by Lee Taylor
“Hmm, I see that you are focused on barnyard images. Which in another situation, would be interesting to an erotic adventurer like me. And may I add, like you. After all, what is that old saying? ‘Don’t wrestle with a pig; you’ll get dirty and the pig likes it.’ Putting aside wrestling and getting dirty in the process, as intriguing as that sounds, how about you get that curvy ass of yours over here.” When she moved farther back and raised her chin another notch, he pointed to the spot in front of him, “Now, princess.” Seeing her rigid expression, he softened his tone. “Okay, let me try this. We need to have an important discussion, Gia. Because it involves issues that are important to us both, it will require our best strategic thinking. At the very least, how we handle it will have a critical impact on your campaign.”
He was quiet for a moment, waiting until she looked up and met his narrowed gaze. “It also rubs up against the fact that we are falling in love with each other, and neither one of us knows what the hell we’re going to do about it.” At her wide-eyed gasp, he smiled. “I thought that might get your attention.” He studied her for a long moment, then nodded as if coming to a conclusion. Striding over to the under-counter wine cellar, he studied the contents, then selected a bottle of Rapaura Springs sauvignon blanc. Gia now knew enough about wine from Logan’s expert tutelage to know that the expensive wine was from one of his most prized collections. Carefully opening the bottle and then bringing it along with two wine glasses, he sank down on the sofa beside her.
“At the risk of getting tipsy at eleven o’clock in the morning, in my mind, the discussion we are about to have requires an auspicious bottle of wine.” Pouring a healthy amount of the richly colored odiferous sauvignon blanc into each of their glasses, he handed one to her and then raised his glass to her. “To you, Gia. The most courageous and most bedeviling woman I’ve ever known.”
Gia blew out a snort contorted with what could have been a sob. Willing her voice not to shake and trying to respond in kind, she raised her glass. “And to you, Logan. The most challenging man I’ve ever known.”
After they both drank a healthy swallow of the fragrant wine, Logan smiled. “At least we are both on the same page. I called you bedeviling; you think I’m challenging. Actually, those adjectives describe us both. So does the word courageous.” He studied her for a long moment. “You understand what it means to be courageous—as I do. It means that, like me, you are willing to step out of a narrowly prescribed role and play on a much bigger stage. One that has untold opportunities but also challenges . . . even danger.”
Gia held his gaze for a long moment. “Are you talking about me, Logan? About my campaign?” She hesitated and then asked with a frown, “Or . . . or . . . are you talking about you?”
He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “I’m talking about us both.” Letting that equivocal assertion stand for a moment between them, he continued. “Look, Gia, you’ve spent most of your life embroiled in controversy—much of it created by people other than you. You know what it’s like to live in the celebrity spotlight. The pluses and minuses. And frankly, you’re good at it. Amazingly so.” He smiled. “I might even say brazenly so.” When she returned his smile with one of her own, he continued. “I am also good at managing, make that seeking, celebrity. It’s been a critical part of my professional success. But that doesn’t mean that we are invulnerable to outside forces. You have a battalion of political foes who would give their left nut to take down Gia Tremaine. Some of them because of what you’ve done and more because of the enemies your father made along the way. In an odd way, being as successful as I am makes me vulnerable to people who may praise me to my face but would be delighted if I were taken down a peg or three. That’s the challenge of celebrity.”
Gia let the silence stand for a moment. “But there’s more to it, isn’t there, Logan?”
“I don’t know what you mean, princess.”
She persisted. “I think you do. Unlike me, who just has a lot of jealous political foes or women who hate me because I’m beautiful, you are playing at a much higher level.”
He shrugged, conceding her point. “You’re right, sweetheart. When you make the amount of money that I do and have the kind of connections that I have, good and bad, the stage can get dicey.”
“Is that why you take so many security precautions?”
“Yes, and because I spent most of my adult life as a Delta Force special operative.” Again he shrugged. “What can I say except that old habits die hard?”
