Mad About You

place?"
    "No—although you really should hang some curtains in your bedroom." She lowered her voice to a teasing purr. "You never know when you might need some privacy."
    Knowing the fiery Betsy was probably arched in some beguiling pose, he smirked. "Don't tell me that's what you need help with."
    She laughed merrily. "No. I need to borrow your furniture and your back."
    "Got a catering gig tonight?"
    "Right."
    "And you need folding chairs?"
    "Only fifty or so. I just found out I'll be serving on a patio and they expect me to provide the seating."
    He smiled, eager to help a friend, glad that, for the first time today, something was within his control. "Fifty folding chairs, no problem."
    "Why don't you throw on a jacket and stick around till the party's over? We'll have fun and it'll save you a trip back."
    Why not? He certainly didn't have anything else planned. "Sure. When and where?"
    "Seven-thirty, the Shoalt Hotel."
    "I'll meet you there."

Chapter Nine

    JASMINE TOOK A DEEP BREATH as she stepped from her car. After handing her key to the parking valet, she smoothed a hand over the skirt of the red crepe dress. Her nerves had been jangled all day, set on edge by her morning conversation with Ladden and frazzled further from ducking phone calls and checking her rearview mirror for reporters.
    She'd managed to shake a news van that followed her when she left a deli at lunch. Her new client had hinted at the billboard controversy all day, but Jasmine had simply provided polite, evasive answers. Thankfully, when she drove home she noticed the billboards had been restored to their previous advertisements, predominantly Trey's. And when she arrived at her condo, there were no cameras in sight.
    Still, she felt skittish as she entered the grand lobby of the Shoalt Hotel. She told herself that, under the circumstances, it was perfectly natural that Ladden Sanderson had been on her mind all day... perfectly natural that she could recall how well he filled his soft work shirt... or how his eyes lit up when he smiled....
    "Good evening, Ms. Crowne." Joseph Elam, administrative assistant to the governor, surveyed her from head to toe and pursed his thin lips in what appeared to be resignation.
    "Hello, Mr. Elam."
    He briefly indicated a large man standing a step behind him. "This is Duncan."
    She started to greet Duncan, but Mr. Elam cut her off, sweeping his arm to the right. "Governor McDonald will be glad to know you've arrived," he said in a voice that indicated he and the governor were not of a like mind on the issue.
    She realized with a sinking heart that after the day's events, Elam had labeled her a liability to the governor at this critical point in his campaign... a distressing thought since she was so eager for Trey to achieve his dreams. Another term as governor, then on to the Senate, then who only knew? And although Trey hadn't proposed, he'd hinted often enough that if she were so inclined, she would be an asset to his political career. But now...
    Jasmine allowed herself to be steered through the milling crowd, nodding to familiar faces, fairly trotting to keep up with Mr. Elam's pace. His eyes darted in all directions and he kept one arm half-curled a few inches from her waist, as if he intended to keep everyone away from her—or keep her away from everyone.
    They moved past a ballroom where a jazz band played, and threaded their way through several smaller rooms, each of which boasted a different theme with corresponding decorations and food. Heads turned her way and she noticed lingering glances and knowing smirks. She lifted her chin a little higher and painted on a bright smile, but inside she trembled—not out of fear of what people might be saying about her and Ladden Sanderson, but because of the guilt niggling her stomach.
    No matter how much she wanted it not to be true, even here in the company of the city's most powerful professionals she felt an inexplicable connection to and an undeniable longing for the quiet man who ran the antiques store on Pacific Street.
    "There you are, my dear." Trey's deep voice broke into her thoughts, bringing her surroundings into focus. The governor looked regal in a dark suit, holding court in a room decorated with an Oriental flair, beneath elaborate paper dragons streaming across the ceiling. With clean-cut boyish looks and just the right amount of gray at his fair temples, he was a striking man. His dazzling smile appeared to be only for her as he turned