by Lee Taylor
Allowing a moment for the wide-eyed group to grasp the enormity of the plan he’d laid out, Logan met Gia’s confounded gaze and nodded to Syl. “I told you, Gia, you have a powerful stealth weapon in the form of Syl. To that point, I’m designating Syl as our Chief of Information Technology. He is light-years ahead of your typical IT geek. Rather, he ranks in the stratosphere occupied by tech gurus, heck, tech geniuses. Syl will be in charge of designing and managing our campaign technology. This includes new media, databases, voter files, websites, and social media—not only in the central office here. I also want him to develop a technical staff in each of the regions where we have more than twenty volunteers. At this point, I estimate that will be between twenty and thirty offices.”
Winking at Syl, who was dressed in his usual ill-fitting Foo Fighter tee shirt, ragged Aeropostale blue jeans, and tattered Zoom LeBron 3 QS sneakers, Logan ignored his shocked expression and flaming red cheeks. “Before you say you aren’t up to the significant tasks I’m laying at your door, Syl, just know I’m in awe of anyone who video chats with technical wizards like Shorthand Chan and FoV Cho.”
Stepping back from the monitor, Logan grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the well-stocked refrigerator and sank onto the chair next to Gia. Handing her one of the bottles, he pressed his lips together, doing his best to stifle his grin. “I know you all think I’m an overbearing asshole. In truth, I am. I’m also a master organizer. And as you can tell, I’m not particularly self-effacing. Frankly, we don’t have time for niceties. We need to develop a groundbreaking campaign that ensures that Gia will become the first woman to go to the United States Congress from our congressional district. That said, we have to hit the ground running. Which means that our campaign needs to be at full tilt by the end of next week. Exactly six days from now.”
Ben tossed Gia a questioning glance. Seeing her pursed lips and frowning demeanor, he concluded that she wasn’t going to take the lead. He rose to his feet and grabbed the remote, then brought up the calendar that he and Gia had developed for the Maxwell campaign. In contrast to Logan’s charts, it looked like a study guide for a high school election, not a campaign for Congress. But then, their candidate had been Aiden Maxell. A privileged asshole that never had to work for a thing in his life, Aiden was miffed at what he’d called a horrendous schedule. The fact that there were half of the events expected in a decent campaign and it was still beyond Aiden’s energy level confirmed he wasn’t up to the task. Hoping to bring Gia into the conversation, Ben pointed to the barely passable schedule they’d created.
“When Gia and I were developing the Maxwell campaign, we were dealing with a neophyte who made it clear early on he didn’t have stamina or, we soon found out, the desire to run for office.” He turned to Gia and his voice rose in excitement. “But that was then and this is now. Now we have the single best candidate we could possibly have. Gia is a superstar. Not only that, but because of Logan’s infusion of cash, we don’t have to spend ninety percent of our time raising money. I’m telling you, Gus Underwood has to be shitting his pants. He thought he wouldn’t have to lift his fat ass off the couch. Rather, he’d coast to an easy finish without breathing hard. He was licking his chops, assuming he’d be facing Gretchen Engle, who was a pitiful candidate, an embarrassment to her party. Instead, Gus Underwood is facing the most formidable candidate on the horizon today. Our very own Gia Tremaine!”
When all of the staff shouted their excited agreement, Gia took a deep breath. She knew she needed to respond. She also knew that her staff was worried. They likely assumed that she was threatened by Logan’s wholesale cooption of the campaign structure. Acutely conscious of Logan’s arm over the back of her chair and his knee pressed against hers, she acknowledged that his earlier cocky assertion that he was her self-assigned protector was on-target. As he’d assured their staff, they didn’t need to worry. He was waiting in the wings if she chose to “act up.” In truth, as much as she would like to fire off a zinging put-down of the arrogant man’s takeover of her campaign, Gia admitted that his coup was masterful. He’d literally created an organization that she would have killed to have for any of the campaigns she’d managed.
