She’s just as aware of me because she tilts her head and bites her lip, making my eyes zero in on that plush pink pout. Her chin is delicate and her cheeks flushed the palest rose color, highlighting her patrician features. At that moment, Ginny lets out a quiet laugh and I hear myself letting out a low chuckle as well, more out of reflex than anything. I suppose Vanessa just told a joke, but I didn’t actually hear it. Everything has dissolved so that my attention is focused on Ginny Malone, and this woman alone.
But the trance is broken when my campaign manager materializes at my side.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m afraid that Mr. Cooke is needed elsewhere. It’s urgent,” Jeff says in a polite tone. “I’m sure you understand.” I just barely manage to keep smiling because I know when the situation’s actually urgent and when it’s not, and this time, it’s definitely not. Jeff’s just trying to save me from donors who might dominate my time, and I suppose he’s right. It would be a little weird if I spent the entire event talking to two pretty girls instead of hobnobbing with old rich dudes. As a result, I nod with a charming smile.
“My apologies but you’ll have to excuse me, ladies. Duty calls, and thanks once again for coming out.” I shake their hands, and when Ginny slips her small palm in mine, tingles run through my frame.
“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Cooke,” she murmurs in a totally appropriate tone. “Good luck on your campaign.”
With that, I’m swept away with one last nod. But once Jeff and I have some privacy, I turn to my campaign manager.
“Hey, do you happen to know who those women were? Vanessa and Ginny?”
“No idea,” he replies, shaking his head. “But there are a lot of randoms here tonight because they had some snafus with the guest list. You know how those electronic guest lists work. One bug, and everything goes haywire for a day or two.”
I nod slowly.
“Right, right.” Meanwhile, Jeff continues.
“They’re probably just here to see and be seen, or maybe there’s someone they want to meet. For a certain segment, political fundraisers and campaigns are their social life. It’s crazy, but it happens.”
I shake my head.
“Sounds a little pathetic.”
Jeff turns and winks.
“Hey, watch it! Political campaigning is my life, so I’d be one of those pathetic people you’re talking about.”
I laugh low in my throat.
“Never you, my friend. Never you,” I say with a clap on the back. With that, Jeff starts burbling about some other potential donors I need to meet, as well as their ties to the community, but I’m not paying attention. Instead, I’m thinking of Ginny Malone and what her reappearance in my life means.
6
GINNY
“Where’s the ladies?” I grumble to myself while stalking down a luxe hallway. My bladder is damn near bursting, and now, I’m totally lost in the bowels of this hotel. The directions the bell boy gave me were wrong, and I swear, I’m trapped in some kind of weird maze. Every time I turn the corner, the same corner reappears! It’s a nightmare.
I sigh. Maybe this is a sign that I should just go back to the lobby and try to find Vanessa again. Hell, maybe I should make my way into the garden out back and relieve myself in the bushes. It would be undignified, but it’s dark so at least no one would see.
With a quiet sigh, I turn another corner, trying to rein in my frustration, only to bump into a strong chest. When I step back, I gasp because it’s Jeremiah. He’s huge, gorgeous, and looks just as surprised to see me.
“Um, hi,” I manage in an awkward tone. A blush stains my cheeks and suddenly, I don’t have to use the restroom anymore. It’s partially from the blood rushing through my veins, but also from the way the candidate’s looking at me. Those blue eyes sear my skin and my thighs squeeze together as my insides melt. I feel like prey being hunted by a predator, but in a good way.
“Hi,” he growls, the air hot between us. I swallow heavily.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you coming around the corner. But have we ever met before? Somewhere? Somehow?”
Why did I say that? I sound like a girl who’s asking to be picked up, which of course, I kind of am.
His jaw clenches as his gaze sharpens. Am I crazy or did he just step a little closer to me? The man smells good, like forest pine mixed with a musky male scent that’s all him. It’s sheer heaven and my ovaries quiver. Plus, there’s a gleam in his eye as his lips twitch, as if reading my mind. He can probably tell that I’m quivering with lust right now, but given that Jeremiah looks like Superman, he’s probably used to it.