In Bed With the Opposition

by Stephanie Draven

  “Oh, Gracie Girl—”

  “Don’t call me that! Don’t call me ‘Gracie Girl’ or anything like that ever again.”

  His eyes filled with confusion. “Why not?”

  Grace was furious as she jabbed her fingers into the leather armrest between them. “Because I always thought those were terms of endearment. All of my silly little life, I thought you meant them kindly. In a fatherly way.”

  “But I do…”

  “Were you looking at the governor’s aide as if she was your daughter? You ogled her.”

  “Oh, Grace. The meeting was getting tense, and I wanted to bring a little levity.”

  Grace was having none of it. “You demeaned her in front of her colleagues. You sexually harassed her.”

  He wagged a finger in Grace’s face. “I never touched her.”

  She dared to grab that leathery finger and glare. “You don’t have to touch anyone to sexually harass them, and you know it. You helped write the law!”

  He dropped his hands into his lap. “It was just a joke.”

  “What if the governor joked that way about me? What if I was the one who poured the coffee and he asked me to show my ass off as I walked away?”

  Kip Halloway huffed indignantly. “I’d punch him!”

  “Why? Wouldn’t it be funny?”

  For once, Senator Kip Halloway was silent.

  Grace was so angry she pushed the matter. “He’d be insulting my professionalism, he’d be treating me like I was less than all those men in the room, and that would reflect on you. You wouldn’t allow that, would you?”

  “No, I wouldn’t. I’ll never forget the way your mother took care of my Martha in her final days, and you know how much I care for you. I’ve watched you grow up from a smart little girl into the woman you are today and you’re part of the family.”

  “Well, that woman you just humiliated—she’s someone’s family, too. What would Martha think of what you did today?”

  It was a low blow to bring his dead wife into this, but she’d never been so disappointed in him. His shoulders drooped and he hung his head. “I never meant to make that girl feel bad. I’ll call and apologize.”

  “That’s too aggressive. Write a letter. Tell her that you’re ashamed of yourself and in the meantime, I’m going to think of ways to spin this.”

  “There’s no spinning it. The voters know I’m an ass. They vote for me anyway. Remember last campaign? My slogan was ‘Halloway: He says what you only think.’”

  “That was six years ago,” Grace said, wondering how any campaign manager could possibly make this better. “The people who’d think this is funny were going to vote for you anyway. The other campaigns are going to use this against you. Ethan Castle was sitting in the audience when you said it, and he’s going to slam you with this every single day.”

  “Don’t suppose you can charm him out of it,” her boss asked hopefully.

  Staring out at the window at the stark winter landscape as they drove off, Grace said, “Thanks to you, my charms don’t work on Ethan anymore.”

  …

  It was only a local public television show, but Grace had never felt less prepared for anything in her life. As the campaign’s ranking female, her face alone was damage control for the senator’s remarks, but Grace had never done a television interview as a surrogate before.

  She tucked her hands under her gray-plaid pencil skirt to keep them from shaking while the makeup artist put the final touches on her cheeks. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure if it was her nerves about screwing up on TV that made her shaky or the fact that she was about to come face-to-face with Ethan Castle.

  He strode into the studio, that cream-colored suit of his gleaming under the lights. The Irish fiddler who played for the studio audience in honor of St. Patrick’s Day was so smitten by the sight of him that she missed a note. Grace couldn’t blame her.

  “Hey, Grace,” he said with an air of cheerful diffidence, as if they were no more than casual acquaintances. But at least he was speaking to her.

  “Hey.” Plainly, he deserved more of a response, but she was decidedly tongue-tied. Her heart ached at the sight of him—the beautiful sight of him. He’d cut his hair since she’d seen him last; it was shorter and less wild. She still wanted to run her fingers through it. He was also wearing a big green pin that said “Kiss me, I’m Irish.”

  Oh, how Grace wanted to do that, too.

  Instead, she fiddled with the granola bar the studio had given her, but she’d been too nervous to snack on. “Are you hungry? Do you want it?”

