by Lee Taylor
Putting aside the media for the moment, Gia wrestled with her conversation with Ben. She wanted to blame Logan for the predicament she was in. In her mind, the overwhelmingly arrogant man single-handedly instigated her campaign. But the conversation—make that confrontation—with Ben confirmed that Logan wasn’t her only champion. She admitted that, in addition to Ben, some of the most impressive and politically attuned men she knew had accepted Logan’s invitation to come on board. And she acknowledged that while the general campaign hadn’t officially even begun, Logan had already lined up more funding than she’d been able to garner in the year-plus she’d managed Maxwell’s campaign.
She shoved at her dormant anger that Logan had refused to support Aiden’s effort. Even though she knew it was ridiculous given how disgracefully the Maxwell campaign had crashed, she hated that Logan had been more politically attuned than she was. In her more private moments, she admitted she’d always known that Aiden was a loser. The fact that both Logan and her father had pointed that out still rankled, although neither one of them could possibly have predicted the extent of his moral turpitude. In her more self-aware moments, she admitted she was still reeling from the collapse of the campaign she’d initiated. After all, she’d worked damn hard over the years to create her reputation as a consummate political manager, and it still hurt that she’d crashed as spectacularly as she had.
She wondered if Ben was right about her fierce reluctance to be a candidate. Maybe she was afraid that she would lose her independence, her control over her life, if she were the one in the limelight, the one who ultimately was the winner or the loser. Maybe at some latent level she was afraid that what had happened to her father would happen to her. Not that she would ever be corrupt but that she would be exposed as a fraud. Someone who’d thought she deserved to be a winning candidate but like all other politicians, had feet of clay.
It was at that point she forced herself to deal with Ben’s wholehearted support of her campaign and Logan’s role in it. He had correctly called Logan the smartest and strongest man he knew. Gia agreed. What caught her off guard was Ben’s assertion that Logan would not allow anyone to hurt or compromise her. On one hand, the thought was surprisingly comforting. Until she acknowledged that to believe it would require her to relinquish the most strongly held, rock-bottom tenet of her life. That being when push came to shove, there was one person and one person only that she could count on. That person was herself.
****
Pulling into the driveway of her small, darkened house, she allowed herself to deal with the fact that had been simmering in her subconscious for most of the day. As much as she hated to admit it, she dreaded going home. She reminded herself that had always been true. No matter what campaign she was working on, she spent most of her waking hours at the campaign headquarters. Fifteen-hour work days were her norm. By the end of the downward spiraling Maxwell campaign, she’d crashed on her office sofa six out of seven nights of the week. Her trips home had been to do the laundry so that she could replenish her closet that was now housed on a rack in her office.
Walking up the sidewalk to the modest dwelling, she acknowledged that one of the reasons she’d ignored Ben’s careful suggestions that it was time to call it a day was that this would be the first time she slept in her own home since the collapse of the Maxwell campaign. Which underscored where she had slept this last week—and with whom. It surprised her that throughout the day she’d managed to keep her upcoming sleeping arrangements on the back burner of her always-active mind. After all, what was actually new and unheralded was the fact that she’d slept with Logan the last eight nights and had spent most of the days with him as well. She realized that was four times as long as she’d ever slept with Aiden. And she’d been engaged to him.
Flipping on the lights, she came face-to-face with the reality of what had been her life pre-Logan. It wasn’t just that her home was modest compared to Logan’s showplace. That was a given. What she’d never realized until she stood in the doorway and came to grips with what she’d called home for the last five years was how utilitarian it was—at best. Jesus God, at least she could have had a picture or two on the walls or maybe a couple of knickknacks. Something, anything, that spoke to her personality. After all, her public persona was anything but nondescript. In fact it was damn near ostentatious. Christ, she thought with a snort, even a Day’s Inn had a semblance of artwork on their bleak walls.
