Chapter 18 - Chapter 17

Mark Bester could charm the shell off a tortoise.

Classic politician, he's got the looks, and the low, smooth voice that lulls you into leaning in. Wealthy. Well-dressed. Ao, and he knows it.

Well-hung?

Nope. Not going there. Not finding out tonight. Baby steps. Siyabonga may be ready for sleepovers, but I'm not. Dinner, drinks, conversation, and maybe a kiss if I'm feeling it. A peck or some tongue. I'll decide in the moment. Otherwise this is a chaste evening. The only thing I'm falling for tonight is the roast chicken and garlic mash on my plate.

"This food is amazing," I say, glancing around the railway carriage someone has turned into an elegant dining room. "And this place is beautiful. Great choice."

"As the owner of one of the best restaurants in Parkhurst," he says, his eyes smiling at me over the rim of his wineglass, "you're a hard woman to impress, but I was determined."

"My daughter would say you understood the assignment."

"The assignment?" Confusion wrinkles his brow.

"Sorry." I swallow my food and take a quick sip of water. "It's something the kids say."

"My daughter would be rolling her eyes right now that I didn't know that."

"You have a daughter? What's her name? How old is she?"

"Her name's Kirsten, and she's sixteen. She hates being in the public eye for the campaign, so I try to protect her privacy. Her mother's too, for that matter. Neither of them signed up for office. My ex likes to say we divorced just in time so she wouldn't have to sit through all this campaign business."

"How long have you been divorced?"