by Tiffany Snow
“Blane,” I began, “I...I don't know what to say. It's too much.” I was stunned. I had never been given something like this. Tears pricked my eyes and the earrings swam in my vision. I blinked them back. It would totally ruin the moment if my mascara ran.
“Say you'll wear them,” he cajoled, his lips at my ear as his other arm slid around my waist to pull me back against his chest. “The stone reminded me of the color of your eyes. I want you to have them.”
I put on the earrings as he watched me in the mirror and left the rhinestones on my bureau. A thought occurred to me and my eyes flew to his in the mirror. Was this my “going away” present? Blane always gave a gift to his girlfriends when he broke up with them, though usually they were chosen by his secretary, Clarice.
“You're beautiful,” he complimented me, the warmth in his eyes easing my worry. The heat from his hands seeped through the thin satin and I berated myself for thinking he had other motives for the gift.
He glanced at his watch. “We'd better go.”
I grabbed the silver clutch bag I'd gotten to go with the dress and headed for my apartment door.
“Wait,” Blane said. “Where's your coat?”
I grimaced. I hated wearing coats and usually only did so when Mother Nature forced the issue by spreading snow on the ground.
“You have to wear a coat,” Blane insisted, going to my tiny coat closet and pulling out the long, black trench coat he'd given me a few weeks ago. “It's freezing outside.”
I reluctantly let him put it on me, though I didn't think it went with my dress at all, and locked my apartment door on the way out. I lived on the top floor of a two-story apartment building in an area of downtown Indy where you made sure you locked your car at night.
Blane took my hand as we went down the stairs and I was grateful for his solid presence next to me, unpracticed as I was in walking in heels this high. It's not like I went many places where I had cause to dress up - except church occasionally, but somehow I didn't think silver strappy sandals with a four-inch heel were Sunday morning Baptist attire.
He helped me into his black Jaguar which, let me say, was difficult to get into in the getup I was wearing. As he watched me carefully swing my legs into the car, Blane let out a chuckle.
“What?” I said, my voice testy.
“I was just wondering if you were going to emulate Britney again,” he said, propping his arms against the door as he leaned toward me. My cheeks grew warm as I realized he was referring to my beloved pop princess, Britney Spears. I was a huge fan and could do a dead-on impression of her singing, which I'd had cause to do this past Halloween when all the girls at The Drop dressed up as pop divas for the holiday bash. In this instance, I didn't think Blane was referring to Britney's singing so much as her inadvertent flashing of some very private areas when climbing into and out of cars.
“You're assuming I'm not wearing anything under my dress,” I said breezily, deciding to give as good as I got.
“Are you?” I noticed the gleam was back in his eyes as they dropped to where the cut of my dress had opened to expose the length of my thigh.
“If you're lucky, you might find out later,” I teased. His lips curved in a wicked grin and he stepped back, shutting the car door.
A few minutes later, we arrived at the hotel. The fundraiser was taking place in one of the large ballrooms of the nicest and most expensive hotel in Indy. A valet took the keys and Blane helped me out of the low-slung car. I emerged as gracefully as I could without exposing anything I shouldn't. Offering me his arm, we went inside, where Blane checked our coats, pocketing the small ticket for retrieving them.
I was really nervous. This was the first public function I'd been to with Blane. He'd taken me to dinner and other casual dates, but this was the first time I was his “plus one” at something relating to his job. I knew Blane was ambitious; his career was on the fast track to public office, though he hadn't said which one. He came from a family of lawyers and politicians with a grandfather who had been a Senator and a great-grandfather who had been on the Massachusetts Supreme Court. Blane had a falling out with his father when he was only fourteen, then cemented the divide when he joined the Navy, but politics was still in his blood.
There would be a lot of people here tonight he'd want to connect with to increase his network of contacts, people who could help or hinder his future plans, whatever those might be. I didn't want to embarrass him in any way, though I felt far out of my element as I observed the ballroom and foyer full of people. They milled around in groups chatting, most with a cocktail or glass of wine in their hands. I swallowed hard, my palms clammy from nerves.
