The Gentlewoman

by Lisa Durkin

  “So why this trip? We’re sending you to Aspen next month.” She could hear the anxious pleading on the other end.

  “Who’s going? Which kids and adults?” He opened his eyes and gave Rory a wink. He mindlessly ran his fingers through her hair again. “I see, Bella’s going and you want to be with her. What does your mom say?”

  After some negotiations, and checking progress on schoolwork, Dad agreed to pay for a getaway to a ski lodge in upstate Maine. Jackson seemed to know the kids and parents going and Rory was surprised to learn that this trip was in lieu of a weekend he was supposed to spend with his dad. She wondered how Jackson felt about that.

  “Keep control of your wandering hands, boy.” He grabbed Rory’s ass. She laughed and clamped her hand over her mouth.

  Jackson cuddled her close after hanging up, laying his cheek on hers. “Once again, Ryan the horn-dog is chasing after a cute little girl. He’s a good kid though and he’s doing well in school. Let him have his fun.”

  “You’ll miss your weekend with him?”

  “Yeah, it’s okay. I’ll see him soon. I want him to have fun. He deserves it.” There was a bittersweet note to Jackson’s voice. She would bet anything that he missed his son more than he was letting on.

  “Do you want children, Rory?”

  She stiffened. Nobody had asked her this since her husband’s death, not even her closest friends. Her mind raced.

  “Hey, did you hear me?” He nibbled on her ear.

  Her first instinct was to say something sarcastic and change the subject as quickly as possible. She stuttered with the attempt. “I…um…no, I don’t know…” She laughed nervously. Her muscles went rigid.

  “Did you want kids when you got married?”

  Rory rolled over facing away from Jackson. He spooned her tightly, resting his cheek on her hair.

  “You have such difficulty talking about these things. Have you ever talked to anybody? I’ve seen what people go through after tragedies, I know the stress involved.”

  She closed her eyes. “Yes,” she finally whispered.

  “Yes to which?” he asked gently.

  She took a deep breath and made an effort to unclench her muscles. She needed to handle this. For Christ sake, she was sleeping with this man. Sharing some intimacies was normal.

  “Yes I saw a shrink the first year after, and yes, I wanted children when I got married.”

  He kissed her head. “Thank you for sharing that.” She stayed quiet and still. He smoothed his hands to her shoulders and began gently massaging her. “You’re very tense, let me relax you.” She concentrated on the massage until he asked, “Rory, have you been involved with a man since your husband?”

  Go with it, she told herself. “Not involved, per se.” She felt her shoulders begin to relax and closed her eyes.

  “Per se?”

  “One. No relationship, just sex.”

  “So you haven’t really opened up to anyone since the attack?”

  “Just the shrink. And a few things with my cousin and close friends.”

  “You can talk to me,” he offered. She remained silent. “Let me in,” he implored in a whisper.

  Rory slowly turned back to face him. They looked into each other’s eyes and she wondered why he wanted in so badly. She didn’t want to hear the answer. She lifted her finger and slowly traced over his forehead, down his nose and over his lips. She kissed him lightly.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, signaling there would be no more pressing the issue.

  “No, I ate at the function. That reminds me, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “The usual brilliant authoring of legislation.”

  “Of course. Well, if you could take a break, I’m taking you shopping.”

  “Shopping?”

  “Shopping. I made an appointment with one of the best women’s boutiques in DC, I’m sure you need a new dress for the dinner Saturday night, and I want to buy it for you.”

  “You want to buy me a dress? I can buy my own dress.” She was astounded.

  “I want to treat you. I’m the one who invited you. The stylist I’ve made an appointment with is very popular.”

  “Treat me?”

  Jackson laughed. “Yes, treat you. It would make me feel good to buy you a dress and take you to the dinner. Hasn’t anybody ever done anything like that for you?”

  Rory thought about it.

  “No.” Her husband had been attentive and sweet when they first dated but his attention dwindled after they got engaged. That should have been a clue.

