The Darkhorse_A Powerplay Novella

by Selena Laurence

“All I’ll need from you is a year on paper, some appearances together at diplomatic functions, and a prenup so we’re clear on what you walk away with at the end.”

  The emotions tumbled through Lisa like water over rocks. Anger, shame, relief, desperation. She swallowed, trying to sort through them enough to be able to answer him.

  Then, as if he knew she wasn’t able to respond, he continued.

  “In no way am I suggesting we’d have a…standard marriage. No consummation—” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “But I would have to ask you not to see anyone else. I’d, of course, abide by the same rule. It would be embarrassing for me professionally if someone were to find out either of us was unfaithful.”

  “Of course,” she answered sharply. What the hell kind of woman did he think she was?

  He watched her for a moment, then said more gently, less stiffly, “I know this is odd, and I apologize for invading your privacy. I’ve been in the military for fifteen years, and all along I’ve worked for this—being a General—and now there’s one archaic thing keeping me from getting the position that my superior has already told me he wants to give me. I’m acting desperate because I am. If I knew someone I could ask to do this, I would.” He chuckled darkly. “Trust me, I’d rather that than have to beg a stranger.”

  “Why me?” she asked softly, suddenly sympathetic to this rigid, domineering man.

  He looked away for a moment, then back at her, his eyes softer than she’d seen them yet. “I’m not sure. But when I saw you, I knew it needed to be you. I felt—” He struggled for a moment searching for the words. “I felt like I understood you. You’re a warrior too.”

  Her chest tightened but she held on to her breath, waiting for him to finish.

  “What he did to you—so many people would have collapsed under that kind of weight. But here you are, still fighting it, still trying to conquer the mess he left you with. I didn’t know what battle you were fighting until I dug it up, but I could see you were fighting one that first day.”

  “I can’t marry you because you looked at me and saw a kindred spirit,” she said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

  “Then marry me because I can help you win your battle and you can help me win mine. You’re obviously an expert at planning and organizing events, that’s what the Army will ask of my wife. You can do something I need, I can give you something you need.”

  She rubbed at her forehead, an ache lodging between her eyes. “Colonel—”

  He took a step closer, then another. “Jeff. Please call me Jeff.”

  “Jeff. This is insane. You know that, right?”

  He grinned then, the first time she’d seen him smile, and it was so boyish and charming she felt herself sway toward him, all pretense of being offended flying right out the window of her classroom.

  “You only live once, Lisa,” he said. “Maybe we all need to do something insane occasionally.” Then he erased the remaining distance between them and stood in front of her, taking one of her hands in his. A warm frisson of electricity ran up her arm like fire through her veins. Her breath caught at the sensation, and she saw his eyes go wide for a moment before he leaned forward and whispered, “Think about it. I’ll pick you up for dinner tomorrow night at six. We can get to know each other.”

  Then he brought her hand to his mouth. His lips whispered across her knuckles before he released her, turned, and strode out of the room, every inch commanding, demanding, and in charge.

  Chapter 4

  Jeff stood and watched the gathering gray clouds outside his office window. Around the Pentagon Christmas preparations were in full swing, stores had lights strung, carolers had appeared on every street corner, there were Christmas trees everywhere. And then there were the receptions. Every Congressional office, federal agency, and lobbyist in DC was hosting a holiday reception. If Jeff so desired he could avoid paying for dinner for the next four weeks easily.

  The snowfall predicted for later that evening would likely be only a dusting, but Jeff knew it would only add to the holiday frenzy. His mind wandered to the idea of a Christmas tree, snow outside, a fire in the hearth. Jeff hadn’t had a real Christmas since his mother left the family when he was still in elementary school. His old man had been a bastard and holidays were usually just an excuse for more drinking. Sometimes one of Jeff’s two aunts would remember he was alive and pick him up to have Christmas dinner at their homes, but there were also a few years when he’d sat home alone while his father was out on a bender.

