away.
Previously, that heat was from anger, from him countering her little verbal ploy, her fake seduction. But why did they flare up again? Tanner briefly frowned. Was she angry at even the idea of having dinner with such a slippery individual as himself?
Or - and he hesitated even to consider this option - was that heat not from anger after all? Was there something else there?
Interesting, Tanner noted to himself, turning as he watched Alicia head out of her office, stack of papers in hand. He had no guarantee that there was any sort of real attraction there - but if there was, that was something he could use.
Idly, his eyes dropped down to watch Alicia's ass, tight in that sexy little pencil skirt, as she left the office. Already, he couldn't even count how many times he'd pictured her naked, unable to talk as she moaned from him plunging himself into her, replacing all those annoying orders with moans and gasps of pleasure as he took her-
He sighed after the door closed. Judging from the hard-on in his pants, he really needed to get laid, and soon. He was so desperate, he was even finding bitchy, controlling Alicia Stone to be attractive.
Chapter Ten
*
After some consideration, Tanner placed a call to Bayou, a Cajun high-end restaurant located in the West End neighborhood. He gave his name, confirmed that he needed a table for two at seven, and ended the call after receiving the host's assurances that they'd save the best table for the Senator and himself.
The rest of the day passed quickly, Tanner looking ahead already to the evening. He needed to get Alicia to open up, let down her shields around him, he decided. He needed her to see him as a trustworthy confidante, someone with whom she felt comfortable revealing the inner workings of her plans, her next steps in pushing the education bill.
He needed, he reminded himself as he arrived five minutes early at the restaurant, to be smooth, charming, attentive - and above all else, a good listener.
Tanner strolled up to the entrance to Bayou, expecting to be the first one to arrive and planning to check in - elected politicians never arrived anywhere on time. It was like a genetic disorder with them, one he'd come to expect. But when he reached the host's station, the man smiled at him and picked up two menus.
"Ah, Mr. Tanner," the host greeted him with a smile. "If you'll follow me?"
Tanner frowned, but moved after the host as he weaved his way through the narrow wooden tables, past the booths upholstered in red leather. They headed over to Tanner's favorite table, one set just far back enough from the window to let him look out at the passing pedestrians outside, but not so close that someone might spot his face and recognize him through the window.
And there, already sitting in one of the two seats, was Senator Alicia Stone, sipping slowly on a glass of something dark with a single ice cube floating in it.
For a moment, Tanner froze, his mind going blank with surprise. Alicia was here early, getting to the table before him? He recovered quickly, his face returning to its pleasant smile with astounding rapidity, but she had to have seen that brief look of concern.
"Sorry, but I hate being that person who shows up late," Alicia said as Tanner slid into the booth across from her, not sounding sorry in the slightest.
"Well, that certainly makes you different from most of the other legislators I work with," Tanner replied, looking back at her across the table. The waiter bobbed near their table, and he ordered his usual, Laphroaig 25.
"Not bad," Alicia commented, as the waiter turned and darted away to bring him his request. "A bit overdone."
"What, my scotch choice?" Tanner replied, his eyes moving to Alicia's glass. "And here I was, taking you for a vodka and cranberry girl."
She raised her eyebrows at him, a curiously alluring taunt. "And what does that imply, exactly?"
"I have absolutely no idea," Tanner countered, keeping his face completely