Tall, Dark...Westmoreland! / The Moretti Seduction. Brenda Jackson

would probably not notice—the stark symmetry of his face, which was clear with or without a mask, the shape of his head and the alignment of his ears from his cheeks. These were things she recognized.

      Things she remembered.

      And she knew, without a doubt, that she was staring into the face of the man whom she had spent the night with on Saturday. The man whose body had given her hours upon hours of immeasurable pleasure. And impossible as it seemed—because they’d kept their masks in place the entire time—she had a feeling from the way he was staring back at her just as intently as she was staring at him that he had recognized her, too.

      “Olivia?”

      She broke eye contact with the stranger to gaze up at the senator. The man was becoming annoying, but at the moment, he was the one person who could tell her exactly what she needed to know. “Senator Reed, that guy up there, the one who turned around to look at me. Who is he?”

      The senator followed her gaze and frowned deeply. “The two of you had to meet eventually. That man, young lady, is the enemy.”

      She swallowed deeply before saying, “The enemy?”

      “Yes, the enemy. He’s the man that’s opposing your father in his bid for the Senate.”

      Olivia’s head began spinning before the senator could speak his next words.

      “That, my dear,” the senator went on to say, “is Reggie Westmoreland.”

      It was her.

      Reggie knew it with every breath he took. Her lips were giving her away. And he wasn’t sure what part of him was recognizable to her, but he knew just as sure as they were standing there, staring at each other, that they were as intimately familiar to each other as any two people could be.

      It was strange. He’d been standing here with Brent, his brother Jared, his cousins Dare and Thorn, and Thorn’s wife, Tara. They’d all been listening to Thorn, a nationally known motorcycle builder and racer, who was telling them about an order he’d received to build a bike for actor Matt Damon. Then, all of a sudden, he’d felt a strange sensation, followed by a stirring in the lower part of his gut.

      He had turned around, and he’d looked straight into her face. His Wonder Woman.

      He couldn’t lay claim to recognizing any of her other facial features, but her lips were a dead giveaway. Blatantly sensual, he had kissed them, tongued them, licked them and tasted them to his heart’s content. He knew the shape of them in his sleep, knew their texture, knew what part of them was so sensitive that when he’d touched her there, she had moaned.

      She looked totally stunning in the stylish skirt and blouse she was wearing. The outfit complemented her figure. Even if he hadn’t met her before, he would be trying his best to do so now. Out of his peripheral vision, he noted a number of men looking at her, and he understood why. She was gorgeous.

      He lost control, and his feet began moving toward her.

      “Reggie, where are you going?” Brent asked.

      He didn’t respond, because he truly didn’t know what he could say. He continued walking until he came to a stop directly in front of the senator and the woman. The senator, he noted, was frowning. The woman’s gaze hadn’t left his. She seemed as entranced as he was.

      He found his voice to say, “Good afternoon, Senator Reed. It’s good seeing you again.”

      It was a lie, and he realized the senator knew it, but he didn’t care. Approaching him would force the man to make introductions, and if it took a lie, then so be it.

      “Westmoreland, I see you’ve decided to go through with it,” replied the senator.

      Reggie gave the man a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course.” He then shifted his gaze back to the woman. The senator would be outright rude not to make an introduction, and one thing Reggie did know about the senator was that he believed in following proper decorum.

      “And let me introduce you to Olivia Jeffries. Olivia, this is Reggie Westmoreland,” the senator said.

      At the mention of her name, Reggie’s mind went into a tailspin. “Jeffries?” he replied.

      “Yes,” the senator said as a huge, smug smile touched his lips. “Jeffries. She’s Orin Jeffries’s daughter, who is visiting from Paris and will remain here during the duration of the campaign.”

      Reggie nodded as his eyes once again settled on Olivia. He then reached out his hand. “Olivia, it’s nice meeting you. I’m sure your father is excited about having you home.”

      “Thank you,” replied Olivia.

      They both felt it the moment their hands touched, and they both knew it. It was those same feelings that had driven them to leave the party on Saturday night and to go somewhere to be alone, with the sole purpose of getting intimately connected. Reggie opened his mouth to say something, and then a voice from the microphone stopped him.

      “Everyone is asked to take a seat so lunch can be served. Your table number is located on your ticket.”

      “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Westmoreland,” Olivia said, not sure what else to say at the moment.

      She honestly had thought she would not see him again, not this soon, not ever. And now that he knew their predicament—that she was the daughter of the man who was his opponent in this political race—she hoped that he would accept the inevitable. Nothing had changed. Even with their identities exposed, there could never be anything between them beyond what had happened Saturday night.

      “It was nice meeting you as well, Ms. Jeffries,” said Reggie. And then he did something that was common among Frenchmen but rare with Americans. Bending slightly, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it before turning and walking away.