Something About You (Just Me & You) (22 page)

Wasn’t it?

“Of course I have greater aspirations, Jackson,” Sabrina
countered gamely. “I didn’t put in all of these years to become House
Parliamentarian. Now, there’s some thankless work.”

Jackson stared at her. “You’re really not afraid of
anything, are you?” The look on his face was a shadow of the grim expression he
had worn when he demanded that she choose between him and her career in
politics.

Sabrina bit her lip. “Yes, I am. I’m scared of myself. I’m
terrified that I almost gave up everything I worked so hard for, moved to the
other side of the continent and reinvented myself into someone you wanted me to
be. I couldn’t — I never cared—” She swallowed hard, then started over
again calmly. “I didn’t love you even close to that much, Jackson.”

“Well, nice of you to finally get around to sending me the
memo.” He took a sip of his drink. No fizzy stuff for Jackson. He was a scotch
on the rocks man, like Les.

Just like Les.

“This conversation really shouldn’t be happening,” he went
on. “But because it is, I’m assuming you have a conclusion in mind.”

Sabrina sighed. “Getting married to you was a shitty thing
to do. I’m sorry if I wasted your time.”

He downed the rest of his drink, then gave a stiff nod of
acknowledgement.

“Yeah, well … don’t do it to anybody else, Sabrina.
Being on the receiving end of the shittiness isn’t something any man deserves.”

Jackson’s a real catch
, Nola had told her. Almost
everyone had pointed it out. Les, Carlton, Theo. Even Molly. How many people
had said the same thing to Jackson about her? Sabrina wondered. She snuck a
look at his profile. Yes, he still fit into the criteria she had once used to
use when vetting prospective dates. Everything about him, from the pristinely
black tux without a speck of lint to his military school posture, spoke of a
successful man. But for the first time she noticed that he had a slight double
chin and that his brushy eyebrows needed a closer trim. The small imperfections
would have been endearing, had she ever truly loved him.

“Jackson, you will find a woman who wants the same things in
life as you do,” Sabrina told him sincerely. “When you do, you’ll wonder what
you ever saw in me.”

He grunted what sounded like a half-hearted agreement then
scrutinized his shirt cuffs to make sure they were still straight. That was the
pure essence of Jackson: Meticulous and detail-oriented to the end.

“I should let you work the room.” He sounded resigned. “But
first, it looks like the good Hon. Rep. may need to be rescued from your
Neanderthal friend. Cheers, Sabrina.” Jackson raised his drink to his lips.

She whirled around. “Oh, hell!” she exclaimed softly.

Anyone else observing Theo and Gage probably saw two men
engaged in amicable conversation. Only Theo stood with his arms folded across
his chest, and when he paused to scratch an imaginary itch in the middle of his
forehead, Sabrina knew it could only mean one thing. He was feeling some heat.
Flying across the room, she caught the tail end of their conversation.

“I think you and I have different definitions of
‘sustainable living’.” Gage smiled into his gin and tonic and swirled it a bit.
“Mine was getting through an Iowa winter with one functioning space heater and
taking showers at the high school gym when the gas got turned off.” He sounded
friendly enough, but there was something slightly ominous in his tone.

Theo’s chuckle was uncomfortable. “I suppose everyone has
his own unique way of reducing his carbon footprint.”

“And some of us had no choice because we got stuck with a
tough paper route, Representative,” Gage said. 

Theo looked like he’d bit into a piece of oyster shell.
Still wearing the same lazy smile, Gage downed his drink and placed the empty
tumbler squarely on the lily table. Just as Sabrina was about to redirect the
course of the conversation to a topic that was far less threatening, like any
one of the Wardlings or the new nanny Jill had hired, a jazzy brush rhythm
began as the drummer started the first song, followed by the piano riff of a
familiar classic. Couples headed for the dance floor.

“Did I mention how much I’m looking forward to the first
dance of the evening?” Sabrina asked Gage with a tight smile, digging her
fingers into his arm.

“See? You just can’t take me anywhere,” he said in her ear
as she dragged him to the floor.

“Shut up and cut a rug, Fitzgerald.”

