by Debra Webb
She took the glass he offered, sipped the wine and moaned her pleasure. “Excellent.” Reaching for a serving of peppered cheese she asked, “Did you mean the things you said to me earlier today?” She chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “About wanting to make things right between us.”
“Of course. I meant every word. Why do you doubt me so?”
The question surprised Caroline. He should know better than anyone, but then he might see the past differently than she did, or maybe he truly didn’t remember.
She set her glass aside and splayed her hands. “Justin, maybe you don’t remember, but things had been…” She searched for the right word. “Things had been strained for quite some time. We…” Despite the fact that he was her husband—that he had at one time known the truth—she found saying the reality of their marriage out loud more than difficult. “You told me you weren’t interested in a physical relationship with me. You tried…I think.” She frowned, peered up at him, hoping to save herself further humiliation. “Don’t you remember? How can you expect me just to believe that everything will be just as it should be from now on?”
This time he did hesitate but not for long. “I was a fool. I have no other explanation.” He set his glass aside and took her hands in his. “I admit that I can’t remember everything about our life together, but I do know that I intend it to be different now.”
She wanted so to believe that. Wanted to hold on to the promise with both hands. Dennis had told her to go for it. Why couldn’t she just do that? It would be so simple. But she wasn’t sure her heart could take the hurt if Justin changed his mind later on or reverted to his old ways. She might be strong, but she wasn’t that strong.
“I want to believe, Justin,” she confessed. “I really do. But the thought of putting my emotions out there on that limb scares the hell out of me.”
He took her into his arms and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Then we’ll take this slowly. Take our time. See where nature leads us.”
Who was this man? Her heart thundered at his words. Justin had never talked this way to her before. Not once. “All right. Slow, easy. We’ll see where it leads.”
“But now we eat.” He pulled out her chair and settled her at the table. “Eat and enjoy the view.” The moon had burst through the clouds and now hung so close it was almost as if she could reach out the window and touch it.
Justin sat down across from her and helped himself to the goodies he’d prepared. Caroline watched, thankful that God had spared his life…had spared hers. That He had given Justin a nudge at just the right moment and ensured their safety. That had to be the answer. To dwell on other possibilities was a waste of time and energy. Though the shooter had not been caught, they were all alive. That was the most important aspect of the failed assassination attempt.
She refused to consider that the imminent threat had to be coming from one of her own people. Right now she didn’t want to think. She wanted to enjoy. She had only a few more hours before returning to the real world. She intended to enjoy every moment of it.
When she’d consumed as much fruit and cheese as she dared and finished off her third glass of wine, Caroline felt reasonably certain she should do the bath thing and go to bed before she lost all control over her tongue and other parts south.
“I’ll clean up,” Justin said, as if he understood just what she needed when she rose from her chair insisting that she was stuffed.
Her head spinning just a little, she strolled to the en suite bath and sat down on the edge of the tub. As the hot water filled the massive tub she thought of the way he’d rubbed her shoulders their first night here. She giggled when she thought of the possibility of him doing so again tonight. That would be the perfect ending for this day. Something wonderful but not pushing the boundaries just yet. Slowly, he’d promised. They would take it slowly.
She set the whirlpool on low. Already her muscles ached to feel the swirling heat. Her right hip was a little sore where she’d hit the ground today. When Justin had saved her life, she added to herself with a smile.
Her clothes dropped one garment at a time onto the floor and then she tucked her hair into a knot on top of her head before slipping into the deep water. She groaned with pleasure as she relaxed fully against the backrest.
“Heaven,” she murmured.
Another groan echoed her and her eyes snapped open to find Justin watching her from the doorway. She couldn’t be sure how long he’d been standing there but from the intense look in his eyes and the rigid stance of his body she’d guess long enough.
She smiled, resisting the urge to issue an invitation for him to join her.
He didn’t wait for one. He crossed the room in two long strides and sat down on the edge of the cool marble tub. The sleek, coolness of the marble made the liquid heat all the more enticing.
“Sit forward and I’ll rub your back,” he suggested softly, his voice rough with desire. The sound sent a tingle straight to her center. She shivered in spite of the heat churning around her.
She didn’t answer, just obeyed his request. His hands settled on her shoulders and somehow they felt softer this time, less scarred. The wine, she told herself. She was only imagining that his hands felt softer.
He squeezed and kneaded, rolled and smoothed those strong fingers over her flesh, wrenching moan after moan from her. She clasped her arms around her knees and laid her head there, giving him full access to her back. Those skilled hands trailed down her spine, touching, teasing, making her quiver inside until she could take it no longer.
She straightened and peered up at him, the desire mixed with the lingering effects of the wine making her dizzy all over again. “Thank you,” she said softly, when she really wanted to beg him for more. Just as before her insides quivered on the brink of release.
