She came up to him until she was so close that he had to put his hands on her waist to keep from stumbling back. “Whoever thought flags could be so sexy?”
Before he could answer, she closed the last of the gap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Janet would be pleased. Hell, he was beyond pleased. She kissed him like she meant it.
This wasn’t some prelude to sex. It felt like the first time he’d fired a rifle. Handguns he could take or leave, knowledge was his real weapon, but learning to fire an M16A4 had been a voyage of discovery. He never came close to sniper skill. Most of those guys were born with a pop gun in their hands and he’d been born clutching a library card. But a rifle was a machine he’d learned to appreciate. He still tried to get range time every week or so.
Cornelia’s kiss was like that. Not sex. Not an unleashing of the passionate woman she normally hid deep inside. It was soft, exploratory, and so sincere that it could take his knees out from under him.
He gave back as good as he could. He rapidly discovered that wasn’t a hard task. It was like she was kissing him for the first time and it was a voyage that he wanted to be at the end of as well. The whole ride.
What she seemed to be discovering, he’d already found: exactly who he wanted to be with. And he was holding her.
She—
“I thought that was a Presidential prerogative.” Sienna. National Security Advisor. Somewhere behind him.
“What is?” He meant to tell her to go the hell away, but it didn’t come out right. He didn’t like unanswered questions.
“Necking in the White House.”
Oh! “Go away. I’m busy here.”
He leaned back in. Cornelia’s eyes were dreamy and warm with—
“Have you two eaten yet?”
“What part of go away I’m busy here was I unclear about?” But the moment had passed him by. Cornelia’s eyes had refocused and were looking over his shoulder toward Sienna.
“No, we haven’t eaten.”
“Then I’ll just blame your temporary lapse of protocol on low blood sugar. Come on. Let’s go to dinner. You can bring him too if you must.”
Cornelia looked at him, “Are you going to behave?”
“Not a chance,” his voice was rough and he barely had control.
“I suppose,” again she was speaking over his shoulder, “that I’d better bring him along or who knows what trouble he’ll get into.”
Then she brushed her lips ever so lightly over his.
“This will make us even.”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Payback,” she whispered, “for almost getting me to agree to do it in a White House closet.” Cornelia eased away, tucked her hand in his arm, and turned him about. Sienna stood there smirking at them as if she’d heard every word. “He tried to bribe me with chocolate.”
And it had damn near worked too. Crap! It had come so close to working, not that getting her naked, in or out of a closet, was his goal at the moment. He needed to get back to finding out what was behind that kiss. He fell into step beside Sienna who slid a hand around his other arm. The two women started talking about something, though he was damned if he could tell what—his ears were still ringing from the stratospheric climb of that kiss.
They headed up some stairs like the three of them were off to see the wizard together. He was in no damn mood to break into a dance step down some yellow brick road.
But maybe he should be. Janet’s advice had been spot on. If this was the result of doing a little courting, he was going to try it again soon. Hell, he’d do it every damn day for the rest of his life.
Cornelia had kissed him with more than her body, she’d done it with her heart. Did she even realize that?
He’d bet not and it was going to surprise the crap out of her when she did. He couldn’t wait to be the one to tell her. He almost did want to break into a dance as they turned along a hall.
He’d dance right down the yellow…Oval Room.
The Yellow Oval was on the floor directly above the Blue Room with its Christmas tree.
That placed the Yellow Oval on the second floor, the President’s personal residence.
He swallowed hard and blinked a few times. It didn’t go away. He’d stumbled to a halt. Clicking his heels three times didn’t make it go away.
For the first time in a decade at the White House, he was in the President’s home.
“Look what I found wandering the halls,” Sienna called out to the assembled group.
Cornelia welcomed the abrupt change of scene.
Here the world made more sense than in the highly decorated first floor and Blue Room. Anywhere in the world made more sense than the Blue Room at the moment.
