Page 44 of Hottie on Her Shelf
“Then you’re not listening hard enough.” Temper hardened the lines of his handsome face. “My duty is to protect and advance Swan Cove. That doesn’t reflect my personal feelings on the matter. Being mayor means shelving your own opinions sometimes. It’s not all parades and meetings. It’s hard. Which is why we should get back to the campaign advice I was about to hand out.”
Hallie was impressed yet again. He’d made an extremely valid point. One that would probably keep her up nights worrying about the responsibilities of this job she was chasing.
It wasn’t fair to keep hammering at Fitz on the topic. He was her fount of information, not the person pushing through the proposal. And since they weren’t really on a date, she’d respect the Grand Canyon–sized leap he’d made to a new topic, take a deep breath, and move along. “Should I take notes?”
“You’ll be able to remember this.” A flash of even, white teeth and an eyebrow wiggle gave Fitz an evil, piratical look. “You won’t like it, so it’ll stick in your craw like a popcorn kernel.”
That explained the wicked grin. “Lovely imagery.”
Fitz clapped his hands, brought them to his lips, then flattened them on the table, as if smoothing out the nonexistent tablecloth. “You’ve got to be less of a…factual statistics machine. They won’t help you make your case.”
That was the big learned wisdom from an experienced campaigner? Geez. Good thing she’d at least gotten dinner out of the night. “I don’t understand—facts are irrefutable.”
“No, facts are boring.”
“Sometimes. They’re also necessary.” Talk about a personal assault. The only profession that might take more umbrage to his claim than a librarian was a statistician.
He clasped his hands behind his head. The movement drew his shirt taut along his chest and triceps. That outline of his muscles had Hallie licking her lips. Yum.
“Boring’s no good. Death knell of a campaign. People can’t feel good about you if they’re snoozing off, or wishing they could be anywhere else to avoid more of the boring facts.”
Irritated enough at that implied insult that she could ignore his distracting muscles, Hallie scooted to the edge of her chair. Anchoring her elbow on the table, she wagged a finger. “They need the factual information imparted so they can make a reasoned decision at the polls.”
“Nope. Campaigns never come down to facts, or even the issues.It’s all about how you make ’em feel. Like you’re listening, and they’re important. Everyone’s important. That’s your second piece of advice.”
Hallie didn’t buy it.
This was Swan Cove, after all. Status mattered. She’d heard that tables were assigned at the country club by what year the family had joined. His family was at the top of every list. “Don’t you mean everyone with the right pedigree’s important?”
Those blue eyes bored into hers like he was trying to push his response straight into her brain. “Damn it, that’s not what I mean at all. I was being sincere. Every single voter—whether they agree with you or not, whether you like them or not—is important and deserves to be treated as such.” Fitz snapped off each word fast, clearly pissed.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have made such a generalization.” She’d fallen back on an instinctual pushback against snobbery. That’s what happened when the haves chipped away at you for being a have-not your entire life.
Hallie had to admit, though, she wasn’t sure how much of it was real and how much was perceived. There were plenty of residents, like Fitz’s Aunt Felicia, who didn’t care about Hallie’s background or how much money she had. It was so much easier to let a few negative experiences paint everyone with a broad brush.
“I get why you did.” Fitz stood up so quickly his chair teetered. He pulled Hallie up, too, with a tug on her forearm, then he slid his grip down to her wrist and placed her hand in the middle of his starched white button-down. “But here’s the biggest takeaway of the night. I’m not my family. I don’t think that way.”
“That’s becoming more and more clear.” And that clarity was positively fascinating…
His tone lightened considerably. Lightly, Fitz stroked his thumb across the fingers still pinned to his pecs. “After all, they’d never condone consorting with the enemy.”
They’d officially crossed the border of “just dinner” to “full-on flirting.” Like many borders, it had been invisible and gone wholly unnoticed until Hallie suddenly blinked and realized everything was different.
She only had one move—to flirt back.
Hallie wiggled her fingers beneath his. Not to get away. Merely to flex against all that deliciously taut muscle. “Is that just fancy talk for pretending to like me?”
“There’s no pretending.” Cocking his head, Fitz pursed his lips to the side in a classic I’m thinking expression. He held it for a few long seconds. “I can’t say for sure howmuch I like you, but I’m definitely intrigued.”
“Me too.”
“See?” Fitz gave her a cocky wink. “I told you we agree on lots of things.”
Hallie had barely started smiling when he covered her mouth with his own. She’d never been smile-kissed before. Because Fitz was smiling too. They didn’t fit together as optimally…but it felt wonderful nonetheless.
Hallie opened her eyes. She wanted the up-very-close-and-personal view of Fitz’s magazine-cover face.
Except…his eyes were open, too. His lips were an inch away from landing back on her mouth, but his blue eyes were locked on her face. And what she saw in them…