The difference was that Logan’s organizational structure didn’t require round-the-clock fundraising, the bane of every campaign she’d run. Instead, that enervating task was absent on his template. Not only was Logan in charge of that aspect of her run for office, but he’d already ensured that whatever money was needed was already pledged. For a brief moment, Gia allowed herself to think what it would have been like in any of the campaigns she’d managed to have an inexhaustible fund of money. Not surprising, the thought annoyed her. Sure, Mr. Wonderful could put together a campaign like the one he’d presented to her awed staff. If you had more money than God, anyone could create a flowchart like the one that Logan had wowed them with. Knowing how small her untoward thoughts were, she forced herself to plant a grin on what she was sure was her strained expression.
“I don’t know what to say, except that I’m impressed.” Turning to Logan, she added, “You are a master organizer.” She tossed her head and added, “And, without a doubt, you most assuredly are an overbearing asshole.”
At the nervous laughter from her team, Gia forced herself to smile. “Which, given how I’ve been described by opposing campaigns, and most of my staff, I concede you are in good company.” She blew out a hard sigh and held up her hands in defeat. “I admit I’m a bit overwhelmed. Not by the extraordinary campaign structure Logan devised or the sheer volume of the work we are facing. You all know that I will be a tireless candidate. I will go anywhere and do anything you put on my schedule. My concern isn’t the campaign that Logan has mapped out or Ben’s and all the rest of your ability to implement it. But . . . remember, I’ve never run for office. I’ve always been able to stand in the shadows. Now it’s up to me to do all the things that I used to harangue my candidates to do. I admit it’s daunting.” She hesitated, then forced herself to continue. “It’s just that . . . I . . . I don’t want to let you down.”
Gia wasn’t surprised when Logan held back, tightening his grip on her hand but letting the others respond.
Ben was first. “Gia, even though you’ve never personally run for office, you are a born candidate. When I think back on all the campaigns we’ve run, you literally conceived and then put in their mouths all the fancy on-target words your candidates spoke. Now instead of us having to hold our breaths, hoping that they would remember all the responses and zingers you burnt into their brains, you will be the one speaking your lines. Do you know how exciting that is going to be? To have a campaign structure like the one Logan outlined and to have a candidate worthy of it? Damn, boss woman. We are going to have the time of our lives!”
When all the others chimed in enthusiastically, Gia bit back her anxiety and shrugged. “You’re right, Ben. Now I just have to do what I told all my terrified candidates they had to do. I just have to get out on the stage and be spectacular. And not fuck up.”
At the shouts of laughter from her excited cohorts, Gia was gratified when Logan intoned softly, “Not a chance, princess. You’re a star. The rest of us just have to make sure that nothing or no one does anything to diminish the glow of your brilliance.”
****
Gia leaned against the sky-high railing, gazing at the busy city below that was beginning to close up shop in the waning sunset. Watching a crayon box of myriad colors tangling with the darkening sky shot with an occasional winking star, she was overcome with a mix of emotions. On the one hand, she was relieved that they were at Logan’s soaring condominium. The delicious smells of roasting meat and the whirl of a blender confirmed that Logan was once again ensuring that they would have a wonderful dinner on the balcony of his impressive patio. Even though it was only four days since she’d been here, it felt like it had been a lifetime. And in a way it had been. She’d spent three of the previous nights on her narrow balcony alone on her “plastic” rec
liner, as Logan had called it. Nights when she’d allowed her anxiety and fears to overcome her. To throw her into an agitated state that nearly caused an irrevocable rupture between her and Logan.
Last night, but this time in her bed, not on her balcony, Logan had shown her what happened to her when she lost faith in him. At least when she’d spurned him, taunted him, and had the audacity to dismiss him publically. He’d responded by demonstrating in no uncertain terms what it meant to be his woman. She was still coming to grips with their extraordinary lovemaking when they met with their senior campaign staff this afternoon. While his rapacious lovemaking clarified what having Logan as her lover entailed, their staff meeting underscored that having him in charge of her professional life was just as daunting. Remembering him walking their team through the most aggressive political strategy she’d ever seen, she wrestled with her conflicting emotions.
