Something About You (Just Me & You) (21 page)

Sabrina scrutinized her appearance in the mirror of the
ladies’ lounge.

She’d planned to go boutique-hopping for a new dress, but
Carlton had convinced her to get a mani-pedi at a day spa instead. With no time
left to shop, she had to settle for what she had in her wardrobe. The black
silk number, one of the formals she’d packed for the Iceland cruise, was a
clever combination of sedate and sexy — a retro stunner, complete with
three-quarter-length sleeves and a deceptively modest round neckline that
plunged all the way down to the base of her spine at the back. Her feet were
jammed into steep platform pumps she’d bought on a whim and had worn exactly
once because they pushed her instep into an unnatural pitch. Tonight she’d need
that four additional inches of leverage.

Theo’s female guests would no doubt be dripping diamonds,
emeralds and other precious stones. But Sabrina was of the mind that lilies
that needed such gilding had probably long withered on the stem. Less was
always more in this case. She’d left her fingers, wrists and ears bare and put
on the single strand of pearls Nola gave her for her sixteenth birthday.

Sabrina entered the upper mezzanine and lingered on the
landing while she watched guests trickle through the entrance below. Built
before the turn of the century by Jesse Driskill, one of Texas’ legendary
cattle barons, the main lobby of historic hotel — with its glossy marble
floors, stained-glass dome, and princely Corinthian columns flanked by tall
palms — managed to be both opulent and tasteful. To the average
out-of-towner, the Driskill Hotel was an elegant curiosity. Tourists’ interest
in the landmark building was fueled by either rumors of hauntings or the
exquisite menu served in the hotel’s grill. Sabrina knew every inch of the
Driskill by heart, having attended numerous social functions there, from baby
showers and weddings to lobbyists’ parties and Sine Die bashes.

The most exciting part of the evening before social
engagements turned into a smart roar of music, conversation and clinking
glasses that punctuated toasts and speeches was watching the guests arrive.
Predictably, the female gala attendees opted for seasonal colors — crimson,
mulberry and emerald and forest greens — for their long formal gowns,
which were spackled with intricate beadwork and Swarovski crystals. Their
jewels glistened under the glow of the lobby’s chandeliers.

But it was the opposite gender that commanded Sabrina’s
attention. She liked a well-dressed man. Many of the younger men had taken
liberties with current tuxedo fashion, adding ascots, scarves, untucked dress
shirts and patterned lapels to the mix. From her vantage point next to the
piano bar, she watched them filter through the entrance and run up the stairs
to the ballroom, tails dancing.

But the young bucks paled compared to the tall man who’d
just strode into the lobby. He wore a straight-up, no-frills tux that would
have looked just as classic on Sinatra as it would on that year’s red carpet
Academy Award winner. It was more than just his dress blacks that drew
Sabrina’s eye; his mere presence, quietly confident, demanded her attention.
She gave him a closer look.

Gage?

He looked around him. Then, spotting her standing on the mezzanine,
he smiled and bounded up the stairs. He’d gotten his hair trimmed. It was still
long, but it barely touched his shoulders and fell from a side part in shiny
waves. Sabrina was aware that the girls behind the registration desk were
sneaking covert looks of appreciation his way.

“Help a man out,” he said, depositing a pair of silver cuff
links in her palm. “These possess a certain degree of difficulty.”

“You look—” She couldn’t think of an apt word. She couldn’t
think at all. “—quite debonair.”

“If that means the same thing as ‘dashing,’ I’ll take it.”

“It does.” She neatly folded back the French cuffs of his
crisp dress shirt and threaded one of the cuff links through. “Chain link.
Going old school?”

“They were my grandfather’s. They’re the only pair I have.”

“I’ll reimburse you for the cost of the tuxedo rental,” she
told him. “I didn’t intend for you to spend any money.”

He gave her an amused look. “Sabrina, honey, one piece of
clothing that every man should own by the age of thirty is a tux. How d’you
think I landed all those groomsmen gigs?”

As Sabrina moved in closer, she was overwhelmed by the
clean, woodsy scent of him. Her fingers fumbled with the intricate clasps. The
skin on the inside of his wrists was soft compared to the calluses on the balls
of his hands. His battered features and wide shoulders made for another
intriguing contrast, given his cream-colored skin and lush, dark eyelashes for
which women would sacrifice a cup size. Sabrina glanced at his smooth jawline
and found herself wondering if he’d sprung for a barber’s shave.

