The Sapphire Brooch Katherine Logan (best beach reads TXT) 📖

and Jack tried to avoid, there was only one person who rankled them enough to get her panties and his boxer briefs in a wad.

She turned, snapping open her fan, closing it, and snapping it open again, covering the lower half of her face. She could continue to let her fan speak its own language, but Gordon was perversely persistent and obviously didn’t care if she wanted nothing to do with him. His absence in her life had been a huge relief. It had taken days for the scratches to heal and disappear, and she would never forget Braham’s flaring nostrils and balled fists when he saw the marks on her chest.

A young woman with delicate features and gossamer-soft blond hair glided across the floor beside him. Her left hand lay limply on his raised right palm. Because Gordon didn’t consider Charlotte or Jack part of Washington’s prominent and “must know” officials or entrepreneurs, his approach struck her as unusual. If he was seeking them out in public, it had to mean there was an ulterior motive hidden beneath his faux-friendly exterior.

“Good evening, Mr. Mallory, Doctor Mallory.”

“Good evening, Colonel.” She gave a small shudder, moving a barely discernable step closer to Jack, a step farther from Gordon.

“May I present Miss Cochran, daughter of Walter Cochran, the president of Washington Bank? I believe you met the Cochrans earlier this year.”

Yes, she had met them at a dinner party she had attended with Gordon in late January. If he thought she cared about what he did or whom he did it with, he must be having delusions.

Miss Cochran curtsied, bobbing the flowers in her headband. She couldn’t keep her eyes off Jack, who looked very much like his book jacket photograph tonight—two-day stubble, manscaped to look un-manscaped, white shirt, and black suit.

Never one to pass up an opportunity to engage an admirer, he took her extended gloved hand, bent in a courtly manner, and brushed an air kiss over the backs of her fingers.

“Delighted to meet you, Miss Cochran.” A smile stole across Jack’s face and settled in. If Gordon had thought he would score points with Miss Cochran by introducing them, Jack’s magnetic, no-holds-barred, and undeniably sexy smile had flipped the game to his advantage—game, set, and match.

Charlotte covered the lower half of her face, hiding her smile, and glared over its cream-colored lacework.

“I hope you’ll allow me to add my name to your dance card.” Jack’s voice curled around the young lady, soft and warm as the dozens of wall candle sconces complementing the gaslight chandeliers.

Miss Cochran giggled and, smiling sweetly, extended an elegant sterling silver fan card with attached pencil. “You may have a waltz, Mr. Mallory.”

“You have no waltzes left to promise, my dear.” Gordon’s cold eyes flung shards of animosity in Jack’s direction. The tone of his voice made it perfectly clear he would delight in cramming Jack’s teeth down his throat. Charlotte missed neither the look nor the tone, and neither did Miss Cochran, who pursed pouty lips. Her long lashes dropped over amber eyes.

Gordon pulled her hand through the crook of his elbow and set it solidly against him. She couldn’t escape his grip without jerking her hand free and causing a scene. “Come. I see Congressman Vallandigham.” As he led her away, Gordon sneered over his shoulder at Charlotte, then leveled Jack with a malevolent glare.

Charlotte snapped open her fan and began waving it rapidly in front of her heated face. “Whew. If you weren’t already on Gordon’s undesirable list, you are now. Watch out.” She snapped the fan closed and left it to dangle by the ribbon attached to her wrist.

“He resents me for not exerting control over you. If I had pressed his case, his name would be on your dance card tonight, not Miss Cochran’s.”

“He’s delusional and dangerous,” Charlotte said.

Jack dropped back into a boxing stance and tucked in his elbows. “He can bring it on…” He placed his left hand at his cheek, his right hand under his chin, and shadowboxed, throwing a quick jab. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” Then he did a shuffle on the balls of his feet.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, groaning. “Please don’t antagonize him more than you have already. With no more than a smile and a few words you made him appear sexually inferior. He won’t forget the insult.”

“I hope he doesn’t. But enough of him. The president and first lady have arrived. Let’s go say hello.” Jack threw a final double jab combination before taking her arm and escorting her to the receiving line. “Float like a butterfly…”

As they were standing in line to greet the Lincolns, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She turned slowly, casually glancing through the crowd until she saw Gordon standing on the edge of the dance floor alone, staring at her like a predator salivating over a toothsome morsel. Small beads of sweat popped out on her brow. She shook her head, taking a long breath and settling her shoulders. She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.

“What’s wrong, sis?”

“Gordon is standing by the dance floor alone. Looks like he’s been dumped.”

“Good. Maybe we saved the girl a few bruises, or worse.”

Charlotte would have said more, but they had reached the front of the line. Lincoln looked dapper in his black suit and white gloves, and Mrs. Lincoln was quite elegant with jasmine and violets woven in her hair and a white satin off-the-shoulder gown.

“Good evening.” The president’s hand trembled slightly when it clasped hers. His soft brown eyes, full of speculation, remained on her face. “Doctor Mallory. I’ve heard stories about you lately.”

“All good, I hope.”

He gave a small grunt, and his brow crinkled in amused approval. “You’ve developed a fine reputation since you’ve been in Washington.” Then, in a voice so soft she had to lean forward to hear him, he said, “I hope you’ll call on me soon. I’d like to hear how your father removed a dying