Oh, for heaven’s sake. Tina turned to slice the strudel. Her mother couldn’t have been less subtle if she’d pulled out a calendar and asked him what day he was available to plan a small wedding for four or five hundred.
“I don’t have a wife,” Reid said. “But I’m certainly looking for volunteers.”
Tina’s head shot up. Every female in the room drew in a breath.
But before Mariska—or any of the other women in the room—could offer their services, Reid said, “To help with the campaign, of course.”
Disappointment rippled through the bakery.
“Ah.” Mariska’s shoulders sagged, then straightened again as she smiled brightly. “My daughters will help,” she said with enthusiasm. “We are all big supporters, you know.”
What! Since when were they supporters of any political campaign? Tina stared at her mother in horror.
“That’s very generous of you, Mrs. Alexander.” Reid slid a glance at Tina. “But maybe you should ask your daughters how they feel about that.”
“Sophia and Rachel will be happy to volunteer,” Mariska said, waving a don’t-be-silly hand at him. Then she added as an afterthought, “And my Tina, of course.”
Tina clenched her jaw at the murmurs and nods from the customers who weren’t even pretending not to listen. It wasn’t bad enough she’d lost out on her restaurant to Reid and his family, now she was supposed to help them? She had to stop her mother before this got out of hand. Snatching up the plate of strudel and the cup of coffee Jason had poured, Tina hurried over to the table.
“Mom,” she said as sweetly as she could muster. “I’m sure Mr. Danforth is looking for volunteers with some political knowledge.”
“Not at all.” Leaning back in his chair, Reid glanced up at her. “We’re having a volunteer welcome gathering tomorrow night at seven-thirty. Why don’t you and your sisters come by?”
Tina opened her mouth to say she was busy, but her mother was much too fast.
“They will be there. We will all be there,” Mariska said firmly. “I will bring cookies and rugala.”
When Mariska rose, Reid stood, as well, smiling as he extended his hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Alexander. You are an extremely generous woman.”
When Reid smiled, Mariska’s cheeks bloomed red and she giggled. Tina’s jaw went slack. Her mother never blushed, and she most certainly did not giggle. Disgusted, Tina watched her mother hurry back into the kitchen.
Did all the Danforth men have the ability to make women act and feel stupid? she wondered, glancing back at Reid. If they did, Tina could only hope that one day some brilliant female scientist would be able to isolate that gene and come up with a vaccination.
She’d be first in line.
“Your strudel,” she said tightly, sliding the plate onto the table and setting the coffee beside it.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
When she turned, he surprised her by reaching for her arm. Darn it. There it was again. That jolt of electricity. She looked at him, prayed he couldn’t feel it, too. Prayed that he couldn’t see the effect he had on her. With so many people watching, it would really be embarrassing if she swooned.
“Here.” He took her hand and laid a key in her palm. “I had a copy made.”
To anyone watching it was a completely innocent exchange. To Tina it felt personal. The touch of his fingertips on her skin, the press of the key in her palm. The almost imperceptible lingering of his hand against her own.
She closed her fingers tightly around the key and pulled her hand away. “Thanks.”
“Till tomorrow, then,” he said with a nod.
“Right. Tomorrow.” When she turned and walked away, she could have sworn she heard him chuckle.
She hoped he choked on the strudel.
Lying on his back under the desk, Reid struggled to wiggle the printer cable into the back of the computer. If he’d had another inch of cable, along with another inch of space to reach into, he would have been done ten minutes ago.
But that would have been easy, he thought irritably. And after the morning he’d had, why should he expect his afternoon to be any better?
He’d scraped his knuckles changing a flat tire, dropped a cup of coffee on the press release he’d told Nicola he’d fax to the Savannah Morning News, misplaced the sign-in book for the orientation tonight and just five minutes ago, reaching blindly into the back of the desk, drove a splinter the size of a screwdriver under his thumbnail.
It still hurt like hell, dammit.