He cupped her cheek and ushered her back against the smooth surface of the tub. “I’m not finished yet,” he whispered. A ghost of a smile played about one corner of his mouth as he dropped to his knees next to the tub. One strong hand started to work on her chest, above her breasts. He stroked her shoulders, dipping down to the valley of her cleavage, then upward.
Her eyes closed as she gasped for air. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her? Again and again he soothed that flesh, his fingers never venturing past the rise of her breasts…never dipping into that spot between them that yearned for his touch.
She crossed her legs and tried to slow the throbbing there, but it was no use. The frenzy building would not be denied. She needed more. Wanted more.
Her fingers curled around his wrist and she dragged his hand lower, onto her breast. She whimpered as his fingers closed around it and squeezed. The pulse between her thighs pounded, urging her closer and closer to that place of pure sensations. She arched her back and he used both hands to knead and pump her breasts, squeezing, releasing, and then rolling her rock-hard nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Again and again he repeated the process, driving her insane. Why didn’t he touch her there…where she needed to be touched?
His hands never deviated from her breasts, not even skimming her rib cage.
Desperation driving her, she pulled one hand lower, over her rib cage and abdomen, down to the center aching for him. His fingers stilled there, nestled amid the wet curls. She made a sound of need, arched her hips upward in urgency.
“Please,” she whimpered, reaching down and pressing his hand harder against that wanton flesh.
He parted her, strummed his thumb over her most sensitive place. She cried out at the sharp stab of desire the move elicited and opened her legs wider in invitation. His fingers moved deeper, sliding easily inside her. The first ripples of orgasm accompanied the move and she cried out again.
He thrust in and out of her, his thumb keeping a steady pressure in just the right spot until she plunged into release. It went on and on and he never let up, kept the rhythm and the pressure on until the final waves receded. Then he lifted her from the tub, water ca
scading down the front of his body. He set her on her feet and dried every square inch of her, touching and tasting as he went. When his mouth touched her sex, she shook so violently she had to brace against his shoulders to stay vertical.
Sensing her weakness, he carried her to the bed and stripped out of his wet clothes. She gasped at the pure male sight of him…wanted him inside her. To hell with going slowly. But he had other plans. He finished the job he’d started, lathing and sucking her flesh until she exploded into release yet again, and then he covered her with the cool sheet and snuggled up next to her.
His own sex formed a hard ridge against her backside, but he made no move to seek satisfaction. He simply held her until, physically sated and exhausted, she went to sleep and dreamed of how she would spend those final hours of secluded bliss with her husband.
Unspecified Location
“THIS IS twice you’ve failed.”
He laughed at the rebuke. “I think you have me confused with someone else. I had nothing to do with the fiasco in Mexico. That was the other guy.”
Ignoring the pointed correction, his displeased employer continued, “In less than twenty-four hours he will be back at the White House. That was not supposed to happen. And yet, because of incompetence it surely will. Our chances of controlling her actions are limited with him there, especially if he talks.”
Fury flared, but he tamped it down. He refused to waste the effort. He settled an indifferent gaze on the man who held the other half of his payment ransom and who definitely needed to get his facts straight. “I trust you’ll adjust your schedule. The job will be completed. I’m on it now. He’s not going to talk.”
The heat of anger rushed up the other man’s face, turning it bloodred. He smiled, knowing that it did not matter how angry his employer grew, there was nothing he could do. He was the only man who could get close enough to get the needed information. And he would ensure the job was done, but he wanted to watch the puppets squirm a bit longer first. His impatient employer didn’t have to know that part.
“Every moment Justin is alive is another one in which he might impart what he learned. If that happens—”
“That won’t happen.” He smiled, loving the confusion on the part of the man who was supposed to be in charge, loving knowing something the boss didn’t.
“How can you be certain?” he demanded, his face twisting with the rage he could no longer contain.
“Because he’s an impostor.”
Shock claimed the crimson face staring at him. “What do you mean? That’s impossible. And even if you suspected such a thing, you couldn’t be certain.”
His smile broadened. “Oh, I’m certain all right. I’m absolutely certain.”
His employer stood. “I’m not sure I believe your little theory. Time is wasting. That funding approval has to go through…if it doesn’t we all lose. Three days. We have three days before this goes to the next level.”
“Maybe you’d better be asking your other partner in crime how this happened. I’ve got a feeling he knows how it came about,” he warned. “My source says someone headed off his attempt to separate the two of them in Mexico City. Any idea who would have that kind of foresight? Who knew we were going to strike?”
Judging by the evolving expression on his employer’s face, he’d finally made his point.
“Think about it,” he went on. “Who has the resources to put a look-alike in place? To head off your plans? And if it’s who I think it is, why didn’t your partner warn you?”
The other man’s gaze narrowed. “O’Riley.” He smiled then. “I should have known.”
Chapter Eight
White House
Final Countdown
Day 1
Caroline surveyed the room, the Oval Office, looking from one expectant face to the other. These were her top advisors, the men and women who made up her Cabinet. She’d handpicked each for his or her post. These were the people whom she respected and trusted the most, the ones who were supposed to trust and respect her without reservation. When had the breakdown begun?
