by Mary Whitney
“Um . . . Sen . . . Senator McEvoy, Megan, hello,” Keith stuttered. “Anne was just . . . pointing out nice places to spend some time outdoors. She really knows her stuff.”
“Really, I don’t,” Anne retorted. “Good afternoon, Senator. Megan.”
“Well, Keith says you do,” Stephen said and smiled. He was eager to see her reaction to being put on the spot.
“Not as much as some.” Anne shrugged. “My dad likes to get away when he can, so I’m familiar with a few remote places.”
Keith chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, she keeps pointing out these wilderness areas where they won’t let you mountain bike even though nobody is around. I told her she should find me places closer to civilization where I can ride.”
“What?” she said in a joking reprimand. “Wilderness is no place for mountain bikes. It’s supposed to be serene and quiet, not full of gonzo bikers blasting over trails.”
Stephen smiled at Anne’s response, and he was jealous Keith could spend his morning talking to her about Colorado’s beautiful countryside. “You know, Keith, I love to mountain bike, too, but I have to agree with Anne.”
“Keith, where do you ride around Denver?” Megan asked and pointed to the map. “I love finding new places to ride near the city.”
As Keith showed Megan spots near his home, Anne smiled at Stephen. He didn’t speak for a moment, simply taking her in. He thought she was the definition of a mountain beauty. With her hair streaked from the sun, tan, freckled skin, and bright eyes, she was lovely. Wanting to hear more from her, he threw out the first question to pop into his mind. “So you don’t mountain bike?”
“No. My brother rides a bike, but I’d rather hike.”
“I would, too.”
“Well, really I’d rather ride a horse. He does the work. I’m a slow hiker.” She chuckled. “Nobody likes going with me.”
He bit his tongue to keep from saying he’d very much like to go on a hike with her. His eyes darted down to her small waist, thinking how easy it would be to pick her up and move her over a fallen tree or any other obstacle in their way. He came to his senses and grasped for another question to continue the conversation. “Does anyone else in your family ride?”
“My mom. She grew up on a ranch. We ride together, except when she’s got a baseball game.”
“Huh?” His brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yeah, it’s odd. My mom, mild-mannered Mary Beth Norwood, is obsessed with baseball. She’s like the Rockies’ biggest fan.”
“So do you like baseball?”
“It’s kind of boring to me, but on a nice day, it’s great to go to a ballpark and sit in the sun with a beer.”
As she spoke, Stephen lost himself. He was no longer Senator Stephen McEvoy, or Stephen McEvoy, District Attorney, or even Stephen McEvoy, son of Senator Patrick McEvoy. He was just a guy at Coors Field with Anne, watching a Rockies game and drinking a couple of beers.
Down the hall, Patty’s voice interrupted his daydream. “Megan. You’re late.”
“I believe we were waiting for you,” Megan replied in an annoyed voice.
Stephen snapped out of his daze as his sister gestured for him to walk forward. She smiled at Anne and Keith. “I have to get the senator to his campaign manager. You two have a good day.”
Stephen looked at his watch, remembering who and where he was. “Yes, we need to go. Good-bye . . . for now.” He walked away without looking back.
After they left the hall, Keith paced excitedly back and forth. “That was too fucking cool!” he exclaimed, turning to Anne. “Wow. He likes to mountain bike. That’s awesome. I’m going to tell Gabe.”
He left a bewildered Anne standing alone in the middle of the hallway. She decided to walk to the bathroom to think through the last few minutes. She replayed all the conversations she’d had with the senator. It increasingly felt like he wanted to get to know her, but how could that possibly be the case?
She remembered standing in line at Safeway recently and reading a gossip rag with a photo of Senator McEvoy and the actress Jennifer Hamilton at a charity event. When she thought of Jennifer Hamilton’s homecoming-queen looks and disproportionately large chest, she self-consciously touched her braid and glanced at her breasts. There was no way the senator could be interested in her. It just wasn’t possible.