  In college he’d been invited to some roommates’ homes for Christmas. Those had been his f32 experiences with real holiday celebrations. In the military he’d been deployed or on duty nearly every Christmas for years. When he was finally assigned to the Pentagon and met the Powerplay members he’d always had a standing invitation to Christmas at the Egyptian Embassy where Kamal had been Ambassador before his marriage, or the White House once they all became entangled with the President in one way or another.

  Jeff rarely spoke about his childhood, and didn’t spend a lot of time lamenting what he hadn’t been given, but in the midst of DC’s first impending snowfall of the season, with the entire city in a rush of Christmas preparations, only hours before he was supposed to pick up Lisa for dinner, he couldn’t stop the whispers. Whispers of what it would be like to have a real wife, a family, an actual Christmas. Not an institutional one, not one that was predicated on ceremony and diplomacy. A simple, genuine family Christmas. Presents under a tree, turkey on the table, children playing with new toys, a glass of spiced cider in front of the fire.

  Lisa Scotch was the kind of woman who put images like that in a man’s head. Maybe it was the school teacher vibe, but she made him think of home-cooked meals, warm fires, people who loved you. Jefferson Thibedeux hadn’t had anyone love him since he was seven years old, and considering she up and left never looking back, maybe not even before then either.

  He shivered, pulling himself out of the self-pitying thoughts. Shrug it off, soldier. You have it better than the majority of people in this world. He knew that was true because he’d seen most of the world over the last fifteen years. He knew a few hundred thousand dollars in the bank, excellent health, and a solid career were more than the poor suffering humans in the world’s many war zones would ever have.

  He startled when his desk phone rang.

  “Yeah, Trish,” he said, addressing his secretary on the other end.

  “You have a call, but it was routed through the main desk and she won’t say what she wants.”

  “Did you get a name?”

  “Lisa Scotch,” she answered.

  “Put her through,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And you can put her through anytime no matter what.”

  Jeff would have paid to see the look on Trish’s face when she heard him. He’d never had a relationship serious enough for girlfriends to call him at the office. As far as his staff knew he didn’t have a personal life. But if he was going to marry Lisa, which he fully intended to do, he needed to lay the groundwork, get them used to him having her around.

  “Yes, sir,” Trish said dutifully. “Just one moment.”

  He waited for a few seconds, and then heard Trish say, “Colonel Thibedeux is on the line now.”

  Trish clicked off and Lisa’s voice came on. Jeff felt something inside him tighten and unbidden images of that home with her waiting popped back into his mind. He shook it off as she said, “Hello, Colonel? This is Lisa…Scotch. From Arlington Elementary?”

  “Of course,” he answered. “I just saw you yesterday—and asked you to marry me, I might add, I’m not likely to have forgotten you in twenty-four hours. Let me guess, you’re calling to tell me you can’t have dinner tonight.”

  There was a sound of breath from the other end, a whisper of a sigh.

  “Colonel, I can’t—"

  “Actually, you can.” He looked at the ceiling for inspiration. He’d been in some pretty tough negotiations over the years
. Negotiations with superiors, negotiations with foreign military partners and with enemies on the losing end of war. He wasn’t a novice at finding ways to convince recalcitrant groups and individuals to do what he wanted them to. “Look, let’s take marriage off the table, and just go with dinner. That’s all this needs to be. Two people eating some food together.”

  “What, like a date?” she squeaked.

  “Exactly like one.” He grinned even though she couldn’t see him.

  “I don’t date soldiers,” she said abruptly.

  “Because of your ex?” he asked.

  “How astute of you.”

  He rotated his chair so he could look out at the snowfall again. “And if I said that I had a brunette ex who was evil so I no longer date brunettes?”

  She sighed. “Touché, Colonel.”

  "Jeff,” he corrected.

  “This isn’t a good idea—”

  “Lisa?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll pick you up at six.”

  “Fine.”

