“There’s your damn kiss, Mrs. Vandergriff.” Logan shoved away from the table. “Now please excuse me.”
The whole table watched him stalk through the dining room.
“Oh, my,” drawled Mrs. Vandergriff, putting a hand to her chest. “That’s definitely the man I want to watch for four years in the governor’s office.”
“Sorry,” I whispered to Nora, who was looking at me like she’d never seen me before. “I’ll be right back.” I gathered my ball gown and moved as quickly as I could in the direction Logan had fled.
Racing out of the dining room, I caught him cutting across the empty ballroom. “Logan, wait!”
He stiffened, then turned.
“What’s wrong?” I closed the remaining distance, skirt still clutched in my hands. “I was just trying to get Mrs. Vandergriff off our backs.”
His voice was low and dark. “I try not to kiss women who are in relationships.”
“Oh, please. Will and I have been on two dates. I’d hardly call that a relationship.”
“I thought kissing each other was against the rules. Am I the only person who can ever remember the damn rules?”
“You hate rules,” I said hotly, feeling a flush creep up my neck. “Everyone knows that.”
“But Ifollowthem,” he burst. “You’re right, I do hate them. They hurt. Holding myself back makes me feel like I’m dying inside. But I do it, Alexis. I keep myself in check. And if I do fuck up, I try to make it right.” The heat drained from his voice. “I don’t want to make mistakes. Not with you. This is too important.”
The way he was looking at me was charged, and suddenly I didn’t know what he was talking about. Me and his campaign? The two of us appealing to voters? The two of us...?
“Mr. Arthur, sir,” came a voice. “We were just about to find you for your dance.”
We turned to the man wearing a discrete headset, eyeing us expectantly.
“Ughhh.” Logan closed his eyes and canted his face to the ceiling. “Why are you torturing me?” He opened his eyes and gave the man a forced smile. “Of course. When does it start? Oh, now? Perfect.” He turned to me. “I’m guessing Nora didn’t tell you we’re supposed to open the ballroom dancing portion of the evening?”
“She said there were no expectations!” I could feel my cheeks heating. “I would’ve prepared. I’m fine,” I reassured the man in the headset, who was watching me with alarm. “I’m going to die,” I whispered to Logan, once the man scampered away.
“Don’t worry. Just follow my lead.”
“You know how to dance?”
“Of course I know how to dance. I’m a poor kid from a farming town. I wasn’t going to give people another thing to sneer at.”
The orchestra settled on the mezzanine, the perfect distance so guests could hear them without being overwhelmed by the music. They’d be able to see us through the wide-open French doors separating the ballroom from the dining room. Near the orchestra, the man in the headset motioned at Logan and me to come together.
Logan took a deep breath and held out his hand. There was a question in his eyes, and for a wild moment, it felt like he was asking for something bigger than a dance. I laid my hand in his and he placed his other on my waist. “Put your hand on my arm,” he said quietly. “Mirror what I do. Take the steps I take—”
“Don’t cross any lines you don’t cross,” I quipped.
The ghost of a smile. “Not unless you want to fall apart in front of everyone.”
That time I knew he meant something bigger than dancing. I gripped his arm and the orchestra started, violin strings quivering, sending stirring, hopeful notes into the air. Logan launched into motion, pulling me with him across the floor, and I heard the shifting sounds of the diners turning in their seats to watch. For a while, it took all my focus to concentrate on Logan’s gliding feet and mirror his movements, though with his hand firm around my waist, and the strength and sureness of his steps, I felt certain he wouldn’t let me falter. After a while I caught on to the rhythm and relaxed, straightening my shoulders and actually listening to the music. It had moved from hopeful to swelling and dramatic.
Logan noticed my relaxing and frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
I raised my eyebrows as he swept me in a circle.
“I know none of this has been easy on you. Everything the campaign has asked you to do—it’s been a lot. But we’re nearing the finish line. The election’s only a few weeks away.” He steeled himself. “If I win, I told my team to jump into Phase Two immediately.”
“Phase Two?”
He dropped his head lower, and pulled me in closer. “Seeding the ground for our public breakup. Of course, if I lose the election, no one will care about me anymore, so our breakup won’t even be news.” He looked down. “In that case, feel free to dump me immediately. People will probably cheer you for moving on to the good doctor.”