“Yes,” she confessed in answer to the last question put to her. “I composed the letter.” That damned letter still haunted her. She would know who’d faxed a copy to Redmond. At this point she still didn’t want to believe it was her personal secretary, but she couldn’t rule her out as a suspect just yet. “I thought it would be the right step to take at the time. If you read it in its entirety then you know I felt somewhat hesitant about the step. But the security of this country has been and still is my first priority. And, as you well know,” she surveyed the group once more, “things have changed. My husband is safe and any other issues related to those three months he was missing have been resolved. I’ve had a couple of days to relax and I’m ready to get back to work.”
“What about the two attempts on your life, Madam President?” Redmond tossed out on the table. “Are you just going to pretend those didn’t happen? Wouldn’t an extended absence be best for you?”
It would be best for you, she didn’t say. “No.” She didn’t have to scan the faces around the conference table to know that expressions shifted and glances were exchanged. They were all waiting for her to admit defeat…to crumble. How on earth had it come to this?
“I have no intention of turning my back on the duties of my office. I’m perfectly capable of carrying out those duties. Perhaps you have a question about that?” She looked from one face to the next again, allowing the weight of her gaze to press down on each for just the right amount of time. “If there is no question, then I’d like to proceed with business as usual.”
She rose from her chair, the act one of dismissal. The others followed suit. Hands reached for hers, each giving a firm shake with the offered parting platitudes. When Secretary of State Samuel Hall took her hand, she held on to his beyond the perfunctory brush of palms. “Can you stay a minute, Samuel?”
He nodded and stepped aside for the others to move past him. When all but Hall and Redmond had exited, Caroline gifted her vice president with a lackluster smile. “We’ll talk later.”
“Very well, Madam President.” He left, none too happy to be dismissed without additional considerations. Well, too bad. The kid gloves were off now. Caroline didn’t trust him and she intended to make no bones about it. She would get this house back in order. She’d had her moment of weakness, of uncertainty. But she was back on track now.
“Madam President,” Samuel said when Redmond had left the room, “I’ve looked into the South American issues as you requested.”
A week or so ago, before all the insanity had rocketed so far out of control, she had asked Samuel to head the delegation to look more deeply into the South American situation. He had been focused for so long on the Middle East, as was the Secretary of State before him, that she felt the rest of the world had gone unnoticed. That was a mistake, one this administration might very well live to regret.
“And what is your assessment?” She moved to the comfortable clutch of chairs before her desk and sat down, then gestured to the one adjacent to her. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Samuel Hall was a tall, broad-shouldered man. His father was African-American, his mother European-American; in Caroline’s opinion he possessed the best of all three cultures. The staunch pride and determination of being an American radiated from him. Samuel was one of her strongest supporters. He would never turn his back on her.
She needed him now more than ever.
He sat down and exhaled a heavy breath. “The ever-increasing civil unrest in South America has been overlooked for far too long. I agree with your conclusion in that respect. However, I believe we’ve had some hand in that.”
Her gaze narrowed as she considered that assessment. “In what way?”
“I’m not sure just yet. But I think we have an anti-American faction working behind our backs down there.”
She smiled. “Tell me something I don’t know, Samuel. Aren’t they everywhere
?”
He pursed his lips for a moment, considering how he wanted to proceed. “This one is different. This faction appears to be operating in a way far from the typical. I believe our own inner circle of people may be involved.”
She looked heavenward and shook her head. Not another conspiracy. “This is truly becoming tedious.”
“Madam President.” Samuel patted her arm. “Every administration goes through these things. That you’re a woman only tosses another aspect into the mix. There are many who want you to fail. Then they could say that the office of president of this country was never meant to be filled by a woman.” He patted her arm once more then stood. “But you see, they don’t know what I know.” He smiled at her.
“And what’s that?”
“That you will not fail. That, like your father, you will not give in to the pressure.”
When Samuel had left, Caroline considered his parting words. He was right. She would not fail. Her father had been her role model and he certainly never gave up on a fight.
She’d almost, after five years, given up on her husband. That had been a mistake. Her chest suddenly tightened as remembered warmth spread through her. The way Justin had touched her, pleasured her on Saturday night replayed in her mind. She’d waited so long. He’d known and had tried to make it up to her. Then the pleasantness of the day on Sunday. Nothing special. Just quiet time…time shared without animosity or external tension. Only the sweet hum of desire. She’d been fully prepared to make love with him, but he’d merely held her instead, giving her time, allowing her to be sure.
His company had insisted that he take some additional time before returning to the fray of bringing the globe into the ever-evolving world of cyber systems. Justin didn’t appear to mind. Though his affiliation was only as an advisor since she became president, the decision surprised her…in a good way. He wanted to stay close to her. He was insisting on accompanying her to the graduation at the Academy of the Holy Cross this evening.