“Don't worry,” Blane whispered to me, settling his hand on the small of my back. “You'll be fine. I promise, I'm the only one who'll bite you.”
I smiled, my eyes catching his, and breathed easier. His attempt to tease me, make me smile, had bolstered my courage. I nodded, took a deep breath, and didn't resist when he led us to a group of people nearby.
“Kirk! There you are! We wondered when you'd be arriving.” The greeting came from a man who looked to be about Blane's age and height, but was much slighter of build. He had dark hair and eyes and was holding a highball glass with a clear liquid inside. A woman stood next to him, as tall as he, wearing a black velvet gown that wrapped around her torso and legs before flaring at mid-calf. I wondered how she was able to walk in it. Her dark hair was piled in loose curls on top of her head, a few escaped coils trailing down her ears and neck. The darkness of her dress and hair accentuated the fairness of her skin. She held a glass of champagne in one manicured hand.
“George, good to see you,” Blane replied, shaking the man's hand. “And I see your wife, Sarah, is looking as lovely as ever.” Sarah smiled back at him, giving him a quick once-over. Blane had his politician's smile firmly in place. I called it that because it was wide and friendly, but never really reached his eyes. “Congratulations on your win,” Blane continued, returning his attention to George. “But that was never in doubt, was it?”
George laughed, clapping Blane on the shoulder. “I never lose, my friend. Something you should keep in mind when you decide to stop keeping secrets and tell me what office you want.” George's gaze flicked to me and I pasted on a bright smile.
“I'd like to introduce Kathleen Turner,” Blane said, his hand moving to rest lightly on the small of my back. “Kathleen, this is George Bradshaw. He is the campaign manager for the Senator. This is his wife, Sarah.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, politely grasping hands with first George, then Sarah. Sarah's fingers barely brushed mine before she dismissed me, turning back to Blane.
“Likewise,” George said. I noticed he took in my appearance with a calculated gaze, his eyes lingering on the pendant Blane had given me. At least, I hoped it was the pendant though it could have just been my cleavage. “And what do you do, Kathleen?”
My smile grew forced. I hadn't thought about this part. I should have known someone was bound to ask that question. My face flushed as I realized I had only two answers to give, neither of which I wanted to say.
“She works at the firm,” Blane smoothly interjected.
“A fellow lawyer,” George said, assuming what my job was. “Always knew Blane would find a like-minded woman.” He lifted his glass as if to toast me.
“Not...exactly,” I stammered, not wanting to lie. Lies always came back to bite you in the ass.
We were interrupted by another man stepping into our small circle. He was an older man with silver hair who carried his age well though he had to be in his sixties. About Blane's height, he stood straight and tall in a dark suit and tie. He vaguely reminded me of Blane, exuding a palpable presence and energy that made him the center of attention. George and Sarah stepped back in deference as the man clapped Blane on the shoulder and grasped his hand firmly.
“Knew you wouldn't let me down, Blane,” he said, smiling warmly. I watched as Blane responded in a
much more natural way, grinning broadly and giving the man's hand a firm shake.
“I know better than to do that, sir,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye. “Let me introduce you,” Blane said, and just like that, my nerves were back. I could tell this was someone Blane genuinely liked. I just hoped he wouldn't ask me what I did for a living.
“This is Kathleen Turner,” Blane said. “Kathleen, this is Senator Robert Keaston.”
My eyes widened in surprise. I had known this evening was for a Senator, but hadn't realized it was this particular one. Even I, who followed politics not at all, knew the name, as often as it was in the news. Robert Keaston was a powerful Senator who had been elected and re-elected so many times I wondered that they even bothered with the formality any longer.
“Pleased to meet you,” I managed to squeak out through lips frozen into a smile.
“Likewise, my dear,” the Senator said, giving me a quick look over.
