Really truly confused by the softer side of Brandon Senior, I wonder if it’s part of his game. A way to reel me in? Shane does call him a master. “Shut the door behind you and tell my wife I’m in a meeting.”
I exit into the exterior office to find Shane waiting on me. “I owe you this,” he says, his gray eyes warm as he indicates my coat draped over his arm, and it looks way better on him than me.
“I all but forgot it. It’s been a crazy, busy morning.”
He leans in close, the heat of his body warming me. “I like how you smell today.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
“I like how you taste today too.”
“Shane, honey!”
At the sound of Maggie’s voice I all but jump with guilt, heat rushing to my cheeks, while Shane’s eyes light with mischief. I glower at him and quickly right my expression before we both turn to greet his mother, who is as elegant as ever in a light blue pantsuit and boots.
“Tell me you aren’t stealing my lunch date,” she says, rushing to Shane and giving him a hug.
“I wouldn’t dream of stealing your date or the time you intend to invest in scaring Emily.”
My lips part in shock, while it’s Maggie’s turn to glower. “Don’t be silly,” she says. “I don’t scare her in the least, which is part of what makes her interesting.”
“I called you this morning,” he says. “Did you forget to call me back?”
“I have no message.”
“I’m in your missed calls.”
“Oh please. No message means don’t call back. You’ll call me when you get time. Besides, I had a meeting at the Capitol this morning.” She holds up all her fingers and waves them. “That’s right. The Capitol. My interior design business is taking on a life of its own.”
“How exciting,” I say. “Are you redoing a specific part of the interior or is it a broader scale project?”
“One senator’s office,” she says, “but it’s a start.” She checks the time on her dainty diamond watch. “Shall we go? With the snow outside, we need to drive anyway, so I thought we’d go to a place a few miles away.” She points to the office door. “I should say hello to my husband quickly first though.”
I hold up a finger. “Oh he’s—”
She goes into his office and I cringe. “I wasn’t supposed to let her in.”
Shane laughs. “It’s my mother. You never had a chance to stop her and my father knows that.” He holds up my coat to help me into it, and I slip my arms inside, only to have him lean in close, and murmur, “I’d drink the tea.”
I whirl around. “You heard?”
“I did and you were protecting me.”
“I was, but do you think—”
“All right then,” Maggie says, reappearing. “We are off.”
“I need to talk to you, Mother. Come see me when you get back.”
She points at her watch. “I have meetings. I’m not coming back up. I’ll call you.”
Shane does not look pleased and I wonder what he thinks she’s avoiding. Maggie laces her arm with mine and drags me forward, giving me no chance to even tell Shane good-bye. In fact, I have to wave at the receptionist and shout out, “Call me if there’s anything urgent!” before we step into the hallway.
“Gorgeous coat, honey,” Maggie says, punching the elevator button. “Did Shane buy it for you?”
And there it is. Her games and really, I think she is as much a master as her husband, because this is a subtle attempt to hit a nerve that sets me up to run my mouth later. I don’t take the bait. “You do know I get paid extremely well for working for your husband, don’t you?”
“Really?” she says. “How well?”
“Well enough that I was willing to take the title of secretary.”
“You’re a paralegal, right?”
“Yes,” I say, choking on the lie I need to get used to telling, but lies just don’t become me. “And I’m making more than I would in that role elsewhere.”
We step onto the elevator and this time she punches the button. “Well, you certainly earn it. He’s difficult. He always has been, but the cancer has made it worse.”
There is no grief in her voice, no torment like I feel in Shane when he speaks of his father. More like agitation, but then, he’s sleeping around on her, even now. “How long have you been married?”
“Thirty-seven years. I was a teenager when I married. Young, in love, and pregnant.”
“Oh. I had no idea. That must have been hard.”
“Believe it or not, back then your cranky boss was a charmer like Shane.”
“I see glimpses of that side of him.”
She sighs. “Me too, but it’s rare.” She stares ahead and for a moment doesn’t speak, and this time I do sense torment in her that she doesn’t wish for me to see, several floors passing before she’s back to chatter. “The restaurant is excellent and Mike Rogers, our stockholder, owns it, so we always get extra-special treatment.”
“Mike Rogers,” I say. “I hear his name all the time but have never seen him. I guess that will change at the board meeting next week.”
“Ah yes,” she says, the car stopping at the lobby level. “The board meeting.” We exit the car and walk to the garage elevator. “My husband is going to announce his retirement to prevent news of his cancer from leaking and then set a vote for the head of the table.”
“I figured as much but he’s been very hush-hush,” I say as we exit into the garage.
“Well, whatever you do”—she hits a clicker and a silver Mercedes I know is one of the most expensive they make, beeps—“don’t tell him I told you. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
We climb into the car and she starts telling me all about the food at the restaurant, and in only a few blocks we’re in the parking lot, with a flurry of snowflakes around us. She parks the car and her cell phone rings. She kills the engine and digs it out of her purse, glancing at the number. “The senator I’m working for. I have to take it.”
“Of course,” I say, removing my cell phone, with Shane on my mind.
I pull up my text messages and send him a note: What was I thinking? I should have gone along with your father and let him think I could influence you. Then I could have found out what he is up to. I’m a horrible spy.
His reply is instant: I don’t want you playing spy. You were perfect and I’ll show you how perfect tonight.
I type: Promise?
His response is exactly what I expect: Promise. And I never break a promise.
I smile and almost laugh.
“Is that my son you’re talking to?” Maggie asks, clearly having ended her call.
I glance up to find her staring at me. “Yes. It’s Shane. He’s good at making me laugh, which is perhaps the reason I can’t stay away from him.”
She gets a rather distant look, several beats passing before she agrees. “It’s certainly not a bad quality. Shall we go eat?”
“Yes. Please. I’m starving.” We both pull up the hoods to our coats and exit the car into the cold, snowy day, meeting at the trunk and making a mad dash for the restaurant.
One of the staff opens the door for us, and we rush into the warmth, tugging our hoods back down. We are greeted warmly by a thirty-something pretty blonde in jeans and boots who clearly knows Maggie. “We have your regular table ready, Mrs. Brandon. This way.”