“Did 4A give the delivery guy the wrong apartment again?” she asked.
“No, ma’am.”
Adeline’s eyebrows went up. Ma’am? Something was definitely up.
Her building wasn’t fancy. There were maybe twenty units, and while the three alternating doormen were all nice and respectful, they’d also eaten buffalo wings while streaming the Jets game on their phones behind the desk and offered her some. And she’d accepted. In other words, they’d moved beyond ma’am within a week of her move-in date a year earlier.
“You have a guest. May I send him up?”
Her eyebrows went higher. She hadn’t had a male guest in the entire time she’d lived here, and Jamie knew it. “Who is it?”
Jamie cleared his throat. “He’s actually already on his way up.”
“What? Jamie, you know you can’t just—”
Realization hit her. She could think of only one reason why Jamie would be acting all formal and nervous, like the freaking president and his bodyguards were staring down at him.
Not the president. But damn close.
The knock at her door and verification out her peephole confirmed her suspicion.
“We’ll discuss this later,” she whispered to Jamie.
She hung up the phone as quietly as possible, not wanting to give any audible confirmation that she was home. There was zero chance she was opening her apartment to Mayor Davenport wearing a teeny-tiny nurse’s costume.
“I already know you’re home, because you picked up the phone when your doorman called,” Robert said patiently through the door. There was a long silence. “Unless you’re not alone and someone else picked up your phone . . .”
She rolled her eyes. As if she were dumb enough to walk into that one.
“Yeah, okay, that was a pretty bad fishing expedition,” he continued when she remained silent. “You should just go ahead and take your time debating the merits of letting me in. In the meantime, I’ll just chat up any of your neighbors who walk by and see the mayor practically begging to get into your apartment. Boy, to think of the rumors that will spur . . .” He let out a slow whistle.
She rested her forehead against the wall. Damn it. The only thing worse than the mayor being in her apartment was other people knowing he was in her apartment. If she let him in now, it was hopefully just his bodyguards, Jamie, and herself who’d know about his visit. If Adeline lingered and nosy Mrs. Teel were to take her Maltipoo on her evening walk and see him . . .
Adeline’s hand went to the deadbolt and unlocked it, but she spoke through the door before she opened it. “You can’t laugh.”
“At what? Am I about to learn—”
She opened the door, and whatever the mayor had been about to say froze, his tongue seemingly stuck to the top of his mouth as he stared at her.
“Ah . . .”
“I thought you were known for having poise under pressure,” she muttered, before reaching out a hand and hauling him inside her apartment. After a quick glance into the hallway to make sure none of her neighbors’ doors were open, she closed hers.
The mayor still hadn’t spoken. Nor had he looked away from her.
She crossed her arms, then realizing what that did to the deep V of the costume’s neckline, dropped them again. “Go ahead. Point, laugh, make judgments. Just be quick about it.”
Finally, he managed to drag his eyes up to her face. “I apologize.”
She frowned, because it was the last reaction she’d expected. “For what?”
“Gawking?”
Adeline smiled in spite of her embarrassment. “It’s ridiculous. I know.”
“What, ah—what are you supposed to be?”
“A nurse, obviously.”
“Obviously,” he said distractedly. “Actually, no. I had knee surgery a couple years ago, and I distinctly remember the nurses looking not like that.”
“I know,” she said, glancing down. “It’s pretty insulting to nurses, actually. I guess what I should have said is that I’m dressed up like one of those girls who thinks Halloween is just an excuse to wear the shortest, skimpiest outfit on the planet. I bought it when I was seventeen, saw it in my closet today, and—You know what? I didn’t expect anyone to see me like this. I don’t know why I’m explaining myself.”
She put the slightest emphasis on I’m to let him know that he should be the one explaining himself, but he didn’t get the hint.
“Mr. Mayor.” She snapped her fingers by her face. “Up here.”
He let out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just . . . Are you wearing anything under that? No. Don’t answer that. What were you saying?”
“What are you doing here? Actually, how are you even here? I know for a fact I’ve never given you my home address.”
“Perk of being the mayor?”
She narrowed her eyes. “A legal perk?”
“We’ll call it a loophole.” His gaze started to drift downward again, and he gave a quick shake of his head and looked away, his gaze landing on her wineglass on the coffee table. He picked it up and took a healthy sip without asking, then another, looking around at her apartment.
“Most of my money went into the business and my office,” she said, seeing the apartment through his eyes. The building was recently renovated, but it was an older style with small windows. Adding in the factor of her living on a low floor, there wasn’t a ton of natural light, so she’d compensated by decorating mostly in whites and light neutrals to brighten the space as best she could. She actually found the simplicity of the decor soothing, but she supposed it also looked fairly plain.
“I like it,” he said. “It feels like a home.”
“Does Gracie Mansion not?”
“It’s a home, just not my home. It’s where I live, but I’m aware every day that plenty have lived there before me, and plenty will live there after me.”