The torturous heels made it easier for her to put her hand
on the top of his shoulder. All of the other couples danced cheek to cheek, but
she kept Gage at an arm’s distance. Which was difficult because the rhythm of
the music begged for closer contact. He grinned at her sophomoric efforts.

“What is this, a Jesuit school mixer?” He glanced at their
hands, awkwardly clasped, elbows splayed at an odd angle. “The nuns aren’t
watching, Sabrina. If you want to dance, let’s stop messing around.”

One large hand landed smack on the bare small of her back
and drew her against him so suddenly and snugly she was momentarily winded. The
feeling of his chest crushed against hers combined with the starchy smell of
his shirt and castile soap made her knees weak. She focused on the music and
steadying her ankles so she could move around the polished marble floor. The
Sinatra imitator did good justice to “Fly Me to the Moon.” Gage wasn’t a bad
dancer, either. Who’d have thought that he’d know how to foxtrot? Now he was
sneaking in a smooth promenade to see if she’d follow his lead.

“My grandmother taught me the basic steps,” he said in her
ear, predicting her next question. “Guess she knew it would be important one
day should I ever attend the
gala ball
of Representative Theodore Ward.”
There was no mistaking the derisive edge in his voice. “I can’t believe you’ve
spent almost a decade of your life letting that guy call the shots.”

“Theo’s a white hat compared to some politicians,” Sabrina
said in defense of the Hon. Rep. “He hasn’t botched things up too badly—”

“Never said he had.”

“—and he gets relevant bills passed.”

“Given that he has no short supply of hot air, I’m sure
there’s far more irrelevant things that he passes, too.”

“The legislative process is complicated to the average
layperson, Gage.”

He spun her away abruptly, then pulled her back to him even
more tightly.

“I am an Iowan, not an imbecile, Sabrina.” There was dead
seriousness behind his polite society smile. “I understand more than you think
I do. I know what smokescreens and hidden agendas are, and I know that Ward
would rather help his so-called ‘eco-friendly’ builder buddies make a buck than
put a bare modicum of effort into passing bills that help real people. The only
thing ‘green’ about him is the cash that floods into his pockets from special
interest groups. Aren’t you tired of perpetuating a sham?”

There was no simple answer to Gage’s question. Instead
Sabrina said, “That’s the nature of politics. If I want to succeed at them,
I’ll be a good girl and play ‘Follow the Leader’ until Theo retires — hopefully
he’ll still be in everyone’s good graces so my own career doesn’t take a hit,”
she added hastily, thinking about Jackson’s comment about Theo’s leisurely
mornings at the Four Seasons.

“So that’s what all of this showboating is all about,” Gage
said. “Association by reputation. You know, I read something recently:
‘Ambition is violence; the very effort to succeed is violent’.”

Sabrina’s face burned as she focused on the strong muscles
in his throat. It was a near-verbatim recitation of her Osho quote. Her eyes
fluttered up to his, expecting to see disapproval. Instead, he was gazing down
at her with what looked a lot like understanding.

“I went into politics to make a difference, Gage,” she told
him earnestly. “If I can make the lives of just a few people better, it will
have been worth it.”

To her surprise, he said nothing. Instead, his hand pressed
against the small of her back, drawing her closer so she could feel the strong
length of his thighs. She pressed her cheek against the cool, smooth lapel of
his tuxedo. The song ended and segued into a slower one. The melancholy minor
strains of the old classic plucked a forgotten chord buried somewhere deep in
her memory. Only the strange thing was that she was sure it was a memory tied
to an event she hadn’t yet experienced.

Don’t change a hair for me, not if you care for me, stay,
little Valentine, stay …

The clean, uncomplicated smell of Gage’s skin and the steady
warmth it radiated reminded Sabrina of the long, leisurely days of countless
childhood summers. When she closed her eyes, she saw Grandma Ella standing on
the front porch of the bakery, shaking excess flour from her apron. The old
woman smiled as she hummed a song.
This song.
The sentimental feelings
the memory inspired were both sweet and painful.

Sabrina could feel Gage’s breath stirring the hair at her
temples.

“Going to this ball had to be last on your list of things to
do on a Friday night,” she told him. “I shouldn’t have bullied you into it.”