But what really aggravated him the most, what really set his teeth on edge, was the slender, curvy, sassy-mouthed woman he couldn’t get out of his mind.
What was it about Tina Alexander that had him tied up in knots? he wondered. With her velvet, amber-brown eyes, heart-shaped face and turned-up nose she was pretty, but not necessarily what most men would consider beautiful. She was average height, a little thin for his taste and icy as an Arctic breeze.
Damn if he didn’t want to get his hands on her.
It was as if she’d gone out of her way to alienate him, and perhaps that was what intrigued him the most. But he wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind. He’d seen the way she’d reacted every time he’d touched her. He’d felt her shiver, watched her eyes widen. Something told him that under that cool exterior was heat and plenty of it.
Damn if he didn’t want to taste that heat.
When the cable slipped from his fingers for the tenth time in fifteen minutes, he swore like a truck driver in a skid, then narrowed his eyes and threaded the cable through the hole in the wall of the desk again. He’d be damned if he’d let a stubborn printer cable—or woman—make him lose control.
When the cable plug finally dropped over the inlet, Reid smiled, grabbed his bottom lip between his teeth while he wiggled the cable into place…
“Hello?”
At the sound of the feminine greeting, Reid sat up sharply and slammed the top of his head on the underside of the desk. He wasn’t certain if the crack he heard was wood or his skull.
Dammit, dammit, dammit…
Through the stars swimming in his blurred vision, Reid watched a pair of shapely legs appear from around the corner of the desk.
“Sorry if I startled you.” Tina peered down at him. “You okay?”
Grunting, he pulled himself from under the desk, winced at the rocket of pain that shot through his brain when he sat. “Sure. I slam my head into desks every day just for fun.”
His sarcasm earned him a smile. She dropped down on her knees and leaned close. “Here, let me look.”
“I’m fine.” When she reached out and took his head in her hands, his heart slammed against his ribs.
“I don’t see any blood,” she said, gently sliding her fingers through his hair.
That’s because it’s all dropped to the lower half of my body, Reid wanted to say, but wasn’t willing to risk her letting go of him just yet.
His head tingled; heat rushed through his veins. He’d never felt anything like it before. Maybe I’m hallucinating, he thought. Or maybe he’d knocked himself out and this was one hell of an erotic dream.
If so, he didn’t want to wake up.
“Where does it hurt?” she asked.
Her fingernails lightly brushed over his scalp, and Reid’s throat turned to dust. He doubted he’d be able to speak if he tried, so he simply pointed.
“I did knock,” she said, softly touching the area he’d indicated. “I guess you didn’t hear me.”
He could barely hear her now, through the buzzing in his head.
“The door was open,” she went on when he didn’t respond. “I thought maybe you were in the back.”
When her fingertips moved in a soothing, circular motion, Reid bit back a groan. Less than a foot separated their bodies; the press of her breasts against the white blouse she wore made it difficult to breathe, let alone think.
Surely the torture this woman
was putting him through had to be some kind of karmic payback for something he’d done in his life, Reid thought. Some wrong he’d caused someone. The sweet scent of her—a mix of vanilla and cinnamon—the soft, incredibly erotic touch of her hands, the seductive, provocative tone of her voice. It was all he could do not to drag her in his arms, right here under this desk, on this dusty floor, to taste her, to shove her skirt up those long, slender legs until he touched warm, soft flesh and—
Gritting his teeth, he clamped his hands around her wrists. He didn’t pull her to him. He didn’t push her away.
Her eyes widened; her lips parted with surprise. She didn’t move.
He held her gaze with his own. Slowly, his intent clear, he tugged her closer…closer….
When his mouth touched hers, he watched her lashes flutter down, felt the release of her breath on his cheek. Her lips were soft as rose petals. He nibbled, cautiously, lightly, eager to taste her more fully. And while she didn’t respond, she didn’t pull away, either.
It was all the encouragement he needed.
