“Yes, that’s fine.”
“See you then, Anne.”
Him saying her voice was like a caress. She closed her eyes, willing back tears. He seemed like a good man, even if he was a politician. How could he be both a good man and someone who employed an assassin?
“See you then,” she managed through a choked throat. She ended the call.
* * *
No one was more surprised than Blane to get that phone call from Anne. He’d honestly thought he’d lost her. The fact that she was adamantly opposed to his chosen profession was a definite negative. And while his ego liked to think that his powers of physical persuasion were influential, he didn’t like to delude himself.
But he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity she’d given him.
He dialed his chief of staff, not even giving a thought as to the hour. She answered immediately.
“Yes, sir?”
“I need tickets to that show everyone’s talking about. Monday night.”
“You mean Hamilton?”
“Sure. Whatever. Can you do it?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Thanks, Linda. Have a good evening.”
“You, too, sir.”
Blane hadn’t felt this way about a woman in too many years. Anne was intriguing. Beautiful and smart. And something about her just clicked with him. He’d only known her a few days, but it felt as though he’d known her for much longer.
Part of him resisted being vulnerable to a woman again. Kathleen had cut deep. It wasn’t her fault. It was what it was. She’d changed him, though. For the better, he thought. But letting himself open up and be vulnerable to a woman again didn’t come naturally. To trust someone again? Let them in to his innermost thoughts? That was a huge step and, until now, he’d never felt the need to do it. But Anne…she was different. And he was thrilled—in a decidedly masculine way, it wasn’t like he could or would turn a cartwheel—that she’d given him a chance. Giventhema chance.
Was he overthinking this? Who knew? But he wasn’t getting any younger, so why not leap on the chance Fate had given him?
He’d given up on happily-ever-after years ago. Maybe he’d been wrong.
Chapter Six
Oh, for all that was holy, why had she agreed to come to her mother’s high tea à la Downton Abbey?
Anne smiled and greeted another guest of her mother’s. She automatically made polite small talk and kept an eye on everyone’s level of tea, while the rest of her mind was elsewhere.
A few ladies remarked about the article on Page Six, giving her knowing smiles when she insisted her trip on the runway and subsequent fall into Senator Kirk’s arms had been accidental.
She’d spotted her father when she’d arrived, but he’d quickly retired to his study. Anne bided her time. She wanted to have a talk with him.
It took a couple of hours, but finally she was able to corner him in his study. He was bent over his desk, studying some papers.
“Dad? Can we talk?” she asked.
He glanced up. “Of course, baby girl. Come in.” He gestured, waving her to a chair. “Snuck out of your mother’s tea party?”
“As soon as possible,” she fervently replied, sinking into the cozy armchair in front of her father’s desk. “You have no idea.”
He laughed. “Of course, I do. Why do you think I’m hiding in here?”
They both chuckled at that. The truth was what it was.