In Bed With the Opposition

by Stephanie Draven

  “No, you’re right. I’m enjoying this—I’m really enjoying this. It’s just that we’ve got to stop. I mean, you’re leaving town in the morning, and once you pick a candidate, you’ll be off to Ohio or South Carolina.”

  Ethan put his hands on the wheel. “What if I stayed?”

  In Grace’s experience, men didn’t stay. Her father sure hadn’t. So she looked Ethan in the eye, and said, “You’re not the kind of guy who sticks around. I know how your job goes. You’re never in one place for long and you love it that way. You thrive on it.”

  “That makes me a bad person?”

  The car suddenly got a lot colder. Grace pulled her coat over her shoulders. “Of course not.”

  He was clearly offended. “The way I remember it, you were the one who didn’t stick around, so what’s the problem now, really?”

  That shamed her. “Look, we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s against the rules.”

  He ran a hand through his dark hair and tension tightened down the toned length of his forearm where he’d rolled up his shirtsleeve. God, he was gorgeous. It wasn’t really her fault that she turned into a oversexed lunatic when he was around, was it?

  “What rules, Grace? Name the statute.”

  In Grace’s opinion that was pretty unfair, considering she hadn’t finished law school. “It’s against my rules.”

  “Do you come with a manual or something?” She watched him let go of his irritation. Then he pulled her close, nuzzling her collarbone. “See, I was always the type who opened his toys without reading the directions… Sometimes you just gotta break the rules.”

  Grace shivered a bit at his mouth near her ear. “But I like rules.”

  She felt him smirk. “Oh, I could give you some rules…”

  She didn’t want to think about what he might mean by that. It would surely be her undoing. “Ethan, I’m serious.”

  “I know and it’s weird. What’s the story behind all your rules, hmm?”

  He was teasing her, and he had every right to. She knew she was eccentric, and that was probably the polite way of putting it. But her rules came from a very serious place. When she was young, her parents didn’t speak English very well. She’d had to translate for them. Even as a very little girl, she’d had to pay attention, be disciplined, and act like a little adult or else they wouldn’t have money, food, or a place to sleep. Her dad was always sure that a big payday was around the corner, some new wild scheme that was going to make them rich, but whenever he came into any money, he always blew it. Bad decisions, poor impulse control…it had made her childhood hell. And she’d promised herself that she’d never be like him.

  That’s why she had rules.

  But all of that was too sore of a subject to share with Ethan. It was too embarrassing. That was the problem with letting anybody get close to her. They’d find out that not even somebody as messed-up as her dad was willing to stick around for Grace’s sake. So she had to pull away. “Ethan, I like order. I like lists and routine. Meeting you in a diner in the middle of the night isn’t the kind of thing I do.”

  “But you’re here anyway, aren’t you?”

  There was that. A very good point. And it wasn’t because anybody pushed her into it. She’d wanted this and she’d done it. Which was a rare and precious thing even if it went against all her better instincts. “I have no explanation for this.”

  “I can explain it,” Ethan said, softly stroking her shoulder. “When you saw Blain Halloway, you thought of me. Just like I said you would. That’s why you’re here.”

  Holy Mary, Mother of God. There it was again, that look of total sexual confidence. That predatory glance, like he was about to eat her alive. And come to think of it, she really wanted to be devoured. Ethan Castle made her heart race in a way the senator’s grandson never did, but this kind of mad excitement wasn’t something she could trust. “Ethan…I like you. I really do. It’s just that I don’t know how to fit you into my life. I don’t even know when we’re going to see each other again.”

  Ethan grimaced. “I don’t know, either…”

  Grace bit her lip and they both lapsed into silence.

  Running a hand through his hair, Ethan finally asked, “So, this other guy, does he fit into your five-year plan?”

  “We’ve got a lot of history…”

  He gave a sigh that sounded like resignation. “Tell him if he ever stands you up again, I’m gonna have something to say about it.”

  So, this was good-bye, then. That was for the better, wasn’t it?