At some latent level, she knew why she’d refused to make her modest house a home. She’d learned the hard way that “home” was a concept that didn’t work for her. It was too fleeting and at the same time too complicated. In a crazy way, the house she grew up in, the raucous personality-driven domicile of the inimitable Big Bart, was what she thought of when she thought of home. Two doors down from the HT&M saloon, their home had been traffic central for the political underground of their county. A day didn’t go by that a cadre of men didn’t fill the three-bedroom house with their boisterous presence. Given the proximity to the HT&M, alcohol flowed as freely as the blarney. And over it all, like the potentate that he was, her bigger-than-life father ruled with a velvet glove wrapped tightly around his iron fist. Masking his omnipotence with his outrageous wink, ever-present grin, and boisterous laugh.
Refusing to compare her unprepossessing house with Logan’s masterpiece, Gia nevertheless found herself starving for air. She told herself it was because the house had been closed up for days. Not wanting to acknowledge the genesis of her sudden claustrophobic attack, she stripped to her bra and panties and headed for the tiny balcony outside of her bedroom. Dragging in gulps of the cool night air, she sank onto the chaise lounge, then decided that she needed whiskey more than air. Filling a tumbler with a generous amount of Maker’s Mark, she looked in the cupboard for something to eat. The single half-bag of Sun Chips proved to be too stale even for her. Even knowing what she’d find, make that what she wouldn’t find, she surveyed the contents of her refrigerator, then rebuked herself. Damn, why hadn’t she thrown out that moldy cheese and sad-looking fruit when she was last here? The pathetic rations had looked tired a week ago and definitely hadn’t stood the test of time.
Reminding herself that she’d always preferred liquid refreshment to solid food at the best of times, she went back out to the balcony and settled on the lounge, snuggling under a soft quilt. A few righteous gulps of the Maker’s Mark convinced her that solid food was overrated. Although she had to admit that the truly gorgeous food Logan had prepared and insisted she eat this past week had spoiled her. Naturally, he was an amazing cook, she thought with a snort. Refusing to dwell on the way that he’d chided her about her diet or lack thereof, she debated whether to order a pizza but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Plus, after the array of fresh fruit and sumptuous seafood Logan had plied her with, the thought of a greasy pizza didn’t cut it. At that moment, her phone buzzed.
She didn’t have to look at the caller ID to know it was Logan. He’d texted her throughout the day with one message after another—none of which she’d answered—but they hadn’t spoken. Why she suddenly felt nervous at the thought of talking to him took her off guard. Acknowledging that hearing his voice would only underscore her loneliness, she decided not to answer. Naturally, the effort to control her surroundings proved fruitless. In seconds, a text appeared. “Answer your phone . . . NOW!” Swallowing hard, she clicked on her phone at the immediate buzz.
“Hmm, I trust you don’t think that just because I’m not hovering over you that you can ignore my calls.” When she didn’t answer, he said carefully, “I assume you weren’t sleeping.” At her unintelligible mutter, he said, “Ben called to let me know when you left the office. He promised me that he would ensure that you went home—that you didn’t opt to sleep on your office sofa.”
When she didn’t answer because she couldn’t, shocked that he’d had Ben looking out for her, she wasn’t surprised at what he said next. “I don’t know why I’m asking you this, in that I’m ninety-nine perc
ent sure I know the answer, but any chance that you had something to eat tonight?”
She hated that her voice sounded as shaky as it did and prayed that her disloyal stomach wouldn’t growl. “Since you know the answer, I won’t bother to tell you. Just know that I’m not hungry.”
He let the silence stand for a moment and then said flatly, “That isn’t going to work, Gia. When the campaign begins in earnest, you are going to need to eat to keep up your strength.”
Aiming for nonchalance and frustrated that she sounded testy, she said, “I know you have trouble believing this, but I have been feeding myself for the last twenty-eight years and haven’t starved yet.”
“Hmm, that depends on how you define feeding yourself.” As if acknowledging that he was on a controversial topic, he changed subjects. “Ben told me your press interviews were sensational. Not that I expect anything less, but he said you handled a rush of newspeople like the pro that you are. Congratulations, sweetheart.” When it was clear that she wasn’t going to respond, he said, “I met with Paul and Elliott tonight. They send you their best wishes. I think I mentioned this before, but Paul confirmed that he wants to host the primary election night party. He’s reserving the ballroom at the Commonwealth Club, which will allow us to invite a good sized crowd of well-wishers as well as members of the press.”