“Hey, I’m all good. The real question is are
you
having fun yet?”

“My life isn’t really fun, Gage. It’s damned hard being a
woman in a man’s profession. There doesn’t seem to be time for anything else.”

“You think I haven’t noticed that?” He loosened his grasp
slightly so he could get a read of her face. “You’re right. I don’t know much
about the policy-peddling that goes on in your world. But I do know a few
things about life. I know that it might not be as long as I think.”

“C’est la vie,” Sabrina said with a shrug. “What can you
do?”

“You find a cause you really believe in and put everything
you have behind it,” he said. “You love it, live it and never say die. Because
sometimes you only get one chance to fight the good fight.”

Sabrina was surprised by the quiet intensity she heard in
his voice. So much in fact that she didn’t realize they’d come to a standstill
in the middle of the ballroom. The only things that registered were of small
consequence. Like how his eyes were the same color as Spanish moss. And how
unconscionable it was that his promenade was more practiced than her own.
Lastly, she considered the tableau from camera distance and how they must look
to Theo, Jackson, Eva and other gala attendees.

Like two people falling in love.

Everything suddenly went into slow motion. Through a long
fringe of bangs, Sabrina could see that the look in his eyes had turned
serious. She felt the brush of his fingertips on her brow as he curled a long
strand of hair around her ear, a gesture that was both tender and electric.
Instinctively, she pressed her cheek against his palm and inhaled the warm,
clean smell of his skin. He opened his mouth to say something but ended up
shaking his head instead.

Kiss me. Kiss me, now
, Sabrina thought fervently.

She was almost too distracted to notice that a hotel
employee had wound his way through the dancers and was now tapping Gage on the
shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir? Are you Mr. Fitzgerald?” the man asked.
“I’m the night manager. There’s a phone call for you downstairs at the front
desk. It appears to be urgent.”

“Could be my station manager,” Gage told her. “Hang tight.
I’ll be right back.”

Saved by the bell
, Sabrina thought, as she watched
him follow the manager out the door. She retreated to Jillian’s lilies, snagging
the last champagne cocktail from a passing tray en route.

“Your friend Gage is a real character.” Theo drawled as he
sidled up beside her. “Yep. I’d bet good money that he’s an Independent.”

“Actually, we’ve never discussed his party preference,”
Sabrina told him.

“He’s that guy with the radio show, ‘Fitz and Giggles’.”
Theo sounded cordial enough, but a note of disdain had crept into his voice.
“The guy who seems to have intimate knowledge of your, ah, collar and cuffs, if
I remember correctly.”

Sabrina felt like crawling under any one of the finely
decorated cocktail tables.

Theo plunged his hands into his pockets and rocked back on
his heels. “Yep, that Gage sure is a character, all right. Even Jill seems to
think he’s some kind of rock star. So are the two of you—?” He shot Sabrina a
worried look, then added hastily, “Not that what you do behind closed doors is
any of my business, god forbid.”

“Gage happens to be a friend with an unorthodox sense of
humor,” Sabrina said adamantly, not sure whether she was trying to convince
Theo or herself. “Actually, he’s the friend of a
friend
. There’s nothing
between us.”

“Seems to me there was more than just a little sizzle going
on between you during that last dance, Chief. If the two of you had been in the
vicinity of the hundred-proofs, the entire place could have gone up in flames.”

“Please, Theo,” Sabrina snorted. “I just ended a marriage.
An ill-conceived, unhealthy marriage, but it was still a marriage. So unlike
the old standard, I’m not in the mood for love.”

“Hey, I didn’t hear anyone mention the word ‘love.’ Did
you?” Theo looked around him. “Just remember, Chief, that politics is just like
any other business.” His voice had taken on a doting, paternal tone that she
found irritating. “My success is your success. My failures are your failures,
and vice versa. We
both
have a public image to uphold.”

Sabrina bristled in silence for a while before she finally
excused herself to the bar. She knew exactly what the Hon. Rep. was trying to
tell her without actually telling her. That showing up at one of Austin’s most
anticipated social events with Gage “Fitz” Fitzgerald was a classic fumble on
her part. That she could have unacceptable paramours as long as hers, like his,
were strictly bedroom.