Yet he always spoke with her, though he didn’t have to. She was only an intern. By the end of their latest exchange, he’d been inching toward her. She didn’t think she had imagined it. If any other guy acted the way he had, she’d assume he was flirting.
She shook her head. A romance with an intern was political suicide, and Senator McEvoy wasn’t stupid. She searched for a reason for his actions. Maybe it was so she wouldn’t bad-mouth him to her father?
She took a breath and tried to accept any rational explanation, but the girlie part of her brain wanted to stay confused. Because she found him interesting, she wanted to think he had an interest in her, and because she thought he was so handsome, she wanted to think he found her attractive, too. But she prided herself on being a smart girl. Her mind drifted back to the People magazine photo, and she knew she should accept the rational explanation.
When Stephen and Megan finally entered his office, Patty slammed the door. “What the fuck was that?”
“What’s your problem?” Megan asked as she sank into the sofa. “No big deal. We were just being nice.”
“That may be your reason.” Patty glared at Stephen. “But you were on the make.”
“Hardly.” He sat down at his desk and scowled to hide his guilt.
“I’ll be the judge of that. I’m not a fool. I know you.” She turned to her sister. “And Megan, you’re supposed to be helping me protect this senate seat. Why didn’t you stop him?”
“I didn’t notice anything.” Megan shrugged and turned to Stephen. “Do you actually like Anne?”
“Can we move on?” He shook his head and avoided answering the question directly. “Nothing happened.”
Patty raised her eyebrows. “And nothing will happen.”
“Nothing will happen,” he said flatly.
“Good.” Patty nodded. “I expect you to go back to treating her like you do every other intern around here. Ignore her.”
Megan glanced at her brother the way they always did when they needed to talk without Patty around. He saw her request for a private conversation, and he rebuffed her with a twitch of his nose. This was personal.
With a yawn and scratch of his temple, he shut down the subject altogether. “Okay. Let’s move on.”
Chapter 3
For the next few weeks, Stephen avoided Anne as he’d promised Patty. With his busy schedule and large office, it was usually an easy thing to do. If he wasn’t rushed and he happened upon her, he’d acknowledge her with a nod and move on, but sometimes it was difficult.
Once he heard one of his legislative assistants call the ski resorts in West Virginia pathetic compared to those in Colorado.
“It doesn’t matter,” Anne replied. “I don’t go to resorts much anymore. I usually ski in the backcountry.”
As she chatted with the staffer, Stephen was tempted to join in the conversation. Biting his tongue, he kept about his business, but not without another side-eyed glance. He summed her up with one thought: She’s really cool.
Despite his interest, he stayed away, until one day he noticed her alone in the copy room near his personal office. With some regret, he continued on his path down the hall, but the temptation proved too much. He backed up and peered into the small room. There she was—leaning on the counter as she studied a letter that bore his signature at the bottom. Her finger traced the page as she concentrated on each word.
After a quick look to make sure no one was nearby, he quietly stepped into the room. “What did I say this time?” he asked.
She jumped. “Oh! I didn’t hear you walk in. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle
you.” He smiled to reassure her. “I asked about the letter. What did I say this time?”
“You mean, what did I say this time?” She returned his smile and waved the paper as if to bat him away. “I’m joking. I drafted a new form letter outlining your position on the deficit. This is the final version. I was just seeing what your legislative director kept of what I wrote.”
“And?”
“It’s pretty similar.”
“May I see?”
“Sure.” She handed him the letter.
Skimming through a paragraph, he concluded it was well written and persuasive.
As he nodded, she spoke, “The LD left in the part about how an extension of unemployment benefits actually grows the economy. I’m proud of that.”
“Spoken like a true policy geek.” It was a dismissive statement, but he meant it as a compliment.
“I guess I am.” She shrugged awkwardly. “It’s always debate night at the Norwood dinner table. My brother never showed any interest in politics—he’s in med school now—so my dad talked to me because I kept up with things.”
