Suzanne’s entire expression dimmed and she looked down at her plate. “Would you rather not talk about it? Did I make you uncomfortable, bringing it up?”
“No. No, no, no.” Feeling contrite, Blake reached out and rested her hand over Suzanne’s. “It’s just so awkward talking about my father. What he does, who I
am. Well, I’m really nothing, but the media wants to make me into so much more.”
“Do you live in Washington DC?”
“I do. I sort of grew up there. We moved there when I was in my early teens. And I never left. Only when I come here do I get to escape.”
“Is that what Whitney Island is to you? An escape?”
Blake nodded. “Escape, sanctuary, both. I’m always ‘on’ back home, you know? It’s all about putting on a show, trying to be perfect, though the paparazzi always manages to catch me making mistakes. Here I can relax, let my hair down and just be. Not wear makeup, not wash my hair for a couple of days and hang out in my sweats.”
“You wear sweats?” Suzanne wrinkled her nose. “So far I haven’t seen you in any.”
Blake glanced down. She was dressed in jeans and a black cashmere sweater with a Burberry coat tossed over the back of her chair. Definitely not sweats. She reeked of money, even when she tried to be discreet. “Well, when I’m home I do the sweats. Trust me, I always look a mess.”
Realization seemed to dawn on Suzanne and she snapped her fingers. “The guy who follows you, is he Secret Service?”
“Sshh.” Blake shook her head, glancing out the window, spotting Mason in the distance. He had a sandwich in hand and was eating it while sitting on a park bench, his gaze trained directly upon the restaurant. Even in his supposed relaxed state, he looked ready to pounce.
Hmm. Just once, she wished he would pounce on her.
“Well, he is, isn’t he?”
“Okay yes, he is. Keep your voice down.” Blake looked about the restaurant, but no one looked in their direction. “As an adult child of the Vice President, I’m not automatically given Secret Service protection. Considering the intensity of this campaign, my father felt it best if I received protection for the duration.”
“Interesting.” Suzanne nodded, then dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “So once the election is finished, you lose the guy?”
“It depends on if they win or not.” She secretly wished they wouldn’t, just so she could get out of the limelight.
But that meant Mason would leave her. Forever…
Suzanne watched her, her gaze practically boring holes into Blake. She squirmed beneath her new friend’s scrutiny. “Do you want to lose the guy?”
“Yes,” Blake answered a little too quickly.
“Uh, huh.” It sounded as if Suzanne didn’t believe her whatsoever.
“I’m serious. I hate having someone tag after me all the time.” And she had. Before Mason.
“I’m sure it’s rather strange, always being watched.”
“It is.” Especially being watched by someone who ran so hot and cold as Mason.
No, she wouldn’t call it strange. More like frustrating beyond belief.
“Does he stay in your house?”
“Yes.” She didn’t want to elaborate. It really was confidential information and she didn’t know Suzanne that well. “Well, close. He’s camped out in the smaller cabin we have on the property.”
Blake frowned. Should she have said that? That could be an automatic assumption, so she wasn’t revealing anything too private, right?
“Wow. I bet you have a pretty nice place, huh?” The expression on Suzanne’s face was wistful. “I won’t even bother inviting you over to my little shack. It’s pitiful.”
Blake winced. She hated this part. Usually the people she hung out with—she certainly couldn’t call them actual friends—were on equal footing with her, money-wise. She’d never been friendly with someone who had less before.
It made her uncomfortable, guilty for having more.