“Thanks.” Sylvie didn’t mean to stare, but Rene was still in the hallway—he was kind of a work of art, and she got sucked in every time. He was talking to the city engineer, likely about some project he was going to fund, or maybe he was going over plans for poker night.
“Madam Mayor, should I get you a tissue?”
She shook her head, coming out of the trance she seemed to go into whenever her brother’s best friend walked into her line of sight.
“Why?” She forced herself back to the present.
“To wipe the drool away, girl.” Gertie was shaking her head. “Maybe there’s a reason you don’t know when a man is interested in you.”
She sighed. “I was not drooling. I was thinking. I got distracted.”
“You always get distracted when that boy walks in.”
“He’s not a boy.” Rene was all man and she wasn’t a girl anymore. She would be thirty in a couple of years. By the time her mom was thirty, she’d already been married for years, had two kids, and started her business.
“You are all children to me.” Gertie started toward the door. “Come along, honey. I’ve got your schedule for the rest of the week, and you need to go over the budget before the council meets. Have you thought about what you’re going to wear to the meeting with the Hollywood people?”
Sylvie was doing a meet-and-greet with a group of Hollywood producers looking for a cheap location to shoot a film. “I bought a Chanel suit.”
It was gently used, but it was her size and cost half what she would pay in a store. She was all about the online thrift shop.
Gertie shook her head with a long-suffering sigh. “You know I could sew a label in for you.”
Gertie did not understand Sylvie’s need for designer wear. Her thoughts drifted back to Rene. Rene understood that a good outfit could give a person confidence. “It’s not the same. Do you know why he’s here?”
“No idea.” Gertie opened the door and then gave Sylvie a once-over. “Good, that’s your I’m-a-serious-politician face. Use that one.”
She barely managed not to roll her eyes. Gertie claimed she had a face for every situation. Apparently she also had a “drool over the superrich hottie” face, and she needed to make damn sure she wasn’t wearing that one for the next couple of minutes. “I shall attempt to get by him without fainting or screaming like I’m a teen at a K-pop concert.”
She wouldn’t even look his way. That was her best play. She would walk straight to her office, and he would do what he normally did and not even notice she was alive.
“I’ll go pick up your lunch,” Gertie said as they walked into the hallway. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”
She wouldn’t. It would be at least thirty because the minute Gertie walked into Dixie’s to pick up the grilled chicken salad Sylvie had ordered, she would have to say hello to everyone she knew. And Gertie knew everyone. It was precisely why she was excellent at her job. Gertie was a fount of knowledge about the parish and everyone in it.
Sylvie heard the deep rumble of Rene’s voice and had to force herself not to run. To him? Away from him? Either way, she would walk away like the empowered woman she was and not the college girl with a crush.
She kept her eyes on her phone. She knew city hall like the back of her hand. Her father had worked here when she was a kid. He’d been the city clerk for most of his life, and he’d taken such pride in bringing her and Andre to work with him when he could. When he would catch up on paperwork over the occasional weekend, this place had been a playground for her and Andre.
She missed her father.
She glanced down at her phone and then smacked right into a big body. The impact sent her phone and bag straight to the floor.
Without glancing up, she dropped down, reaching for her Chanel caviar quilted tote. She’d gotten that one secondhand, too. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“Well, I was the one who didn’t move out of your way, so it’s my fault.”
Rene. She should have known from the ridiculously expensive loafers or the perfectly tailored cuff on the slacks. But no, it was the deep voice and that smooth accent that got to her every time. At least he was speaking English, because when he spoke French, she couldn’t even think straight. Naturally she’d knocked right into the man she’d been trying to avoid.
And her screen had been damaged slightly. There was a tiny crack in the lower corner. “I’m sorry, Rene. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Be careful with that.” He knelt down and got to her phone before she could. “That glass is incredibly sharp.”