“Sounds like my family.” He smiled.
“Except I debate my parents. Everyone in your family agrees.”
“We do—for the most part.”
“Must be nice.” She rolled her eyes.
Stephen paused for a moment, quickly assessing the woman before him who was so different from the women he dated. He liked her irreverence, which she seemed to hold for everything, including her family and even him. Other than his own family, very few people treated him that way.
His eyes drifted from her face down to her shoulders and rested briefly on her small but perky chest. He imagined for a moment what her breasts might look like. Pleased with the image in his mind, he let his eyes wander upward. He noticed the cute freckles from years in the strong mountain sun dotting her nose and cheeks.
Finally, their eyes met again. He admired her flowerlike hazel irises, and the look in her eyes told him she’d noticed him checking her out. She lifted a brow as if to ask him what he was going to do next.
Normally, in such a moment, if he wanted to cut to the chase, he might ask the woman out. If he was really interested, he’d pay her a small compliment beforehand. With Anne, he wanted to tell her she was beautiful—simply to see if he could make her bashful.
Whatever he chose to do, he presumed she’d be receptive. Though she was young, her expression wasn’t innocent; it told him loud and clear any advance would be welcomed.
He took a breath of anticipation. Their connection was temptingly easy, but it was also unnerving, like he stood on a precipice with untold consequences. Maintaining his stare for a few more seconds, he debated those consequences—and stopped himself.
Passing back the letter, he broke her spell. “Good job,” he said softly. With an abrupt turn of his heel, he left the room, chiding himself for what he’d done.
After Anne watched him pass through the door, she caught her breath while her mind swirled in confusion. Oh my God. What was that? It was a silly question because she knew what had happened. In that moment, Stephen McEvoy wanted her, and her rapid heartbeat was evidence of the connection she’d made with him.
Her eyes widened as she realized what it could mean, and she quickly reprimanded herself. Are you crazy? He’s a senator, for Christ’s sake, and you’re an intern. You’ll destroy your career before you even have one. The thought made her speed out of the room.
After the copy-room incident, timing became everything for Anne. Scared to death of the feelings rumbling inside her, she made sure she was never in Senator McEvoy’s presence. She worried what he might say, and she feared even more how she would react. In order to avoid him, she was either late or early to wherever she was going and occasionally left conversations in midsentence. If she knew the senator was due in the office, she planned to be absent. If she saw him coming nearby, she’d skulk away so as not to be seen. Sometimes she’d become trapped, though, and she’d had to wait for him to leave an area.
Hiding behind a door or file cabinet, she would observe him from afar. Whenever she lurked, she ridiculed herself for being a stalker, yet she became so engrossed in him that she quickly forgot the creepiness of her behavior. With other elected officials and agency heads, he was congenial but guarded, and with staff, he was firm. His wall only came down when he was alone with Greg and his family.
Patrick and Lillian McEvoy had raised accomplished children who carried the family legacy of public service with a special noblesse oblige, but they were still a normal family. Patty and Megan teased and bickered with their brother like they were twelve. He snarled at his sisters’ torments and then dished it out right back, causing Anne to cover her mouth to squelch her laughter.
When he was alone, she noticed he seemed glum, his lips pursed in thought. Why is he unhappy? she would wonder.
She recalled their conversations and realized he may have given her a glimpse of the real Stephen McEvoy—maybe he was interested in her as a person. Had he sought her out? Was he looking for her now? Or was he also avoiding her? But because she steered clear of him, she didn’t know.
It’s better this way, she reminded herself. If I actually talked to the guy again, I’d be a goner.
The following week, Stephen walked back from the House side of Capitol Hill, having finished a late-morning press event in the Cannon Caucus Room. Enjoying the nice day, he took his time as he strolled along. His mind was on the sunshine rather than his long day ahead, yet his good mood hit a wall when he spotted Anne.