  Ethan leaned into her. “I’ll take you home. Just let me kiss you goodnight.” When she looked wary, he added, “Just a kiss.”

  It was just a kiss the way the Gettysburg Address was just a speech. Ethan started with a captivating premise, his hands on her cheeks, his lips soft. But then he drew her deeper into it, the rhetoric of his tongue soaring as he captured her own. Finally he made his closing argument by biting her lower lip and pulling her tightly against his chest until she was breathless.

  It was another thrilling, electrifying, heart-stopping kiss. Unfortunately, if it was a good-bye kiss, why did it leave her dazed, dewy, and wanting more?

  …

  Thanksgiving was, at heart, a somber holiday. At Christmas, Grace could get away with looking like a shiny ornament. But the cleavage-enhancing miracle of her Wonderbra might seem seriously out of place at a holiday that conjured up images of pelt-wrapped freezing natives and starving Pilgrims.

  Fortunately, she had just the right outfit for the occasion: a brown wrap dress that hugged her curves with knee-high suede boots and a tribal necklace. Molly even agreed that Grace looked a little bit woodsy. “Like an updated Pocahontas, which, given your job, is probably spot-on, since you save bumbling white men from their own folly on a daily basis.”

  Grace smirked at Molly. “Pocahontas. I like that idea. Blain may have escaped the wiles of Wonder Woman, but what man can resist a sexy nature-loving native?”

  Molly groaned. “When are you going to give it up? Now that Clark Kent is out of the picture, you’re going to try to make Blain fall in love with you over the cranberry sauce?”

  “It’s not like that,” Grace insisted. Since saying good-bye to Ethan at the diner three weeks before, she’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself over Blain Halloway anymore. If he wanted her, he was going to have to be the one to make the next move. But if he did make a move, Grace was going to be ready.

  Holidays at the Halloway House were always raucous affairs, so Grace headed over early to help in the kitchen. Blain met her in the foyer, his hair angelic under the white lights. He took her coat. It was a polite gesture that he performed as a matter of course, but when he revealed the outfit Grace was wearing, he stared. “Hap—Happy Thanksgiving…”

  Grace took a moment to feel smug. She’d made Blain Halloway stammer. Or maybe it was the wine. She realized belatedly that he was balancing a half-finished glass in his hand, and she wondered how many he’d had. “Can I get you a drink, Grace?”

  She nodded. “With ice. I’m feeling a little hot.”

  He gave her an appreciative glance. And as she walked into the kitchen to help her mother with the appetizers, she sashayed her hips, and looked over her shoulder to see that he was still staring. Yes, that’s right. Blain Halloway, the golden-haired prince of her little fairy tale, was ogling her.

  Maybe she’d been right not to let things go further with Ethan.

  With a sense of giddy exhilaration, Grace slipped into the kitchen hoping to steal some olives and found the senator there, laughing. “Tell your mother that one of her sopaipillas isn’t going to kill me.”

  “It’s too much sugar, and flour, and fat,” Mama protested, looking at Grace for support. “It’s not like dark chocolate.”

  Grace held up her hands. “I’m not getting involved.”

  “Gracie Girl,” the senator said, folding her into an embrace. “Look at you, all dressed u
p. Didn’t Blain mention we’re going to make you hand-paint campaign signs tonight in the garage like the old days?”

  “Very funny, sir.” Grace helped herself to some olives, but kept a wary eye on the senator. He’d better be joking about the campaign signs. With him, you never knew.

  Soon after, Blain’s brothers arrived, some with wives and kids. A few cousins even found their way to the table. And watching the Halloways laugh and eat together made Grace’s heart burn with more than a little jealousy. It wasn’t that they didn’t treat her well. Even though Mama was just the housekeeper, she and Grace were always welcome. But this was a borrowed family—not her own.

  At least, not yet.

  When talk around the table turned to the senator’s reelection campaign, Senator Halloway groused, “Blain’s plan to have me campaign on the Eastern Shore is a waste of time. They won’t vote for me out there.”

