“Clementine’s on something else, and even if she weren’t, I’d still give it to you. Cassie, think about our conversation so far. What does the congressman really need? Your job won’t be about selling his politics; he has plenty of lobbyists and advisors to help with that. His problem is his image. His state may have elected him, trusting him to do his job, but his getting his colleagues support…that’s another story entirely. He needs help selling himself. Do that and everything else gets easier.”
Sawyer leans back slightly in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “No one better at getting that done than you. You’re up.”
Christ on a cracker.
As a general rule, politics gives me the scratch. My impression of Washington is that it’s full of liars, manipulators and far too many misogynistic men. While I’m not in love with this idea at all, it seems her decision is final.
“OK, I’m up. When does the clock start?” I ask, resigning myself to the fact that some stuffy Mensa candidate in a suit and tie - known as Congressman Drab of all things - is now my client.
“Fly to Washington and meet with the congressman. I’ve had Drew put you on his schedule for Wednesday. Spend some time with him, get a feel for what you think he needs and map out your strategy from there. You’ll know what to do.”
With that she nods and I know that for Sawyer, this meeting is over.
Collecting up my things, I get up from my chair, say thanks - though I’m not certain for what - and head towards her office door.
“Stay in touch Cassie, make sure Drew knows if you’re in Washington or the congressman’s home state.”
Crap. I didn’t even think about that. See, politics is so not my thing.
“No problems. Will do.” I confirm cheerily, before closing Sawyer’s door and walking over to Drew’s desk, finding he’s waiting for me.
“I’ve emailed you your itinerary for Washington, so let me know if you want anything changed,” he says.
“I’m sure it’s fine, but I will. Thanks Drew.”
Walking to the elevator it hits me that I don’t actually know which state is the Congressman’s home state. Please be Hawaii. Flipping the cover on the client bio resting in my arm, I move to step inside the open car, and stop short.
Whoa!
This guy’s a congressman? Seriously? I wouldn’t mind getting all congress–– no, down girl. Business, remember?
The doors trying to close on my body snaps me out of my stupor and I step further into the impatient car, my eyes glued to his picture. The man is a dish. A masculine, make any girl with eyeballs want to gobble him up, dish. How in the name of all things mouth-watering does this guy have an image problem? Even in the flat, stiffly posed, 8x10 headshot I’m ogling him in, there’s nothing about him that says ‘drab’. If I were looking at a homely, or aging, or paunchy politico with a bad comb over, then maybe I’d have my work cut out for me. This guy however, no. If Jake Reid has even a fragment of a decent personality to go with his lady-business pleasing outer package, the possibilities are endless.
A little more motivated now at the prospect of having Jake as a client, I’m skim reading the fact sheet on the second page, behind his photograph. Back to looking for the state he represents - a state that now I’ve seen him, I’d bet he won with ninety percent of the women’s vote - the word jumps out at me as if it’s alive.
All lust fuelled thoughts scatter from my mind as instead I feel a rush of vertigo, quickly lying to myself that it’s from the jolt of the elevator starting to move.
Of the possible fifty one, why the hell did Jake Reid have to be congressman of the one state I swore I’d never set foot in again.
Chapter 2
Jake
I look up to the clock for the fifth time in as many minutes and try to put on an interested face. I love being a congressman; I love the grind and routine, sessions and being in the Capitol. I love D.C. I love my life here. What I don’t love is not having a voice for my state. When I ran for congressman to represent Montana, I had big dreams. Growing up on a cattle ranch, I knew the struggles of the people in my town, and as I got older I realized the struggles were similar in the rest of the state. At sixteen, I was elected to city council. I know that sounds like a big deal, but I come from a small place, and there were only two other council members. Their idea of helping people was to listen to them talk about their problems, bring it back to the other two of us, then proceed to not do anything about it.
I’m beginning to realize it’s the same here too. Each congressman blows hot air, puts on a passionate plea in front of Congress, then behind closed doors, they couldn’t care less. It’s all pretend. I wasn’t raised and groomed to be a politician from birth like ninety nine percent of these people were. Lying isn’t my forte; it isn’t natural for me. My parents were honest, hard-working people, still are. They raised hard-working and honest kids into adults.