She was pensive. “You remind me of my father.”
“Hmm, not sure I like that comparison.”
“Like him, you are handsome, powerful, and arrogant. While I trust that you are engaged in legal activities, my father rode that line closely and crossed it frequently. As he used to say with no small amount of pride, like the political mugwump, his mug was on one side of the line and his wump on the other.” She added thoughtfully, “But as with my father, I sense danger around you.”
Logan raised his hands dismissively. “Let’s not make it more challenging than it is. I’ll concede that in my special operative days, danger was an integral part of my life. Frankly, it was the name of the game. But the danger I referred to comes from people who don’t like us because of who we are or what we are doing. In your case, that is running for office, a game with decided winners and losers. Unfortunately, many politicians agree with one of our more corrupt presidents, Andrew Jackson, who crowed, ‘To the victor go the spoils.’ Clearly that was the philosophy that drove your father and is at the heart of Gus Underwood’s campaign. In my case, as much as we as a nation endorse the notion of success, particularly financial success, it also spawns jealousy, even anger. That is particularly true in my case from those who lost market share because of my success.”
He refilled each of their glasses, then turned to her with a thoughtful gaze. “You don’t need to worry about me, Gia. I’m more than capable of handling my business-related naysayers. However, I am concerned that my support of your campaign will raise questions. Although I was the primary funder of the winning Pritchard campaign in Washington State, I’m definitely regarded as a political newcomer in this neck of the woods.”
Before he could continue, Gia broke in. “Why don’t you just say it, Logan? If people know that you’re fucking me, they’ll assume that’s the reason you’re supporting my campaign. Certainly all your lovelies will be shrieking from the rooftops that the only way I could get you to support a nobody like me would be if you were fucking me. And you know perfectly well that is what Gus Underwood and his supporters will not only think but will make part of their campaign.”
Logan managed to tamp down his anger at her demeaning descriptions and decided to respond to the elements of her assertions that were on-target. “You are correct, Gia. At least given what you called my reputation as an inveterate womanizer and the fact that you are a beautiful woman. There will indeed be those who assume I’m supporting you because I’m more interested in you as a woman than as a candidate. And the flipside is true. That you are seeking my support by offering your acknowledged wiles in trade for my money. While both of those assumptions are not true and demeaning to us both, we are politically wise enough to know there will be those who eagerly fan those flames with the express purpose of damaging your campaign. Plus, it is salacious catnip for the media whores looking for scandalous headlines.”
He was thoughtful for a long moment, then went to the heart of his concerns. “We are both savvy operators, Gia. You have much more experience in the political arena, but I’m a consummate strategist. The challenge we face, particularly in the opening stages of the campaign, is that we want the media and people in general to focus on you, not us.”
Knowing he was correct, Gia did her best to adhere to the strategic issues. But the first words out of her mouth were defensive and petty, more than confirming the extent of her fears. “Obviously, I won’t be staying at your house any longer. Which . . . is . . . all to the
good.” Determined to keep from stammering, she upped the ante. “And you probably need to reinstate your usual routine of a different woman every night to squelch any unwarranted gossip.” As she continued, her pique was apparent. “Finally, we need to deal with my wardrobe. All of your women will recognize the designers you’ve been dressing me in and will know that a girl from the wrong side of the tracks could never afford them. Hence, it’s back to what I’m sure they call my ‘come hither’ clothes.”
Logan’s rigid jaw and deep frown confirmed that she had gone too far. The strained smile curving his lips should have prepared her for his response, but she could only gasp when he said, “Tell me, Gia, since you apparently are begging me to turn you over my knee and spank your bare ass, why don’t you just ask me to instead of trying to goad me into spanking the hell out of you?”
Seeing the anger in his eyes and hearing the edge in his voice, Gia knew she was on shaky ground, that she’d clearly tripped his fuse. On one hand, she was furious with herself for her petty response, but at the same time, her insecurities were raging.