No, Gage wasn’t conventionally handsome.

He was striking. Devastatingly so.

She didn’t realize that she was staring until he ran a hand
over his chin and asked, “What is it? Razor nicks?”

“No.” She managed a smile. “You look great.”

“Anything that I should know before we enter the fray?” he
asked as they made their way to the ballroom. “Any, ah, specific topics that I
should avoid? I didn’t have time to brush up on my bullshit.” 

“Just use common sense,” Sabrina heard herself saying as
they reached the entrance to the ballroom. “And enjoy yourself. Or try to look
like you are.”

“C’mon, let’s do this thing right.” Gage presented her his
arm. After wrapping her own around it, she placed her hand on the top of his
sleeve, a habit drilled into her after years of inaugural events. 

Entering the Driskill’s ballroom was like taking a step back
in time. The domed ceiling must have looked much the same as it did more than a
century ago when the ballroom functioned as the hotel’s grand salon. The
crystal chandeliers, modeled after the hotel’s gaslights, gave the large room
an antique glow. White-coated waitstaff manned the bar and moved around the
room fluidly carrying large silver trays.

She lifted her hand to wave at Theo and Jillian, who were
standing next to a table flooded with calla lilies.

“By the way, one of my exes will be here tonight,” she told
Gage through her smile.

“One of numbers one through five?”

“The one I married,” she murmured, scanning the crowd. She
didn’t see Jackson. But there were the Speaker of the House and his wife
talking to the chair of the House Appropriations Committee and his Chief of
Staff. Predictably, the Tide Brothers and other members of the State Builders
Association were holding court close to the bar. A smaller cluster of attorneys
stood an arm’s width away, and representatives of nonprofits and advocacy
groups took their place in various corners of the ballroom. Social events like
the gala were the perfect forum to prove they could all play together nicely.
But after legislation was introduced, they could become each other’s worst
foes.

Theo himself looked harried, surreptitiously fiddling with
his cuff links when he wasn’t shaking hands with guests. Sabrina suspected that
he had gotten dressed on the fly. Jillian Ward, on the other hand, looked like
she’d spent all day at a spa having alpha hydroxy acids rubbed into her face.
Her blond hair was in an updo from which a riot of curls erupted. Sabrina suspected
extensions. Jillian’s sapphire blue chiffon dress was pleated in the front to
accommodate her slightly burgeoning tummy.

Sabrina scanned the room nervously as she looked for
flame-haired beauties. Theo wasn’t unprofessional enough to issue an invitation
to one of his mistresses, but judging by the angry look on the woman that had
come barreling out of his office, there was always the possibility of a
gate-crasher. The Hon. Rep.’s spurned mistress had obviously decided not to pay
court that night, which was a good thing because Eva Hayes was winnowing her
way through the crowd. She wore a gold evening gown and sparkly chandelier
earrings that looked stunning against her dusky skin, but the grim look on her
face told Sabrina that the reason she was at the gala was strictly business.

Gage nudged Sabrina’s elbow lightly. “Is that your guy?” He
nodded at Theo, who was waving them over.

“I suppose I have to introduce you,” she said sulkily. The
scenario she had envisioned didn’t go anything like this one. She had planned
to send Gage over to the drinks line while she did her customary
meet-and-greet. “Just don’t say anything I wouldn’t say.”

“No worries. There’s rest for the wicked,” he assured her
mildly, allowing Sabrina to drag him over to the Hon. Rep. and his wife.

“Theo, Jillian, this is my — this is Gage Fitzgerald,”
Sabrina said with a smooth smile. “Gage, this is Theo Ward, and his wife,
Jillian.”

“Pleased to meet you, Gage.” Theo extended an arm and
engaged him in an intimate hand-over-handshake used by politicians on the
campaign trail. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. Sports?”

“Radio, sir,” Gage said. “Ma’am.” He acknowledged Jillian
with a polite nod when she didn’t extend her hand. The exchange was impressive,
Sabrina thought.

