"I just—” he begins, but Barrett cuts him off.
"Never okay." He takes the tray away from me and sits it on a table nearby. He picks up my arm gently, sending a ripple of shivers throughout my body. My voice is gone again, and I try to remember everything I once knew about keeping calm and maintaining courtesy.
"Are you okay, Alison?"
His voice wraps around me like a warm blanket, and I'm certain if I weren’t okay, whatever would've been wrong would suddenly be healed. My hand tingles where his is touching it, all of my senses buzzing. He grins, not his usual wide, disarming smile, but a softer one I haven't had the pleasure of seeing before. It's the one I won't forget.
"I'm okay," I say, pulling my hand away. "Really."
Barrett pauses, his eyes narrowing again, searching me. “I’d like to take you for some fresh air, if that would be okay with you?”
I can hear the words my brain wants to say in my head. It's a long ramble of stuttered words laced with a string of lewd offers my body is demanding. I press my lips shut and opt not to risk it.
The mayor turns to my boss and they begin a conversation, but I don't hear them. I just watch Barrett, taking in the beauty in front of me—the dimple that's barely visible in his left cheek, the tiny scar above his right eye. He's clearly in charge, my boss now seeming no more than a little boy.
Finally, they turn to me and I gulp. I have no idea what's been discussed, and I feel like they expect me to know.
Damn it.
"Alison," Mr. Pickner says, "please forgive me for earlier. Feel free to enjoy the rest of your night." He dips his head and skitters back into the kitchen.
I look up into the handsome face of Mayor Landry. He's studying me, an intensity in his gaze that makes my stomach flutter.
This is how I didn't pay attention. Gah! Pay attention, Ali!
My breath comes out in stuttered wisps. I shouldn't be going anywhere with him. For about fifteen million reasons, I shouldn't leave this room with this man. "Thank you, Mayor Landry, but—"
"It's Barrett. Please, call me Barrett," he insists, stripping away my defenses.
"Okay, Barrett." I grasp the little bit of brain power I have left and stand tall. "A walk is really not necessary. I'm fine. He was just . . . helping me out of the way."
He smirks. "Ms. Baker, please, consider what I do for a living."
"What do you mean?"
"I’m a politician. I work with liars all day," he winks.
I can't help but laugh. "I'm sure you do. But, really, I’m good. Please, go enjoy your event and I'll get back to work."
He takes a step closer, the air between us on fire. "I would enjoy spending a few minutes with you."
I feel my cheeks heat under his gaze. His eyes brighten with amusement at my flush.
"Now, if you don't want to cause a scene, I'm going to suggest we duck out of here before we manage to gain a wider audience."
Glancing around the room, I notice a few people watching our interaction. A sick feeling erupts in my stomach as memories of being watched before creep in my mind.
"Did you see the photographs of your husband with Ms. Murphy?" The cameraman sticks a video recorder in my face. "How does that make you feel?"
I cringe.
Barrett offers me his arm and I start to take it, but pull it back in a flourish. "I spilled some alfredo on my sleeve earlier. You probably don't want to get that on you."
"It'll wash." His easy way lessens my anxiety. He's doing to me what he does to everyone—charming me, enchanting me. I like it way more than I should.
Images of him tossing his jacket off to the side, unbuttoning his shirt as he readies for the bath zoom through my mind. When my eyes meet his, I know he knows what I was thinking.
He closes the distance between us, lifting my arm and placing it through the crook in his.
The material is supple, his arm hard beneath. Being this close to him, I feel like I'm in a bubble, that it's just he and I, and everyone and everything else is suddenly on the outside.
His scent is intoxicating, his smile disarming. It's a blend of power and approachability, and the combination is mind-blowing.
My defenses crumble, hitting the ground with a hefty thump.
I glance nervously at a few men trying very hard not to notice us. Getting out of here suddenly seems like a good idea.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask. "You don't have to, you know."
He studies me closely. "You're right. I don't have to. I want to."
Alison