“Where's Vivian?” Blane asked, thankfully diverting the Senator's attention from me before he could ask any questions.
“Oh, she's over there with some other hens wanting to talk her ear off about some charity or another,” answered Keaston with a wave of his hand. “You're sitting with me tonight, aren't you, Blane?”
“I don't think so, sir,” Blane said regretfully. “I'm sure they have me seated elsewhere.”
“Well, we'll fix that,” Keaston replied, gesturing to a woman hovering nearby. She quickly came forward and he said something to her too low for me to overhear. With a nod, she left to do his bidding.
“That's not necessary, sir,” Blane protested, but Keaston waved his hand dismissively.
“You may not be of the right party,” Keaston said with a mock glare of disapproval, then he smiled, “but you're family.”
Shock went through me and I couldn't stop a quick look at Blane. He glanced uncomfortably at me before returning his attention to Keaston.
Family? Blane was related to one of the most powerful men in the US Senate? That would have been helpful to know. If I'd felt out of place before, now I felt like a downright intruder.
“I have to do the rounds, Blane,” the Senator said, “I'm sure you understand.”
Blane nodded. “Of course.”
“But I'll see you at dinner.” Keaston looked my way and gave a short nod of dismissal. “My dear.”
I automatically smiled and watched as Keaston ambled toward another knot of people, all of whom turned his way with fawning smiles. George and Sarah had drifted off as well, leaving Blane and me with a blessed moment alone in the midst of the crowd. I looked up at Blane.
“Family?” I asked, hoping that perhaps the Senator hadn't meant in the blood-relation sense.
“Great-Uncle,” he answered shortly, dashing those hopes.
“Why didn't you tell me?” I asked, trying to keep the dismay from my voice.
“I didn't think it mattered,” he replied quietly, taking my hand. “Does it?”
I didn't know what to say. I felt like the proverbial fish out of water and my mouth moved soundlessly, as if I were gasping for air. How was I to explain to Blane, who no doubt had never felt out of place in his life, how this news had impacted me? I was saved from replying as yet another couple came by to greet Blane.
I had underestimated the number of people who knew Blane and wanted to ingratiate themselves with him. I lost track of the names almost immediately after I was introduced, but I marveled at how Blane was never at a loss for a name or a smile. I watched with admiration as he wove his magic around those with whom he spoke, seeing in their eyes how he captivated them as he made each person feel special, sending them on their way with the certainty that they were important to him. It was amazing and I was proud of his skills, which seemed to come very naturally indeed. My smile grew less forced as it became clear that no one had any interest in me. They barely paid me any attention at all. I was glad to melt into the background at Blane's side.
Blane and I made our way around the room and I was feeling more relaxed since it seemed nothing was really expected of me except to smile and nod. Blane's hand was reassuring on the small of my back as we turned toward another couple. I stiffened immediately.
It was Kandi-with-an-i, the woman Blane had dated before me. She'd been none too happy about losing Blane and had expressed her contempt for me on Halloween, showing up at The Drop dressed in a fairy costume that I'm sure cost more than I had made that night. She was beautiful and had made no bones about the fact that she felt Blane was slumming it by being with me. Tall with long, straight blonde hair, tonight she wore a red dress that hugged her body. She was absolutely stunning and I hated her.
“Nice to see you again, Blane,” she greeted him, ignoring me completely.
“Kandi,” Blane replied evenly, “I didn't realize you'd be here this evening.”
“I'm here with my father,” she said with a smug smile, tipping her head towards a knot of people standing a short ways away. “You know what good friends he and the Senator are.”
Blane gave a curt nod. “Of course,” he said. “How are you?”
She moved closer to him, insinuating herself between us so Blane's hand was forced to release mine.
“I'm very good, as I'm sure you remember,” I heard her say huskily. Her breasts brushed suggestively against his arm as she leaned into him.