“Moira begged off, and your boy Carlton has already come and
gone,” Theo told Sabrina. “Looks like you’re the only mascot in attendance,
Chief.”

Theo started yammering to her about boring office business.
Sabrina strained her ears to hear the conversation going on between Gage and
Jillian Ward. She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded as though they were
discussing cribs and wood-distressing techniques.

Her stomach was rumbling, and the high-heeled pumps were
already murdering her feet. Leaving Gage and Jillian engrossed in conversation,
she excused herself to Theo and headed toward the canapés. But the path to the
table was blocked by guests and other Chiefs of Staff who stopped her for a
chat. Sabrina tried to focus on the conversation, her eyes darting around the
room as she tried to spot Eva Hayes’ gold dress in a sea of gold dresses. The
last thing Sabrina wanted was for it to get out that she had gone to the Hon.
Rep.’s annual ball with Gage “Fitz” Fitzgerald. It was just as well that she
hadn’t found Carlton’s sister, Sabrina reasoned. Something told her that Eva
couldn’t be bribed.

Now the band was on the platform, making adjustments to
instruments and gear. Dancing would soon be underway. Sabrina managed to detach
herself from the Tide Brothers and navigated her way to a lone table, a
repository for food trays that were partially foraged. Her stomach squealed
with delight anyway. She quickly ate two miniature quiches made with risotto
and cured meat, then loaded her plate with bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with
manchego cheese, fried asparagus-risotto patties, and crab cakes topped with
tomato remoulade. The festively garnished champagne cocktails that were going
around the room — Bellinis, mimosas and Kir Royales — looked terribly
tempting. Sabrina snagged a poinsettia from a passing waiter.

“If it isn’t the illustrious Chief of Staff,” a man’s voice
said from directly over her shoulder.

Sabrina nearly choked on her champagne. “Jackson?”

Her ex-husband wore his finest tuxedo. But Sabrina had seen
him in dress nines so many times during their long courtship, his dapper was
permanently dulled. He may as well have been dressed in standard business
attire. 

“Sabrina. Nice running into you here.” The expression on his
face told her it was anything but. “You came with someone?” He nodded his head
in the direction of the lily table where Gage and Theo were engaged in
conversation.

“One of Sebastian’s friends.” It was sort of the truth, she
reasoned. “And you?”

“I’m not so quick on the rebound, Sabrina.” He gave her a
look that was slightly withering before he went on. “I’ve been hearing some
interesting chatter under the Dome. Word has it that Ward’s more interested in
the breakfast special at the Four Seasons than he is in running his office and
that one of his more inspired staff members is churning out his legislation.”

“You know I can’t speak to that, Jackson,” Sabrina demurred.
Just what had Jackson heard, and from whom? Certainly not Carlton, although
Moira had been known to unconsciously blab to anyone in the Capitol Cafeteria
who appeared to be listening.

God, she really needed another champagne cocktail.

“Word also has it that you’re a shoo-in for Ward’s seat if
he ever retires,” Jackson went on. “Or if he messes things up for himself so
badly that he has no choice but to resign.”

“I must say, your sources have vivid imaginations.” She kept
her voice light and dismissive to hide the fact that she was stunned. She had
never led herself to believe that hers was the only name that didn’t come up in
the conversations of other legislators and their staff.

But this …
this
was what they were saying about
her?

That she could take Theo’s place one day?

“Oh, come on, Sabrina,” Jackson finally blurted. “I’ve seen
the bills coming out of Ward’s office. Teachers’ pensions? Funding for women’s
and children’s services? Even if they have no chance of getting passed, those
are the kind of warm, mushy causes that make the constituents in his district
go weak in the knees, and they have your lipstick kisses all over them.”

An intrusive memory of her and Jackson bickering in their
cabin on the Polar Star cut through the warm effects of the champagne cocktail.
Until then, their conversation had stayed on the surface, but Jackson had
proven his capacity to plunge in deep.
You’re fearful
, he had said decisively,
as though determination alone would lend his words veracity.
You’re afraid
of change.

She would show him just how strong her mettle really was.

Sabrina took a deep breath to relieve the tension that ran
from her neck to her spine. Let Jackson think what he would, even if the idea
of her running for public office was pure absurdity.