Zing number three.

“I’m sure Mark would much rather mingle.”

“Actually,” Mark chimes in, “I would love to spend the evening as your fill-in date.” He grins like the Cheshire cat.

“That won’t be—”

“A problem,” my mother finishes my sentence. She saunters off with a little more pep in her step, leaving me with Mark.

“Why are you here?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Because you want me here.” Mark’s green eyes glimmer. I take a second to study him from my hostile stance. Could he be any hotter? The black tuxedo looks as though it were cut specifically for him. His broad shoulders are wide as he fills every inch of this space we’re in. His hair is swept back but still has that almost messy look. The tux cuts his waist, giving him a large and powerful appearance. As I make my way back to his face the amusement is plain as day.

“Admit it,” he goads me.

I lean in close, inhaling his salt and fresh air scent. “Never.”

He chuckles while he pulls me against his chest. “One day, princess. One day.”

Mark steps back, but his hand stays on my back. It feels . . . natural. As though we’ve been casually touching our entire lives. Anyone who knows me is aware I don’t like my personal space invaded. Even my mother respects that. Mark, though, doesn’t seem to notice or care. We walk toward the bar, where Kristy is still vying for Dominic’s attention. My brother lifts his gaze to me, and his eyes practically fall out of their sockets.

“Mark Dixon, this is my brother Dominic Erickson.”

I swipe a flute off the bar and drain half of it.

“Representative Erickson, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dom doesn’t miss a beat. “Seems I’m more popular than I knew.” He gives a short laugh. “Are you a reporter, Mr. Dixon?”

“Far from it.”

Dominic’s brow rises. “Good to know. How is it you know my sister?”

“Stop talking like an idiot.” I slap Dom’s chest to get him to loosen up. As soon as he thinks there’s press or someone watching, he slips into being a tool.

He pinches the underside of my arm and I squeak. “Oww! Asshole.”

“It’s called proper English. God forbid I sound intelligent. Now, where did you guys meet?”

“Mark and I met over a year ago, through a mutual friend,” I explain.

Dominic studies me. “It’s the first I’ve heard his name.”

I cock my head to the side and refrain from sticking my tongue out at him. He makes me behave like a child. “You don’t know everything.”

“Obviously, I didn’t know you had friends,” Dominic jokes.

“I’m her friend.” Kristy smiles, her hand extended to Mark. “Kristy Tubb, Charlie’s oldest friend.” She leans in conspiratorially. “Which means I have the most dirt.”

“Really?” Mark smiles.

“Oh, yeah. Don’t you know the best friend is the first place you go?”

He laughs. “Good to know.”

I drain the remnants of my glass, and try to get every last drop. I would lick the glass if it were socially acceptable. I need to search for someone with a tray—preferably with hard liquor.

Mark smiles and then glides his hand to my shoulder. He tugs me against his side. “Seems you need another drink, huh?”

“Excuse us, please,” I say. Dominic gives me a questioning look while Kristy looks as if she’s ready to start shopping for bridesmaid dresses.

I’ve never been seen in public with a man. I don’t do personal touching, yet here Mark is, breaking all my rules. It damn well needs to stop.

My feet travel quickly, but I hear him behind me. We exit the ballroom, but then I turn abruptly and let out a heavy breath. “Why are you here?”

Mark stands with his hands in his pockets, unaffected by my anger. “Since you probably know my social life I felt it was only fair that I have a bit of a leg up, too.”

“You think this is a damn game?”

“No.” He removes his hands and steps forward. “I think you don’t know how to have a partner. I also haven’t heard from you in two weeks, after several phone calls. All I got was a damn e-mail saying you’d be in touch. We were followed by someone, or did you forget that? I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

His eyes bore into me. “The hell you don’t.”

This guy must have the biggest balls in Virginia. I’ve never met a man so cocky and full of himself. Then, on the other hand, he’s sweet and thoughtful. He confuses me, and I don’t like it. I need to get a grip. There’s been a lot on my mind from having the case taken away, and the loss of my father still weighs on me.

“You thought manipulating the situation to gain information was the best way to gain my trust?”

“Says the woman who lives for manipulating to gather information,” he scoffs. “I’m not sure how you can say that to me with a straight face.” Mark swipes his hand down his face. “I came because I’m heading out tomorrow. I had to fly out of a base undetected, so I figured I’d pop in and grab you.”

I narrow my eyes. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“One day you’ll realize I’m not a fool, and I’m damn good at what I do, too. Don’t leave notes on a dry erase board about being in hell and then put Ronald Reagan Building on this date on your calendar.”

Something he said causes me to pause. “Why do you have to fly out undetected?”

Mark steps close and I retreat. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?” he counters.

He pushes forward again as I go back. “I wanted to have something useful to tell you when I did.”

Again, we continue this dance. “That doesn’t explain why you couldn’t talk to me.”

The space we’re in isn’t big. My back is now pressed against the brick wall and Mark’s arms cage me in. The rough, cold bricks cause me to shiver, but Mark’s heat ignites me. My mind is firm on getting answers from him, yet my body wants something else. I turn off the part of me that wants him. The woman in me has to wait. “Where are you flying to?”

“Leave with me tonight and find out.”

“Answer the damn question,” I demand.

His ivy-colored eyes pierce through me, saying so much more than his words. “Trust me.”

I search for some sign, a reason to say no or insist I’m doing this alone—all I see is honesty and trust. He could’ve left on his own and used the information I gave him to do what he needs to, but he didn’t. While I don’t appreciate the fact he now knows my mother’s name and my brother, there is a piece of me that feels—normal. While trust is something earned over time and not given on a whim, that time isn’t something I have.

“I need another hour before I can cut out or Priscilla will morph into Maleficent,” I murmur.

Mark presses his lower body against mine and traps me between him and the unforgiving brick. Yet, when he shifts his leg, he gives me a clear out. It shows me respect. He doesn’t want to cage me or make me feel imprisoned. He’s showing me that while I can go, he clearly wants me to stay.