License to Love Read Free Page B

glared at him in mock severity. “Brendan, go to lunch.”
    He gave an equally mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
    Biendan had been gone less than ten minutes when the door to her office opened again. Michelle suppressed a sigh. This was at least the fifth or sixth interruption of the morning, not including the ubiquitous phone calls. She had a small mountain of reading material on her desk pertaining to the new federal demands concerning hazardous waste sites and exactly two days to get through it before the committee meeting. At this rate she would be reading well into the night to make the deadline.
    “I hope you’ll forgive me for barging in like this.”
    The voice was deep, smooth, and contained a perfect blend of apology and humor. Michelle glanced up at once. Standing in the doorway was a man whose looks exceeded the cliched tall, dark and handsome stereotype. She stared at him a moment too long, but she couldn’t help herself. He was that gorgeous.
    He was about six feet tall and his gray suit appeared cus-tom-tailored for his superb, muscular frame. But it was his face that riveted Michelle. He had been blessed with a marvelous combination of bone structure and coloring and the results were breathtaking. Literally. Michelle had to remind herself to exhale as she gazed at his impossibly sensual mouth, which was drawn into the most beguiling, appealing smile she had ever seen. His eyes were a dark velvety brown in color and glowed with an alert intelligence and inviting warmth that beckoned and compelled.
    Charisma . The word immediately came to mind. He’d been abundantly gifted with that elusive but unmistakable quality along with his stunning looks.
    He walked toward her, smiling that smile, exuding confidence, virile magnetism and an irresistible sexual allure. “I’m Steve Saraceni.” He held out his hand to her. “And I know you’re Michelle Carey, Senator Dineen’s assistant administrative aide and his acting liaison to the committee studying the hazardous waste elimination bill.” Automatically she gave him her hand. His fingers closed around hers in a firm shake. Michelle’s heart began to pound and she felt her skin flush. If his looks packed a potent wallop, the effects of his touch probably registered on the Richter scale. When she found herself checking his left hand for a wedding band—he wasn’t wearing one—she knew it was time to end this mind-bending handshake.
    Michelle took a bolstering step backward, embarrassed by her unexpected, uncharacteristic response to the man. She was a mature professional woman, not a giddy schoolgirl, she reminded herself sternly.
    It was time to regain control of the situation... and of herself! “Mr. Saraceni,” she began.
    “Call me Steve, everybody does.”
    Before she could reply, he whipped out his business card and pressed it into her hand. She glanced at it. Legislative Engineers Limited was printed in bold black print with the names Steven Saraceni, Patrick Lassiter and Gregory Arthur in smaller letters underneath.
    Michelle arched her brows. “Legislative Engineers?”
    “I know, I know. Sounds pretentious, doesn’t it? Greg, one of my partners, came up with it. He thought it had more panache than Lobbyists for Hire, which is what we actually are.”
    “You’re a lobbyist,” Michelle repeated. “Of course. I should have known.”
    “Uh-oh. I hope that doesn’t mean, ‘Of course, a slick, fast-talking, back-slapping arm-twister.’” Steve’s smile was wry, his tone self-deprecating. “I know that’s a common perception of lobbyists but I’ve tried to go against the ingrained stereotype. I don’t slap backs and I don’t twist arms, Michelle. I simply do the job I’ve been hired to do—that is, to present my clients’ views to the legislators.”
    He was serious, earnest and sincere. Michelle felt a pang of guilt for the lobbyist-bashing she and other staffers periodically indulged in. “I just meant that I should’ve known a