A Man of Privilege

by Sarah M. Anderson

  Breathing was easier said than done, but after a few minutes, the awful taste was less awful. “What the hell am I going to do?”

  “You’re going to stick close to James. You can do this, Maggie.” Her arm still around Maggie’s shoulder, Rosebud sighed. “Look, I’m going to be up front with you. Having his case thrown out has never happened to James before, and frankly, it’s a little suspicious.”

  Maggie wished she understood this whole thing better. None of this was her world. “Like how?”

  “This is a corruption trial. It may run deeper than James thought.” Rosebud shook her head in disgust, and Maggie could see that she was tired of this fight. But then she perked back up. “What that means for you is that you can’t announce you’re a witness in D.C. You’re the last line of defense for this case. James needs to keep you as safe as possible. Your testimony cannot be compromised. Yellow Bird might find something to keep you off the stand, but he was stretching it to find you.”

  There was that word again, compromised. Maggie couldn’t look at Rosebud, so she stared at the clothes bursting out of the suitcases. Should she tell Rosebud that she’d already been compromised? That, for the first time in her life, and against her better judgment, she was falling in love—with the most inappropriate man possible?

  Rosebud didn’t seem to notice her silence. Maybe she hadn’t guessed about the sex. Or she was willfully overlooking it. Either way, Maggie felt as if she was getting a pass. “If you find yourself talking to anyone outside of Lenon’s office, you are the legal assistant of Rosebud Armstrong, attorney at law. Leave everything else open. If they ask where you went to school, change the subject. If they get obnoxious about it, leave. Spill a drink, step on a toe, accuse them of racism, whatever. It doesn’t matter.” She gave Maggie a serious look. “You can do this. I have complete faith in you.” The conviction in her voice was both comforting and surprising.

  Before Maggie could think much about it, Rosebud had pulled up a shimmery blue dress with fancy cap sleeves. “You’ll need two suits and one cocktail dress.” She handed Maggie the dress. “Let’s get started, okay?”

  Nine

  James sat in his car, watching the trickle of traffic in the Pierre Regional Airport. Not much was happening at four-thirty in the morning. Next to nothing, in fact.

  The two days since he’d seen Maggie had been some of the longest of his life. He and Agnes had been working around the clock to shore up his case. Lenon wanted this conviction as much as James did, but Lenon would kill the whole thing before he’d risk letting James make a fool out of the department. James had sent Yellow Bird back out to find something—anything—admissible on Maynard.

  Anything that wouldn’t put Maggie on the stand.

  Another set of headlights flashed over the parking lot. Not a Jeep. Damn.

  He would not sleep with her again. Not that they’d done any sleeping before, but she was off-limits. No one needed to know about the one-and-only time James had ever lost his head over a witness. It didn’t matter that he was doing everything in his power to keep her out of the courtroom. It didn’t matter if he was fond of her. What mattered was justice, putting Maynard away for good. That’s what he had to remember. Which did not explain the pack of condoms he’d shoved into one of the inner pockets of his suitcase. He wondered how many times he’d have to tell himself this before it sank in through his thick skull.

  Agnes had reserved a suite at the Watergate Hotel—a small apartment, really, with an office, dining room, kitchen and two separate bedrooms. There was nothing unusual about that. He’d shared suites with other sensitive witnesses who required constant monitoring. It was a lot like being in a hostel—suddenly, you had to share the coffeepot with someone who you’d rather not.

  But this someone? A different story. A different someone.

  Not sleeping with her, he said again as another set of headlights cut through the dark. This time, it was a Jeep. James grabbed his bag and went to meet her.

  Be the professional, he told himself as he opened her door for her. “Good morning, Maggie.”

  The dome light cast long shadows over her face. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he could see that she had on a pair of kitten heels and a tailored, chocolate-brown wool suit. Her hair was loose, and he didn’t think she had on any makeup. Didn’t matter. She was stunning, even more so given how damn early it was.