Each year at Christmas she had been invited, along with Vice President Thomas, to the President’s Christmas party. And though the night of the formal party was still a week away, it was a familiar sight. The Central Hall of the Second Floor of the Residence had far more rational seasonal decorations than the floors below. There were a couple of cheerful Christmas trees glittering in the long space. Red poinsettias ringed the grand piano. Festive pine-and-citrus garlands had been draped about dour eighteenth-century paintings. And that was about the extent of it—cheery without overwhelming.
In among the décor, the President Peter Matthews, Zachary, Daniel, and a man she didn’t know had gathered on a group of couches. Then Sienna wrapped an arm about the stranger’s neck and leaned down to kiss him. This had to be Roy Beaumont, Sienna’s Secret Service sniper husband. The men all looked casually comfortable together. She wondered if she was really supposed to be here, then remembered that she was the Chief of Staff now—not merely the Vice President’s assistant.
She didn’t normally gravitate to groups, but at the moment she welcomed them and tried to hurry the lagging Damien next to her. The kiss in the Blue Room hadn’t been merely intense. Damien was the master of intense, which worked for her because so was she. But that kiss had been…languid. Not that there wasn’t energy, but rather that there was a smooth perfection that had filled her body until she felt as if she was radiating light out of every pore.
Cornelia Day the Christmas ornament.
It was the only way that she could describe it. Deep and smooth, it had flowed through and out of her. Rather than leaving her breathless for more, it had grounded her with a completeness that…
That she’d never found anywhere before. Sex with Damien was great. Actually, spectacular. But it was still sex. The kiss was something different that she really wasn’t ready to think about.
“Since when…” Zachary was eyeing their still-clasped hands.
When Cornelia attempted to extract hers from Damien’s, he resisted. It was too late to hide anyway.
“Need to pay closer attention, Mr. President-elect,” Daniel teased Zachary. “They’re an item. Hot gossip for days now.”
“A week,” President Matthews put in.
“You’re all blind,” Sienna stood beside her husband’s chair with a hand on his shoulder. “They’ve been together since the first day in the Sit Room. Totally obvious. Though I think Cornelia was a little slow on the uptake on that.”
“Never known her to be slow about anything.” Zachary was studying her more closely than she was comfortable with. She had always kept her personal life separate from the office, never mentioning a boyfriend, always being careful to cancel a date out of earshot if there was a late change in work plans.
Damien nodded agreement that Sienna had it right and the other men inspected him with renewed interest. She could see that slightly smug aura of self-satisfaction coming from him. I’m the new alpha male on the block simply radiated in every direction. She could even feel it in the strengthening of his grip on her hand.
Before she could do anything to knock him back to reality, Sienna stepped over and extracted Cornelia’s hand from Damien’s.
“Come on,” Sienna led her back toward the stair landing, throug
h a grand arched passage, and into the East Sitting Room. It was tucked between the Lincoln Bedroom and the Queen’s Bedroom. First Lady Kim-Ly Geneviève Matthews, Genny, had decorated the space for herself with an eclectic mix of her combined French-Vietnamese heritage. Comfortable chairs, intricately carved side tables, wall pieces in dark wood, and pots of lush plants leant a tamed-jungle feel to the room.
It was as breathtaking as the woman with a thick flow of dark brown hair who sat with the First Child asleep in her lap.
Daniel’s wife and CIA analyst Alice Darlington, and First Lady-elect Anne Darlington-Thomas completed the small group.
She definitely did not belong here. Men she knew how to deal with, even Damien’s ego, but these women were a mystery, even if she had become close friends with Anne.
Sienna dragged her along by the hand that she hadn’t released since freeing it from Damien’s clasp—as if she’d known Cornelia’s reaction ahead of time. She led them to an open couch and pulled Cornelia down beside her.
“I caught her and Damien Feinman necking by the Blue Room Christmas tree. I figured I’d better drag her to safety, because it looked like one of those kisses.”
