“You two should get out there and dance.” Governor Hernández waved a hand toward the dance floor as a band played a familiar John Legend song.
“No, we can’t,” I blurted.
Dance? As in voluntarily wrap myself in Lachlan’s arms and pretend like I loved him? My recent illness had left a side effect not noted by too many medical journals—a strong affection for one’s fake husband. Admittedly, a rare lingering symptom. I was probably going to be contacted any day for some clinical trials.
“I mean, it might get in the way of some networking Lachlan wants to do,” I added with a little more confidence.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Lachlan leveled those green eyes right at me. “I think I’ve talked to everyone I need to.”
“Come on.” The governor turned toward her husband. “Stuart and I used to dance all the time as newlyweds. Remember that, Stuart?”
“I do indeed,” Stuart said. “Hated every minute of it.”
Governor Hernández took another swig of wine. “Seriously, I’ll probably have to hike taxes for how much I spent on that band. Go enjoy them.”
“Lachlan doesn’t like to dance.” I patted Lachlan’s arm. “Right, sweetie?”
“It’s true, I don’t.” He extended his open hand, his large fingers unfurling one at a time. “I love it.”
“But he has two left feet,” I protested.
“Yep,” he said. “And they know how to tear up a dance floor. Let’s go.”
“Aw, aren’t they precious, Stuart?” Governor Hernández rested her head on her husband’s shoulder.
“Adorbs.”
“Don’t they remind you of us?”
“Yes,” Mr. Hernández said, “except they look like they like each other.”
“Oh, knock it off. All I said was you could’ve unloaded the dishwasher. It’s not like I asked you to sleep in the backyard again.”
With little choice, I slipped my hand into Lachlan’s and let him lead me to the floor. The lights had dimmed and the band transitioned to a slow song about unrequited love. I personally didn’t relate to that topic. Where were the love songs about ice cream and tacos? Those were some power ballads a person could sink her soul into.
“I hadn’t even finished my cheesecake,” I said as Lachlan’s right hand palmed my back and drew me toward him. “If you press me any closer, we’ll look indecent.”
“The closer we are, the more we appear happily wed.”
His warm body aligned with mine as he shifted us slowly across the floor. I tried to ignore the tingles along my skin and the giddy waves of nerves in my stomach. But when Lachlan reached out and drew his finger along the edge of my cheek, my hormones strapped on jetpacks and blasted off.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Acting like I adore my wife,” Lachlan told me. “We have three cameras trained on us right now, and the guy in the gray suit standing by the coffee service is a reporter fromTech Gazette.Lots of eyes watching.” His gaze dropped to mine. “Permission granted to let your hands roam.”
“I wasn’t going to ask.”
“I saw the question in your haughty, yet lust-filled eyes.”
This man. “The only thing I’m lusting for is my half-eaten dessert back at the table.”
Lachlan spun me out, only to reel me back in. My hand landed with a thud against his chest, and for some reason I couldn’t find the will to remove it. Beneath my fingers was a firm wall of muscle and a heart that beat steady. I caught the scent of Lachlan’s aftershave, the notes of cedar and spice daring me to lean in.
“Did you just sniff me, Sutton?”
I startled and shook my head. “No. Don’t be silly.”
“It’s okay.” Lachlan’s hand made a slow, lingering climb up my back to settle at my nape. “I think about your perfume all the time.” Green eyes searched my face, and his lips curved. “It’s so faint sometimes it’s just a whisper in the air. But I love the hint of flowers and oranges. A little sweet and a little tart.” He angled us away from another couple, his voice for my ears only. “I’m still not used to your scent in the house. Sometimes you leave for work before I get up, and when I go down to the kitchen, I can smell your perfume there. Like a secret message just for me.” His thumb made featherlight sweeps against the back of my neck. “Olivia was here.”
