wine’s a little pricey.”
“It’s worth it. Besides, you’re rich. You can afford it.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You’re assuming I’m buying.”
“You did the inviting.”
“This is your place.”
“Fine. You can take advantage of my employee discount.”
He nodded. “I appreciate that.” He passed her the bread basket. “How are you enjoying your job here?”
The implication being it was a new job. She wasn’t surprised he knew that—no doubt dragon-boy had investigated every aspect of her life.
“I like it a lot. Bernie and his mother are great. I know Mama Giuseppe makes everyone crazy, but I think she’s very entertaining. The kitchen staff are terrified of her. I like the food, the staff and the regulars. I hope to be here a long time.”
“Why the restaurant business?” he asked.
“I never thought about doing anything else. I grew up as a Buchanan. I want to say it’s in my blood, but I guess that isn’t true. It’s what I know. Why did you go to law school?”
“My soul was getting in the way of being a ruthless bastard. I knew they’d suck it out of me.”
She glared at him. “I answered your question seriously.”
“Fair enough. I wanted to do the right thing. Be on the right side of the law. For that, I needed to understand it.”
That surprised her. “You consider yourself an idealist?”
“Why not?”
“You’re in corporate law and you’re working on a presidential campaign. Is there idealism left in either place?”
“Democracy is alive and well.”
“So is the need to raise millions of dollars for nearly every kind of campaign.”
“We can still make a difference, either on a local and individual basis, or nationally and globally.”
He was serious. She hadn’t expected that.
“I’m getting worried,” she admitted. “I don’t want to have to like you.”
“I’m totally charming.”
“Not to me.”
“It’s a subtle charm.”
“Apparently.”
Eddie appeared with the bottle of wine. After he opened it, she hesitated, as if not sure who would do the tasting. Alex gestured to Dani. “Please. It’s your party.”
She nodded at Eddie, who poured her a sample. Dani swirled, inhaled, then tasted. “Excellent,” she said. “Thanks.”
Eddie poured, then left.
Alex sipped the wine. “Nice,” he said.
“I like it.” She eyed him. She had a feeling she knew the reason for his visit. So did his friendliness mean she was Mark’s daughter or not?
“You’re being nice, in a twisted kind of way,” she said, deciding there was no reason to be subtle. “It’s been two days. You have the results. I’m trying to decide how your presence here and attempts to get to know me figure into things.”
His humor faded. “It’s a match. You’re Mark Canfield’s daughter.”
Dani set down her wineglass and braced herself for a flood of emotion. There wasn’t any. Not elation or happiness or even an internal “golly wow.” There was nothing.
“Okay,” she said slowly, wondering if the feelings were going to be delayed. “Good to know.”
“Are you going to the press?”
The blunt, almost rude question didn’t surprise her. This was the Alex Canfield she remembered.
“What do you think?” she asked. “You’ve had plenty of time to delve into my background, interview my friends and tap my phone. Am I going to the press?”
She couldn’t read his dark eyes. His body language was relaxed as he took a sip of the wine. He could have been mulling over how his stock portfolio had performed that day, or developing a way to murder her and leave her body in the woods.
How did this impact him? He was Mark Canfield’s oldest son…by adoption. She was Mark’s biological child. Did Alex have any feelings about that? Did he resent her or wasn’t she significant enough to generate emotion?
“You have money, or at least access to it,” Alex said at last. “So that’s not why you came looking for the senator. I don’t think it was for publicity, either.”
“Grudging, but there it is,” she murmured as she took a slice of bread and spread on garlic butter. “Acceptance. I’m touched. Deeply. I might even tear up.”
“I have reason to be suspicious,” he told her. “Your timing, for one thing.”
“I contacted the senator within days of finding out he might be my father.”
“So you say.”
She sighed. “I like you better when you’re not assuming the worst about me.”
“Do you know what a scandal could do to the campaign?” he asked. “How you could destroy everything we’ve been working toward?”
She tilted her head. “If I’m just in it for notoriety, don’t I have a built-in reason for wanting to keep the news to myself? Wouldn’t I have more fun with Daddy as president?”
“Interesting logic.”
“I’m an interesting person.”
He shrugged. “So it seems.”
Okay—that was unexpected. Was it possible that, despite everything, dragon-boy liked her? She found herself warming to the thought.
She leaned toward him. “Admit it. You might have been wrong about me. I just might be an okay person.”
“Maybe.”
“Probably.”
“I’ll accept that.”
He shook his head and grinned. “You’re not easy, are you?”
“Never,” she said, but she wasn’t really focused on her answer. Instead she found herself caught up in what Alex’s smile had done to his expression. For a brief second, he’d seemed approachable and funny and sexy as hell.
Interest perked up and stretched. Anticipation sniffed the air. Heat rolled over and made her insides quiver.
Dani recognized the signs. Attraction to a man. Something she’d sworn off of. No way, no how, not ever. Or at least until she stopped picking the wrong guy.
Alex might not be a lying, cheating weasel or an until recently ordained-into-service-to-God kind of guy, but he was the adopted son of her newly discovered biological father and deeply involved in said man’s campaign for president. Getting involved was not remotely logical or sensible or even sane.
Not that it mattered. He wasn’t the least bit interested in her. He probably didn’t actually realize she was female. She was simply an impediment with a name.
So she did what made sense—she ignored her hormones, pretended Alex was charming, but gay, and leaned in to enjoy a yummy dinner accompanied by a great side of dragon baiting.
“YOU CAN’T REALLY believe that,” Alex said as Eddie cleared the dessert plates.
“Why not?” Dani asked, humor brightening her hazel eyes. “The rich can afford it. Having everyone who makes over five hundred thousand a year financially sponsor a poor