“The same would be true of the governor’s mansion,” she said, pouring a second glass of wine, since he had yet to relinquish hers.
He said nothing for a long moment. “It bothered you. The night of the party. To hear that I was running for governor.”
Oh, you know, a little. Hearing it confirmed that you’d be going head-to-head against my father. Knowing that if you win the election, you’ll be living in the same house where I spent some horrific teenage years.
Another thought hit her, this one even more painful than the first two . . .
Would the mayor raise his own children in the governor’s mansion someday?
His and Rosalie’s children?
The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth that she tried to wash away with a sip of wine, even as she decided to discuss the elephant in the room. “Did you come over to discuss Rosalie?”
He frowned. “Why would I do that?”
“Well,” she said, pointing at him with her wineglass, “you’re wearing jeans and a sweater instead of a suit, it’s a Saturday, it’s Halloween, you’re the mayor, and I know you’ve gone on three dates with my best friend. I can’t think of another reason you’d be here if not to discuss her.”
He held her gaze. “Really. You can think of no other reason?”
That he held her gaze as he said it made her pulse leap even more than if he’d scanned her skimpy outfit.
He crossed his arms. “I just realized, I never asked. How did the date go?”
“What date?”
He gave a smug half smile at her response. “The one with your friend’s coworker.”
“Oh. Right. It was good. Great, actually,” she exaggerated, because his satisfied smile at her initial response annoyed her.
“Great, huh? So you’ll be seeing him again?”
“I’m thinking about it,” she said primly, taking a sip of wine.
“What was his name?”
Adeline’s mind went blank, and she frantically scrambled to remember the name of a man whose face she’d entirely forgotten. “Michael,” she said, her relief at re
membering it diluted by his smirk at her delay.
“And what’s the verdict on jazz?” They both knew he wasn’t asking about jazz, but about the man who’d taken her to the jazz club.
“Let’s just say we didn’t hit it off nearly as well as you and Rosalie.” Her retort came more biting than she’d intended, leaving a thick layer of tension in the air.
They faced each other in the living room, the standoff strangely loaded given that she still wasn’t sure why he was here uninvited, and yet strangely not unwanted.
“You’re the one who gave me her phone number,” he said, finally breaking the silence.
“Because you asked. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“I said thank you,” he said quietly. “What did you expect? Was I supposed to send a lavish bouquet in gratitude for setting me up with your friend?”
She dug her fingers through her hair. “No. I don’t know. But if you’re planning to stay in my apartment, brooding and drinking my wine, I’m at least going to go put on a sweatshirt.”
Like most Manhattan apartments, her living room was exceedingly small, the furniture taking up most of the space, and she had to brush by him to go back to the bedroom. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw his fist clench as she walked by, as though resisting the urge to grab her arm to stop her. Even without the physical touch, the air crackled between them as she passed.
Distractedly, she pulled on an oversized gray sweatshirt. She contemplated changing into sweatpants as well, but she was behind on laundry and, she reminded herself, this was her apartment. If anyone should feel uncomfortable by her short skirt, it was the uninvited guest.
He was still in her living room when she reentered, though he’d moved to the window, staring out.
“Pretty view, right?” she said, knowing fully well he was looking directly into the darkened windows of an abandoned building that neighbored hers.
He turned around, his eyes dropping down to her sweatshirt as she pulled the too-long sleeves up to her elbows. “New Mexico?”
Adeline froze in the process of picking up her wineglass, then forced herself to finish the motion, casually taking a sip. “I picked it up from a souvenir shop in Santa Fe after the white shirt I was wearing lost a fight with chicken parmesan.”
“I’ve never been.”
She shrugged. “I lived there for a couple years.”
“Santa Fe?”
“About forty-five minutes north in a little town you’ve never heard of.”
“Manhattan must have seemed quite a change.”
“Quite.”
“Which do you prefer? Quiet desert, or bustling city?”
She was about to tell him it was none of his business, but she was a little surprised to find she wanted to tell him. So few people knew about her double life, so to speak, and the ones who did always seemed to tiptoe around the subject as though assuming she didn’t want to talk about it. Which wasn’t true. She’d cherished her time in New Mexico, just like she knew she’d made the right decision in leaving when she had. It wasn’t a part of her life she wanted to bury, just keep secret from the wrong people.
And while Mayor Davenport should be near the very top of the list of wrong people, somehow he . . . wasn’t.
“I like both,” she answered. “Someday, after I get Jet Set to the point where I’m comfortable letting a team run it for long stretches at a time, I’d love to have a home in both places.”
“Do you have family there?” he asked curiously.
Sadness had her glancing down at the ground instead of at him. “Not anymore.”
He said nothing for a moment, then stepped forward to the candy bowl on her coffee table, pointing down at it. “Which is your favorite?”