He deepened the kiss, though just barely, tracing her bottom lip with his tongue. Sweet, he thought. Unbelievably, seductively sweet.
He wasn’t at all surprised at the need coursing through his body; he’d been attracted to her from the beginning, had wanted this since he’d laid eyes on her. Nor was he surprised by her response. He’d sensed her attraction to him, as well.
What surprised—no, annoyed—him was the unexpected, niggling question chipping away at the edge of his desire.
“What would Jason think about this?” he murmured the words, cursed himself for wanting to know.
She stilled, then her eyes slowly opened. “Jason?”
“Yeah,” he said dryly. “Remember him?”
Confusion furrowed her brow, then suspicion. “What do you know about Jason?”
“Not much.” Obviously, she didn’t appreciate being reminded that she and Jason were an item while she was kissing another man, Reid thought irritably. “I was hoping you would tell me.”
It was fascinating, as well as frustrating, to watch the heat in Tina’s eyes turn to ice. With a regal lift of her chin, she pulled back, then stood and smoothed the front of her skirt. “I was sent over here to find out how many people to expect this evening.”
“Look, I’m sorry.” Reid stood, reached for her arm, but she yanked it away. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Fifty?” she said coolly. “A hundred?”
“Around fifty.” He dragged a hand through his hair, was instantly reminded of the bump he’d taken. “Tina, dammit, I know it’s none of my business, I—”
“You got that right, mister,” she said, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get back to work.”
Reid watched her turn on her heel and march stiffly out the door.
“Smooth, Danforth,” he muttered. “Real smooth.”
Resting a hip on the desk, Reid stared at the door Tina had just disappeared through. It would be easier to just let it go, he told himself, to forget about her and keep his mind completely focused on his work.
But, he thought, smiling slowly, remembering the feel of her mouth against his, it wouldn’t be nearly as interesting.
Four
Tina didn’t make it to the alley before her knees buckled. Struggling to breathe, she stumbled around the corner of the passageway between the buildings and leaned against the wall.
Reid had kissed her.
She’d kissed him back.
Closing her eyes, she laid her head against the cool bricks. A groan rolled deep in her throat.
And what a kiss.
Her lips still tingled, her head still reeled, her pulse raced. She glanced down at the tips of her shoes to see if smoke was rising.
She’d certainly been kissed before, she wasn’t completely inexperienced with men. But she’d never been kissed like that. Never been so overwhelmed. And if he hadn’t asked her that ridiculous question about Jason, she’d probably be rolling around on the floor with Reid at this very moment.
The thought made her cheeks burn.
She wasn’t certain if she was glad that they’d stopped before things heated up even more, or if she was irritated.
Of course I’m glad, she thought, narrowing her eyes. Deliriously glad.
She touched her mouth. She could still taste him there, could still feel the press of his mouth on hers. An involuntary shudder coursed through her, and she knew she’d be lying if she didn’t at least admit she’d been curious. And maybe, at an unconscious level, she’d actually wanted him to kiss her. After all, she had been the one who’d touched him first. He must have thought she’d been asking—begging—for it, the way she’d put her hands on his head, then combed her fingers through his hair and lightly stroked his head.
Remembering the soft, thick texture of his hair sliding through her fingers and the touch of his scalp under her fingernails sent a wave of heat shimmering over her skin. She still couldn’t believe she’d done something so…intimate.
Couldn’t believe her fingers itched to do it again.
A welcome breeze rippled through the alley, cooling her blood and her skin, finally bringing her overloaded senses back to a manageable level. Once again, reason prevailed.
You’re making too big a deal about this, she told herself. Men like Reid kissed women all the time. It didn’t mean anything to him, for heaven’s sake, and it shouldn’t mean anything to her, either.
“It doesn’t,” she said, needing to hear herself say it out loud. Reid had caught her off guard, that was all. In the future, she’d be more careful around him.