  “No, thanks,” Ethan said with a wicked grin, as they attached a microphone to his lapel. “I need to keep my appetite up if I’m going to eat you for lunch.”

  And over the course of the next hour, that’s exactly what he did. Grace stuck to the script and even scored a few points of her own, but she was hopelessly outclassed. Ethan’s experience on CNN made him a natural on camera. He was loose and easy, funny and self-deprecating, undercutting all of Grace’s points with subtle jabs.

  Inevitably, the interviewer brought up Ogle-Gate. “Ms. Santiago, your boss made some controversial remarks to the governor’s assistant. As a woman, do you think the senator’s comments were appropriate?”

  The studio suddenly felt like it was a million degrees, and not just because Ethan was sitting so close to her. Grace swallowed and plowed forward. “It was inappropriate and the senator knows that. But Kip Halloway’s record on women’s rights stands for itself.”

  Jackson’s spokeswoman went in for the kill. “The comments Senator Halloway made to that young lady were disgusting and underscore that he’s out of touch. Maybe those comments were commonplace fifty years ago, but not now.”

  Grace was thinking about how Jackson wouldn’t even have her career if it weren’t for out-of-touch geezers like Kip Halloway, but held her tongue. Then the cameras panned in on Ethan, who was totally in his element.

  “Senator Halloway is of an age when he says things to get attention,” he said with a disarming shake of his head, as if he were talking about a doddering old uncle. “This is a distraction from real issues. For example, did you know Maryland is so unprepared that a flu pandemic could incapacitate the whole state?”

  Damn. Grace was now experiencing firsthand how Ethan could stick the knife in with a smile on his face. He seemed pitch-perfect, implying that her boss was a petty old fool while still getting in his own talking points. Ethan’s easy masculinity made him seem in charge, without being domineering.

  It was as impressive to watch as it was infuriating, and by the time the program was over, Grace was awed by his skill. She planned to get the video and study it. But what if his television magic was something she just couldn’t copy?

  “You did fine, Grace,” Ethan said, as if reading her mind. “And you’re brave as hell. Taking over your first campaign from somebody else is always rough. Taking over a campaign in the middle takes raw nerve.”

  Hope fluttered in her breast. Could he be trying to say that he understood why she took the job? That maybe he’d forgiven her, too? “I just didn’t want to make a fool of myself.”

  “You didn’t. With a little more practice, you’ll be a pro.”

  Grace bit her lower lip, flushing. “And you could have your own political show.”

  “I’ve had offers. The rush of nailing somebody on camera is a serious high, but the last thing I want to be is one of those bobblehead pundits who never actually talk to real voters.”

  She turned in her chair and her knees brushed his. They both froze and she heard herself swallow. “Ethan? I hope you know…I wish the election was already over.”

  He gave a rueful shake of his head. “Unfortunately, we’ve still got a long way to go.”

  Then he stood up and walked away.

  Right. She was a fool for thinking he’d be available when this was over. PolitiGal was probably waiting for him in a bar somewhere even now. Grace needed to get out of he
re before she cried. She fumbled for her purse, ready to flee the studio when Jackson’s spokeswoman stopped her.

  “We’d like to start debate talks.”

  “Isn’t it a little early?” Grace asked. As the incumbent, her boss had nothing to gain by agreeing to debates.

  “Can’t hurt to talk, can it?” the woman asked, giving Grace the name of a hotel bar in town. “It can be informal. Let’s meet for drinks tonight.”

  Grace knew that meeting at any bar would be a madhouse on St. Patrick’s Day and she couldn’t imagine that they’d even be able to hear each other without shouting. This invitation was also technically a violation of Rule #65 against barhopping after work, but Grace really needed a drink.

  …

  In the hotel bar, Grace threaded her way through the crowd, then took a seat and ordered a pint. She was halfway to drunk when she saw the Jackson staffers. They hadn’t seen her yet, so she decided to finish her beer. That’s when her phone vibrated with a text message.