She sat in front of the Library of Congress's fountain, the Court of Neptune, reading a book. Stephen ranked the fountain the prettiest in the District. Neptune dominated the fountain, positioned in the middle, with his son Triton and two sea nymphs riding sea monsters at his side. The fountain’s anatomically correct figures made it a highlight for many school children touring the Nation's Capital.
Since the day they talked in the copy room, Stephen avoided her presence at all costs; it proved to be easy because she was never around him anymore. And if she entered his thoughts, he pushed her aside, but seeing her from afar that sunny day made him stop. He pulled out his phone and surreptitiously watched her while pretending to check his e-mail. He told himself it would only be a minute and then he’d get back to work.
Though he stood across the street, he heard the water cascading in the fountain. While the world walked by, Anne kept her head in a book. The sun shone on her bare legs, crossed at the ankles and angled to the side. They were seductively ladylike underneath her pencil skirt, and he wasn’t the only man noticing her. A young guy with a dog walked up and began talking to her.
Stephen didn't know him, but he knew the dog. It was Senator Henry Wilson’s English bulldog. Like many members of Congress, he kept a pet in his office. An elderly Republican from the South, Senator Wilson hated Communists and his foreign policy was steeped in the Cold War. He’d owned bulldogs for the last fifty years and usually named them after a Communist leader of the day or a perceived enemy of the United States. His lingering hatred of Russia showed in the name of his current dog: Putin. Stephen guessed the guy walking the dog was one of Wilson’s interns.
Though he couldn’t hear their conversation, Stephen was bothered simply by the fact they were talking. He studied the intern and admitted he was an okay-looking guy who was close to Anne’s age. Stephen didn’t like that. Remembering the intern worked for Senator Wilson, he felt a little better because the intern most likely shared his boss’s view of the world. Surely Anne wasn’t interested in a right-wing lunatic who thought Castro still had nuclear weapons pointed at the US?
When Anne shook her head at the intern, Stephen smiled and waited for him to leave. After another minute of conversation, the intern shook her hand. Anne also said good-bye to the dog, who repaid her pat on the head with a slobbery lick on her cheek. She cringed, and as the intern walked off, she splashed her face with fountain water.
Stephen chuckled at Anne’s reaction to the dog. He didn’t know many women who would wash their face in a public fountain. He looked at the water coming from the fountain and saw the statue of the sea nymph above Anne. It was a beautiful nude of a woman riding a sea monster. The woman’s head was tilted back in a somewhat erotic pose with her breasts prominently displayed. Something about the sculpture lulled Stephen into a midday fantasy of skinny dipping with Anne in a mountain lake.
It was during Stephen’s fantasy that Anne sensed someone looking at her. She glanced at the people on the sidewalk, but they were all occupied with their own lives. Just as she was about to return to reading, she spotted Senator McEvoy across the street.
His eyes were fixed on her, and she stared back, wondering what he was doing. Why was he watching her? After a moment, he waved—a brief movement of his hand from left to right. She smiled as she hesitantly waved back, and a small smile appeared on his face in return.
She couldn’t believe it. The whole silent exchange felt odd, but also exciting, and his warm expression made her ignore her better judgment. She pointed to her chest and then pointed to him, silently asking if he wanted her to come over.
Despite the distance between them, Stephen understood her question. He wanted so badly to nod his head and go on a walk with her. He wanted to talk, to see what she was reading, and maybe ask her about her favorite time of year to ride in those mountains she mentioned the first day. And he really wouldn’t have minded finding a secluded area to give her a kiss.
But he didn’t do any of that; instead, he mocked himself. He thought he could also ask Anne about her being an intern in his office. They might talk about the great political scandals involving interns—scandals that had tripped up many a politician before him. He could ask about her being ten years younger than him. Finally, he could ask about what it was like to grow up in a prominent Republican family.
He thought of everything at stake: a Democratic senate seat, his family’s legacy, his career, her career. It was too much. Instead of saying yes to Anne, he shook his head and walked to his office, dejected.