Page 8 of The Senator's Secret

For the first time, I admit that maybe his life isn’t so easy after all. Or maybe that’s just the three martinis talking.

I watch him slip his phone from his pocket and fire off a text to someone before the waiter brings him a fresh drink. I shake my head to clear the unhealthy thoughts—and any thoughts of Jake Chancellor being a nice guy are unhealthy.

I start to make my way through the restaurant again when someone from last night stops me to ask me about the Open Arms project.

“Grace,” he says, breaking me free from my thoughts. “Just who I was talking about.”

“How are you this evening?” I ask politely and wave at the men he is dining with. These are all prominent businessmen in New York, and I need them and their money to get this project off the ground.

“Good, good,” they answer. “We were just wondering if you’ve given any more thought to bringing the senator on board?”

I barely hold in my sigh of frustration and smile. Seriously? It’s only been a day since we spoke, and they want me to abandon all my plans and heel to a certain senator who drives me crazy. But this is my life, this is the life I have built for myself, and I am not going to let anyone—even Jacob Chancellor—chase me away from it. So, I square my shoulders and answer them. “It’s under consideration.”

“Do consider it,” one of the men says firmly. “I won’t sign on without him.”

“I do hope we can all come to an agreement on this,” another states.

“I think time will tell,” I say, trying to extricate myself for this conversation. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s getting late.”

I move closer and closer to him and hold my breath. I’m hoping he doesn’t notice me and I can move on without being seen.

“You’ve got my vote,” I overhear the waiter saying to Chancellor.

“Thank you,” he replies, and it seems genuine. “That means a lot to me.”

I’m almost to his table now when another prominent businessman stops me to ask about the man at the very top of my “I don’t want to talk about it” list. I feel my frustration at my escape plans being foiled again pull across my face, but I halt it in its tracks. It’s only for a second before I quickly school my features into a serene expression. I’m a fucking professional after all. I really hope he doesn’t notice me.

But when I look over my shoulder again, I’m not so lucky. The Senator is watching me with open, unguarded interest. He pushes his seat back ever so slightly from the table he is sitting at as if he’s going to stand and greet me like we’re old friends. I know for a fact that he would like to be more than friends, but I’m just not willing to risk it.

I was planning to keep my focus straight ahead, even if it is more than a little rude, and ignore Jake Chancellor, when the sole of one of my ridiculously tall Louboutins steps on a spoon that someone haphazardly dropped on the floor, and I begin to slide like an ice skater. I recover, or I try to, but the slight tipping of my body tells a different story. I slowly start to tip backward, but Chancellor is right there. He stands up from his chair and catches me as I finally lose my balance. He pulls my body tight to his.

His right palm lands flat on my ass cheek and burns me through my dress. We both feel a shiver wrack up my spine, and I jerk my body back, but he doesn’t let go of me while his left hand goes to the back of my neck. His fingers slide into the thick mass of my hair, and I love the feel of it there, pulling ever so slightly, more than I ever could have imagined. His face goes into the side of my neck and I barely restrain the rough groan that almost slips from my lips. My head tips back and my eyes slide closed.

“Are you all right?” he asks after longer than he should have waited to check on me, to release me. He whispers the words in my ear in deliciously low tones, so those at the tables around us can’t hear.

“Y-y-yes,” I stammer softly.

He tips his head back and gets a good look at my face. The slight move has me pressing my waist into his impressive erection. I should have known he’d be huge. The world is so unfair, but in this moment, I don’t care. I’m lost. I’m sure my cheeks are flushed a bright pink from my embarrassment. My eyes are bright with… lust? I just don’t know what this feeling is or what I should do with it. And I might be mistaken, but I’m pretty sure my nipples are hard peaks pressed against his dress-shirt-clad chest.

Now that is unfortunate.

“You can unhand me now,” I say quietly, but I pack enough steel into my voice—the voice I use in the courtroom—to let him know that playtime is over. For now.

“Of course,” he replies, letting me hear the interest in his tone. “I’m happy to catch you any time.”

“I’m sure you are,” I tell him with a smirk playing on my lips. I can’t help but hope he doesn’t notice I have only taken one tiny step back from him.

“I’m all too happy to be at your service any time,” he adds, smiling his most charming smile, with those stupid dimples and all, and I try hard not to notice that with me it seems more natural and less forced. “All you have to do is call.”

“We shall see, Senator,” I say. “Have a good night.”

“You too, Grace.”

And then I slip by him and walk out into the night. I have the valet hail me a cab, and then I’m gone.

But what I didn’t know then was that I wouldn’t be gone for long. Later, I would wish I had noticed the plethora of camera flashes that shot all around us from the second I landed in his arms until the cab door closed behind me and I rolled away into the New York night.

I spent the cab ride back to my apartment still feeling his strong arms around me and his calloused hand on my ass. I played the look of his face over and over in my head, wondering as I did at the time if he was thinking about kissing me like I had thought about kissing him. What I did not feel was a steel cage closing around me. Oh, by tomorrow afternoon, the game would change. I was well and truly caught. I just didn’t know how.