Gia was shocked when she mumbled, “What if I don’t win?”
“Hmm, let me think about that. I guess we should consider the possibility. I’m confident that at some time in the next millennia, the sun might actually rise in the west and set in the east, and I concede it’s possible that at some point the ice caps at both the north and south poles will melt. But until those unheard of things happen, my assumption is that your victory is secure.”
Stunned at the tears streaming down her cheeks, Gia was unable to squelch her sob. She could only hope that Logan didn’t hear it and that somehow she could keep him from knowing she was close to falling apart. When he finally broke his silence a good thirty seconds later, she knew that there was no way that she could keep much of anything from the intuitive man. Even so, she was surprised when he asked, “Where are you, princess?” When she didn’t answer because she couldn’t, he said, “I’m assuming you are on your balcony, correct?” At her inarticulate mumble, he asked, “Can you sleep there tonight on your chaise lounge?”
She surprised herself when she said, “I have to. I . . . I can’t breathe inside.”
His voice was gentle. “Would it surprise you to know that I’m also finding it challenging to breathe even though I’m on my spacious deck, which, as you know, is wide open to the outside air? And even though, or maybe because, I’m on the leather sofa where you and I spent a good bit of the last week, I’m feeling astonishingly alone.” When she didn’t answer because she couldn’t speak past her tears, he said, “I miss you more than I knew it was possible to miss someone.” Letting the silence hold for a long moment, he finally said, “Gia, please understand. I know that your life has been turned upside down and that I’m responsible for much of the angst that you are feeling. But, sweetheart, I promise you that not only can you survive this craziness but you are going to thrive. And, princess, the best part is that we are going to do it together.” When she could only emit a watery sigh, he said softly, “I’m going to say goodnight now. Just know that like Charlie Puth says, ‘I’m only one call away.’ ”
To Gia’s surprise, Logan began humming the classic tune, then softly sang the opening phrases, “I’m only one . . . call away . . . I’ll be there to save the day . . . Superman got nothin’ on me. I’m only one call away . . . ”
To her surprise, Gia burst out laughing. Her voice contorted with a mix of tears and laughter, she managed to say, “You really are an idiot, Logan. But you know that, don’t you?”
He laughed in agreement. “Yeah, I admit, at the weirdest times, the songs I loved as a geeky kid come back to me. But, princess, you need to know that I truly am one call away. And I can be there in minutes if you need me.”
She struggled to respond positively. “No . . . it’s okay. I’m okay now. I was just feeling . . . ”
When she couldn’t finish her sentence, he said, “Yeah, you were feeling what I’m feeling—which is lonely as hell. But knowing that we truly are one call away, how about you snuggle down and remember what it feels like to lie next to me.” At her gasp, he said, “Which reminds me. What are you wearing?”
“I . . . uh . . . not much. My bra and panties . . . ”
“Hmm, sorry, sweetheart, but that’s too many clothes for me. Please take them off. Now. Mm, that’s a good girl. I like you naked, so that I can see and touch every bit of you. But tonight you’re going to have to do the touching for me. Can you do that for me, darlin’?” At her soft whimper, he groaned in agreement. He paused and then murmured in a low sensuous tone, “Shall we begin, sweetheart? Ah yes, let’s. Understand, I want you to do everything that I tell you to . . . And remember, I know the sounds you make when I make love to you. I want to hear them. All of them. Agreed? Good. First, how about you bend your knees up so that your feet are next to your gorgeous ass. That’s the way. Now lean back and spread your legs. Mm-hmm . . . like that, baby.” At her audible gasp, he said, “Now I want you to reach down and spread your puffy intimate lips . . . Can you feel how wet you are . . . already?” At her soft moan, he murmured, “Oh yeah. Now, princess, slip your fingers inside . . . ”
Gia lost count of the orgasms she had when she fell into a sound sleep. To her surprise, the next thing she knew it was morning, and the warm sun was flooding over her naked body. She was shocked to realize that Logan had literally loved her to sleep. But it was clear that he had. She couldn’t have dreamed up all the things he did to her. Or at least that she did to herself at his low, sensuous commands.
