“If that means the same thing as ‘dashing,’ I’ll take it.”
“It does.” She neatly folded back the French cuffs of his crisp dress shirt and threaded one of the cuff links through. “Chain link. Going old school?”
“They were my grandfather’s. They’re the only pair I have.”
“I’ll reimburse you for the cost of the tuxedo rental,” she told him. “I didn’t intend for you to spend any money.”
He gave her an amused look. “Sabrina, honey, one piece of clothing that every man should own by the age of thirty is a tux. How d’you think I landed all those groomsmen gigs?”
As Sabrina moved in closer, she was overwhelmed by the clean, woodsy scent of him. Her fingers fumbled with the intricate clasps. The skin on the inside of his wrists was soft compared to the calluses on the balls of his hands. His battered features and wide shoulders made for another intriguing contrast, given his cream-colored skin and lush, dark eyelashes for which women would sacrifice a cup size. Sabrina glanced at his smooth jawline and found herself wondering if he’d sprung for a barber’s shave.
No, Gage wasn’t conventionally handsome.
He was striking. Devastatingly so.
She didn’t realize that she was staring until he ran a hand over his chin and asked, “What is it? Razor nicks?”
“No.” She managed a smile. “You look great.”
“Anything that I should know before we enter the fray?” he asked as they made their way to the ballroom. “Any, ah, specific topics that I should avoid? I didn’t have time to brush up on my bullshit.”
“Just use common sense,” Sabrina heard herself saying as they reached the entrance to the ballroom. “And enjoy yourself. Or try to look like you are.”
“C’mon, let’s do this thing right.” Gage presented her his arm. After wrapping her own around it, she placed her hand on the top of his sleeve, a habit drilled into her after years of inaugural events.
Entering the Driskill’s ballroom was like taking a step back in time. The domed ceiling must have looked much the same as it did more than a century ago when the ballroom functioned as the hotel’s grand salon. The crystal chandeliers, modeled after the hotel’s gaslights, gave the large room an antique glow. White-coated waitstaff manned the bar and moved around the room fluidly carrying large silver trays.
She lifted her hand to wave at Theo and Jillian, who were standing next to a table flooded with calla lilies.
“By the way, one of my exes will be here tonight,” she told Gage through her smile.
“One of numbers one through five?”
“The one I married,” she murmured, scanning the crowd. She didn’t see Jackson. But there were the Speaker of the House and his wife talking to the chair of the House Appropriations Committee and his Chief of Staff. Predictably, the Tide Brothers and other members of the State Builders Association were holding court close to the bar. A smaller cluster of attorneys stood an arm’s width away, and representatives of nonprofits and advocacy groups took their place in various corners of the ballroom. Social events like the gala were the perfect forum to prove they could all play together nicely. But after legislation was introduced, they could become each other’s worst foes.
Theo himself looked harried, surreptitiously fiddling with his cuff links when he wasn’t shaking hands with guests. Sabrina suspected that he had gotten dressed on the fly. Jillian Ward, on the other hand, looked like she’d spent all day at a spa having alpha hydroxy acids rubbed into her face. Her blond hair was in an updo from which a riot of curls erupted. Sabrina suspected extensions. Jillian’s sapphire blue chiffon dress was pleated in the front to accommodate her slightly burgeoning tummy.
Sabrina scanned the room nervously as she looked for flame-haired beauties. Theo wasn’t unprofessional enough to issue an invitation to one of his mistresses, but judging by the angry look on the woman that had come barreling out of his office, there was always the possibility of a gate-crasher. The Hon. Rep.’s spurned mistress had obviously decided not to pay court that night, which was a good thing because Eva Hayes was winnowing her way through the crowd. She wore a gold evening gown and sparkly chandelier earrings that looked stunning against her dusky skin, but the grim look on her face told Sabrina that the reason she was at the gala was strictly business.
Gage nudged Sabrina’s elbow lightly. “Is that your guy?” He nodded at Theo, who was waving them over.
“I suppose I have to introduce you,” she said sulkily. The scenario she had envisioned didn’t go anything like this one. She had planned to send Gage over to the drinks line while she did her customary meet-and-greet. “Just don’t say anything I wouldn’t say.”
