Page 2 of Fight for Me

Anne gave a jerky nod, her ponytail bobbing. “Right away, senator.”

“Perfect.” That ought to shut Theodore up. And also stick it to the lobbyists at his table who’d pick up the tab. They’d spent weeks hounding his office for a meeting. For some reason, they thought he’d be more sympathetic to their cause because he was a former lawyer himself. As if you could throw a rock in this city without hitting a politician who was a former lawyer.

The two men were patiently waiting when he sat back down at the table. A fresh place had been set for him and he unfolded his napkin. With an elaborate flick of the fabric, he settled it across his lap.

“Just in case she’s still feeling jittery,” he joked. “I’d advise you two to do the same.”

The men laughed, tossing a few jokes at his expense, as he’d known they would. He’d just rather they do it to his face than behind his back, and self-deprecation was always a good tool. Blane laughed along with them as Anne materialized at his side, holding a bottle of wine and a corkscrew.

“Your wine, senator.”

Anne presented the thousand-dollar bottle of wine with a careful grip. If she spilled this, the senator would probably fire her himself.

He looked it over and gave a small nod. Anne began uncorking the bottle. To her relief, she managed the task without incident and poured a taste into the senator’s glass. He took a careless sip and nodded again. She released a breath and filled his glass, then his two companions’.

“Are you gentlemen ready to order?”

The two men with the senator rubbed Anne all the wrong way. They each ordered, asking detailed questions about ingredients and preparations of dishes, before deciding on something else entirely. They were giving her a hard time on purpose, she realized. But it took more than two assholes to make her lose her cool. She answered their questions and memorized their orders, with all their modifications and substitutions.

“Absolutely,” she assured one of them. “I’ll be sure to notify the chef to refrain from adding any garlic to your haricot verts.”

She stiffened as she turned to the senator. If anyone had an excuse to give her trouble, it would be him. But he’d intervened with Teste Teddy—nicknamed such by the staff because of the rumor he’d lost a testicle to an unfortunate salsa dancing accident—to save her job. She needed this job. She was one paycheck away from having to run home to daddy with her tail between her legs and an overdrawn bank account in hand.

“Senator?”

“I’ll have the bone-in ribeye, medium-rare. Potatoes au gratin on the side.”

“And for your starter, sir? Soup or salad?”

He grimaced. “Neither. I’m not a rabbit.”

She hid a grin. “May I recommend the beef carpaccio? It’s delicious.”

He nodded. “Yes. I’ll have that.”

“Excellent.”

She hurried away from the table, repeating the orders inside her head. The senator and his guests were secluded in a private room away from the rest of the late dinner crowd—thank goodness—and were her only table.

As Anne put in the order, her mind wandered to when the senator had come to her rescue, like the proverbial knight in shining armor. An imposing height—he had to be six-three or more, though her five-eight might skew her impression—he’d made Teste Teddy quake in his squeaky shoes. Teddy had been near deferential to her, albeit reluctantly, ever since. She could only hope it lasted.

He was an imposing man, the senator, she mused as she refilled their wine glasses after serving the first course. Besides his height, he was broad in the shoulders and deep in the chest. The width of his shoulders dwarfed the men dining with him. It wasn’t a physique common to D.C. The city was full of runners, keeping men lean, not weight lifters. Muscles didn’t always look appealing in a suit. And if there was one thing D.C. was big on, it was appearances.

Senator Kirk looked as though he’d been barely tamed, wearing his suit like a second skin, but only a moment away from discarding it to rip someone apart with his bare hands.

The thought gave Anne a shiver and she hurriedly walked away, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself than she had already. Senator Kirk wasn’t anyone whose attention she wanted.

Thankfully, they’d moved on to discussing business, barely giving her a second glance as she served them. She caught snatches of their conversation between courses.

“…not going to allow my vote to be swayed by those with a vested economic interest in the outcome,” the senator was saying. His words were steel, but his demeanor was affable and even friendly, inviting you to empathize with his ethics even as you bemoaned the dashing of your hopes. “You gentlemen have made your case and I appreciate your position. However, the majority of my constituents hold a contrary position. I’m beholden to them, my friends. Not to you.”

His fingers lightly toyed with the stem of his wine glass. Anne filled his glass with the second bottle they’d ordered, and their gazes caught. He was leaning back in his chair, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. She’d removed their dinner plates a half hour ago. They were still talking.

His eyes were an undefinable shade—somewhere between gray and green. The color of the ocean before an approaching storm.

Anne didn’t know why, but she paused, her eyes on his. The way he looked at her…as though he could see straight into her—through her—sent a shiver down her spine.

She knew that Senator Kirk was a smarter, more dangerous man than he let on. She knew this deep in her bones. She could feel it in the place in the back of her brain that knew when a predator was near.

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