  There were general murmurs over turkey and mashed potatoes that this was probably true, and the criticism caught Blain flat-footed. Putting his wineglass down he said, “You represent the whole state, Grandpa. Not just the people who vote for you. It can’t hurt to hear what they have to say.”

  Grace quickly added, “It’s true. Especially since folks on the Eastern Shore are big on the environment. With the upcoming bill we’re working on, you may win some people over.”

  Like Pocahontas throwing her body over John Smith to save him from execution, Grace had sided with Blain and he looked over the cranberry sauce at her with gratitude.

  In truth, dinner couldn’t have gone better.

  Later, Mama took out the ornaments so that all the little Halloways could help with the tree.

  “Do we have to decorate for Christmas already?” Blain complained. “It’s still only Thanksgiving!”

  “Yes, we have to decorate!” Grace was scornful of complaints that Christmas came earlier every year. As far as she was concerned, one could never be prepared too far in advance. “Now help out or we’ll strangle you with the garland.”

  After the little ones went to bed, Blain hovered over Grace by the fireplace with a handful of mistletoe. “Your mother wants me to put this up.” He tacked it to the mantelpiece over her head. “I believe tradition now dictates that I kiss you.”

  Before Grace could do a thing about it, Blain leaned forward to press a soft kiss on her lips. Now, this was where people were supposed to kiss. In private. In sweet, wholesome, intimate settings…

  Odd. The intimacy felt…not so intimate.

  Whereas kissing Ethan had been tumultuous and exhilarating, kissing Blain was merely pleasant and comforting—like sipping chamomile tea.

  And really, there was nothing wrong with tea, was there? It was a very sensible drink, and Grace was a very sensible girl. She quite liked tea. Everybody liked tea!

  Blain tasted like wine, though, and she could tell he’d had plenty. “Are you staying tonight?”

  Grace looked up at him from under her lashes. “Are you asking me to?”

  “I’m just saying that if you were to spend the night…”

  She let him trail off as the fire crackled in the hearth, and the silence got awkward. But if Blain was inviting her to bed, she needed him to say it. “Do you want me to spend the night with you?”

  “Grace,” Blain chuckled. “I’m too drunk for this.”

  Her stomach knotted. “It’s not a hard question.”

  “Do I want you? Sure, but, we kind of work together. You are who you are and I am who I am, and there are lines I’m afraid to cross…”

  Grace thought back to the night she and Ethan sat in his car in the empty diner parking lot, and found herself repeating his sentiments. “Maybe sometimes it’s important to cross those lines and break the rules.”

  Blain did a double take. “Never thought I’d hear you say a thing like that.”

  Frankly, Grace never thought she’d say something like that, either. But she’d finally come to a crossroads; it was time to put everything on the line. “Blain, if two people care about each other…”

  “Of course I care about you, Grace. You’re like a sister to me. That’s always been the problem.”

  Grace blinked. “A sister?”

  “A smart, beautiful, hot sister,” he slurred.

  Oh, gross! Grace recoiled. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Blain admitted, and the goofy way the colored lights from the Christmas tree blinked on and off in his eyes only made him look more inebriated. “Forbidden fruit, and all that. I try to stay away from you but I can’t.”

  Grace wasn’t related to Blain in any way, but he was making it sound disgusting. “A sister?” she repeated, incredulous.

  “I’m not explaining myself very well. I’m being an ass.”

  “You’re telling me that all this time, you’ve thought of me as a sister?” Grace asked a third time, her temper rising along with the decibels of her voice.

  “It’s always been weird with us, Grace. You know that. You were a virgin that first time and you’ve always been so innocent. You’re not the kind of girl I can—”

  He cut himself off, as if realizing that whatever he was about to say would sever something between them. He thought she was innocent? She’d always thought that he knew her better than anyone, so how was it that he never realized how hard she had to work to keep her impulses in check? He’d always been protective of her, and she’d always been grateful. But now she found it galling. Patronizing. Condescending.