  She gazed up at him. The air grew sharp between them, as if things were crystallizing right before his eyes. His pulse began to pick up speed. Despite not thinking about it, his mind went rushing back to the narrow confines of her kitchen and the warmth of her welcoming body.

  James shook his head, chasing such forbidden thoughts away. He had to stay focused here. The lawyer part of his brain was ecstatic that she had, in fact, shown up. The rest of him was just ecstatic to see her again.

  He thought he saw the corners of her lips curl up into a tentative smile. “Good morning, James.”

  He could only stare at her as she unfolded those legs from the car.

  Not sleeping with her. Not even thinking about it.

  She went back to the trunk and pulled out a nice overnight bag. Silently, they made their way inside the airport.

  He kept an eye on her as they checked in and took their seats by the gate. The airport wasn’t big by any stretch of the imagination, but James could tell by the way her eyes got wide as she looked around that she’d never been here. Then a new thought occurred to him. “Have you ever been on a plane?”

  “No. I’ve never even left the state.” Her voice was small, but still surprisingly professional. She was nervous, but doing an amazing job of hiding it.

  “The first flight will be in a little puddle-jumper.” He tried to keep his tone light and informative, but he was fully aware he was staring at her. “It might be bumpy, but don’t let that bother you.”

  “Right. No throwing up. Check.” Finally, she met his gaze with a smile that was supposed to be brave, he guessed. It didn’t quite make it. She looked sweet and vulnerable. That sharpness hit him again. What was wrong with him?

  “Then we’ll be on a regular plane when we leave Minneapolis.”

  “Now boarding to Minneapolis!” A man in a safety vest shouted through an open door.

  “You can do this.” Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he gave her arm a squeeze. “I have faith in you.” Color flooded her cheeks, but she didn’t pull away.

  “Everyone keeps telling me that.” Together, they stood and began the long walk out to the tarmac. She drew in a breath. He could feel the tension rolling off her body as they neared the small plane. One other person straggled out of the building after them. At least the flight wouldn’t be crowded.

  He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her it was all going to work out. But the guy behind them was grumbling as he barreled toward the steps, so James thought it best to get on the plane. Besides, touching her was not on his to-do list today or any other day. At least until this case was closed.

  The pilot greeted them, thermos of coffee in his hands. “Morning, Mr. Carlson.” He then nodded to Maggie. “Ma’am. Welcome back. We’ll be up in a few. Pick any seat you want—you two and the other passenger are it this morning.”

  Maggie nodded, her smile a thin, tight thing on her face. “Thank you,” she said, and again James marveled at how strong she sounded.

  The plane had two seats on one side of the aisle, and another lonely seat on the other side. The whole thing was about fifteen rows deep. He’d been on smaller planes, but Maggie hadn’t. He debated sitting separately, but only for a second. They were traveling together. Sitting together was not suggestive. He guided her to seats close to the front. Luckily, the other guy stuck to the middle of the plane, so they could have some privacy.

  Privacy to do what? That was the question that James couldn’t answer. They wouldn’t be in the air more than forty minutes, but he knew safe time alone with Maggie was at a premium. When they were in
the suite, he could barely afford to be in the same room with her. The rest of the time, they’d be at the Department of Justice, making a case for his case. Here, on this plane, he could speak with her honestly, but the other passenger and the pilot guaranteed he wouldn’t cross any lines.

  Maggie slid in first, staring wide-eyed out the window. She clicked the buckle over her lap and tightened it down. Then she closed her eyes. He could see the concentration writ large across her forehead.

  In a strange way, it almost hurt him to see her that nervous, to know he was making her do this. Another pang of guilt hit him midchest. He had to do something to make this better for her—but it wasn’t like he could send her home. There was no going back. This case was too important. He had to put Maynard away. But this wasn’t about another win, not anymore. This was about justice for Maggie. There had to be a way to keep her off the stand. “This is perfectly safe,” was the weak thing he came up with, as if that would make it all better.