She looked up, feeling both raw and frustrated. “Why are you here, Mr. Mayor? I know it’s not to talk about New Mexico, or ask me my favorite kind of candy. Is it something to do with Rosalie—”
“Goddammit, will you stop bringing her up?” he asked, tossing a Kit Kat back into the bowl with so much force it bounced out again.
“You’re the one who asked for her phone number!” she shouted back. “And now I feel like you’re mad at me for doing exactly what you asked.”
“I’m not mad,” he said, throwing his hands up. “I’m just . . . What the hell, Adeline?”
“What do you mean?”
“What happened to us?”
“There is no us. I was your event planner. I did my job. Unless you have another event you want my company to consider, then—”
“I don’t want your company,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be more pleased with the way the party went, but that’s not . . . it’s not why I’m here. And don’t start talking about your friend again, because she’s not the reason I’m here, either.”
“She should be,” Adeline whispered. “You’re perfect together.”
“Are we?”
She swallowed. “She’s pretty. Polished. Funny. Smart.”
“And you aren’t?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
His eyes narrowed. “All right. Allow me to ask something relevant. Does it bother you, even a little bit, to think of me with her?”
He reached out and pulled the wineglass from her hand, setting it on the table without breaking eye contact. He’d moved slowly, giving Adeline every opportunity to move away if she wanted to, but she stayed rooted to the spot, feeling the wall she’d erected to keep him out begin to crumble at his proximity.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, her eyes locked on the center of his chest, because she didn’t dare meet his eyes when he was this close. “You like her. That’s what counts.”
“You want to know why I’m mad?” he asked in a low voice. “It’s because up until you gave me her phone number, I could believe that you felt what I was feeling. That you thought of me as often as I thought of you. That you enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed yours.”
I did. I do.
He lifted his hand to her face and lightly dragged the tip of his finger from the base of her ear along her jawline until it rested under her chin. “You see, when a woman sets a man up with her friend, he has no choice but to think her indifferent to him. To assume that it doesn’t bother her in the least to think of him dating her friend, kissing her friend, making love to her friend.” He stepped closer until there were mere inches separating them. “Rosalie is all the things you said. There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?” she whispered.
“She’s not you.”
His head bent down to her, and Adeline mustered every ounce of restraint to pull back slightly. “Don’t. Please.”
He swallowed, and she could tell from the way his eyes shuttered that her rejection had hurt him, but she wouldn’t be that woman.
“You’re dating my friend,” she said.
“We’ve been on dates,” he amended quickly. “Not dating. Very different things. I haven’t kissed her. I haven’t even held her hand. Hell, Adeline, aside from helping her with her jacket, I haven’t touched Rosalie. I don’t want to touch her. Not like I want to touch you.”
She caught her breath, feeling yet another crack in the wall she was so frantically trying to keep between them.
“Rosalie’s great. Really. But I won’t be seeing her again.”
“You won’t?”
He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be right. Not when I can’t stop thinking about all the things I want to do with her friend. But what I need to know . . .” He took a deep breath, watching her face for her reaction. “I need to know if you want me back. Say no, and I’ll back off. You won’t see me again.”
Adeline lifted a palm and set it to the center of his chest, her gaze locked for a long moment on her own fingers as she gathered her courage. Then she lifted her eyes to his. “And if I say yes?”
Robert’s eyes turned immediately gold, and she saw a flash of cocky grin. Then he slid a hand ar
ound the back of her head and closed the distance between them as his mouth took hers.
All of the lies she’d been telling herself for weeks crashed down around her feet with each gentle, persuasive pull of his lips against hers.
She wanted him. She wanted Robert.
Adeline felt the last traces of her resistance crumble. She was stuck in his web. Willingly.
Her mouth opened to his, hesitantly, then more boldly, her body awakening to desires she’d thought long dead, but perhaps they had just been lying in wait.
For him.
He pulled back, a line appearing between his eyebrows as his gaze searched hers. “Adeline—”
She closed the distance between them, bringing their lips together once more, her fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.
He let out a slight groan at her response and wrapped an arm around her waist, yanking her body flush against his as his tongue parried with hers in a delicious promise. His hand slid down over her hip until he found the bare skin of her upper thighs, fingers leaving little licks of fire as they dragged over her skin. A moan escaped her lips as his hand slipped beneath the short skirt of her costume, pulling her even closer.
Somewhere in the back of her brain, she knew this was a bad idea for more reasons than she could possibly name. Or rather Adeline could name them; Addie didn’t want to. For the first time in a long time, Addie won out.
He shifted her slightly, the back of her calves hitting the couch, their lips never leaving each other’s as they collapsed onto the sofa in a tangle of limbs.
“Yes,” he said against her throat as her hands grew bolder, sliding beneath his sweater to the hot male skin beneath.
Her fingers explored the planes of his abs, sliding over the muscles of his back that proved he made time for the gym somewhere in his busy schedule. “This is crazy,” Adeline moaned against his mouth.
Yours in Scandal Page 13