“No worries. There’s rest for the wicked,” he assured her mildly, allowing Sabrina to drag him over to the Hon. Rep. and his wife.
“Theo, Jillian, this is my — this is Gage Fitzgerald,” Sabrina said with a smooth smile. “Gage, this is Theo Ward, and his wife, Jillian.”
“Pleased to meet you, Gage.” Theo extended an arm and engaged him in an intimate hand-over-handshake used by politicians on the campaign trail. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. Sports?”
“Radio, sir,” Gage said. “Ma’am.” He acknowledged Jillian with a polite nod when she didn’t extend her hand. The exchange was impressive, Sabrina thought.
“Moira begged off, and your boy Carlton has already come and gone,” Theo told Sabrina. “Looks like you’re the only mascot in attendance, Chief.”
Theo started yammering to her about boring office business. Sabrina strained her ears to hear the conversation going on between Gage and Jillian Ward. She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded as though they were discussing cribs and wood-distressing techniques.
Her stomach was rumbling, and the high-heeled pumps were already murdering her feet. Leaving Gage and Jillian engrossed in conversation, she excused herself to Theo and headed toward the canapés. But the path to the table was blocked by guests and other Chiefs of Staff who stopped her for a chat. Sabrina tried to focus on the conversation, her eyes darting around the room as she tried to spot Eva Hayes’ gold dress in a sea of gold dresses. The last thing Sabrina wanted was for it to get out that she had gone to the Hon. Rep.’s annual ball with Gage “Fitz” Fitzgerald. It was just as well that she hadn’t found Carlton’s sister, Sabrina reasoned. Something told her that Eva couldn’t be bribed.
Now the band was on the platform, making adjustments to instruments and gear. Dancing would soon be underway. Sabrina managed to detach herself from the Tide Brothers and navigated her way to a lone table, a repository for food trays that were partially foraged. Her stomach squealed with delight anyway. She quickly ate two miniature quiches made with risotto and cured meat, then loaded her plate with bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with manchego cheese, fried asparagus-risotto patties, and crab cakes topped with tomato remoulade. The festively garnished champagne cocktails that were going around the room — Bellinis, mimosas and Kir Royales — looked terribly tempting. Sabrina snagged a poinsettia from a passing waiter.
“If it isn’t the illustrious Chief of Staff,” a man’s voice said from directly over her shoulder.
Sabrina nearly choked on her champagne. “Jackson?”
Her ex-husband wore his finest tuxedo. But Sabrina had seen him in dress nines so many times during their long courtship, his dapper was permanently dulled. He may as well have been dressed in standard business attire.
“Sabrina. Nice running into you here.” The expression on his face told her it was anything but. “You came with someone?” He nodded his head in the direction of the lily table where Gage and Theo were engaged in conversation.
“One of Sebastian’s friends.” It was sort of the truth, she reasoned. “And you?”
“I’m not so quick on the rebound, Sabrina.” He gave her a look that was slightly withering before he went on. “I’ve been hearing some interesting chatter under the Dome. Word has it that Ward’s more interested in the breakfast special at the F
our Seasons than he is in running his office and that one of his more inspired staff members is churning out his legislation.”
“You know I can’t speak to that, Jackson,” Sabrina demurred. Just what had Jackson heard, and from whom? Certainly not Carlton, although Moira had been known to unconsciously blab to anyone in the Capitol Cafeteria who appeared to be listening.
God, she really needed another champagne cocktail.
“Word also has it that you’re a shoo-in for Ward’s seat if he ever retires,” Jackson went on. “Or if he messes things up for himself so badly that he has no choice but to resign.”
“I must say, your sources have vivid imaginations.” She kept her voice light and dismissive to hide the fact that she was stunned. She had never led herself to believe that hers was the only name that didn’t come up in the conversations of other legislators and their staff.
But this … this was what they were saying about her?
That she could take Theo’s place one day?