  “I’m taking you out and buying you a dress; I’m not taking no for an answer. In fact, don’t make any plans for Saturday. I’ll have an itinerary ready.”

  “An itinerary? What kind of itinerary?”

  “An itinerary full of surprises. Don’t even try to debate me,” he said with finality and a big squeeze of her body before he released her and started to get out of bed. “Now, let’s go across the hall and go to bed.”

  She pulled at his arm. “We’re already in bed.”

  “Rory, no offense, but I hate your bed. It’s not even a bed; it’s a mattress on the floor. Just lying here makes me stiff as hell. When is your new bed going to be here?”

  “In a few weeks. I’m sleeping here.”

  “Please, let’s sleep in my bed.” He pulled on her hand.

  “No, I’m sleeping here, go sleep in your own bed if you want.”

  He paused. “Do you really want me to?”

  Rory looked at him and thought about it. She answered honestly.

  “No, I like sleeping with you.”

  He smiled, relieved, and crawled over her, placing his hands on either side of her cheeks. “Good, then come sleep in my bed. I hate your bed.” He kissed her lips gently.

  “But you like me, and I’m sleeping in my bed…” She laughed at his exasperated expression. “Okay, I’m coming. I’m sorry my bed makes you stiff. Although I think it’s probably common among men your age. Maybe it’s not the bed at all.”

  Jackson swatted her rear. “Uh-huh. Come over to my bed, and I’ll show you exactly how stiff I can get.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  There were two people who hadn’t committed to the shipyard vote, Jerry Duncan of North Carolina and Joseph McNeil of Missouri. Phone messages to both offices had gone unanswered and Rory was nervous. She needed to see what she could muscle or trade.

  She walked toward Congressman Duncan’s office on the second floor of the Rayburn Building, wondering who you had to do in Congress to get out of the basement. She was definitely putting that on Jill’s list of things to find out, she thought as she arrived at suite 204 and entered the open door. There was the obligatory reception area with a nice young lady sitting behind a sleek computer screen.

  “May I help you?”

  “Hello, I’m Congresswoman Morgan of Ohio. I’m wondering if Congressman Duncan is in.” Rory used the most genteel voice she could muster. When in North Carolina, she thought.

  “Yes, of course, Congresswoman, I’m sorry but the congressman is in a meeting…” The interior door opened and Roy Charles stepped out with the congressman from North Carolina. His eyes widened upon seeing her.

  “Well, hello, Rory.” He took her hands and kissed her cheek. Rory’s sixth sense immediately coiled like a spring. “What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

  Rory tilted her head and studied the head of her party before answering.

  “Well, Roy, I wanted to speak to Congressman Duncan about supporting the appropriation for EPA that would help with the shipyard deal, as you are aware.” She enunciated the last four words very slowly while searching his face. She turned and shook hands with the congressman.

  “I’m sorry for coming unannounced, but we’ve been missing each other. I would really appreciate a moment of your time.” She smiled into the congressman’s eyes and noticed that his gaze flashed back to Roy before he answered.

  “Certainly, w
hy don’t we talk in my office.” He turned to Roy. “I’ll be seeing you later this evening.”

  “Please, have a seat, Ms. Morgan, may I offer you a beverage?” It was not lost on Rory that he didn’t address her by the more pro forma Congresswoman title. Something didn’t feel right about the manner in which Roy had acted, and the congressman was not inspiring confidence either.

  “No, thank you, Congressman, I don’t mean to take up your time.”

  “That’s quite all right, Rory. What can I do for you?” Now it was Rory. This was the first time they had ever met and he was beginning to piss her off. “Congressman, I’m sure you’re aware my district has been working with Trojan Japan to relocate their hull-building yards to Cleveland.” She gazed at him to surmise the level of knowledge he had on the issue. That plus Roy Charles’s presence might tell her something. His facial response gave nothing away.

  “I have heard about the deal. Please, go on.”