  Don’t sit down with them. -EC

  How did Ethan know she was here? And wasn’t it a little late to back out of negotiations now? Nancy Jackson’s staffers were just across the pub.

  Why not? -GS

  Go to the bathroom. I’ll explain. -EC

  Grace knew she should ignore the text message, but her curiosity (and maybe the green beer) made the mystery irresistible. Was he actually here? Grace wove her way toward the bathrooms, where she found Ethan leaning against the wall in a shiny green top hat that matched the mug of beer in his hand.

  “What are you doing here?” Grace asked, secretly hoping he was following her.

  “Someone in the Jackson campaign leaked that they invited you.” He leaned forward, his green eyes twinkling like a leprechaun’s. “God, you smell great, Grace. I’ve been thinking about it since the studio today. You smell like some kind of meadow flower. New perfume?”

  His proximity made Grace hold her breath. What the hell had she been thinking, putting him on hold, like he was some kind of inconvenient appointment? He was all that and then some. And at this moment, she hated herself for having stalled their relationship for even a minute.

  “Body butter, actually.” Grace made a personal note to bathe in it from now on.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me why you shouldn’t sit down with Jackson staffers about the debate?”

  Right. Work. She had to think of work. “Sure.”

  “If they really wanted to negotiate a debate, they’d have met you somewhere private to hammer out details.”

  Ethan had a point. With the patrons singing in good cheer and beer glasses clanking together, she could hardly hear herself think. “So why invite me here?”

  He was too close to her. The buttons of his shirt snagged on her sweater but she dared not reach down to fix it. “Grace, they invited you here so they could say they met with you to arrange a debate but you refused, or dragged your feet. Which is what you’ll do since it doesn’t benefit you to make things easy on them. But if you’re seen publicly negotiating with them, you can’t deny that talks have started.”

  Her eyes widened. This was so cloak-and-dagger! “So you’re here to save me from a blunder?”

  Ethan grinned, lifting his mug of beer. “Actually, I showed up so that our campaign wouldn’t be excluded from debate negotiations, but once I saw you sitting there I started drinking, and now there’s no accounting for my behavior.”

  Grace found herself grinning, in spite of herself. “Should we really be drinking on the job?”

  “No. So let’s go off duty together.”

  If only they could. If only they could run off and leave the campaign behind. Maybe Molly was right. Maybe they should just meet secretly until after the election and nobody would be the wiser. “The problem is, we agreed—”

  “I didn’t agree,” Ethan put his face close to hers.

  “You did,” Grace said, remembering their breakup. “You agreed to keep things strictly professional.”

  That familiar storm erupted behind his eyes. “Could be that’s what I’m doing. After all, it’s not in my interests to let you talk to the Jackson people. Maybe this is a strategic distraction…”

  He was joking, but there was still an edge in his voice that reminded her who he was. Ethan was a fierce competitor. Even when they played virtual boxing. “So, this is all about winning?”

  “Everything is always about winning to me.”

  He put a hand in her hair and tilted her face toward him. The sparkle in his emerald eyes was infectious; St. Patrick’s Day really did suit him perfectly. Being around him was like being swept up into an atmosphere of drunken revelry. It really made her very uncomfortable; if only it wasn’t so much fun!

  “So, Ethan, have you ever seduced a woman to win an election before?”

  He grinned and his voice lowered an octave. “Do you want me to seduce you, Grace?”

  Maybe it was the Irish fiddling and the shamrocks. Maybe it was that she’d lost her wits. Maybe it was that she’d gone far too long without the man’s hands on her. Whatever the reason, she told the truth before she could stop herself. “Yes, I think I do.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Saying something like that to Ethan Castle was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. In an instant, Ethan leaned forward and closed his mouth over hers, taking possession of her. It was an electric jolt. She always reacted this way to him. When he wanted something, she always wanted to give it to him, and when he was so bold about it, something inside her felt as if he ought to be rewarded. Before she knew it, she was wrapping her arms around his neck. She could feel his whole body against her. This was dangerous, very dangerous!