I’ll never forget the first bill I tried to pass for farmers and regulations on stock animal requirements. Something brought to my attention by my dad. It was close to my heart and the fight to make something better was finally in my grips. Until three other seasoned congressmen came to my office and basically attempted to verbally bully me into not going forward. It seemed my bill would negatively affect their interests. I heard them, and my soul cracked a little that day, when I realized politics was all about the rich getting richer and fuck what happened to the poor and working class. Regardless, I went out and presented my bill. I gave my speech with heart and soul and knew I had strong points, un-arguable points. Yet, I got three votes. I understood then that those same three congressmen had coerced, bribed or made deals with the others not to vote for my bill, and in what I can only imagine was their own self-interests, they didn’t.
I’ve been gun shy ever since. I don’t fight; I stay back and wait for my two-year term to be up. Unfortunately, no one in my office feels the same way I do. They’re fighting for me, always pushing me and presenting me with bills I need to look at and get pushed through. But my fire and passion for politics is barely lit anymore.
When session is adjourned, I head out the main doors, managing not to get stopped to discuss the boring and unremarkable dribble we just listened to for hours. Nothing is genuine anymore; it’s all a smokescreen.
“Jake!” Ella, my assistant calls for me from behind as I begin down the hallway.
I stop and turn back as she comes hustling toward me, slipping between other congressmen and their staff.
“How was it?” she asks, giving me a knowing grin.
I give her a shake of my head and long sigh as we continue to walk. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her looking down at the pile of paperwork she has stacked in her arms.
“You have a call with The Montana Herald up next, a lunch meeting with Cassie Argent from ESM Market––”
“Ella.” I state, as we round the corner toward my office.
“Jake, golf this weekend?” Congressman Gerald says from his office as I pass by.
“Not sure, let me check my calendar,” I reply, not stopping.
“Jake, she can help you get elected for your next term, just listen to what she has to say,” Ella rushes out.
I shake my head as we enter the first part of my office, the four desks in the room belonging to my assistants. I proceed past them, all on the phone or looking busy at work, and into my personal office. I loosen my tie and remove my suit jacket, hanging it up on the coat rack near the door. Ella follows behind me, waiting for an answer as I go into my small, attached bathroom, rolling up my dress sleeves to wash my hands and splash my face with cold water.
“Come, at least listen to what she has to say, she flew all the way out from California.”
I look at her, my eyes narrowed as I dry my skin. “So, clearly you’ve discussed what you plan to do for me, hired her in theory, because who the hell would fly across the U.S. for a ‘maybe’ client?!”
I can see in her eyes that I’m right
and she levels me with a stare and a resilience that the woman should win an award for. She lets out a long breath, pushing her thick-framed glasses up her nose with her fingertips and nods.
“You had one bad experience, Jake. You need to show everyone that you’re not wasted votes. When you won the congressional seat, and we first met, you had so much fire in your belly…now, you come out of session looking like you’ve napped all morning. I know the fight is still there, don’t let them win and give up.”
I know she’s right, and it makes me happy to know someone, other than my mom, feels I’m right for this job. I just need to actually agree with them.
“Fine, I’ll meet with her, but no guarantees.”
A smile widens her face, as she begins to back out of my office.
“Make sure she knows that!” I say louder as she disappears around the corner.
I spend an hour on the phone with a writer from the paper about many things needing to change in Montana. I want to do everything I can for my state, and what I say is genuine, it’s the being able to make it a reality part I can’t seem to deliver.
“Ella, can you set up a flight for me to get to Montana?” I ask, opening my office door and stepping into the other room.
She nods just as my eyes swing around to see a woman standing in front of Ella’s desk. She’s striking. Her almond shaped, blue eyes are like ocean pools amongst black rocks lined the way they are, and they’re framed by long black lashes I want to see flutter closed. On that thought, I can’t help it; my own eyes take the rest of her in. Her dark hair is one of those angled styles, longer pieces past her chin framing her face and shorter in the back. Neither long nor short, it’s not sleek or straight like I’ve seen on other women but is soft and textured, falling in sections over her head in a way that makes me want to run my hand through it. Or grab a handful and grip tight. With a heart shaped face, she has a straight nose, high cheekbones and delicately arched eyebrows. Her mouth is full, her lips a shiny subtle pink, and the corners are slightly turned up in a resting smile. In her black suit with her dress coat fitted with short sleeves, her tight skirt is encasing what appears to be a pair of knockout legs. She’s professional with an edge and without a doubt the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.