  Maybe Pocahontas had seemed like a little sister to John Smith, too. And now that she thought about it, Pocahontas’s love story didn’t end very happily, either.

  Blain took her hand. “Grace, don’t be mad.”

  She wasn’t mad. At least, not at him. Only at herself. It was true that he didn’t have the courage to be with her unless he was drunk, but she had to wear a costume to pursue him. Wonder Woman. Pocahontas. How many costumes had she worn over the years? Being with her was something he was ashamed of and she only ever felt like she could be a sensual woman if she came to him in disguise.

  So, which was worse?

  “Grace, let’s start over.”

  “You’re right. It is time to start over. Because you have no idea who I am and I’m starting to think I don’t have a clue, either.”

  With that, she gathered her things and went home.

  Chapter Seven

  In spite of Grace’s zealotry for holidays, she just couldn’t get into the Christmas spirit this year. After the Thanksgiving debacle with Blain, she’d dutifully decorated her apartment in twinkling lights and put up a miniature tree, but then she’d promptly caught a cold and now all she wanted to do was sleep.

  Mama brought over chicken tortilla soup. Molly stopped by and made her choke down Theraflu. Even Thurgood made himself useful by curling up in the blankets with her like a mini space heater.

  The first time she and Blain had broken up back in high school, she’d cried her eyes out for a month. The second time was even worse. By the third or fourth time, she’d learned to cope. This time she wasn’t crying at all. While sucking on a cough drop, she wondered why that was.

  Shouldn’t she be more upset? Maybe she couldn’t cry because the virus had sapped all her fluids. Or maybe she was simply too annoyed. Blain had implied she’d always been too inhibited for him. Well, if that was true, Blain should’ve known exactly why. When she let herself get out of control, bad things happened. Bad things, like blackmail…

  Blowing her nose for about the thousandth time, Grace wished she could be back at work, because that was the only thing that made sense in her life anymore. That’s what she should be concentrating on anyway. She didn’t have a law degree because she’d lost her head over a man; she’d be damned if she let her disaster of a love life derail her career again.

  With a pile of books on one side of the bed and a wastebasket of tissues on the other, Grace tried to make sense of the new changes to the environmental bill
. Even though the words swam before her eyes, she managed to make a few notes in the margins before the phone rang.

  The minute she heard the voice on the other end, a swarm of butterflies fluttered madly in her belly. She hadn’t thought that she’d hear from him again; now she realized how glad she was to have been wrong.

  “You sound groggy,” Ethan said.

  Stay calm, she told herself. Stay cool. “I have the death flu,” Grace sniffled into the phone. “So…what’s up?”

  “I miss you.”

  Grace’s heart squeezed and, quite suddenly, with a delirium she could only blame on the cough medicine, she asked, “What are your thoughts on Pocahontas?”

  He paused as if trying to decide if she were sane. “Unfortunate victim of Stockholm Syndrome? According to her tribe, she was kidnapped by colonists and forced to shill for Big Tobacco.”

  Grace was dubious. “That’s not the Disney version.”

  She could almost hear him smirk. “Are you gonna believe a mouse or me?”

  Grace laughed, sneezed, then pushed the mute button on the phone so she could blow her nose. When she returned, Ethan was all serious. “Grace, listen. I held out as long as I could, and if you don’t feel the same way, I won’t call you again, but I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

  She’d been thinking about him, too. So much so that everything with Blain had felt wrong. Ethan was in her mind even when she was kissing someone else, but how could she find room in her life for a political grifter? “I just don’t want to get involved with something that can’t go anywhere.”

  “People get involved in long-distance relationships all the time.”

  “I know, but…my dad was never around. The separation was hard on everyone. When you can’t be there in person—”

  “But I am here in person. I’m here to take you out for waffles.” He laughed and if she didn’t know better, she’d swear he sounded nervous. “This isn’t going to help my stalker reputation, but I just got finished taping a show in Atlanta and instead of flying back to my apartment in Los Angeles, I thought I’d catch a flight to Baltimore to see you. Are you healthy enough to meet me at the diner?”