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He ached to try. If she rejected his advances, he’d leave her alone. He’d had enough practice locking up his emotions over the years, and he’d never put her in an uncomfortable position. He respected her way too much for that bullshit.
Since Catherine had died, no women had stirred his desire. He’d refused to date, happy to settle in to his full-time lover—work. But Alyssa was different. His interest and emotions had grown steadily, until one day, it felt as if he’d been moving toward her the entire time. He just hadn’t been prepared for it.
She appeared at the top of the stairs. Her cocktail dress was conservative and black, a polished number that screamed respectable yet elegant, the hem past the knee. There were no fuck-me shoes, just plain leather pumps with a low heel. Her hair remained up in a tight bun, but it only emphasized the softness of her features—the gentle curve of her cheek, the stubborn chin, and those pursed lips that gleamed wetly from her rose-colored gloss. He loved that she changed for nobody and didn’t seem interested in the normal trappings of the female persuasion. God knew she didn’t need any help being the sexiest woman in the room. Her brain was the biggest turn-on of all.
A wispy longing rose up inside him. He ached to have the right to touch her. To slide his fingers into hers, yank, and have her soft body collapse against his chest. He imagined unpinning the knot from her hair and burying his hands in the silky blond strands. Burned to experience the imprint of her full lips under his, opening to the thrust of his tongue, hips arched and begging for a release she wanted only from—
“Mr. Mayor?” She tipped her head and treated him to an appraising stare behind her tortoiseshell glasses. “You needed to see me?”
He swallowed past the sudden knot in his throat and shot his cuffs. “Yes. I realize it’s late, but I had some concerns regarding the latest budget expenditures. I’m out of the office tomorrow. Do you have an hour to go over it?”
She paused. He could practically hear her brain clicking madly over the spreadsheets she’d probably memorized. Her skill with accounting and budgets had made him weep with pure relief. “Yes. But I thought it’d been finalized.”
“So did I, but I spoke with some board members at Devons’ function, and there was pushback on some of the funding. I need to re-allocate.”
She nodded. “Of course. I already said good-bye to Paul. Let’s go.”
He escorted her into the back of the car. The clean scent of cotton filled his nostrils, both comforting and arousing. Her dress hitched a few inches higher, revealing a smooth, bare knee. No stockings. He imagined what type of panties she wore. Fantasized about sliding his hand under that very proper fabric and discovering—
He jerked himself out of the daydream and cleared his throat. “Did you enjoy the party?”
“Yes.”
He tried not to smile at her brief answers. She rarely elaborated, and he liked to push at certain subjects, deciding what he wanted more detail on. The dynamic worked well for them. “Cam did well.”
“I’m glad you came. Seeing you makes him happy. And the shirt was a big hit.”
He winced. “Didn’t realize I’d have a camera crew following me around. I’ll probably get hit with another round of people accusing me of mugging for election publicity.”
She gave an elegant shrug. “You didn’t do it for that purpose. At this point, you need to be clear on what you’re doing for PR and for yourself. As long as you know the difference, it will be fine.”
He shook his head. “Who taught you to be so diplomatic? You’ve always been able to cut through the bullshit and see things most don’t. Are your parents just as sharp?”
She gazed at him with a touch of surprise. He realized it was the first real personal question he’d asked her since Paul. Two in one night. No wonder she was off-kilter. She answered slowly as if picking her words carefully. “Smart, yes. But nothing like me. They’re much more…colorful.”
He wanted to ask more, but they’d reached his townhouse. She peered out the window. “Wait, I thought we were going to the office.”
He watched her closely. “My home is closer, and I have all the files on my laptop. But if you feel more comfortable, I can have Tim drive us to City Hall.”
His palms started to sweat like a teen while he analyzed the emotions that flickered over her face. If he sensed real discomfort, he was ready to turn the car back around. He wanted her in his home, surrounded by his personal things so he could begin chipping away at the barrier between them. But the wall had to come down because they both wanted it.
“No, I’m good,” she said.
He relaxed. “Thank you, Tim. If you can, please wait for when Alyssa needs to be driven home.”
“Of course, sir. Have a good night.”
They made their way into the brownstone where he’d resided for the past few years. He’d moved out of his last place after Catherine passed and settled in for the past five years as first the DA, and then the mayor. It had the hushed elegance of old money and was situated on a prominent street, but the inside wasn’t pretentious. Instead, it was decorated with a modern simplicity he liked, especially as a single man.
Alyssa had been to his house many times, but usually only to drop off files or share in a brief discussion amidst frantic appointments. Tonight, there was a deeper quiet that permeated the space as he walked to the kitchen, shedding his jacket and flipping it over the espresso leather sectional. “I’ll bring out my laptop, take a seat,” he called out, letting her take a moment to settle. “Can I get you a drink? I have a nice cabernet open.”
“Sure.”
He grabbed two glasses and filled them a quarter full, then pulled out some chunk cheese, Triscuits, and grapes. Arranging everything onto a plate, he carried out the snack and set it on the glass table where he ate most of his meals while he worked. “I know you’re starving,” he said with a smile. “No one ever gets enough to eat at those fancy functions. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
She picked up the wine and swirled the glass absently before taking a deep sniff. “Are you a wine connoisseur?” he asked curiously.