All eyes turned on her.
“Really?” Anne’s question was filled with hope as she leaned forward to pour two glasses of wine for the late arrivals. “I do so love those kinds of kisses.”
Alice and the First Lady were nodding in agreement as Sienna sighed happily at some memory of her own.
If this was safety, Cornelia was going to go back to California and study to be a dentist.
“So, you and my Chief of Staff?” Zachary Thomas asked as Damien returned from the family kitchen with a beer for himself and a refresher for Roy and the President.
“Seems like,” Damien tried not to sound too damn pleased, but it was hard.
“Who’s first?” The President asked the others.
“Who’s first what?”
Everyone else appeared to know what he was talking about.
“They’re debating,” Daniel explained with a sweep of his beer glass to indicate the others, “which one will get first shot at beating the stuffing out of you if you hurt her in any way.”
“Oh,” Damien suddenly felt much less comfortable. This circle was several leagues above his usual social set.
“The Commander-in-Chief,” Daniel continued amiably, “is partial to the Night Stalkers helicopter regiment. I know from personal experience that having them on your bad side is not a good choice. Though I’m not sure having them on your good side is all that much better. They’re a tough crowd.”
“As a Secret Service sniper turned Protection Detail,” Roy spoke up, “I’ll just shoot your ass and be done with you.”
“Like the President,” Zachary Thomas picked up without missing a beat, “I’m partial to helicopters. But I flew combat search-and-rescue for the Air Force. So, I’ll be obliged to save your ass after Roy shoots it for you. Of course, in another seven weeks I’ll also have the authority to call up a flight of A-10 Warthogs or a couple B-2 stealth bombers to take you out.”
“So don’t screw up, because we aren’t the dangerous ones,” Daniel concluded.
Damien blew out a hard breath. “Well if you guys aren’t, then who is?”
In unison all the guys turned to face toward the round of women’s laughter sounding from down the hall where Cornelia had gone.
“Okay,” he couldn’t argue with that.
The President nodded, as if confirming that topic was laid to rest.
“So, where’s the money on tomorrow’s game?” Zachary spoke up. “My Air Force Falcons have already won Commander-in-Chief’s Trophy by lambasting both the Army and the Navy.”
Damien groaned, “One lousy point. The Falcons beat the Academy’s Midshipmen by one lousy point.”
“Still a win for the Air Force,” Zachary sat back with all the arrogance of a President-elect whose school had the winning team.
“We’re going to trounce the Army,” Damien declared.
“You’re only safe saying that because there isn’t anyone from the Army here to defend their school.”
“We’ll trounce them anyway.”
“Should I call up Majors Beale and Henderson and ask their opinion?” The President’s question was an outright dare.
Damien had met the Majors. Even retired and working as aviation firefighters, he wasn’t going to tangle with them.
“We’re still gonna win,” he tried not to be sullen about how poor their starting lineup was this year.
The others laughed in commiseration.
“Seriously! We need to go down and raid that chocolate shop now,” Sienna was immediately on her feet at the end of Cornelia’s telling the tale.
“It will spoil our appetites,” Anne pointed out. “Dinner is soon.”
“Nonsense. Chocolate has nothing to do with appetite spoilage,” Alice rose to clasp an arm around Sienna’s shoulders. “We’re starting a women-in-search-of-chocolate solidarity movement. Who’s on board?”
Cornelia was on the verge of caving to the inevitable when the First Lady spoke up.
“Adele is still asleep,” she nodded toward the two-year old half on the couch and half in her mother’s lap. “But I have a solution. Could you hand me the phone?”
Cornelia did so while the two women in solidarity looked on.
“Chef Andrews? Genny Matthews here up in East Sitting Hall. Cornelia Day has been regaling us with the wonders of your confections and we were hoping that we might send someone down to fetch a sampling… Oh. Perfect! Thank you.” She hung up the phone. “He is sending it right up. Apparently he had been experimenting with the Marou chocolate that I brought him from my last trip to Vietnam and would appreciate some biased opinions. We should be in for a treat.”