When she started to defend herself, Logan put up his hand, stopping her. His voice was low, ominous. “Don’t say another word, Gia. Not until I’m through telling you exactly how I feel about the disparaging things you’ve flung against me and our relationship. Yes, we do have to face the issue of whether we can spend the night together, at least in the beginning. And yes, it might be useful for me to renew some of my female acquaintances, if for no other reason than to quell the gossip. But certainly not on an intimate level. Again, those are strategic questions. As for the clothes I have given you, yes, they are more expensive than what you would be able to buy for yourself. But I hope you will acknowledge that everything I’ve given you confirms your inimitable style. Indeed, any of my ‘other’ women would reject them out of hand, knowing that they don’t have the body or the panache to pull them off.”
His expression became stormier if possible. “Finally, I am not ‘fucking’ you for any reason other than that I’m crazy about you and cannot wait to get inside of you. And even though I also use the word fucking to describe what we are doing, equating that term with how others will, in the most disparaging ways, infuriates me.”
Knowing how angry he was, Gia nevertheless had to voice the fears that were wracking her. Frustrated that she couldn’t keep her voice from shaking, she forced herself to ask, “Uh . . . um, what would you call what we did last night?”
His eyes widened, then obviously making an effort to control his response, he asked carefully, “What would you call it, Gia?”
When she shook her head, unable to respond given the emotions flooding her, he reached for her hands. Pulling her toward him, his voice gave away the intensity he was feeling. “In a word, I would call it extraordinary. The memory alone has my cock fighting to break through my pants. Jesus God, I took you in ways I’ve never taken a woman. And do you know why? I needed to make it clear to you who I am—at my deepest, most intimately egregious level. I had to know if you would not only accept my challenging passions but if they would excite you. Do you understand why? Why it was so critical that I do that?” At her uncertain expression, he growled, his voice intensifying, “Because, damn you, I’m falling in love with you, Gia. And I have to know that you feel the same way about me.”
Shocked at what he was saying, she managed to stammer, “And . . . do . . . you . . . think that I do? Feel that same way about you?”
He barked a harsh laugh as he reached for her. Pulling her onto his lap, he lifted her chin and met her stormy gaze. “Uh, yeah, princess. Unless you are worthy of at least five Oscars and a Tony for an award-winning performance, God help us both, you seem more than willing to fall in love with me.”
Chapter 9
Logan took a circuitous a route to the HT&M. They had left Gia’s car at the saloon the night before. He’d called Ben and told him to meet them there and to bring Emma and Kaila with him. In the event anyone saw them, he wanted it to appear as though they were having yet another strategy session. Coming in the back entrance after Granger confirmed it was free of media vultures, Logan opened the discussion with the team.
“Before we deal with the media, I want to discuss some of the issues Gia and I are concerned about. Number one is that for the next five days, we want to focus entirely on Tuesday’s primary election with Gretchen. Even though we know we will win, we want to win by a significant margin. The higher our margin, the better it will be for the general election. We want to enter that race riding high.”
Ben whistled. “Damn, Logan, if the media interest is indicative, we are going to walk away with the biggest margin of victory in any campaign to date. Even bigger than some of the ones Big Bart won.” He flushed in embarrassment and put up his hands. “Sorry, Gia, I didn’t mean to insult you . . . or your father. It’s just that I think we can get the kind of margins he used to get—” He stopped mid-sentence, clearly flustered.
Gia shrugged. “It’s okay, Ben. It’s going to be hard not to compare whatever we do to Big Bart’s record. We know the media will.”
Logan agreed. “Gia’s right. I’m glad you raised the issue. At least in the beginning, everything we do will be compared to Big Bart. We all need to understand that and be prepared to respond. Until we get into the general, my advice is that we don’t make it more of an issue than we have to. Rather, simply acknowledge the connection and let it go at that. Given how angry Gretchen is that Gia has turned her fledgling candidacy upside down, I doubt she’ll focus on Gia’s father. Frankly, she has a better weapon and that is Aiden Maxwell. As you saw in the debate, she plans to ride the ‘pedophile’ train into the ground. Fortunately, no one is paying any attention to her, but that doesn’t mean that the press won’t pick up that same gauntlet and run with it.”
