Strangers in the Night by Inés Saint Page A

recognize you,” Jake’s voice cut through her thoughts. She met his troublesome eyes — troublesome because one look from him made her tingle — and offered him a rehearsed, conciliatory smile. “I’ve never been good with faces,” he explained before turning away. Apparently, the weather today called for no smiles, just business. Keila sucked in her upper lip. Well, at least he did the gentlemanly thing and apologized. The politician in him probably recognized no woman wanted to be forgotten.
    “Neither of you recognized each other? For real?” Tyrone held the paper up for them to see.
    Keila wished she could lie, but she was an awful liar. Reluctantly, she admitted, “I remembered him. But it was obvious he didn’t recognize me so I didn’t say anything. It was just a dance lesson, after all.”
    “I can’t believe you didn’t recognize her, I mean, your eyes seem to be boring into her in this picture,” Tyrone remarked, his dubious look turning impish.
    Tyrone had apologized effusively for the way he’d treated her on Friday as soon as he’d seen her in the parking lot that morning, and she’d thought him mature. Now, however, she wasn’t so sure.
    “That’s the way you’re supposed to dance salsa, like you’re into each other. He was just following instructions,” Keila explained, eager to get any awkwardness between her and Jake out of the way.
    “You know, I just had a feeling you would be good for the campaign, which is weird because your actual role in the grand scheme of things is really quite small, but I’m telling you I just knew,” Cate rambled on, again too excited to shut up.
    Keila’s phone buzzed in her pocketbook then, and though she would normally have ignored it, she wanted something to focus on besides Cate’s zeal and Jake’s indifference.
    She quickly looked down to see she had a message from Mark. Good to know you’d moved on even before I’d even let you go, the dramatic message read. Keila felt her heart sink. Closing her eyes, she flipped the phone shut. Crap!
    “What’s the matter?” Cate asked.
    “Mark,” Keila sighed.
    “Maaark,” Cate repeated, her eyes wide, she’d obviously forgotten all about him.
    “Who’s Mark?” Tyrone asked.
    “Mark is … Keila’s quasi-ex-boyfriend,”
    When Keila looked up again, Jake’s eyes were on her, a flash of heat there for such a fleeting moment, she thought she must’ve imagined it. The tingle she’d felt before turned hot. She hated herself for not being able to control the strange sensations he caused.
    “All right, guys, that’s enough, we need to get to work,” Jake interrupted. “Cate, please release a statement that Miss Diaz and I only have a working relationship. This will all die down soon enough.”
    Cate frowned and shrugged, clearly not wanting to put a lid on the positive press. “Well, at least it brought attention to the music program you’d establish if you’re elected.”
    “Right, so if you’ll excuse us, Miss Diaz and I need to get down to business,” he continued. Tyrone wiggled his eyebrows at Jake’s words and offered them an incorrigible grin.
    • • •
    Tyrone left and Jake looked away from Keila’s worried eyes. What the hell was a quasi ex-boyfriend? And, more importantly, why did he want to know?
    Knocking the thought away, he motioned Keila over to the glass-top conference table where he was about to sit. She promptly picked her briefcase up and walked toward the opposite side of the table, her linen skirt revealing hips that swayed gently with every step. She was so different from the women he was usually attracted to.
    Jake forced himself to look away. It was Monday and he had tons of work to do. The only reason he’d agreed to meet with Keila so early the first day of the week was because he knew she’d be able to catch a ride with Cate that way. For some bizarre reason, the idea of her lugging around that violin case and overflowing briefcase of hers all over