  “This shipyard means a lot for the people of my district. The jobs, ancillary industries, and taxes will mean a great deal to the economy of Ohio.” Still his gaze was steady and ambiguous. “I’m sure you’ve reviewed the Mark-Up Appropriations Bill and are aware of the added measure for EPA for the environmental assessments necessary to ensure the shipyard.”

  “I’m aware of the appropriations request.”

  “Congressman, I’m asking for your support on the measure.” Her gaze did not waver.

  Duncan held her eyes for several moments before rising and taking the chair next to her. He clasped his hands in his lap. She followed his movements, but remained steady while her adrenaline spiked and her blood pressure rose.

  “Congresswoman, my vote on the measure is yours. You are, after all, a key seat for our party. A swing state that is always important to our national office holders come election time.” Rory’s relief was tempered. “You know, we’ve been the minority for over two terms now. Both our president and the Congress have enjoyed unfettered success. It gets harder every session to make headway with our own agenda.”

  “Is there something you would like me to consider?”

  “Well, Rory, I think that we should be able to count on each other to take advantage of our opportunities. For the good of the party, I hope you remember that we should all do our part.” She stared at him, waiting for the other shoe to quit dangling and finally drop.

  “We’ll talk again. And I know that you will be an asset to the party in every way you can. I have no reason to doubt that, do I.” She wasn’t sure he was asking.

  “No, of course not,” she replied stoically.

  Jackson was anxious to get going so that he and Rory could have a quick bite to eat before their appointment at the boutique. He was looking forward to spending more time with her and eager to spoil her.

  He was gathering his files into his briefcase when Lawrence Page entered his office unannounced. “Dorn, how goes it?”

  Jackson rounded his desk to shake the hand of his party leader. Page was a portly man in his sixties who was shaped like an apple. If it weren’t for that, he would be a dead ringer for Abraham Lincoln. Page was tall and had the same dark hair and beard, his profile quite like the famous president. The similarities ended there, however, as his integrity and courage of character probably weren’t as strong as the great forefather, Jackson mused.

  “I’m good, thank you, Larry. To what do I owe this honor?” As if he didn’t know.

  “Just wanted to come and check that our issues were going to work on Appropriations.” He wedged himself in the leather chair opposite Jackson’s desk.

  “Our issues will be fine.”

  “Are you sure, Jackson?” Page eyed him sternly.

  “I’m sure, Larry. What’s this about?” he asked, looking at his watch.

  “You’re just as impatient as your uncle was when he served. Am I keeping you? Maybe from a date with your congresswoman?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” Jackson returned to his desk and closed his briefcase.

  “We’re hoping you’re keeping your head about this, boy. Her party couldn’t get her to agree. That leaves it up to you.”

  “I know that,” Jackson said curtly, leaning his hands on his briefcase.

  “You’ll trade your vote.”

  Jackson dropped his head and stared at his hands. “Is there any other way? Anything at all? Because if there is, I’d really rather go in another direction.” He stared directly into Page’s eyes.

  “No, I don’t believe there is. The president doesn’t want this at his doorstep, but the Pentagon and State Department need it. She’s key, Dorn. She may be the only one who can deliver.”

  The room was very still as the two men gazed at each other. Jackson swallowed and pushed his possessive feelings for Rory back down. “I know she is.”

  “This isn’t like you. You usually don’t make emotional attachments.” Page smiled. “Perhaps she’s a perfect fit in more ways than one, son.”

  “Perhaps she is,” Jackson responded quietly.

  Page rose and swaggered to the door. “Don’t be thinking with your dick, boy. You will deliver her. And she will deliver for us,” he added as he left the room.

  “Fuck me.” Jackson scrubbed his face with his hand. What a fucking mess. He was stuck between delivering on his promises for the party and what he wanted with Rory. He was falling in love with her and wanted to protect her, but he knew he couldn’t. There was no way to avoid what was coming, and he prayed it didn’t kill what was growing between them. He wanted her more than any other woman he had ever known. For the first time in a long time, maybe more than ten years, he felt fear over losing someone he loved.