My eyes narrowed. The tramp. I may not have grown up with her wealth and privilege, but at least I had manners, though I was having a hard time remembering them at the moment. I very much wanted to grab a hunk of her pretty blonde hair and yank. Hard.
“Call me,” I heard her whisper in his ear before she walked away, her hand trailing lightly across his chest.
“Sorry about that,” Blane said quietly, a grimace passing quickly over his face when he looked at me. I made my lips stretch into a tight smile.
“She's very pretty,” I said diplomatically. I struggled not to sound jealous or bitchy. I didn't think I succeeded.
“Most people would say so,” he replied. He slid his arm around my back and tugged my stiff body closer to him, overcoming my resistance with ease. “But she's not my type. Not anymore.”
“Oh, really?” I said sarcastically, trying to ignore the effect of the heat from his body warmed me through the thin material of my dress. “What's your type?”
Blane bent and leaned close to me. “I prefer a woman with long hair the color of the sunset and eyes as clear blue as a twilight sky. She's got an Irish temper and likes her bourbon. Her guilty pleasure is a certain well-known pop princess and she has a passion for rocky road ice cream. Her skin is the color of peaches bathed in cream and is as smooth as silk.”
His lips brushed against my ear as he spoke, sending a thrill of heat through me. I looked up at him and couldn't hold on to my irritation at Kandi. I melted into him, as he had no doubt known I would. The corners of his lips were tipped up ever so slightly, as if he were thinking about smiling. I was mesmerized by the stormy gray of his eyes, flecks of green sparkling from their depths.
“And if I were to tell her about the perfection of her breasts,” he continued, the huskiness of his voice making me shiver, “that her body was made to fit mine, or how the noises she makes when I make love to her drive me crazy, she'd blush nearly to her toes.”
My mouth dropped open at his audacity and my face flushed, as he'd predicted. Regardless, I couldn't help smiling and he let out a small huff of laughter, the tension Kandi had created dissipating.
“Let's find our seats,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I'm starving.”
He took my hand and led me to a table near the front. It seemed Senator Keaston was as good as his word because our seats were with him and a woman I assumed was his wife. She looked to be only in her fifties, though I thought looks might be deceiving. To my dismay, I saw that Kandi and a man who was obviously her father were also seated at the table. George and Sarah were there, too. One other couple we'd met that evening
rounded out the seats, the man a member of the Senator's staff, though I couldn't remember their names.
“Blane!” the older woman happily exclaimed. She went to rise from her chair but Blane quickly stepped to her side, forestalling her and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek.
“Good evening, Vivian,” Blane said warmly. “Don't get up.”
“Robert said you were here tonight,” she said as Blane held out my chair for me to sit down. “Thank you for coming to support him.”
“I wouldn't have missed it,” Blane replied, sliding into the seat on my left. He’d seated me beside Vivian. I wanted to grumble about Kandi’s place at his left side, but that would be catty. I chose to be the better person. I wouldn’t even throw food at her. Probably.
Blane introduced me to the very kind and gracious Vivian; I liked her immediately. I could tell that Blane was very fond of her as well. Tall and slight of build, she had a powerful presence about her.
Dinner was served and I kept quiet as I ate, listening to the small talk at the table and trying to make sure I didn't drip anything on my dress. Kandi chatted easily with the Senator and Vivian as well as the others. I tried not to feel like a kid at the grownups table.
I observed with growing dismay as Kandi drew Blane into conversation with George and Sarah, frequently laying her hand possessively on his arm. Blane couldn't very well be rude to her in front of everyone, but I was disgruntled to see how friendly he was with her as they joined in the laughter around the table.
I ate another tiny bite of some kind of fish they'd served, my appetite now gone, and pushed my food around on my plate in glum silence.
I think Vivian must have felt sorry for me being left out of the conversation because she turned to me and asked, “Kathleen, isn't it?”
I swallowed the lump of fish, quickly passing my napkin over my mouth as I nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”
“Please, call me Vivian,” she said with a smile. “And what do you do for a living, Kathleen?”