  He smiled as he replaced the receiver on the cradle. Yes, he was going to marry Lisa Scotch. Then he was going to get his promotion. He might not have a real Christmas, but he had real aspirations and he was going to ensure he achieved them. Every one.

  Lisa looked at herself in the mirror, tugging on the hem of the black wool skirt. “Why do you even care?” she muttered. “He’s crazy, and you’re crazier for getting anywhere near him, much less in a car just the two of you.”

  She twisted, inspecting the back of the outfit. The red sweater was form fitting, and the skirt was straight, falling midway down her thighs. Her tall black suede boots hugged her calves and had a wedge heel on them. The Colonel was tall, she thought, she could wear heels as high as she wanted if she were out with him.

  “Stop it, you crazy woman!” she chided. “You are not going to date this man. And you especially aren’t going to marry him.”

  She fluffed her hair. Like only a woman going on a real date would. “Arrgh!” she growled just as the front doorbell rang. She huffed out a frustrated breath, then stomped out of the bedroom, grabbing her purse from the foyer table as she approached the door. She flung it open, and stopped, the breath catching in her throat.

  “Hi,” he said, giving her a warm smile.

  She gaped for a moment before she answered. He wasn’t in uniform. She’d never seen him out of uniform. He was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans that hung from his narrow hips ending at a pair of black lace up boots, topped by a long-sleeved knit shirt that hugged the contours of his muscular chest to perfection. His hair looked somehow longer, slightly tousled, as if a woman had just run her fingers through it, and at that thought a pang of envy shot through Lisa’s chest. It was ridiculous, but if any fingers were going to run through that hair, it ought to be her fingers.

  “I still think this is a bad idea,” she grumbled as she shoved past him, shutting the door behind her.

  He watched her quietly, smile firmly in place.

  “If my mother knew I was getting into a car with you she’d probably have me committed.”

  He reached into his back pocket and extracted his wallet as she locked the door. When she turned to look at him he handed her a business card.

  “This is the name and private number for General Walter Armstrong, my superior officer. Feel free to keep that. Take a picture of it and send it to your mom, your best friend, whomever. You are absolutely safe with me, Lisa. No matter what you decide about my proposed arrangement, I will never do anything you don’t agree to. If you truly don’t want to go to dinner with me, please say so now. I’ve pushed a bit because it seemed like you were considering it, but if I’ve misinterpreted, just tell me. I’ll go away. And I won’t come back.”

  At the words, “I won’t come back,” she shivered. Something didn’t sit right with that. At the heart of it all, Colonel Thibedeux had been nothing but polite, gentlemanly, and well, in some ways it was flattering someone wanted to marry her again, even if it was only to get a promotion. After all, he could have asked a thousand other women.

  “I’ll go,” she muttered.

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “I’ll go to dinner. It’s fine.” She reached over to snatch the business card from his fingers. “But I’m keeping this.”

  He smirked. “Please do,” he said before putting his hand at the small of her back and walking her to the car. Her skin could feel his imprint all the way to dinner.

  Chapter 5

  Jeff watched Lisa as she perused the menu at the small neighborhood Italian restaurant he’d chosen. He wanted somewhere nice, but not intimidating, someplace they could talk, get to know each other. He’d nearly swallowed his tongue when she’d opened the door. The woman he’d thought was pretty but sad was sexy as hell out of her school teacher clothes. The red sweater hugged every curve, the black knee-high boots made her legs look a mile long. Her thick, wavy hair was piled on her head in some sort of updo, and all he really wanted was to figure out what the hell kept it up so he could remove the fastening and watch it all spill down over her preferably naked shoulders.

  “Jeff?”

  He blinked, realizing she’d been talking to him.

  “Yes?” he asked. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  Her eyes narrowed for a moment then she shrugged lightly. “I wondered if you had anything you’d recommend. I assume you’ve been here before?”

  “I have. Are you a vegetarian or anything?”

  “No, I’m not a big fan of eggplant but other than that I’m easy.”