Of course she was impressed. How could she not be? It was the most artfully drawn plan she’d been party to. She was awed and overwhelmed. Blowing out a hard sigh, she admitted she was also torn. After all, she was the consummate campaign manager. It was a role she been groomed to play since she was twelve years old. And yes, she’d blown her last campaign to hell and back, but clearly almost everyone blamed the fiasco on her disgusting candidate—not her. Now a man who’d supported one fucking campaign in his life had appeared out of nowhere. Not only that, but the supposed neophyte had come in and schooled her staff and her on what a winning campaign should look like. At least if you had millions of dollars coming out of your ass.
“Are you up for sharing a terrific bottle of wine with an arrogant asshole who presumes to show a consummate politician what a winning campaign looks like?”
Startled that Logan had come up beside her without her noticing, Gia jumped back in dismay. Dear God, on top of everything else, was this overpowering man a mind reader? At least he seemed to know everything that she was thinking, the good and the bad. Fighting her embarrassment and determined not to let him overwhelm her any more than she already was, she tipped up her chin and sniffed. “Humph. Au contraire. Actually, I was thinking how much easier it is to design the consummate campaign when you have money coming out of your ass.”
To her surprise and relief, Logan threw back his head and roared in laughter. Putting the bottle of wine and glasses he was carrying on the table, he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. Lifting her chin, he wiped at his eyes, then grinned at her. “Yes, princess, having a disgraceful amount of money at our disposal takes care of the issue that bedevils most campaigns. However, all the money in the world would be useless if the candidate was not worthy of it. Take for example, Aiden Maxwell. Or more to the point at this juncture, Gus Underwood. They’re the losers. Let’s talk about the winners . . . us! It just so happens that we do have the money we need to run a top-notch campaign. Given that I am the impetus for that financial wherewithal, let me be clear. Without the most accomplished political candidate it has been my honor to know, our campaign would be dead in the water—no matter how much money we have up the wazoo.” He pinched her cheek, then narrowed his gaze, becoming more serious, more intent. “I’m telling you, Gia, because of what you bring to the campaign and how I’m able to support you, together we’re going to turn this congressional district upside down. Heck, make that this state, or hell, the country. I promise you, sweetheart, when we’re done, they won’t know what hit them.”
Chapter 23
Gia stared at him for a long moment, then allowed herself to consider what he was saying. It wasn’t as though she was a shrinking violet. Good God, her middle name could have been “brazen.” It was among the least offensive words most people used to describe her. Determined to get to the heart of her angst, she appealed to him. “Help me, Logan. In any other circumstance, if one of my funders pledged to support one of my campaigns the way you are funding mine, I would be screaming for joy. I would be calling you the most astute and glorious man I’ve ever known. Certainly the most generous. It’s just that . . . ” Unable to continue, Gia put up her hands and shook her head in dismay.
“Say it, Gia. Say what’s twisting that amazing bod of yours into a pretzel. It isn’t the fact that I’m underwriting the campaign. Heck, you’d kill to have my support for one of your campaigns. The problem is that this time you aren’t the campaign manager. No, sweetheart, this time you are the candidate. And, honey, that has to be disconcerting. You were on-target when you told the team that standing in the shadows, creating the winning campaign is not the same as trotting out on the stage as the face of the campaign.” Holding her in front of him, he tipped up her chin, insisting that she meet his intense gaze. Barely containing his grin, he said, “I’m going to make you a solemn promise that I insist you hold me to. Once you are out on that stage, or at the microphone answering a barrage of questions, or sitting in national media interviews, you are going to do what you did in the debate with Gretchen. You are going to reach into your psyche and shine like the political star you’ve always known you are. In the process, you are going to have so damn much fun, our job will be trying to hold you back, keep your appearances to only ten times as many as poor bloated Gus has.” His grin now in full force, he pretended to assume a frown. “But, my intrepid lover, do not worry. As exciting and fulfilling as being a political wunderkind will be, you are still my woman. I insist that in your offstage appearances, the ones in which you are stark naked and begging me to pound into you harder and deeper will be where you shine most brilliantly.”