Chapter 12
Gia! Where the hell are you? This is my third message telling you to get your butt over here!”
Gia barked into her phone as she pulled into the parking ramp at their headquarters. “For God’s sake, Ben. I’m pulling in now. I know I’m late. Don’t ask me why, but I overslept. Sorry.”
“No, if anyone needs to sleep, it’s you. I’m shocked and thrilled that you overslept. But honestly, boss lady, you aren’t going to believe—”
Ben stopped mid-sentence as she strode into the office and then stopped in the doorway. It was clear from the fact that not only were Ben, Emma, and Kaila waiting for her, but even Syl and several of the newbies were excitedly crowding into the reception area.
Gia put up her hands in amazement and said with a laugh, “All I can say is if you haven’t stashed Superman in the conference room, I’m going to be disappointed.”
Syl guffawed. “Who needs Superman or even Captain America when we have Logan Fowler!”
Pulling back with a frown, Gia tried not to put a damper on their excitement. “All right, if you don’t have any superheroes . . . at least tell me that they cancelled the primary election because we were so far ahead that Gretchen pulled out.”
Ben laughed. “Hell, woman, that’s a given. Not that the suffocating bitch would ever be gracious enough to concede, but Syl’s right. What could be better than winning ninety-nine percent of the vote on Tuesday?” With a face-splitting grin, he grabbed her hand and swung open the door to the break room with a flourish and chortled. “Food!”
Gia followed her excited staff into the break room, then stepped back in surprise. Ben wasn’t kidding. Food didn’t begin to describe the largess covering every counter in the room. Understanding at some level what had happened, Gia allowed her excited cohorts to describe what could only be that manna from heaven had arrived at their campaign headquarters.
“Look at this, Gia! Not only are there muffins, doughnuts, and croissants to feed your sweet tooth. But God, there is real food, like bacon, sausage, eggs, and look at this. There is a whole platter of every kind of fruit that you can imagine!” Grasping her hand, Ben pulled her close. “
Honest to God, boss lady, I wish you’d been here when they arrived. It looked like the entire catering staff from the Ritz Carlton had landed on us. We had no idea what was happening, but the guy in charge was cool. He said that they would be coming every morning and that we only need to give him our orders by five p.m. for what we wanted the next day.”
Kaila grabbed her other hand and effused, “It’s not only breakfast stuff, Gia. There are sandwiches, and yogurt and trail mix . . . and . . . ” She stopped, unable to find the words to continue.
Overcome by her emotions, Gia could only shake her head. It was obvious to all of them who was responsible for the feast, and she understood their excitement. God knows she’d had enough trouble trying to keep her former staff fed during the Maxwell campaign. She’d learned that twenty-somethings have bottomless pits where their stomachs should be. In the past, she’d stocked up on “crap,” ill-disguised junk food, from Costco. Even that had been a drain on her budget and couldn’t have been considered healthy by the most die-hard, junk-food eater. Knowing that she had to say something to the excited gang surrounding her, she choked past the lump in her throat and aimed for humor. “What can I say? Except that unless we all run ten miles a day, we are going to be too fat to waddle up on the stage to claim our victory.”
When everyone laughed excitedly, she quickly added, “But no, everyone. This is truly remarkable. I . . . I honestly don’t know what to say except that we are very lucky to have a fundraising committee that not only cares about winning but also cares about all of us.”
She was glad when her assertion was seconded by rowdy cheers and applause, which made it possible for her to gather her wavering emotions and hold back the tears that were threatening to fall.
Leave it to Syl, the consummate junk-food consumer, to fill in the space. “Like I said, who needs Superman or Captain America when we have Logan Fowler?!”
Ben led the applause. “Hear! Hear! Now that Gia has arrived, everyone, let’s dig in! We’ll show that ritzy catering staff what a horde of gung ho political champions can do to their fine food. After all, we have a campaign to win.” Waving his hand at the impressive spread, he ordered, “Have at it, gang! Then let’s get back to work. In case you forgot, election day is three days away, and we are about to win in a way that’s never been done before!”