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Anne got to her feet. Blane stood as well.
“I need to go,” she said. “But I appreciate the impromptu…rescue. And lunch. Thank you.” She headed for the door, seeing Blane hastily drop some money onto the table from his wallet before following her.
He grasped her arm just as she stepped outside. She took a deep breath of the chill air, the warmth of the restaurant falling away like a shroud.
“I’ll drop you back,” he said, assuming she had to get back to that job. Anne had no wish to correct him.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“I’d like to see you again.”
Anne was momentarily taken aback. “I’m not sure where you think this is going, senator, but I’ll go ahead and end the suspense. I’m not available and I don’t do one-night-stands.”
His eyes were that stormy gray again and he smiled. It wasn’t the smile he’d given Johnny. This was that smooth politician’s smile that oozed charm and you-can-trust-me vibes.
“Not even for dinner? Tomorrow night? I promise we’ll go somewhere where you won’t smell like you’ve worked a shift there afterwards.”
His bluntness surprised a laugh out of her. He was right. She was going to smell like barbecue all afternoon.
“Thank you, but no.”
“You have a boyfriend? Husband?”
Anne hesitated. “Neither, but that’s not really the issue.” Who he was and what he was capable of was the issue.
Tugging her arm free, she shoved her hands into her pockets to keep them warm. “Have a good day, Blane.” She’d spotted a Metro station earlier and headed toward it. She’d taken two steps when she felt his hands land on her shoulders, stilling her.
“I don’t give up easily. And I love the chase.”
His voice was a warm whisper in her ear, and she shivered. She could feel the nearness of his body behind her, providing a warm shield against the wind. His cologne—untouched by the aroma of Johnny’s—cocooned around her. She forgot to breathe.
His hands dropped from her shoulders. Anne sucked in a steadying breath, hurrying away without another word. She lasted a dozen steps before giving in to the overwhelming temptation and glanced behind her.
Blane stood on the sidewalk, the wind tossing the lines of his suit coat, as he remained utterly still, his gaze steady, watching her with an intensity that should have frightened her.
Another shiver seized Anne, and she chose to blame the cold and not the twist of anticipation in the pit of her stomach. The Metro entrance loomed and she hurried inside.
Blane Kirk—lawyer…senator…cold-blooded killer—had his sights set on her.
Chapter Three
Blane’s Chief of Staff, Linda Mooney, was in his office moments after he returned.
“Your two o’clock has been moved back to two thirty,” she said, consulting the tablet she carried, “to make room for Senator Cason, who wants to discuss the proposed legislation on school choice.”
Blane took the seat behind his desk and toggled his computer to life. Normally, he’d take issue with someone rearranging his schedule without his consent, but Linda had been with him for years and had earned his trust in her judgment.
She was in her early forties and nice looking, though nothing that would stop traffic. She dressed conservatively and was unmarried. A set of glasses perched on her nose and her blonde hair was cut short in a no-nonsense pixie cut that required little attention. Linda lived and breathed Blane’s career, which suited him just fine. Things were consummately professional between them. He knew next to nothing about her personal life, which was how he thought she preferred it.
“Any other changes?” he asked.
“There was a request for a meeting from a representative from the National Bar Association.”
“Denied.” He knew what they wanted. Blane was supporting a bill that would limit monetary damages in certain types of cases and measures to prevent frivolous lawsuits—the one of a woman suing Kellogg because their strawberry pop-tarts weren’t strawberry enough came to mind.
“I thought you’d say that, sir,” she replied, making a notation on her tablet.
“Sometimes it’s scary how you can read my mind,” Blane said with a smile.