****
An hour later, Gia released a contented sigh. Seeing Logan’s smile, she should have been embarrassed. After all, when they had first arrived at his condominium, she insisted that she wasn’t hungry, that all she wanted was a strong drink and a firm bed. Instead, he had spent forty-five minutes in the kitchen creating the meal he’d placed in front of her. She hadn’t bothered to ask what the centerpiece dish was. She knew it was chicken, and with its medley of sauces, fragrant herbs, and mélange of vegetables, she also knew it was the best chicken she’d ever eaten. To be more specific, inhaled.
Seeing the laughter in his eyes, she tossed her head. “Fine, I admit it. I’m a gorger. But good grief, Logan, what can I say? The chicken I usually consume is in the form of greasy, barbecued wings from a take-out joint, not this!” Pointing to the platter that was now almost bare, she was incredulous. “What can I say except this might be the most flavorful dish I’ve ever tasted. And frankly, the most impressive thing about it is that you made it. Seriously, if you tortured me, I couldn’t make a meal worth eating.” Waving her hand at the plates and bowls on the table, she couldn’t hide her amazement. “Yet, you whipped this up in less than an hour—out of nowhere. I . . . I’m in awe and frankly embarrassed. Honestly, Logan, I ate twice as much as you did. I never eat like this. I’m going to be fat as a pig. Good God, I’ll be as fat as Gus. They won’t be able to tell us apart.”
Logan laughed and refilled her wine glass, then lifted his to her in a toast. “Ah, princess, are you telling me that there would be more of you? And that would somehow be bad?” He grinned. “No worries, sweetheart. You need to eat healthy food and lots of it. We are facing fifteen-hour days with one event after another. Given your disgraceful eating habits, the first thing I’m going to do is change your current ratio of food to alcohol. I don’t care how much you drink, as long as it is balanced by healthy, well-prepared food. Trust me, love, on top of the rigor of the campaign, you also have to deal with me. Nothing like ending a day of onstage appearances and then having to face your demanding lover.”
When she couldn’t hold back a soft sigh, she ducked her head, not wanting Logan to see what she was sure were her flaming cheeks. It wasn’t even twenty-four hours after they’d spent at least five hours engaged in rampant sex, and here she was, thrumming at the thought of facing her “demanding lover.” Forcing herself to meet his taunting gaze, she shrugged and assumed her well-worn brazen cloak. “I guess the question isn�
��t whether I can face you but rather if you will want me to. After all, according to you, most of the time I’m an obnoxious brat who isn’t nearly as deferential to you as I should be—given your exalted status.”
Logan laughed and grinned as he reached for her hand. “I thought I had made it clear that your obnoxious brattiness is a huge turn-on to your arrogant lover. As long as we keep it in the bedroom or anywhere the two of us are. Yes, my sassy lover, you can be as bratty and as obnoxious as you wish—when we are alone together. Remember, my hand is only inches away from your delightfully ‘spankable’ ass. And that I have access to all the accoutrements I require to keep you in line.”
When Gia jerked away from him, preparing to leave, he caught her and sat her down on his lap. Brushing his lips against the sensitive place on her neck, he murmured, “C’mon, Gia, admit it. The reason you act up as much as you do is because you like those blindfolds and restraints I put on you as much as I enjoy watching you pretend to fight them.”
She grabbed his hands and whirled to face him. “You are such an arrogant asshole. I . . . I’m not pretending. I hate it when you . . . ” She stopped, not able to hold back the tremors sparking her overwrought nerve endings. Hearing his soft, sexy chuckle, she knew he’d felt her untoward response to his suggestive threats.
“Ah yes, my love. Do know that when I was away from you, I had a chance to upgrade my toys. I’m looking forward to showing them to you. Correction. I’m looking forward to using them on you to bring you to even more delicious heights than you knew were possible. We both know how you ultimately respond to the egregious things I do to you, even if they frighten you at first. It’s good to know that my illicit sources are as randy as I am. I can always find a toy or two to tantalize you and, in the process of making you come, drive myself to passionate heights I didn’t know existed.”