“Are you staying here in the hotel,” the drunken man to my right continues, despite the fact that I’ve ignored all of his questions. He is disgusting and his breath stinks.

In the mirror behind the liquor bottles I see Justin storming toward me with violence in his eyes.

What is he doing?!!

Is he going to yell at me for being here?

I have a right to have a drink just like anyone else.

I straighten up and steel my eyes, holding his glare.

“Because if you’re not staying here tonight, you could be,” the drunk guy drones on, his manner lascivious. “I’m in room 207 and the elevator is right over there.”

“That’s great,” Justin announces. “Now my wife and I know where to charge our drinks.”

Utterly confused as to how Justin suddenly appeared next to us, the guy’s beady eyes blink a few times before he grunts, “Who the fuck are you? She’s not married. No wedding ring. Now why don’t you go back to the magazine you jumped off of and leave me to it.”

“To it?” Justin smirks. “And what is it you think you’re accomplishing here?”

“I’m going to get in this bitch’s pants.”

My eyes go wide in shock. Justin’s arm chambers before his fist explodes into this guy’s face, sending him flying to the floor, out cold.

And oh look, we have an audience now.

Justin stretches his knuckles as he calls over to the bartender. “Call security. He’s had too much.”

The bartender nods, which blows my mind.

Justin produces a couple twenties, throws them on the bar and takes my elbow, guiding me away. He picks up my purse and slips it into my hand, lacing his fingers with mine in a possessive manner.

I am too stunned to speak much less argue.

As we walk out, my dazed eyes glide over to the good-looking couple Justin was sitting with on the patio. I jealously thought he was with the pretty brunette, but I guess he wasn’t. She and the handsome man who might be her brother, they look so much alike, are both smiling at me like they know a secret.

Many people are out tonight with the weather this beautiful, the moon a sliver in a star-filled sky. Couples and groups pass us as we walk along the river but none are paying attention to the fact that my heart is beating way too fast for my liking.

I lamely whisper, “I thought you were going to yell at me.”

His jaw clenches as he stares ahead.

“Why aren’t you talking? Is it because of that guy?”

“Why were you talking with a scuzbag like him?” he snaps, cutting a side-look at me.

“I wasn’t! He was doing all the talking. I was ignoring him but he wouldn’t go away.”

Justin stops abruptly, takes me in his arms, and crushes me in an angry and desperate kiss. A dam of need releases within me. Months of watching him, standing beside him backstage and not able to talk, touch, or even acknowledge him. God it’s been hell.

“Justin,” I breathe against his panting lips as he searches my eyes.

“Fuck,” he mutters, tearing away from me and walking off. I remain glued to this spot, mortified he’s just left me here after a kiss like that, but too proud to follow. He turns and sees he’s alone, rushes back, and grabs my hand. “Come on.”

“Okay,” I whisper, not sure where he’s taking me. His grip on my fingers is so tight.

“You ever handle a campaign before?”

“I’m an event planner. That was my job in Boston, so I’m merely organizing the events.”

“I know. I researched you.”

“You did?”

He ignores the question and snarls, “You’ve shown up at every single one I’ve scheduled, except for one. He was there, but you weren’t. Where were you?”

He noticed I wasn’t there. I hoped he would.

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

Seeming to accept this as possible, he attacks me again. “How is it possible you’ve known exactly where I would be each and every time?”

Defensively I mutter, “It’s not hard to use Google. Every city has a website with their events posted. You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.”

His fingers lace with mine, which makes no sense to me at all!

Staring ahead, he demands, “You really believe your father is the right man for this job?”

“He’s held the position quite well for thirty years.”

“He can’t see what the people of today need!”

“My father has the experience you don’t have!”

Justin stops walking and whips around to kiss me again. I gasp into his lips and lace my fingers into his soft, thick hair. Our tongues touch and fire shoots into my blood.

Oh God, I love how it feels when Justin groans into my lips like this. He couldn’t hold me any tighter if he tried.

Panting for self-control he propels himself away from me. “Fuck,” he mutters, in a personal war. Locking eyes with me he says, “Your father is too set in his ways, his position, and his wealth.”

My eyes go wide with shock. “Oh, please, as if the Cocker family has ever known poverty.”

He shouts, “You don’t know me – or my family – at all!”

People are staring at us now.

Struggling for composure, I smile at the onlookers, take Justin’s arm and guide him away. He takes a deep breath. The people around us go back to what they were doing and when we are further along the path, I whisper to him, “You forget I went to the same school as you. The same privileged school in Buckhead of all places! For only one year, yes, but it was enough to show me you, and your brothers, have never lacked for anything.”

Through gritted teeth Justin sneers, “You’re so pompous. You think you’re better than me, Jaimie? Have you struggled? Your father a Senator for three years shy of your whole life, has that been hard for you to find a roof over your head? Food to eat? Dignity to throw away because you’re starving?” Off my silence his smirk is mean. “That’s what I thought.”

“My mother and I weren’t wealthy. I’ve worked hard to get where I am and I’ve fought for it. You don’t become a success on luck. My father is a good man.”

“His time in Washington is over.”

“Fuck you, Justin.”

With a deep frown he lunges for me and presses his lips to mine, holding the back of my head while I slip my arms around his neck. He groans into my gasps as I give him access to my tongue and press my body into his.

“No,” I moan.

He searches me. “Does that no mean yes?”

Panting I nod and whisper, “God help me, I shouldn’t do this, but yes. It means yes. I need you.”