* * *
Maddie finished pinning her curls in place and peered at her reflection in the mirror. She was surprised she remembered how to do anything with her hair beyond throwing it up in a ponytail or messy knot. But apparently all those formal events growing up had stuck with her.
She slipped into the little black dress Finn had sent, and added the diamond earrings and necklace that complemented the low-cut neckline perfectly. She smoothed her hands down her sides where the material hugged her curves and found herself wishing that she was spending the evening with Jack instead of heading to a sting operation with a skeezy politician.
And that thought, of course, led to other, more deliciously naughty thoughts about how a night out with Jack might end. She’d so desperately wanted to give in earlier, to make love to him with the reckless abandon she once had. She shouldn’t have kissed him, shouldn’t have pulled him down onto the bed with her. Not when she kept pushing him away.
But, damn it! Everything had felt soright, soperfect. She’d been ripping his shirt off before she’d even realized what she was doing. And once she’d caught a glimpse of the lean, sculpted muscle she’d so often fantasized about, it wason.
And if he hadn’t put the brakes on . . .
Her breath left her on a gasp as her nipples tightened and everything womanly began to ache with need. She grasped the edge of the countertop, reliving every kiss, every touch, as the ache increased and her muscles began to clench . . .
If she hadn’t been dressed, her hair already in place, she would’ve hiked up her skirt and given herself a little relief, but even the thought of pleasuring herself had her panting as she remembered how much Jack used to like to watch her touch herself while they made love.
Dear God . . .
What the hell was wrong with her? Even the thought of being with Jack was enough to get her hot and bothered. Well, that and the fact that it’d been almost two years since she’d been with a man. But regardless, there was the plain and simple fact that the only man she wanted to be with was Jack.
Her cell phone rang on the vanity next to her. She snatched it up and answered it without looking at the number first. “Blake.”
“Are you all right?” Jack’s voice caressed her senses as if he’d been standing there in the room with her, his fingertips smoothing her skin.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said in a rush, as if worried he might somehow guess that thoughts of him had been tormenting her just moments before.
There was a slight pause before he said, “I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving for the gala. I’ll see you there, and Finn will link us on the comms once you’re on-site.”
“Okay, then,” Maddie said, still sounding far more breathless than she’d like. “I’ll see you there.”
“Maddie.”
She cleared her throat and then forced a cheerful tone as she said, “Yeah?”
“Be careful, love,” he said so tenderly tears stung her eyes.
She swallowed the emotion that rose up in her before answering, “You, too.”
She hung up before he could say anything else, and grabbed her small evening bag, stowing her phone inside along with the cloned key card for the congressman’s hotel room that Finn had sent by courier shortly after Jack’s visit.
A few minutes later she was seated in the black Lincoln that had been sent by the car service and was in front of Boston’s Liberty hotel far sooner than she would’ve liked. “Okay, Jack,” she murmured as the driver came around to hand her out. “I’m going in. You with me?”
She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “Always.”
She plastered on the bright, inviting smile she’d perfected growing up as a senator’s daughter and entered the throng of social elite and other celebrities who were slowly making their way along the red carpet that led inside to the evening’s black-tie political fund-raiser.
“Ms. Blake! Ms. Blake! Look over here!”
Maddie paused and turned toward the paparazzo calling out to her, offering him a bright smile and turning slightly with her hand on her hip to pose for a photo.
She heard Jack mutter a soft curse over the comm device in her ear. “Who was that? And how in the hell did he recognize you?”
Maddie offered the photographer a parting wave, then pretended to adjust her diamond earring to cover the slight movement of her lips as she answered. “That was Todd Marx. He used to cover my father’s press events before going to the dark side of the tabloids.”
She made her way into the rotunda of the hotel that had once served as the Charles Street Jail. The amber light cast too many shadows, making it hard to make out faces. But there was one face she couldn’t mistake. Jack stood at the bar, looking heart-stoppingly debonair in his black tuxedo. It took more than a little effort to drag her gaze away and focus on the others milling about the rotunda.
“Do you have eyes on any of our companions for the evening?” Jack asked as Maddie nodded in greeting as she passed by an actor she recognized but whose name she didn’t recall.
The actor didn’t hide the fact that he was looking her up and down, but when he started walking toward her as if to engage in conversation, Maddie turned on her stiletto heel and headed in the opposite direction.