  At the bar, patrons sang “Whiskey, You’re the Devil.” For Grace, Ethan was the devil and boy did she want to sin. Just not right here. Even though they were in shadow, she mustered up enough sense to whisper, “Ethan, there are a million people around.”

  “Then we’ll sneak in the back way and get a hotel room upstairs. But if you don’t go with me right now, I swear I’m going to just push you into the bathroom…”

  His voice told her that he wasn’t at all joking.

  They kissed in the elevator. Then in the hallway on the way to the hotel room. He half-carried her the last few steps, struggling with his key. Then he shoved the door open and locked it behind them in one smooth motion.

  His breath was hot on her neck, and she found her own hands unfastening his belt and tugging at his zipper. She needed him so badly that her moans sounded halfway like sobs.

  With one hand, he hiked her skirt up over her hips, and her thighs trembled. Had the bed been even a few steps farther away, they wouldn’t have made it. As it was, they crashed down on the mattress together, their clothes tangled around them. Grace closed her eyes as Ethan’s fingers worked up under her skirt and pulled the high-cut band of her bikini briefs down.

  “Seriously, Grace? Four-leaf clover panties?”

  She laughed helplessly. “It’s a holiday!”

  “Well, you are about to get lucky.”

  With that, he simply tugged her panties off and pushed her thighs apart. The move was so aggressive, the excitement so palpable, that she forgot all sense of modesty. Her body screamed out for exactly this. Abandon. They’d waited for so long she didn’t think she could wait a moment more. Besides, she desperately wanted to do this before she came to her senses.

  There wasn’t time to fully undress; the zipper of Ethan’s pants was grinding into the tender flesh of her inner thigh, but it didn’t matter. She just needed him inside her. “Please, hurry,” she said as he threw his jacket on the floor and fumbled with a condom.

  His breathing deepened as he positioned himself, then he pushed into her, meeting no resistance whatsoever. Oh, the way he filled her. It was so satisfying she had to bite lightly on his neck to keep from screaming.

  Their rhythm was fast and frenzied as their bodies strained together.

  He was as
good as she remembered. Better, even. His hard muscled arms covered hers and held them down while she panted in a staccato burst. It felt so good, so intense, she squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to keep her body from falling off that precipice. It was all happening too fast.

  “Don’t,” he murmured, as he stroked into her again and again. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you come.”

  His words launched her like a rocket, and she cried out in orgasm, sinking her teeth harder just above the starched collar of his shirt. Not far behind her, his breath exploded from his lungs when he finished. They lay like that for a moment, tangled together and breathing hard.

  The weight and warmth of him felt good. They both gasped into the silence. She laughed. Then he laughed. Then they both laughed. It was the kind of laughter that spoke of both happiness and wonder.

  “Was that as good as I thought it was?” Ethan asked.

  Grace sat up. “Oh, God, yes.”

  He caught her by the hem of her rumpled sweater. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Your jacket’s on the floor. It’s going to wrinkle.”

  “For pity’s sake, leave it!” Then he unbuttoned his shirt and threw that on the floor, too. She actually gaped at the span of his bared shoulders. He’d always been well built, but since law school he’d filled out in a big way. His chest was lean, strong, and covered in rough dark hair that begged to be touched. He disposed of the used sheath, then settled back on top of her.

  His neck, oh, she’d left a red mark where she’d bitten him in her excitement and now she wanted to put her mouth on it again. Then there was his cock. Thick, male, and starting to rouse itself. “I’m not done with you, Grace.”

  Pressing against her, he angled in such a way that she could feel the wet tip of his stiffening erection and it robbed her of coherent thought. “Again?”

  “Definitely again,” he told her with a low sound in his throat, something wild and a little bit dangerous.

  “Already? You—you, um, you’re, you are…”

  “About to rock your world?” he asked, one brow arched.