“Oh, come on, Sabrina,” Jackson finally blurted. “I’ve seen the bills coming out of Ward’s office. Teachers’ pensions? Funding for women’s and children’s services? Even if they have no chance of getting passed, those are the kind of warm, mushy causes that make the constituents in his district go weak in the knees, and they have your lipstick kisses all over them.”
An intrusive memory of her and Jackson bickering in their cabin on the Polar Star cut through the warm effects of the champagne cocktail. Until then, their conversation had stayed on the surface, but Jackson had proven his capacity to plunge in deep. You’re fearful, he had said decisively, as though determination alone would lend his words veracity. You’re afraid of change.
She would show him just how strong her mettle really was.
Sabrina took a deep breath to relieve the tension that ran from her neck to her spine. Let Jackson think what he would, even if the idea of her running for public office was pure absurdity.
Wasn’t it?
“Of course I have greater aspirations, Jackson,” Sabrina countered gamely. “I didn’t put in all of these years to become House Parliamentarian. Now, there’s some thankless work.”
Jackson stared at her. “You’re really not afraid of anything, are you?” The look on his face was a shadow of the grim expression he had worn when he demanded that she choose between him and her career in politics.
Sabrina bit her lip. “Yes, I am. I’m scared of myself. I’m terrified that I almost gave up everything I worked so hard for, moved to the other side of the continent and reinvented myself into someone you wanted me to be. I couldn’t — I never cared—” She swallowed hard, then started over again calmly. “I didn’t love you even close to that much, Jackson.”
“Well, nice of you to finally get around to sending me the memo.” He took a sip of his drink. No fizzy stuff for Jackson. He was a scotch on the rocks man, like Les.
Just like Les.
“This conversation really shouldn’t be happening,” he went on. “But because it is, I’m assuming you have a conclusion in mind.”
Sabrina sighed. “Getting married to you was a shitty thing to do. I’m sorry if I wasted your time.”
He downed the rest of his drink, then gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement.
“Yeah, well … don’t do it to anybody else, Sabrina. Being on the receiving end of the shittiness isn’t something any man deserves.”
Jackson’s a real catch, Nola had told her. Almost everyone had pointed it out. Les, Carlton, Theo. Even Molly. How many people had said the same thing to Jackson about her? Sabrina wondered. She snuck a look at his profile. Yes, he still fit into the criteria she had once used to use when vetting prospective dates. Everything about him, from the pristinely black tux without a speck of lint to his military school posture, spoke of a successful man. But for the first time she noticed that he had a slight double chin and that his brushy eyebrows needed a closer trim. The small imperfections would have been endearing, had she ever truly loved him.
“Jackson, you will find a woman who wants the same things in life as you do,” Sabrina told him sincerely. “When you do, you’ll wonder what you ever saw in me.”
He grunted what sounded like a half-hearted agreement then scrutinized his shirt cuffs to make sure they were still straight. That was the pure essence of Jackson: Meticulous and detail-oriented to the end.
“I should let you work the room.” He sounded resigned. “But first, it looks like the good Hon. Rep. may need to be rescued from your Neanderthal friend. Cheers, Sabrina.” Jackson raised his drink to his lips.
She whirled around. “Oh, hell!” she exclaimed softly.
Anyone else observing Theo and Gage probably saw two men engaged in amicable conversation. Only Theo stood with his arms folded across his chest, and when he paused to scratch an imaginary itch in the middle of his forehead, Sabrina knew it could only mean one thing. He was feeling some heat. Flying across the room, she caught the tail end of their conversation.
“I think you and I have different definitions of ‘sustainable living’.” Gage smiled into his gin and tonic and swirled it a bit. “Mine was getting through an Iowa winter with one functioning space heater and taking showers at the high school gym when the gas got turned off.” He sounded friendly enough, but there was something slightly ominous in his tone.
Theo’s chuckle was uncomfortable. “I suppose everyone has his own unique way of reducing his carbon footprint.”
“And some of us had no choice because we got stuck with a tough paper route, Representative,” Gage said.