She’d also have to warn Jason to be more careful, she realized. If her parents found out about him—Tina shuddered at the thought—there would be hell to pay.
But there was no reason for them to find out, she told herself. Reid didn’t know anything. He’d been fishing, and he’d come up with an empty hook.
She intended to keep it that way.
At seven forty-five that evening, Abraham Danforth’s campaign headquarters had officially been open for fifteen minutes. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee and still-warm cookies wafted through the already crowded room. Music, upbeat instrumentals meant more to inspire than entertain, flowed from an overhead sound system, but could barely be heard over the excited conversations of volunteers and newly hired campaign staff. Because the man of the hour hadn’t arrived yet, anticipation increased with each passing minute.
Reid, arms folded, leaning against the back wall of the room, watched the activity buzzing around him. His family was scattered throughout the room: Kimberly sat at a guest book table; Adam manned the volunteer schedule; his cousin Jake was currently charming Matilda Henning, the president of the Savannah Women’s Historical League. Nicola Granville, wearing an Honest Abe II campaign button on the lapel of her navy blue blazer and a straw Danforth for Senator hat tucked neatly over her red hair, made her way through the throng of people and personally greeted each and every one of them.
Abraham might be the heart of the campaign, but the volunteers were the lifeblood. Without them, no amount of publicity or money could win an election.
But there was really only one volunteer—albeit a reluctant one—that had caught Reid’s attention and he shifted his gaze to Tina.
Wearing tan linen slacks and a black turtleneck, she stood by the refreshment table with Jason, a cup of punch in her hand, listening politely to an animated, balding man dressed in an oversize gray suit. She appeared cool and composed and even interested in what the man was saying to her, but when he turned away from her to grab another cookie from a tray, Tina’s boredom flashed in her eyes.
Reid smiled, even considered saving her. It would be easy to make his way over there and tell her she had a phone call in the back office. But he wasn’t so sure she would appreciate the gesture, not with Jason standing there, and especially not after what had happened between th
em this afternoon.
Not that he was really sure what had happened. He’d kissed her, she’d kissed him back, they’d both enjoyed it—that much he knew. Everything else was just a little fuzzy. Maybe he had hit his head too hard, he thought, though it certainly hadn’t knocked any sense into him.
Because all he’d thought about since he’d kissed her was kissing her again.
From the moment Tina had walked into campaign headquarters with Rachel and Jason a few minutes ago, Reid had been very aware of the fact that she’d kept her distance from him. She hadn’t even glanced in his direction. It would certainly make sense that with her boyfriend here, she might want to avoid the man she’d been in a lip lock with just a few hours earlier.
But what she couldn’t avoid was the unspoken tension still lingering between them. It didn’t matter that she was on the other side of the room, it was there nonetheless. He knew it, and he knew that she knew it, too.
Whether she would admit it or not was another issue.
“A friend of yours?”
Reid turned at the sound of Ian’s voice, annoyed that his brother had caught him staring. “Who?”
Ian took a sip of his coffee, then grinned that annoying I’m-your-brother-you-can’t-fool-me grin. “Not the type you usually go for, is she?”
Refusing to answer his question or rise to the bait, Reid simply lifted a brow. “And exactly what type is it you seem to think I go for?”
“Dim-witted debutantes,” Ian said, cocking his head. “High-society heiresses, soporific society girls.”
Reid frowned. So maybe a few of the women he’d dated had been a little shallow, he thought irritably. Or maybe just a little low in the brain cell department. So what? He’d been looking for company, not commitment. And Ian, of all people, who’d avoided any kind of relationship since his divorce, was hardly one to talk.
“For your information,” Reid said dryly, “her father owns Castle Bakery.”
“Ah. One of the Alexander daughters.” Ian nodded, then sipped his coffee again as he glanced across the room at Tina. “Jake and I have talked about adding some new items to D&D’s. Maybe I should go introduce myself.”
The Cinderella Scandal (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 1) Page 5