  They arrived at Boutique Fayon and were greeted by two very attentive, very pretty sales associates. Camille and Danielle were both dressed impeccably in a lot of color, Rory thought, oranges and neon pink. They showed Rory and Jackson to a large pink sofa in a room completely surrounded by mirrors and pink satin drapery. They giggled a lot and blushed as Jackson smiled at them. Rory was sure they both needed a good meal, their emaciated state surely attributable to negligible diet.

  She rolled her eyes as she accepted a cappuccino and was relieved when an older woman with a more businesslike attitude came to discuss the dress. Her name was Gretta and she asked a battery of questions, trying to gauge the type of dresses to show. It was all very serious and Rory became nervous. Jackson grasped her hand and she smiled sheepishly at him.

  “And what type of tuxedo will you be wearing, Congressman?” Rory detected a slight accent, French perhaps?

  “Armani notch lapel tux.”

  “Exquisite taste. If Madame will follow me, I have a few dresses prepared.” Rory followed, turning once to peer at Jackson before rounding the corner into a large fitting room.

  There was more pink with a raised platform and mirrors. Gretta corralled Rory toward a partition and ordered her to strip to her underwear. Thank God she was wearing some.

  Rory eased herself out of her work clothes and poked her head around to see that Gretta was waiting with Camille and Danielle, who had already arranged ten or twelve dresses on a rack. They fussed with ruffles and fabric.

  Rory took a deep breath and walked out in her skivvies. She was wearing a black bra, matching thong and thigh-high black hosiery. This was per usual for underneath her work attire. She had always dressed smartly; still she was intimidated as the Dolce & Gabana twins sized her up.

  One of the girls came forward and immediately began taking measurements, calling out the scores. Gretta eyed Rory and shook her head. She dug through a cabinet and came back with a black strapless bustier. Rory’s bra was removed and she was cinched up in the satin garment. She had to admit that her reflection looked very sleek and sexy.

  One by one, Gretta ran her through the dresses. Rory outright refused anything with too much color, no fuchsias or limes for her. She settled on several. They were all the best designers, Roberto Cavalli, Elie Saab, Roland Mouret,
and Oscar de la Renta. She didn’t want to look at the price tags.

  They narrowed the field to three dresses and encouraged Rory to model them for Jackson, who was reading the newspaper on the pink sofa. When she entered in a black Stella McCartney gown, Jackson’s double take told her he liked what he saw. He smiled and sat up straighter, dropping the newspaper to the side.

  “This is one contender,” she said shyly, his eyes shining at hers. She walked to a platform she hadn’t noticed before and Gretta and the girls followed. A little flushed from the attention, she watched in the mirror while they fluffed and fussed. After a moment, she returned to the dressing room to try the next dress.

  Jackson was equally as attentive when she emerged in a light peach gown by Roland Mouret. It was fitted and covered one shoulder, a very sexy dress.

  “They keep getting better,” he murmured when she stood before the mirrors, the ladies fussing and sizing her up as they turned her in every direction.

  Finally she entered in the last dress, a red Oscar de la Renta fishtail gown. The bottom was ruffled and it smoothed snugly over her torso and backside, rising to cup her full breasts in the strapless sweetheart neckline. Very form fitting, it showed off her hourglass figure perfectly. Jackson rose from the sofa.

  “That’s perfect, Rory. You look beautiful.” She blushed and the ladies smiled up at her from their crouched positions. “That’s the dress for you. We’ll take it,” Jackson stated unequivocally to Gretta.

  There was a flurry of activity as the ladies discussed alterations and pinned here and there. Rory held Jackson’s gaze in the mirror, the heat in his stare sending a shiver through her body. She flushed when her nipples hardened beneath the dress. Finally they returned to the dressing room where she was efficiently undressed. The two girls pushed the cart of dresses from the room and Gretta went to fetch matching Jimmy Choos.

  Rory looked into the mirror, sweeping her hair off her neck. The curtain parted behind her and Jackson stepped onto the platform, his hands going to either hip, heat radiating. Her arms went around his neck as he kissed her, his hands smoothing down both naked ass cheeks.