The crystal clinks together as I drop the tray on the nearest surface. Gripping the edge of the table, my hands are shaking and I try to calm the thundering of my heart, ignoring the champagne that drips onto the floor.

I squeeze my eyes shut. It was like he was stripping me naked in front of everyone in the room. Like he was dissecting everything I was thinking, every risqué thought running through my mind. The way his clear green eyes held me like a bailiff, giving me no option to look away. And all of it done in such an unapologetic fashion that I had to leave before I made a total fool of myself.

The Mayor of Savannah is head-over-heels more intense in person than even I thought he'd be—and I had high expectations. Watching him give a speech on television or interact in news clips, he exudes this crazy mix of power and sexiness. But Barrett Landry in person? It's almost enough to make you high.

I grab a towel and wipe up the champagne, trying to catch my breath. My head is spinning, my blood pumping so wildly I feel like I might pass out.

I've got to get a grip.

Righting the overturned flutes, my breathing finally evens out.

His hooded eyes weren't darkened for me. They were to gain a vote or a fifteen-minute romp in the limo waiting out front. I know how these things work. None of that was for me.

Not for me.

Not. For. Me.

A hip bumps mine and I look up into the animated face of Lola. "I saw you!"

"Saw me what?"

"Getting all flirty with the mayor!"

"I was so not getting all flirty with the mayor,” I groan.

"I'm not blind, babe. But I am disappointed. I was waiting for the big moment! I was waiting for you to fall into him, for your hand to go to the side of his face ..." She closes her eyes and sighs. "You missed an opportunity."

"I missed an opportunity to embarrass myself. Poor me." I roll my eyes and pick up another tray, this time a platter filled with canapés.

"For someone so fun, you're really not very fun when it counts," she huffs.

"What's Mr. Pickner say? We aren't here to have fun,” I intone. “I have work to do, Lo." I ignore her protests and head out of the kitchen. As soon as I step foot back into the Savannah Room, my elbow is snatched. I whip to the side to see Mr. Pickner guiding me off to the side.

The other servers flurry past us, giving me the side-eye. I'm not sure what I've done to be hauled off like this.

"Can I help you with something?" I ask, keeping my voice level.

"Have you forgotten the rules around here, Alison?"

"No, sir."

He tsks his tongue and releases my elbow. "I see and hear everything."

"Mr. Pickner, I have no idea what you're referring to, but I do have a tray that needs to be passed around the room. So if you'll excuse me ..." I turn to leave, but his voice lets me know he's not done.

"It would serve you well to remember the contract you signed. You are to serve the guests and not engage them in conversation. You, Ms. Baker, are not a guest. You're not getting paid to entertain them. You're here to pass around appetizers, not yourself."

I whip around to face him head-on, my jaw slack. "Excuse me?"

"These people have nothing to say to you. If I catch you doing anything more than offering an appetizer, you'll be fired on the spot. Do you understand me?"

I open my mouth to respond, but my mouth feels lined with cotton. I want to tell him to take this plate of overly-priced smoked appetizers and shove them straight up his ass, but I'm not given the chance.

Before I can do anything, the energy in the space shifts. Mr. Pickner notices too, because he immediately takes a step away from me. Everything in the room seems to be drowned out, the air once filled with laughter and scooting chairs is now saturated with the scent of expensive spice.

My eyes flitter to my right to see Barrett Landry. His deep blue tie has been loosened a bit, his cufflinks gone, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looks elegant in his custom-fit suit. I’ve never seen a man look this put together and pull it off like he woke up this way.

He smiles and I immediately relax, my body instinctively responding to him. He holds my gaze for a long second, both stealing my breath and giving me oxygen at the same time, before a coolness falls over his face as he turns to my boss.

Mr. Pickner puts on his game face, the one he doesn't use with his employees, and outstretches a hand. His eyes are a bit wide, like he's as star-struck as the rest of us.

"Mr. Mayor! I do hope you're enjoying yourself. It's been an honor to cater this event for your campaign."

Barrett shakes his hand firmly, and I can see the muscles flex in his forearm. It's pure arm porn as I watch the veins pop and his tanned skin tighten.

"Tonight has been exemplary, thank you," Barrett says, letting his hand drop to his side. "I couldn't help but overhear a conversation between you and the lady by your side."

The vein in my boss’s temple pulses and I know I'm screwed. My stomach twists, a pit of acid churning, as I wait to see where this conversation goes. I consider excusing myself, but I think that'll make things worse.

Instead, I throw back my shoulders and brace myself, preparing to hear my boss and this gorgeous man discuss some impropriety I've unknowingly committed and wait to be fired. My mind ticks off possible replacement jobs, a way to make the kind of money that is currently going into a fund to help pay for the rest of my schooling.

God help me.

"I'm sorry about that,” Mr. Pickner says. “My employees are under strict orders not to disturb you or your guests. Please accept my apologies and assurance that I will deal with this and it won't happen again."

