Laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?” she teased, feeling overwhelmed. It was easy to be overwhelmed by Blane. His presence filled the room, which suddenly seemed much smaller with him in it.
He looked good enough to eat and she was reminded again of how very long it had been since she’d been with a man. Somehow, she thought that being with Blane would eclipse all previous memories of other men.
She killed that thought. Becoming emotionally involved was out of the question, and sex would involve her emotions. She’d never been a one-night-stand kind of girl.
“I just call it how I see it,” he replied. “You going to put those in water?” He nodded toward the flowers she’d laid on the counter.
“Yes, of course,” she said, flustered. Getting a vase from a cupboard, she carefully arranged the blooms, then added water. “They’re beautiful.”
“How was your weekend?” he asked.
Anne immediately thought of the man in her apartment and all that he’d said. “Um, okay. My mother had a fundraiser I attended yesterday. Afternoon tea. She’s obsessed with Downton Abbey.” She took a sip of her champagne, the fizzy bubbles tickling her nose.
“That’s two fundraising events you attended in one weekend,” he said. “Is that usual?”
