She made a face at her reflection when she felt a prickle of jealousy. How could she blame him for going out with women like that? She would date most of them if they asked.
Still, there was never a whisper of indecent behavior in Stephen’s personal life. He was always the perfect gentleman and he was never seen with the same woman twice. It made it hard for the gossips to link him with anyone, which Tasha thought was probably the point. More frustratingly for them, Stephen went to several events without any date at all or with a few members of his family in tow. And she only knew that because it was always a topic of conversation on the local news.
Why was Senator Finn still single?
In the same magazine that had listed him as one of the city’s most eligible bachelors, an article pondering his sexuality and the reason for his lack of partner had also been front and center. He’d been elected to two consecutive terms in landslide victories, but there was still a petition floating around town about his needing to get married and start a family to truly represent his constituent’s values. They didn’t seem to care whether he married a man or a woman, as long as he settled down.
Stephen always smiled during interviews when questions about his personal life came up. His stock answer was, “My father gave me three good pieces of advice—never make a decision until I have all the facts, never ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself, and make sure to marry the right one the first time so I don’t have to do it again.”
It was a good answer. A charming answer. But it didn’t satisfy everyone.
Tasha shook her head. Her mind was wandering to a place she had no desire to go. This was not the night to think about Stephen getting married to someone who’d be an asset to his goals for higher office. This was the night she was going to get him to mentally and sexually unwind enough to be ready for their masquerade.
For four days she would be the one on his arm and in his bed. She didn’t want to consider why that pleased her so damn much, but she couldn’t deny that it did.
She found him downstairs setting two aluminum platters on hot pads in the center of the dining table. The scene was so domestic the butterflies in her stomach came back with a vengeance.
“That smells delicious.”
Stephen glanced up with a pleased smile, as if he’d cooked it himself. “It’s the lasagna from Ruby’s.”
Her mouth watered. “I love Ruby’s and I’m in a serious long-term relationship with her three-cheese lasagna. I don’t know what she does that makes it taste so good. I’ve been begging for the recipe for years.”
“I know,” he said, pulling off the steamed paper lids. “I remember you and Owen discussing it at length around Christmas. You both share an unhealthy obsession with Italian cuisine.”
She set her purse on a chair and leaned her hands on the table to inhale the aroma of perfection. “Your brother likes pizza. You can’t compare Ruby’s lasagna to his meat lover’s special delivery. That’s blasphemy. I’ll forgive you this once, but only because you’ve poured the wine. Where are your plates?”
He pointed her in the right direction and she got two plates down from the top shelf, turning in time to see him staring at her ass. Tasha looked down to hide her smile. “Forks?”
“I’ve got them.”
They sat down at the large, formal table and dug into the cheesy, thick goodness. Tasha moaned with her first bite. “Sweet Mary on a gondola, this is heaven.”
She swallowed and lifted her lashes to look over at Stephen. His fork hovered close to his mouth, paused as he watched her eat. His eyes were dark blue, his expression hard with desire.
Tasha licked her lips. “Take a bite, Stephen.”
When he obeyed, parting his lips and closing them over his fork, her thighs squeezed together under the table. A low sound of pleasure escaped his throat and she shifted in her seat, nodding encouragingly. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?”
Stephen slowly pulled the fork out of his mouth, lowering it to the plate to cut off another bite-sized piece. “You were right. This is the best lasagna I’ve ever had.”
She did the same. “It’s one of the top four reasons mouths were invented.”
His lips tilted, a trace of sauce shimmering on the lower one, begging for her tongue. “What are the other three?”
“If you don’t know by now I’m not going to tell you.” She took another bite, the rich taste only enhancing her arousal. So many scenarios were playing out in her mind—she loved food, baked for a living, but she’d never considered it a fetish of hers until now.