  “The ziti is fabulous, and so is the manicotti.”

  She nodded then looked back at the menu.

  He watched as her gaze shifted from one page of the menu to the next. Her lashes were long and luxurious, a silky fringe that framed her soft gray eyes.

  She rolled her lips together in thought and Jeff felt things south of his waist spring to life. No, that wasn’t what this was about. No matter how lovely she was—and she really was—sex wasn’t part of the deal. He’d told her it was a marriage in name only. No consummation. He needed a promotion. She needed money. It was that simple. Sex was not part of the arrangement, nor should it be.

  “Did you decide?” he asked to distract himself from images of her soft eyes looking up at him while those lips did other things to his skin, his chest, his cock.

  “I’m going to go with the manicotti,” she said, laying the menu down and smiling at him. “How about you?”

  “The same,” he answered. “It’s my favorite.”

  “So…Jeff…” she paused, her gaze dropping to the table for a moment, “you seem to already know everything about me, maybe you should tell me about yourself.”

  He topped her wine glass off with the bottle the waiter had left on the table. “What would you like to know?”

  “The basics—where you grew up, how you started in the military, brothers and sisters, all that sort of thing.”

  “I grew up in Arkansas. My mother left us when I was young, so it was just my father and I, no brothers or sisters. I went to the University of Arkansas and paid for it with a ROTC scholarship like a lot of poor southern kids do. Difference was I made it my career.”

  “Never married?” she asked as her fingertip drew a circle on the tablecloth.

  “No. Married to the job, I guess. How about you? How did you meet your ex?”

  She chuckled bitterly. “A bar. Which should have been my first warning sign.”

  He grinned at her. “I have to admit, the Sergeant is a real douche.”

  She smiled back at him. “He is.”

  They grinned at each other for a moment.

  “Earlier—yesterday—you said you were going to make sure he suffered appropriately for how he treated me. What exactly does that entail?”

  He smirked. “Do I detect some bloodthirstiness?”

  “No…” She paused. “Well, maybe. I don’t want him hurt physically, but I wouldn�
�t mind seeing him made uncomfortable in some other ways.”

  His voice dropped as he leaned forward. When he did he could smell her perfume—light, teasing, lavender and vanilla. It made him want to lick her all over like an ice cream cone. “Let’s just say his commanding officer will ensure the Sergeant gets all the absolute worst assignments and no promotions—ever. Also, every one of the Army’s worst posts. And trust me, we have bases in some really shit hole places.”

  She laughed, her cheeks turning pink. It was charming, and Jeff had to remind himself again that sex with your pretend wife wasn’t a good idea. In addition to the fact she hadn’t yet agreed to become his pretend wife.

  Dinner was ordered and delivered and they ate, alternating between comfortable silence and cursory questions.

  After dinner they walked outside to discover the snow had finally started falling, dusting the streets and sidewalks with a layer of fluffy white.

  “I can get the car and bring it around if you don’t want to walk in this,” he said, holding her elbow as they stood under the awning in front of the restaurant.

  “Are you kidding?” she asked, slipping out of his grasp and moving toward the sidewalk. “It’s the first snowfall of the season, we have to walk to a coffee shop so we can get hot chocolate.”

  He stared at her for a moment.

  “We do?”

  “Of course! Don’t you celebrate the first snowfall with hot chocolate?”

  “Uh, no. I’ve never celebrated the first snowfall at all. And I don’t know that I’ve had hot chocolate since one of my aunts made it for me as a kid.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “I swear I thought you just said you haven’t had hot chocolate since you were a child.”

  “Right.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

  She made a sound of disapproval and grabbed his hand, pulling him firmly into the snowfall.

  “You poor dear. We can fix that.”

  Jeff followed her, amusement washing through him. The bones in her hand were fine and tiny in his grasp. It made him aware of how large he was in comparison to her. He had the sudden urge to wrap her in his arms, protect her, warm her, shield her.