Theo looked like he’d bit into a piece of oyster shell. Still wearing the same lazy smile, Gage downed his drink and placed the empty tumbler squarely on the lily table. Just as Sabrina was about to redirect the course of the conversation to a topic that was far less threatening, like any one of the Wardlings or the new nanny Jill had hired, a jazzy brush rhythm began as the drummer started the first song, followed by the piano riff of a familiar classic. Couples headed for the dance floor.
“Did I mention how much I’m looking forward to the first dance of the evening?” Sabrina asked Gage with a tight smile, digging her fingers into his arm.
“See? You just can’t take me anywhere,” he said in her ear as she dragged him to the floor.
“Shut up and cut a rug, Fitzgerald.”
The torturous heels made it easier for her to put her hand on the top of his shoulder. All of the other couples danced cheek to cheek, but she kept Gage at an arm’s distance. Which was difficult because the rhythm of the music begged for closer contact. He grinned at her sophomoric efforts.
“What is this, a Jesuit school mixer?” He glanced at their hands, awkwardly clasped, elbows splayed at an odd angle. “The nuns aren’t watching, Sabrina. If you want to dance, let’s stop messing around.”
One large hand landed smack on the bare small of her back and drew her against him so suddenly and snugly she was momentarily winded. The feeling of his chest crushed against hers combined with the starchy smell of his shirt and castile soap made her knees weak. She focused on the music and steadying her ankles so she could move around the polished marble floor. The Sinatra imitator did good justice to “Fly Me to the Moon.” Gage wasn’t a bad dancer, either. Who’d have thought that he’d know how to foxtrot? Now he was sneaking in a smooth promenade to see if she’d follow his lead.
“My grandmother taught me the basic steps,” he said in her ear, predicting her next question. “Guess she knew it would be important one day should I ever attend the gala ball of Representative Theodore Ward.” There was no mistaking the derisive edge in his voice. “I can’t believe you’ve spent almost a decade of your life letting that guy call the shots.”
“Theo’s a white hat compared to some politicians,” Sabrina said in defense of the Hon. Rep. “He hasn’t botched things up too badly—”
“Never said he had.”
“—and he gets relevant bills passed.”
&
nbsp; “Given that he has no short supply of hot air, I’m sure there’s far more irrelevant things that he passes, too.”
“The legislative process is complicated to the average layperson, Gage.”
He spun her away abruptly, then pulled her back to him even more tightly.
“I am an Iowan, not an imbecile, Sabrina.” There was dead seriousness behind his polite society smile. “I understand more than you think I do. I know what smokescreens and hidden agendas are, and I know that Ward would rather help his so-called ‘eco-friendly’ builder buddies make a buck than put a bare modicum of effort into passing bills that help real people. The only thing ‘green’ about him is the cash that floods into his pockets from special interest groups. Aren’t you tired of perpetuating a sham?”
There was no simple answer to Gage’s question. Instead Sabrina said, “That’s the nature of politics. If I want to succeed at them, I’ll be a good girl and play ‘Follow the Leader’ until Theo retires — hopefully he’ll still be in everyone’s good graces so my own career doesn’t take a hit,” she added hastily, thinking about Jackson’s comment about Theo’s leisurely mornings at the Four Seasons.
“So that’s what all of this showboating is all about,” Gage said. “Association by reputation. You know, I read something recently: ‘Ambition is violence; the very effort to succeed is violent’.”
Sabrina’s face burned as she focused on the strong muscles in his throat. It was a near-verbatim recitation of her Osho quote. Her eyes fluttered up to his, expecting to see disapproval. Instead, he was gazing down at her with what looked a lot like understanding.
“I went into politics to make a difference, Gage,” she told him earnestly. “If I can make the lives of just a few people better, it will have been worth it.”
To her surprise, he said nothing. Instead, his hand pressed against the small of her back, drawing her closer so she could feel the strong length of his thighs. She pressed her cheek against the cool, smooth lapel of his tuxedo. The song ended and segued into a slower one. The melancholy minor strains of the old classic plucked a forgotten chord buried somewhere deep in her memory. Only the strange thing was that she was sure it was a memory tied to an event she hadn’t yet experienced.
Something About You (Just Me & You) Page 21