No point in getting a woman’s hopes up unless she filled them. He didn’t know if Alex fell in that category or not, but he planned to find out.
“Don’t you have guests?” she asked and glanced over his shoulder. “I’m keeping you from them.”
“Seventy-eight, if I recall.” Yes, he should be doing host-type things, definitely. He didn’t move. “And you’re one of my guests, as well. I’d be remiss if I didn’t see to your welfare as you skulk about behind this very large statue.”
“My dress is...uncomfortable.” She waved at her torso. “None of this stays in place like it’s supposed to.”
Naturally, his eye was drawn to the area in question. “Looks like everything is in order to me.”
“Because I just adjusted it all,” she hissed fiercely.
The image of Alex ducking behind his statue to dip her hands under her dress to adjust things flooded through his senses, unchecked. He couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’t unexperience it. And now this small space in the corner wasn’t nearly big enough to hold a senator, a CFO and the enormous attraction sizzling between them.
He stopped himself from asking if she needed help adjusting anything else. It was right there on the tip of his tongue. But United States senators didn’t run around saying whatever they felt like, no matter how badly he wanted to flirt with her. Among other things.
Phillip’s life was not his own, never had been, nor would he have it any other way. He was an Edgewood, born into a long line of statesmen, and an even longer line of Texas oilmen, and his family was counting on him to be the first one to make it to the White House.
To accomplish that, he needed a wife, plain and simple. A single president hadn’t been elected in the United States since the eighteen hundreds. The problem was that his heart still belonged to Gina, and he’d met few women willing to play second fiddle to another woman, even one who’d passed away.
The catch-22 was brutal. Either he’d marry someone in name only and make his peace with loneliness for the next fifty years or hope that he magically stumbled over a woman who was okay with his ground rules for marriage—friends and lovers, sure. But love wasn’t on offer. It would feel like a betrayal of the highest order.
It wasn’t fair; he knew that. But Phillip didn’t believe in second chances. No one got lucky enough to find their soul mate twice. But if Alex was the right woman for him, she’d understand.
Instead of the dozens of other offers he’d have rather issued, he asked, “Would you like a glass of champagne?”
“Do I look that much like I need a drink?” she asked wryly. “Or are you a mind reader?”
He grinned. “Neither. I thought it was a shame you were stuck back here in the corner with your dress problems and couldn’t enjoy the party.”
Tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear, an escapee from her upswept hairdo, she rolled her eyes. “It’ll take a lot more than champagne to get me to enjoy a black-tie party.”
There she went again with her outrageous statements. He smiled. “Should I be insulted that my party isn’t up to par?”
A horrified light dawned in her expression. “No! Your party is perfect because, well...you’re you and your house is amazing and the guests are great. I’m just clumsy with small talk. Obviously.”
She blinked up at him from under her lashes. On any other woman, that look would have been coquettish, designed to convey blatant invitation, and he would have walked away without regret. On her, it was a hint of vulnerability, of uncertainty. And together, they unexpectedly whacked him in the heart.
Hadn’t seen that coming. His attraction had deepened over a simple look.
“Not clumsy,” he corrected smoothly. “Honest. That’s refreshing.”
“I’m glad someone thinks so.” She scowled, but it was cute on her. “Numbers people like me are not usually sought out by party hosts. We tend to skulk about behind statues and embarrass ourselves with wardrobe problems.”
“Why did you come to the party if you don’t like dressing up?”
Obviously she hadn’t morphed into someone who liked black-tie affairs, which was a shame. She was looking less and less like a candidate for his permanent plus one. The problem was, the more he stood here with her, the more he wanted to chuck all his marriage rules.
“You know why.”
The undercurrents between them heated as their gazes locked. He couldn’t have walked away from Alex if his ancestral home caught fire. He was close enough to see the brown fleck in her eye and it was oddly intimate. His attraction to her was ungodly strong and a colossal problem.
“You came for me?” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question. Her smile answered affirmatively anyway. “I’m flattered you’d put on an uncomfortable dress and wear makeup just for me.”
“Call it a rare burst of spontaneity. Totally unlike me. But hopefully worth it in the end.”
He almost groaned. She was killing him. Why couldn’t they be two normal people meeting at a party, with no agenda other than to spend time together? “I’m a fan of spontaneous women.”