  “Because you’re the expert in safety, right?”

  That pulled him up short. James looked over his shoulder. The other passenger was already snoring. “What?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m not pregnant, just so you know. I took several tests, just to be safe. And I’ve had a clean bill of health for years. You left before I could tell you that. Before I could ask about you.”

  She had him dead to rights, but his defense mechanism was hardwired. “Look, Agnes called about the case and then Nan came in and I had to get back to the office—”

  She held up her hand. “I understand. The case comes first.” Except she said it through clenched teeth as the door behind them shut.

  Part of him wanted to feel badly about that. She was right, after all. He’d bailed the moment the call had come through. But she was also right that the case—and his career—had to come first. Ferreting out corruption was bigger than his feelings for her. He hadn’t come this far to be distracted by his attraction to a woman. Not even if that woman was Maggie Eagle Heart.

  Man, this was killing him. To hell with keeping his distance. He leaned in close—close enough that he could smell the warmth of her skin and the clean scent of green apples in her hair. “Maggie,” he said in a voice that was loud enough that she could hear him over the engines roaring to life, “I promised to keep you safe, and that’s a promise I intend to keep, on the ground and in the air.”

  Her eyes fluttered back open as she took a deep breath. The lines of stress eased from her forehead, and when she turned to look at him, their noses were less than six inches apart. A quick, small smile flashed over her face, and despite the ungodly hour and the nerve-racking situation, he felt a building warmth spread throughout his chest. “I have faith in you, too.”

  At that instant the plane began to taxi toward the runway. Maggie sucked in a hard breath and squeezed her eyes shut tight. James knew he shouldn’t—couldn’t—touch her, but this wasn’t about sex or desire. This was about comforting another person. She had comforted him the other night—before he took it too far.

  He still couldn’t believe he’d crossed that line. For the last nine years, Maggie had attained an almost holy purity, abstaining from every single weakness known to man. And just because his nanny had died, James had taken the comfort Maggie had offered him and turned it sexual. Yes, the attraction between them had been there from the moment she’d walked into his office.

  But James knew the truth. He was corrupting her. And now he had to take her into his world and introduce her to his people—people like Lenon, who wouldn’t care about how she’d turned her life around, how she’d made something of herself. No one in D.C. would care about her as a person—no one but him.

  Despite her history, Maggie was too innocent, too naive, just too damn pure. He was going to ruin her life, her reputation, and for what? Yes, he wanted justice done. But winning this case wasn’t just about putting Maynard away. In D.C., it would be less about protecting the weak and innocent and more—much more—about winning his case and having the perfect record when he ran for office.

  Was he really the kind of man who would do that to someone he was fond of? To Maggie?

  He slid his hand over the one of hers that had a death grip on the armrest. No other part of her moved, but she flipped that hand and laced her fingers through his.

  It could have been different. He could have refused to cash in his insurance policy and let the case die. He would have had to take his black eye and move on, but Maggie would have been safe.

  But others wouldn’t, his consciousness pointed out. If he didn’t put Maynard away, the man would destroy someone else’s life. He couldn’t let the case die. He had sworn to uphold the law. All he could do was hope that Yellow Bird came up with something, and fast. That was the only way to protect Maggie and lock Maynard up—for good. And until that time, Maggie was his star witness.

  The plane accelerated, the force pushing them back into their seats. James smiled. He’d always loved takeoffs and landings, the sensation of breaking the law of gravity. He leaned forward to look past Maggie and out the window. He couldn’t see much—it was still dark—but the lights of the terminal were visible.

  Then they were off the ground, climbing higher and higher. The rush of flight made him feel giddy, and he was tempted to tell Maggie to open her eyes to see the fading lights of Pierre disappear behind them. But suddenly, the plane hit an air pocket—a big one. The plane bumped up and then down a few feet. Maggie let out a scream that was only muffled by her clenched teeth.