There was an effortlessness to the First Lady that Cornelia wished she possessed.
“You are inspecting me with deep thoughts?”
Somewhat abashed, Cornelia repeated her thought aloud.
“Yes, it is just so. That is how I may appear, but I did not feel this way when your President was proposing to me while a renegade faction of the Thai army was attacking us in Cambodia.”
“Damien hasn’t proposed to me.”
“And yet,” Genny said with her perfect calm, “he is the first thought when you think of proposals. The first time Peter and I played Scrabble, that is when I really knew. We played just where the men are sitting even now.”
Cornelia opened her mouth and closed it again.
“There are times when you simply know,” Anne reassured her. “I was done in by a photograph of a model train set.”
“Daniel was outsmarted by an Advent Calendar,” Alice sighed.
“When Roy aimed his rifle at me,” Sienna shrugged at Cornelia’s surprise. “I should say his rifle scope, but the two pieces were attached at the time. He just couldn’t stop watching me. Still can’t.”
“He is the head of your protection detail,” Anne pointed out.
“I prefer to think it is my magnetic powers. Though I have to admit, the moment I met him face to face—phfftt!” She flicked aside the fall of hair by her temple. “Instant brain short. Other than insulting him a few times at the Air and Space Museum, I can’t remember a thing I said to him. I suppose that I should have known then, but it took me a bit longer than these others.”
“Well, we had our first kiss in front of the Air and Space Museum.” Cornelia could remember every moment of that kiss, so why was the one in the Blue Room little more than a hazy blur yet ten times more important?
“Yum,” Sienna agreed. “Great spot.”
“Except it was dark, cold, and snowing.”
“All the more reason to grab a warm man.”
Had that been her moment? Or was it during that first meeting across the Sit Room table where she discovered an intelligence to match her own? Perhaps his look of interest across that table when he had discovered the same? No. It w
as before even the first kiss.
“For our first date—I didn’t even know that’s what it was—he took me to Molly Malone’s. It’s an Irish pub across the street from the Marine Barracks. It was a Friday night and the restaurant was packed with very able-bodied men.”
The others oohed and aahed.
“Very able bodied,” Cornelia wasn’t exactly sure what came over her—she’d barely noticed the other men—but her tease was met with more groans of delight. “Yet he was so sure of himself that he never for a moment second-guessed taking me there. At least not until I pointed out his potential folly.” And they all laughed.
And Cornelia knew.
Just as the other women had known. That had been the moment that Damien swept her off her feet—almost literally when his friend had pounded him on the back. It was his confidence, yes. But most of all it was his easy willingness to laugh at himself first of anyone. Here was a man who sat in the one place in the world best suited to see mankind’s worst moments—disaster had a direct feed to his desk—yet still found paths to joy.
“Aren’t they just the cutest thing when they’re so sure of themselves?” Sienna sighed happily.
They were, Cornelia agreed, but it wasn’t without reason.
Any further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Chef Andrews himself. He’d changed to a clean apron, though he’d missed the chocolate fingerprints on his chef’s hat as he delivered a whole new range of chocolate delicacies for them to sample.
Chapter Eleven
“What is going on with you?”
Damien did his best to look innocent. It had been a week since their “Residence date” as they were calling it between them—their impromptu dinner with the First Family both present and future. Without Janet’s suggestion, he’d never have thought to take Cornelia to the West Wing to see Christmas or stumbled into that wonderful dinner. He’d learned a powerful lesson from that.
So, tonight, when Cornelia was too busy to take a break, he’d gone out into the dark night and picked up some take-out Chinese. They were presently eating at the big oak conference table in her office, while eager little porcelain reindeer watched them carefully. She flipped through a thick file as she ate. Janet had declined to join them as her husband was arriving soon to take her out to dinner.
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