Especially since he didn’t have nearly enough opportunity to indulge in spontaneity. It was the enemy of someone eyeing the presidency. His life consisted of carefully worded statements and planned appearances, strenuously vetted acquaintances and photo ops. The chances of, say, happening across an intriguing woman in a shadowy corner were nearly nil.
Yet here he was. They shared an inability to be spontaneous. Just this once, he wanted to indulge in spontaneity alongside her. Maybe they could be two people who met at a party and had fun with no expectations.
His grin widened. This was probably the most he’d smiled without being ordered to in...a long time. “Let’s do something totally impulsive, then. Dance with me.”
As vigorously as she shook her head, it was a wonder it didn’t roll off her neck. Brown, glossy strands floated from her hairdo, drifting down around her face. “I can’t dance with you in front of all these people.”
“You can so. Your dress is appropriately adjusted. You’re over the age of eighteen and not married.”
That was the trifecta of scandal potentials and the three he always checked off the list automatically within the first half a second in a woman’s company. After his uncle had lost his Senate nomination over some risqué pictures starring a woman who was not his wife, Phillip had vowed to stay on the straight and narrow.
His career wasn’t just about the election but about making a difference. Changing the world. He refused to allow his star to be snuffed out early for any reason, least of all a woman. His life was privileged, no doubt, but with that privilege came great responsibility.
“This dress doesn’t have magical powers, Phillip. I’m clumsy with words and feet.”
“You don’t seem to realize that you’re a successful executive who cofounded a million-dollar company. You should be out on the dance floor, intimidating the hell out of all the people here because you are Alexandra Meer and you don’t care what they think.”
He held out his hand. There was no way he would let her spend the night in the corner. They were going to honor her spontaneous impulse to attend this party. Of course, that was just an excuse. He couldn’t help but steal a few more minutes of her company.
* * *
Alex hesitated, staring at Phillip’s outstretched hand.
She’d been hiding behind the statue for a reason. Other women must have some kind of special sticky skin that allowed them to wear strapless dresses without falling out of them. Alex didn’t. Dancing would make everyone else aware of it, too.
“Come on,” he pleaded in his deep voice that made her shiver tonight as much as it had the first time she’d heard it. “I can’t leave you back here, and if you don’t dance with me, I’ll be an absentee host at my own party. This is my house.
It would seem weird.”
Alex glanced at the very large, very ugly statue she’d taken refuge behind. “You weren’t supposed to see me.”
No one was; that was the point. The statue was a great place to hide but still allowed her to sort of be in the midst of things. Parties always reminded her of why she didn’t attend them. Social niceties were a confusing, complex set of rules that she could never seem to follow. Alex liked rules. But only when they made sense, like in finance. Numbers were the same yesterday and today as they would be tomorrow.
Normally, she followed her own number one rule to the letter—stay out of the spotlight. But she’d developed a fierce attraction to Phillip and, well...parties seemed to be his natural habitat. Thus she had to attend one to see if things might heat up between them outside of Fyra. Because there were sparks between them, but he’d yet to make a move. She wanted to find out if his glacial pace had to do with lack of interest or something else.
Cass had bullied her into a makeover and pried Alex’s credit card out of her fingers to purchase this dress. It all felt very surreal and a little like trying too hard. Alex didn’t have a glamorous bone in her body, but the resulting image in her mirror had turned out pretty good, if she did say so herself.
And here she and Phillip were, flirting and having fun, and he’d just asked her to dance. This dress did have magical powers.
Maybe she could dance with him. Just once. Then she’d slink back to her hiding spot before someone else tried to talk to her. Someone who wasn’t as understanding as Phillip about her permanent foot-in-mouth syndrome.
Slowly, she reached out. It was almost harder to do that than it had been to walk through Phillip’s palatial double front doors, knowing he was on the other side, divinely, devastatingly handsome. Actually, just about everything she’d done in the name of advancing her relationship with Phillip had taken a huge amount of bravery.
Maybe the stars had finally aligned to alleviate the loneliness Alex had been feeling lately—a by-product of both social awkwardness and a firm belief that romance was a myth perpetuated by the retail market. She dated here and there. Not often, for obvious reasons. But she liked companionship as much as the next girl, and Phillip was the first man in a long time that she couldn’t stop thinking about.
Tonight was about seeing where things might go between them.
