Within a minute I get a text from Bethany letting me know that she “scored big” regarding venue change for BCF’s First Annual Benefit Banquet. I see three tiny dots bouncing in a bubble indicating she’s typing another message so I wait trying to ignore the excited nerves zipping around in my stomach.
“Oh yes. Much better,” I praise with my eyes locked on the image of a ballroom size event tent Bethany has sent along with guest capacity and the company details.
“What is it?” Sy says trying to peek at my phone and drive at the same time.
“Two hundred fifty more people at your event is what it is,” I smirk.
“Seriously?” Sy’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead to very nearly touch his hairline.
“Yes. Can you stop by the Community Center? Bethany says I just need to sort out a few details and we should be set to make this banquet double in size and hopefully in donations as well.”
“God, I love you, Raegan Potter.” He grins slapping his steering wheel with excitement but my smile falters at his words. They’re only playful, I know. They weren’t spoken in that way but hearing those words out of his mouth again makes the girl in me weep to hear them again but in the way that she was once accustomed to hearing them. With tenderness and depth and sincerity. “To the Community Center!” he declares doing a sharp U-turn that has me squealing and laughing as I grip the handle above my head.
In a matter of minutes at the Community Center where Mayor Deveraux and his assistant met with us, we had secured permission to essentially transform the community center venue into half indoors, half outdoors. It was pure dumb luck that the Annual Parish Fair is in town making preparations for the fair which is the following weekend. The massive tents the fair rents from a big name vendor are already in town, waiting to be used. After a few calls, and me and Bethany doing our best to charm the pants off the owner, we secured use of his largest tent, which is capable of hosting two hundred fifty people. The fact that the ceiling of the massive white tent is crystal clear providing a view of the sky is a perk.
“Thank you again. We truly appreciate your help with this fundraiser. Remember if there is anything I can do to repay the favor please do not hesitate to reach out to Bethany or directly to me. Absolutely, okay, bye.” I disconnect with the Mayor’s office and focus on my laptop screen seeing Bethany working away on her own time. She deserves a raise and a nicer boss.
“Bethany, how many network news affiliates have we lured in from New Orleans?”
“We have four big names, and half a dozen local news outlets planning to come out to do a piece the night of the banquet.”
“Great. We need as many as we can get.”
“I know how we can get more,” she says in a singsong, childlike voice. I look up at her face on my laptop screen. I narrow my eyes at the look of mischief in her eyes.
“How’s that?”
She sighs lightly and smirks. “Let the whole world know that Rae Potter, renowned political strategist and gal on Sweeney’s shortlist, is back home with her old flame helping him sort out a major event that benefits military and first responders. Lure them in with a planted story featuring you.”
“Nope.” I shake my head and keep working.
“Make it juicy, like gossip and business rolled into one. Cable news programs will eat it up and be blowing up my phone to get you on their shows. All of that equals more money for Hot Boxer Shorts.”
“His name is Sylas,” I correct.
“Right. Anyway, it’s a good plan. We should do it. That’s my vote,” Bethany says nodding her head and folding her thin arms over her chest. I narrow my eyes at her and bite the inside of my cheek as I mull it over. Glancing at Sylas sitting across from me at his dining table I raise a brow, inviting him to contribute an opinion on this scheme.
“Can’t hurt, right?” He shrugs his muscular shoulders.
I don’t know that what she’s saying is true at all. People either despise me or pretend to like me only long enough to seek my assistance in some capacity. Using me as bait won’t just draw in those interested in networking with me, it will also draw in every bloodthirsty asshole I’ve ever burned down. Still… planting news pieces as a way to garner more attention is no novel trick. It’s manipulation tool used all the time by politicians and celebrities and all varieties of public figures. I don’t exactly consider myself one of those public figures. I’m the private figure behind the public figure, the man behind the curtain. I’m not sure how I feel about having said curtain pulled back, but I know I would do anything to help Sylas make his nonprofit the very best it can be.
“Fine,” I say, resigned.
“Yes!” Bethany hisses through her teeth as she fist pumps.
“Come up with a piece to plant. Send it to me first then spread it like the clap at a frat party.” I hang up on Bethany and close the lid of my laptop and inhale deeply, rolling my shoulders then tipping my head side to side urging my neck to pop.
“If you don’t want your name linked to BCF or me, I get it,” Sy says quietly.
My smile is small and gentle. “It’s not that Sy. It’s just that I don’t want your amazing work to be tainted by having me name associated with it. Yeah, I could bait the media by dangling myself in front of them and they’d show up but so would every asshole that has a bone to pick with me. If they knew how much you mean to me, they’d happily go after you and your entire life just to get at me.”
It takes a solid ten seconds for my brain to catch up with my mouth and a mentally cringe. Did I just imply how much he means to me?
Yep, Regret nods.
“And how much do I mean to you, Rae?” Sy whispers huskily with his beautiful eyes glowing like liquid chocolate thanks to the setting sun, stabbing spears of light through his kitchen window, bathing us both in brilliant flames of light. Unwilling to open my mouth on the matter, I get to me feet and round the table. Sy scoots back in his dining chair and I climb into his lap, straddling him. My hands go to his cheeks, enjoying the scrape of his rugged, short beard.
Sy’s tantalizing eyes bore into me, drawing my truths out from their hiding place. To afraid I may open my mouth and speak aloud things that I can’t take back, I bring my mouth down on his. Slow and firm, our lips work together expertly. Making out with Sylas was always thrilling but now that he’s a man, so much time has come and gone, our kissing has turned rich and heady like the very best brandy. Potent and lingering, intoxicating and smooth. His lips are just as full as mine, feminine even. I trap his lush bottom lip between my teeth and nip then suck away the hurt. His fingers dig into my ass as he tugs me closer. I can feel his hot, thick, arousal pressing like steel against my tender flesh. Arousal slickens my sex and I feel hungrier for Sylas than I ever have. I roll my hips against his and kiss him deeply, my tongue undulating, sliding against his. Sy groans and brings his hands up to hold my face with such tenderness and reverence. In this moment I feel needed, treasured… loved. That thought causes me to break away from him, our kiss making a popping sound as it ends. Panting I look deep into his eyes. Fucking hell, I’m still so very in love with Sylas Broussard and based on the look he’s giving me… I’d bet he still loves me too.