"I'd hope not," Barrett says, his voice stern. "I'd hope you wouldn't reprimand your employee for taking a few minutes to answer my questions. This is a social gathering, Jim," he says, looking pointedly at him, "and it is one I'm paying for. If I'd like to socialize with ..."

He looks at me with raised eyebrows and waits on me to find my voice.

"Alison Baker," I say, trying to look away, but unable to pull my eyes away from his.

"If I'd like to socialize with Alison, it seems as though I'm paying for the honor."

Mr. Pickner’s face pales. He stumbles to recover but fails spectacularly. "Oh, I, um, I'm sorry, Mr. Landry. I had no idea. I ..."

"I'm sure you didn't, which is why I find your readiness to discipline her insulting. In business, it's best you have the facts before you leap into action." He watches Mr. Pickner’s face fall further and further towards the plush carpeting until he's satisfied. "Let me also point out that it is never okay for you to put your hands on a woman."

"I just— ” he begins, but Barrett cuts him off.

"Never okay." He takes the tray away from me and sits it on a table nearby. He picks up my arm gently, sending a ripple of shivers throughout my body. My voice is gone again, and I try to remember everything I once knew about keeping calm and maintaining courtesy.

"Are you okay, Alison?"

His voice wraps around me like a warm blanket, and I'm certain if I weren’t okay, whatever would've been wrong would suddenly be healed. My hand tingles where his is touching it, all of my senses buzzing. He grins, not his usual wide, disarming smile, but a softer one I haven't had the pleasure of seeing before. It's the one I won't forget.

"I'm okay," I say, pulling my hand away. "Really."

Barrett pauses, his eyes narrowing again, searching me. “I’d like to take you for some fresh air, if that would be okay with you?”

I can hear the words my brain wants to say in my head. It's a long ramble of stuttered words laced with a string of lewd offers my body is demanding. I press my lips shut and opt not to risk it.

The mayor turns to my boss and they begin a conversation, but I don't hear them. I just watch Barrett, taking in the beauty in front of me—the dimple that's barely visible in his left cheek, the tiny scar above his right eye. He's clearly in charge, my boss now seeming no more than a little boy.

Finally, they turn to me and I gulp. I have no idea what's been discussed, and I feel like they expect me to know.

Damn it.

"Alison," Mr. Pickner says, "please forgive me for earlier. Feel free to enjoy the rest of your night." He dips his head and skitters back into the kitchen.

I look up into the handsome face of Mayor Landry. He's studying me, an intensity in his gaze that makes my stomach flutter.

This is how I didn't pay attention. Gah! Pay attention, Ali!

My breath comes out in stuttered wisps. I shouldn't be going anywhere with him. For about fifteen million reasons, I shouldn't leave this room with this man. "Thank you, Mayor Landry, but—"

"It's Barrett. Please, call me Barrett," he insists, stripping away my defenses.

"Okay, Barrett." I grasp the little bit of brain power I have left and stand tall. "A walk is really not necessary. I'm fine. He was just ... helping me out of the way."

He smirks. "Ms. Baker, please, consider what I do for a living."

"What do you mean?"

"I’m a politician. I work with liars all day," he winks.

I can't help but laugh. "I'm sure you do. But, really, I’m good. Please, go enjoy your event and I'll get back to work."

He takes a step closer, the air between us on fire. "I would enjoy spending a few minutes with you."

I feel my cheeks heat under his gaze. His eyes brighten with amusement at my flush.

"Now, if you don't want to cause a scene, I'm going to suggest we duck out of here before we manage to gain a wider audience."

Glancing around the room, I notice a few people watching our interaction. A sick feeling erupts in my stomach as memories of being watched before creep in my mind.

"Did you see the photographs of your husband with Ms. Murphy?" The cameraman sticks a video recorder in my face. "How does that make you feel?"

I cringe.

Barrett offers me his arm and I start to take it, but pull it back in a flourish. "I spilled some alfredo on my sleeve earlier. You probably don't want to get that on you."

"It'll wash." His easy way lessens my anxiety. He's doing to me what he does to everyone—charming me, enchanting me. I like it way more than I should.

Images of him tossing his jacket off to the side, unbuttoning his shirt as he readies for the bath zoom through my mind. When my eyes meet his, I know he knows what I was thinking.

He closes the distance between us, lifting my arm and placing it through the crook in his.

The material is supple, his arm hard beneath. Being this close to him, I feel like I'm in a bubble, that it's just he and I, and everyone and everything else is suddenly on the outside.

His scent is intoxicating, his smile disarming. It's a blend of power and approachability, and the combination is mind-blowing.

My defenses crumble, hitting the ground with a hefty thump.

I glance nervously at a few men trying very hard not to notice us. Getting out of here suddenly seems like a good idea.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask. "You don't have to, you know."

He studies me closely. "You're right. I don't have to. I want to."