Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“I will have to take your word on that.”
The server came back with their wine, making her suddenly aware that she was still holding his hand. She snatched it back and thanked the server, then reached for her wineglass.
“Yeah, smelling it probably won’t help,” Finn said when she put the glass toward her nose. “A quick sip is probably the smartest bet.”
She followed his instructions, deciding it was arguably much better than fish eggs, but not anywhere near as good as her newly beloved coffee.
“I think I can learn to sip this to be polite—barnacles!” She gasped. Her whole body jolted as another scream wailed from the kitchen.
“Seems like this restaurant is a good test of nervous system regulation,” Finn said.
Finn, as usual, was unflappable, no matter how often or how loud the screaming got.
Meanwhile, Iris felt like every nerve ending was frayed by the time they finished their meal and rose from the table.
“You all right? You’ve looked a little pale for the past few minutes.”
Iris chose not to think of the way her belly swooped as he said those words directly behind her, his breath tickling the shell of her ear.
“Yeah,” she said. She sucked in a steadying breath as they moved outside, where everyone gathered around seemed oblivious to the siren calls within. “Much better now,” she said. Her breath caught as Finn’s arm slid around her, curling her closer to his body to move her out of the way when some guy stumbled backward toward them.
He kept her close as they made their way through the crowd and toward the edge of the sidewalk.
“Don’t look, but we have company.”
“The paparazzi?” she asked, her mind conjuring up images of catching Monty talking to his reflection in the bathroom one night. No paparazzi. Please, I’m just trying to live my life!
“Yes. What do you say to really selling this?” he asked, his hand tightening on her hip, his arm pulling her more firmly against him.
“How?” She was going to pretend not to hear the breathlessness in her voice. Or the way the closeness was setting off little wildfires of need across her skin.
In answer, his head lowered down, his forehead pressed to hers.
“A kiss,” he suggested, gaze watching hers, waiting for her answer.
“Okay,” she whispered. Totally just for the cameras. No other reason.
That rumbling sound moved through Finn again as his hand rose, sliding along her jaw gently as his head angled.
Then his lips were on hers.
If she’d expected something performative and stiff, she was wholly mistaken.
He kissed her like the sea claimed the shore—slow at first, then all-consuming. Her breath caught, a gasp tangled in the pull of the undertow.
One of her arms wrapped around the back of his neck. The other grabbed the material covering his bicep.
But even as she sighed against his lips, Finn’s mouth moved from hers.
His forehead was on hers again.
“That should be on the front of a bunch of gossip papers tomorrow,” he said, making her heart sink.
“Oh, goodie,” she said, turning away from him to hail a cab.
To an onlooker, she probably looked like a woman desperate to get home to continue the intimacy they’d started on the sidewalk.
Only she knew that she wanted to get home and as far away from him as quickly as possible.
She’d thought they’d made some sort of strides over their meal. The conversation got easier, even if the topics became a lot less intense after speaking of the loss of his parents and his motivation to go into politics.
Clearly, though, it had all just been part of the show for him.
If the man was able to fake a kiss like that, if he could so convincingly manufacture intimacy, there was nothing about him that she could trust.
She’d been a fool to think otherwise for even a moment.
She needed to get home, get changed, get some sleep, then wake up in the morning and kick her plans into overdrive.
But she was going to need some reinforcements.
13
Finn
“You’ve forgotten your talking points five times in a row. What is going on with you?” Henry slapped his notepad on the desk.
“I don’t know.” Finn dropped down onto the couch, slamming his head back to stare up at the ceiling.
He did know.
He just couldn’t tell Henry.
He’d waltzed into the office that morning brandishing a pile of website printouts, beaming over the quality and angles of the kiss on the street outside the restaurant.
Apparently, the people were ‘eating it up.’ He’d gone on and on about the talking points in the articles on each website.
Since no one knew Iris’s identity yet, they were dubbing them The Mer and the Mayor.
“Are you getting sick?” Henry asked. “We can go get you hooked up for some fluids. Maybe one of those immunity cocktails like we did last year.”
“I’m not getting sick.”
“Are you sure? Because we can’t afford to have you down and out for a week at this point in the campaign.”