All the Possibilities Read Free

bucket." Her smile was genuine, her eyes shrewd
    —
    as she studied him. "Why don't you have one of those polished cosmopolitan types of yours on your arm tonight?"
    "I was hoping to talk you into a weekend in Puerto Vallarta." This time Myra poked a long scarlet nail into his chest as she laughed. "It would serve you right if I took you up on it. You think I'm safe." She sighed, her round, finely lined face falling into wistful lines. "Unfortunately true. We need to find you someone dangerous, Alan MacGregor. A man your age still single." She clucked her tongue.
    "Americans like their presidents tidily married, my dear." Alan's grin only widened. "Now you sound like my father."
    "That old pirate." Myra sniffed, but a gleam of amusement shone in her eyes. "Still, you'd be wise to take his advice on a thing or two. A successful politician is a couple."
    "I should get married to advance my career?"
    "Don't try to outsmart me," Myra ordered, then saw his eyes shift in the direction of a low, familiar laugh.
    Well, well, she thought, wouldn't that be an interesting match? The fox and the butterfly.
    "I'm having a dinner party next week," she decided on the spot. "Just a few friends. My secretary will call your office with the details." Patting his cheek with a many-ringed hand, she moved away to find a strategic spot to watch.
    Seeing Shelby drift away from the trio she was talking with, Alan moved in her direction. When he was near, the first thing he noticed was her scent not floral, not
    —
    spicy or musk, but a teasing merging of all three. It was more an aura than a perfume, and unforgettable. Shelby had crouched down in front of a curio cabinet, her nose pressed close.
    "Eighteenth-century china," she murmured, sensing someone behind her. " 'Tea-dust'
    glaze. Spectacular, isn't it?"
    Alan glanced down at the bowl that seemed to fascinate her, then at the crown of vivid red hair. "It certainly draws attention."
    She looked up over her shoulder and smiled
    as stunning and unique an allure as her
    —
    scent. "Hello."
    "Hello." He took the hand she held up
    strong and hard, a paradox with her looks
    and
    —
    —
    helped her to her feet. He didn't relinquish it as he normally would have done without thinking, but continued to hold it as she smiled up at him.
    "I got distracted on my way to my objective. Would you do me a favor?" His brow lifted. There was a ring of both finishing school and the streets in her speech.
    "What?"
    "Just stand here." In a swift move, she steered around him, slipped a plate off the buffet, and began to fill it. "Every time I start to do this, someone sees me and hauls me off. I missed my dinner. There." Satisfied, she nudged Alan's arm. "Let's go out on the terrace." Shelby slipped around the table and through the French doors. Warm air and the scent of early lilacs. Moonlight fell over grass that had been freshly mowed and tidily raked. There was an old willow with tender new branches that dipped onto the flagstone. With a sigh of pure sensual greed, Shelby popped a chilled shrimp into her mouth. "I don't know what this is," she murmured, giving a tiny hors d'oeuvre a close study. "Have a taste and tell me."
    Intrigued, Alan bit into the finger food she held to his mouth. "Pate wrapped in pastry with

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    " Hmm . Okay." Shelby devoured the rest of it. "I'm Shelby," she told him, setting the plate on a glass table and sitting behind it.
    "I'm Alan." A smile lingered on his mouth as he sat beside her. Where did this street waif come from? he wondered. He decided he could spend the time to find out, and the spring air was a welcome relief from the tobacco smoke and hothouse flowers inside.
    "Are you going to share any of that?"
    Shelby studied him as she considered. She'd noticed him across the room, perhaps because he was tall with a naturally athletic build you didn't often see at a Washington party. You saw carefully maintained builds,