“Uh, gentlemen.” I heard the laughter Tyler kept contained. “This is Ms. Easton Bradbury. She’s a—”

“Voter,” I finished for him, pinning Blackwell with a stern stare. “And I’d like to know, Mr. Blackwell, why it is that with one hundred senators in this country, only about twenty are female?”

I didn’t so much care either way about the gender of our leaders, but I was interested in hearing his answer.

“None of them are from Louisiana or from the South, for that matter,” I added. “In fact, Louisiana has elected only one female senator throughout history.”

That was a lie. There’d been three, actually, but I wanted to see if anyone would correct me.

He stood there, one hand casually sliding into his pocket and the other holding a glass of something brown.

“The job goes to whoever is qualified,” he answered, and I almost laughed.

“Twenty-eight percent child poverty rate,” I pointed out, “and one of the largest prison inmate increases in the country.”

Politics and history went hand in hand. I couldn’t love one without being informed about the other.

I held his stare. “We’re also the unhealthiest state in the union, based on obesity, suicide, alcohol consumption, and teen pregnancy.”

His stare faltered for a split second, and I deduced either he was unaware, aware but didn’t care, or he had no response.

The problem with people like Blackwell was that they treated public service as an extension of their careers. It was a means to gain influence and change laws that kept them from making money in whatever manner they chose. Their public service wasn’t about the public at all.

And I wasn’t so sure Tyler had a nobler agenda, either.

I took a deep breath, lifting my chin. “I just told you that much of your future constituency is underfed and undereducated,” I clarified. “Now, I would never base my vote on someone’s race or gender, but you can be sure my vote isn’t guaranteed simply because you have a dick.”

Tyler choked on his drink, coughing, and the other gentlemen broke out in snorts and laughs that were quickly concealed with a hand over the mouth.

Kristen cleared her throat, and I could tell she wanted to laugh, while a smile tugged at Blackwell’s lips.

Leaning in, he whispered in my ear, “But you haven’t seen it.”

His smooth voice was filled with sexual innuendo, and I stilled, feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand up. This guy was disgusting.

“Tyler,” a woman said behind me. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Blackwell pulled back, still smirking, and I turned my head, seeing a beautiful blonde in a red wrap dress walk up from behind.

And I tensed, remembering her. She was the blonde from the Mardi Gras ball last year.

She came to stand at Tyler’s side, and I instantly felt heat rush to my cheeks.

“I’m Tessa McAuliffe.” She smiled, holding out her hand. “And you are?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Tyler cut me off.

“Tessa,” he interrupted, stepping up to me. “I need to speak with Ms. Bradbury.” He smiled politely, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Please excuse us for a moment,” he told everyone.

I narrowed my eyes, ready to object, but he grabbed my elbow and led me away from the group so fast I nearly stumbled along the brick path.

“What are you doing?” I whispered as he moved his hand to my back, continuing to lead me off the patio and into the house.

But he didn’t answer.

Most of the guests were outside, but there were a few scattered about, browsing around the house, as well as servers gathering food and supplies to refresh the tables.

“Tyler, someone will see us,” I whisper-yelled this time, trying to dig in my heels and stop him.

But once we were past the bustle of the kitchen, he took my hand and pulled me down the dimmed hallway and past the foyer to his den.

He opened the door, dragged me inside, and slammed it closed. Releasing my hand, he walked behind his desk and crossed his arms over his chest, locking eyes with me.

What the hell was wrong with him?

The woman simply wanted an introduction. Did he think I didn’t know how to be discreet? She couldn’t possibly have recognized me.

Or maybe he was angry about my behavior before she arrived. I guess I wasn’t so discreet.

“What did he say to you?” Tyler barked out. “When he whispered in your ear?”

I cocked my head, choosing to be stubborn.

“Does it matter?” I played.

He shook his head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Not everything that’s in your head needs to come out of your mouth,” he scolded.

Ah, now we were getting somewhere.

“Are you angry because of what I said or because I drew attention to myself?” I inquired, crossing my arms as well. “Maybe I shouldn’t wear any short skirts either.”

He placed his hands palm down on his desk and glared at me. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Right.” I smiled. “Let me guess. I forgot my place. Legs open, mouth closed, right?”

He pulled up, slowly circling the desk and looking down at me. “Don’t be dramatic.”

My skin tingled, and my heart sped up. “What are you really mad about?”

“What did he say to you?” His full bottom lip was tight with tension.

“I forgot.” I shrugged. “Something about his dick.”