Except, this hundred-year-old house was overwhelming—with a grand foyer the size of a public library, flanked by two curved staircases reaching toward the second floor. It was a visual reminder of his elite status and that men like him lived a whole different kind of existence, one that was ill-suited for a quiet wallflower like Alex.
But when her flesh connected with Phillip’s, it was a shock to her system. Need lanced through her. Hello. Been a long time since those muscles had a workout, yes sirree.
Their gazes collided and his hot blue eyes spoke to her, saying without words that he wanted her, too. Well, how about that?
She let it sing through her because men never noticed her. Alex had perfected the art of fading into the background, but Phillip had never overlooked her. Her reaction was powerful and visceral.
“Alex,” he murmured and tightened his grip on her hand. “We have to dance now. Otherwise, something very bad might happen.”
“Like what?” she asked curiously. His gaze was on her lips as if he might lean forward at any moment and take her mouth with his.
That sounded very good to her.
Maybe he’d even back her up farther into the corner and do it properly. His hands were smooth and strong, and she’d fantasized about them as they’d sat through long meetings together.
It wasn’t a crime. Just because she didn’t buy into the fantasy about love and romance didn’t mean she had an aversion to sex.
She’d been dreaming of kissing him for weeks, ever since the first time he’d walked into Fyra. The sparks between them had been instant and deliciously hot. And their connection was more than just physical. He was thoughtful, well-spoken, listened to her ideas and had a wicked sense of humor. She genuinely liked him. The insane gorgeousness attached to his personality was just a big, fat bonus.
“Bad, like I might show every last person at this party to the door,” he said. “And focus on no one but you.”
Heat kicked up in her midsection. Oh, yes, to have all that delicious focus on her. He had this way of making her feel like the only person in the room, even when there were a hundred present.
It was an invitation. And a question. Where did she want this evening to lead?
Where did he want this evening to lead?
Were they on the same page about what their association might look like afterward? They were working together, after all. Not everyone could do that and become personally involved. That was where the romantics messed it all up. Relationships were black-and-white and easy to navigate as long as you didn’t let yourself get bogged down in unquantifiable emotions. Her parents’ divorce had been nasty enough to prove that love was one of the worst illusions ever invented.
She should probably feel him out about their future interaction before letting him do bad things to her. Also, he’d thrown this party for a reason, which would not be accomplished by allowing him to throw everyone out. It would be terrible of her to force him to end it early because she was a giant chicken about dancing in public.
More bravery needed, stat. “Let’s dance.”
“This way, Ms. Meer.”
He led her to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms.
The crowd dynamic shifted instantly as people checked out the woman dancing with the senator. Alex’s back heated with the scrutiny. The only friendly faces in the crowd were her boss, Cassandra, and Cass’s fiancé, Gage, who was Phillip’s cousin.
Self-consciousness turned Alex’s feet into lead.
“Right here, Alex.” Phillip tapped his temple and let his hand drift back to her waist. “Keep your eyes on me. Don’t worry about them. They don’t exist.”
Ha. If only that were true. Of course, she’d had her chance to make that a reality when he’d offered to kick everyone out. She had no doubt that if she’d taken him up on his invitation, the crowd would already be in their chauffeured limousines heading for home.
Why hadn’t she taken him up on it, again?
She did as instructed, locking her gaze to his molten-blue eyes. He swirled her around the hardwood floor to the tempo of the classical music piping through his expensive, invisible sound system. The crowd faded away and she became so very aware of his hands on her body, exactly as she’d envisioned them. Well, not exactly. In the majority of her fantasies, they were both naked.
Heat flushed her skin, arrowing straight to her core as he watched her closely.
“See?” he murmured. “Better.”
Yes. This night, this man holding her in his arms. All better. It wasn’t the dress, but Phillip who held the magical powers. She was someone else when she was with him, someone who didn’t have to fade into the woodwork to avoid making a fool of herself. Someone who could be with a man like Phillip and it made sense, even though they were social opposites.
And she very much wanted to take advantage of the magic while it lasted. Maybe she could, just for tonight.
Copyright © 2016 by Kat Cantrell
ISBN-13: 9781488001758
A Bride for the Boss
Copyright © 2016 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Maureen Child for her contribution to the Texas Cattleman’s Club: Lies and Lullabies miniseries.
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