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“Excuse me?” Siobhan struggled for another coherent thought.
Veronica chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised. These are good. Very good. The stark contrast of Houston’s neighborhoods was a brilliant idea. Between the two of us, we can determine the best of your portfolio. With a little hard work, I think we can just about make the deadline for your own show. Are you in?”
“Absolutely.” Her head bobbed so fast, she wouldn’t have been surprised if it snapped off her shoulders. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she couldn’t help but wonder if today could possibly get any better.
Next thing she knew, Siobhan was signing contracts, talking size of prints, framing, deadlines, agreeing on a next meeting to finalize the prints to use, and finally shaking hands before heading out the door and hurrying home. Siobhan would move heaven and earth to get the pictures done in time, and could hardly wait to see Jack and tell him in person.
Jack. The man who hadn’t hesitated when she’d called for his help. The man who had kissed her as if his—or her—life depended on it. How had he become so important to her in such a short amount of time? She sighed as she surveyed her closet for what to wear. The invitation hadn’t been completely clear. Whether she was to be his new just-for-show plus one the way Eve had been for so many years, or a real honest-to-goodness date, she had no idea.
What she did know was that more than anything she wanted the latter—after all, he had kissed her. Surely that wasn’t a boring plus one kiss. Most definitely, she wanted Jack to sit up and take notice that she was very much grown up and very much interested in more than friends. Reaching into her closet, she pulled out a green dress and a pair of green strappy sandals to finish off the outfit. This was the dress that garnered her the most compliments.
Her grandmother poked her head into her room. “Your grandfather and I are heading out early to help Mitch greet his guests. Since you don’t look ready, shall I send the driver back to get you?”
And Jack would drive her home. That thought made her smile. “That would be fantastic, Grams. I should be ready by then.”
Her grandmother nodded, eyeing the dress Siobhan had laid out. “Good choice. Always love how that dress matches your eyes.”
Her eyes? The door to her room latched shut behind her grandmother and Siobhan studied the dress draped across the bed. A beautiful emerald green sheath dress, with one side off the shoulder. The problem at hand, she didn’t want to accentuate her eyes, she wanted Jack to swallow his tongue. Taking a second look in her closet, she’d been to plenty of black-tie events in the family requiring a floor-length gown, but none had been meant to attract a man’s attention. A real man.
Shaking her head, she knew she needed help. And fast. Her cell in hand, Siobhan called the only person who knew Jack as well as her brothers. Unite and conquer. Jack Preston had no idea what he was in for.
Even though Jack had arrived early to snatch a few minutes with Siobhan’s brothers before she arrived, the crowds for the popular senator were already surrounding Mitch. Neither Kyle nor Craig were in town for the event, which meant only Mitch and Chase were present. If he could win them over, convincing Kyle and Craig not to run him out of town on a rail would be easier. Except, maybe this hadn’t been his brightest idea. The two brothers were currently at opposite ends of the ballroom and Jack had no idea how to corral them without tipping his hand.
Swirling the ginger ale in his glass, Jack blew out a soft sigh. Bourbon was his favored drink, but if his plan was to convince the Baron men that he was a good choice for sweet Siobhan, somehow ginger ale seemed more appropriate. Though a little liquid courage before telling her brothers his intentions held a great deal of appeal at the moment. The key to the conversation was to be clear and aboveboard with everyone.
Glancing at his watch, anticipation of Siobhan’s arrival battled with anxiousness over his upcoming conversation with the Baron men. Spotting a break in the circle of supporters surrounding Mitch, Jack swallowed the last drop of soda, set the glass on the bar and strode over to Mitch. Mitch’s more serious nature would make him the hardest sell. It made sense to start with him. If Jack could get Mitch on board, the rest of the brothers would hopefully fall into step like a trail of dominoes.
“Hey, Jack.” Mitch gave his friend a casual slap on the arm, too friendly for a handshake, not the right setting for a man hug. “Always good to see a friendly face at these events.”
“From what I can see, you’ve got more than enough friendly faces.”
Mitch shook his head. “Don’t let the smiles fool you. Everyone here wants something from me.”
The darkness in his eyes and the weight of his tone had Jack second-guessing his plan.
“If you’ve got some hidden legislation on the back of your mind, I’m telling you now. Not interested.”
“What?” Wrapped up in his own thoughts, he failed to connect the dots of the conversation.
“Sorry.” Mitch shook his head. “It gets old, everyone wanting something. Every time I turn around. You look serious. Is something wrong?”
“No. Not wrong.” This was where he had to find the right words. “I do want to talk to you about something, in private.”
“There you are.” A balding man with a belly that looked ready to bust out of the cummerbund, slapped Mitch on the back and sloshed a bit of liquid over the rim of his drinking glass. The night was starting early. “I hear you’re still sitting on that legislation we discussed at the last event.”
“Well—” Mitch forced a smile, but Busting Cummerbund cut him off.
“I’ll do you a favor and save you the trouble of repeating yourself. Wentworth and some of your other supporters are as anxious as I am for an update. Let’s join them at the table.”
Before Jack could react, Mitch was whisked away to a table clear across the room. At this rate, he had no choice but to seek out Chase. Smiling at the other bar in the ballroom with his wife at his side, the other brother seemed to be in a better mood. Taking in a fortified breath, Jack strode across the ballroom as casually as he could without breaking into a run.
Chase leaned against the bar as if marking Jack’s progress across the room. “Hey, buddy.” Not up for re-election, Chase didn’t hesitate to offer that one-armed bro hug that men did. “Ready for a refill?”
“Ginger ale for me.”
Chase’s eyes rounded like a cartoon caricature. “Say again?”
“Ginger ale.”