Glancing around the table, Logan was complimentary. “All of you have been handling that issue brilliantly. Just keep saying how tragic it was for the young girl and how grateful you are that Gia responded the way she did, confronting the issue directly. We need to focus on the fact that Gia was the one who reported the crime to the police and also to the girl’s parents. In my mind, that makes her the hero, not the villain, of the hideous incident.”
Ben was effusive. “That’s a great way of framing it, Logan. Gia was the hero and a brave one at that. I think we need to make the ‘hero, not the villain,’ the foundation of our response to the issue.”
“I agree. Before we go on to other issues, I want to discuss Gia’s and my relationship.”
Gia wasn’t surprised that all three of her colleagues looked surprised at Logan’s open acknowledgement of what she was sure had been on all of their minds, particularly Ben’s. Unlike the girls, she knew that Ben had more than guessed that she and Logan were “involved.” Ben knew that Gia had been at Logan’s following the collapse of the Maxwell campaign. He also knew that Logan had engineered Gia’s surprising candidacy. That it was Logan who brought together the cadre of “wise men” and not only confirmed their tactical support but also their financial backing. Most critically, Logan did what Ben had never thought anyone could and that was to convince Gia to run.
Quickly following up on his surprising opening, Logan said, “The three of you are aware that Gia and I are involved. You also are politically savvy enough to know that because I am one of her primary financial supporters, that fact can be misused by Gia’s competition. At least until the campaign is well underway, we don’t want to give the gossipmongers any more ammunition than they already have. For that reason, Gia and I will be seen together only in groups and events that are specifically related to the campaign. I trust you understand that Gia and I are depending on your discretion.”
Clearly done with the issue, Logan pulled out his cell phone and opened a spreadsheet detailing media events and who would be handling each of the interviews. “I sent all of you this spreadsheet that Syl prepared using my metrics.” Turning to the wide-eyed girls, he said, “I’m
confident that Ben has assigned you two your interviews. Just know that both Ben and I are impressed with your professionalism and grasp of the issues. Taking on these media interviews, while new to you, is excellent practice for the general campaign. While Gia will be doing most of the one-on-one interviews and press conferences, you need to be aware that the media will be zealous, insisting on comments on every issue—big or small. Ben and I are confident that by the time we get into the thick of the campaign, you will be as adroit as any of us at handling an intrusive press.”
Emma and Kaila’s flushed faces and obvious pleasure at Logan’s willingness to assign them such critical roles confirmed that the young women were surprised and honored to take on the coveted assignments. It was also patently obvious to Gia that the one person who had not participated in assigning the roles was her. It was yet one more glaring example of who was ultimately in charge of the campaign. While Ben was definitely the campaign manager, a role he was eager and qualified to assume, the ultimate authority on issues, big and small, was clearly the impressive tech magnate, and Gia reminded herself, her declared lover.
****
It was nearly 7:00 p.m. when Gia finished her eighth one-on-one interview and Ben shooed away the rest of the reporters, promising that he would post an interview schedule in the morning. He stood in the doorway to her office, holding up a bottle of Maker’s Mark.
“Damn, Gia. If you aren’t exhausted, you should be. And if you aren’t ready for a tumbler full of this first-class whiskey, then you aren’t the brassy woman I know and love.”
Gia laughed. “Should I admit that I almost asked Shirley Mattson, the editor of the Pine City Herald, if she wanted to join me in a glass—except that I happen to know she is a teetotaler, at least in public. Jesus, I almost snuck into the bathroom to take a quick nip, but I was sure she’d smell it on my breath, and tomorrow’s headline would be ‘Big Bart’s Daughter a Bigger Lush Than Her Father!’ ”