  “Folks, we’re going to have a bumpy ride this morning, so stay buckled in your seats,” the pilot called back. James heard the other passenger grunt, but the snoring continued.

  Damnation. As the plane hit another pocket, she clamped down on his hand so hard that she was in serious danger of breaking one or more of his fingers. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” she said in a whisper of panic.

  Double damnation. James pried his wounded fingers away from her and slid that arm around her shoulders as he raised the armrest. Then he pulled her closer and gave her his other hand to hold. She grabbed it with both hands and held on for dear life, then burrowed her face into his chest. That weird warmth spread up the back of his neck. So he couldn’t get her off this plane. He could still be the rock she clung to.

  “Just a little turbulence,” he said into her hair. She nodded—a tiny movement, but enough to let him know she’d heard him. He decided that if he kept talking and she kept listening, he might be able to distract her from her terror. “This flight is all takeoff and landing. There’s no cruising at any altitude.”

  Again, the tiny nod. But this time, she shifted so that more of her body was leaning against him. It bordered on cozy.

  He leaned back, enjoying the feel of her body against his. Their brief, heated coupling hadn’t left time for touching. He felt the heavy weight of her breast against his chest, the silky smoothness of her hair.

  All that warmth that had been doing all that building in his body went right past comforting and straight on over to desire. He prayed she wouldn’t notice his sudden, inconvenient erection.

  Another series of turbulent bumps saved them both. He hugged her tighter and kept on explaining what each noise and every movement meant. When they began the descent, she had calmed down enough that she was able to look out the window to see the miles of Minneapolis lights twinkling in the distance. “It’s so big,” she said, the wonder obvious in her voice before a huge drop sent her back into his arms.

  James held her throughout the rocky landing. He’d flown a lot, but this particular landing was one of the roughest he could remember. It got to the point that he couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince her or himself that each noise had a purpose. Damn it all, he’d never forgive himself for getting her killed.

  Maggie let out a strangled squeak when the plane’s wheels touched the runway and then the plane bounced back into the air for a brief moment. The contact took on the seco
nd attempt, and before long, they were taxiing to the terminal.

  “We’re down,” he told her as he tried to untangle his limbs from hers.

  She didn’t appear to have heard him. In fact, she didn’t move. Had she passed out? “Maggie?”

  “Is it over?” No forced confidence this time. Instead, she sounded as if she was on the verge of sobbing.

  Just then, the plane came to a stop. Moments later, the door popped open. “It’s over, sweetheart,” he heard himself whisper. Sweetheart? Damn it. “We can get off the plane now.”

  Maggie unbuckled the seat belt, but when she tried to stand, her knees gave out and she fell back into her seat. She made a noise that sounded like, “Orgh,” as she put her head between her knees.

  “You made it,” he said, knowing full well his words probably weren’t helping. He started to rub her back, right between her shoulder blades. “You did a great job. Now you’ve got to stand up and walk off this plane.” He stood and more or less lifted her up. She was completely gray, and her hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat. “Come on, sweetheart. I’m right here for you.”

  She let him take her by the arm and guide her down the steps. They then took their time mounting the stairs that led into the terminal. By the time they got to the top, Maggie’s face was now an ashy-green and her whole body was shaking. “I think I’m going to pass out,” she said in a faint voice.

  He looked around until he saw a smoothie stand about thirty feet away. “Come on,” he said again, pulling her toward a cluster of tables in the middle of the terminal.

  Once she had her head back between her knees, he hurried to get her a strawberry-banana smoothie. The smoothie worker was in no mood to hurry, and James found himself tapping his toe with impatience. “Thanks,” he said in his most sarcastic tone when he finally had the smoothie in hand.

  By the time he got back to where he’d left Maggie, she was sitting upright, looking slightly less green. He handed her the smoothie and waited while she downed the whole thing in under three minutes.