Page 6 of Fight for Me

“I’m not late,” she said. “I’m on time.”

His scowl deepened, but he didn’t say anything. He was lucky. If he’d decided to bitch at her, Anne’s mood was such that she’d be hard-pressed not to bitch right back and screw the consequences.

Lori, the hostess, was waiting for her at the front of the restaurant. “He wanted to sit in the bar,” she said, motioning with her chin. “He’s at a high-top.”

“Any guests?”

She shook her head. “Just him.”

Good. She wasn’t in the mood to cater to a crowd of politicians this afternoon.

The seating area in the bar was mostly empty. A handful of other tables had patrons, but Georgia was taking care of them. Anne’s sole responsibility was Senator Kirk. And the faster she could get him to eat, the quicker she could get back to her work that mattered, but didn’t pay the bills.

“Good afternoon, senator,” she said, pasting on her plastic smile. She set a cocktail napkin and glass of water in front of him. “What can I get for you today?”

He looked good, but then he always did. Every appearance she’d seen of him on TV or the internet, he’d seemed perfectly choreographed and coiffed. Today it was a charcoal suit and silver tie that made his green eyes now appear a stormy gray. His hair had the kind of outrageously expensive cut that always fell back into place no matter how many times he ran his fingers through it. A smooth, square jaw made her gaze fall on his lips. How a man could have such perfectly shaped lips without appearing in the least bit feminine was a mystery. Somehow, he pulled it off.

He shifted on his stool and Anne heard the smooth slide of expensive fabric. A waft of his cologne hit her, and she resisted the urge to lean a bit closer.

“Hello, Anne. How are you today?”

She gritted her teeth so she wouldn’t tell him exactly how she was. He was just being nice. It wasn’t his fault she’d had a shitty day. She forced her smile wider. “I’m doing well. Thank you. Have you decided what you’re having?”

Although she’d been polite, his eyes narrowed, as though sensing she wasn’t telling the truth. He opened his mouth to say something when she caught a familiar face over his shoulder and her face fell.

Oh no. This couldnotbe happening. Not here. Not today.

Her father had just walked in.

Chapter Two

The girl’s face went white as the tablecloth, her eyes fixed at something over Blane’s shoulder. He glanced that way and saw a small group of suit-clad men. He recognized a couple of them and had no idea why they’d upset Anne, but it was obvious she was about to bolt.

“I-I…” she stammered.

Blane slid off the barstool and took her elbow. “This way.”

He steered her towards the back and away from the entrance, moving fast and shielding her with his body so she wouldn’t be spotted by whomever had frightened her. She didn’t fight him, letting him take her all the way past the kitchen to the rear exit and out the door.

The brisk October air hit and he felt a shiver run through her. Thanks to never relying on a valet with his Jaguar, he didn’t have to go far to get his car. With a flick of the keybob, it unlocked. He held the passenger door open for her.

She seemed to come to her senses then, putting on the brakes and looking up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Saving a damsel in distress.” Obviously.

Her eyebrows climbed. “I wasn’t aware I needed saving.”

Blane leaned closer, bracing a hand on the roof of the car and caging her between his body and the open door.

“I have a sixth sense. Get in the car. You’re cold.”

“I have to go back to work,” she protested.

“I’myour work, remember?”

That got a reaction. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together. She was pissed, which was so damn cute.

“Get in the car, Anne.”

---