“Congressman, Reid,” she says, outstretching her hand and I immediately meet her hand with mine.
“You can call me Jake,” I nod. “Ms.?”
“Cassie Argent.”
Of course, she’s the marketing lady.
“Would you like to eat lunch in your office or the conference room?” Ella asks, standing and taking the two large bags of Chinese food from her desk.
“My office is fine,” I tell her, moving aside so Cassie and Ella can enter the office first.
My eyes instinctively dart down to Cassie’s ass, round and firm covered flesh, material that ends just above the definition of her calf muscles when she walks in her mile-high black heels.
“Water, Ella?” I ask, moving toward my mini fridge beside the bathroom entrance. “And for you, Ms. Argent?”
“Cassie, and water’s fine also.”
Grabbing two waters and a glass bottle of apple juice, I close the fridge door with my foot and watch as Cassie removes her suit coat, revealing a tight white dress shirt tucked into the skirt and giving me even more of a visual of her hot little body. It’s then the room feels stuffy, the wall of windows that lines one side of my office does make the room a bit warm as the sun passes over and I move over to adjust the thermostat. Handing the women their drinks, I sit beside Ella on the leather couch pushed against the windows, while Cassie sits in one of the steel and leather chairs opposite us. Ella’s setting out the food from the bag and both Cassie and I open the lids to our drinks, mine popping from the suction releasing and our eyes connect for a moment as we both drink, before blinking away.
I notice Ella’s order and then two orders of what I normally get, General Tao. I watch Cassie begin dishing hers onto a plate before cutting the chicken into smaller bites, while I grab my container and nix the plate, stabbing a chunk of chicken onto my plastic fork.
“So, I talked with Jake a little earlier about you coming. Needless to say Jake, Cassie understands your reservations.” Ella having appointed herself mediator, smooth’s the way into the conversation.
“Congressman, I’m not here to talk you into do something you don’t want to do. That said, I think I have some great ideas of how to get your name out there, to make you more visible. Ultimately, to get you seen in a more…” Cassie moves her hand in a gesture that indicates she’s trying to find the right word. “More, hip, young, and exciting light. Politics is about the future, and you’re currently the youngest serving congressman, yet the generation below us barely knows anything about you. Well, other than you being a bore of course.”
I can’t believe she just said that. But she did, unapologetically.
“I’m sorry if my phrasing is offensive or maybe too bold, but when I take on a client, I want them aware of their public image. It’s my job to change a lot of people’s perception of you - not an easy task, so I have zero time to tiptoe through the tulips. If the way I work is too abrasive for you, I understand. Although, I really think this isn’t an unbeatable monster, positive press goes a long way. I know I can help you rebrand your public persona, if you agree of course.”
I chew my food; I can see speaking to people like this. Firm and no-bullshit. I appreciate it. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve been spoken to in this way, the way my dad does, the other people where I come from speak to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ella staring at me with hopeful eyes; she’s practically holding her breath as she waits for me to speak. Cassie on the other hand, eats her Chinese like she could care less if I say yes or no.
“What did you have in mind, for rebranding?”
Sure enough, Ella lets out a long sigh then begins picking at her food.
“I heard you say you need to get to Montana. The thought just occurred to me, why not bus there, campaign along the way.”
“Campaign? That’s not how that works for congressm––” Ella begins.
“No, not for votes. I mean campaign for people’s opinions. Get people to know you, be interested in you, get backing and support. Visit local television stations; throw out the first pitch at some baseball games. You play golf, play a few rounds with locals, you grew up on a farm, we can visit some on the way. I have tons of ideas, it just depends on how much you’re willing to do for this.”
As she speaks, her lips moving flash a set of white straight teeth. Her voice is a little raspy and becomes even more so as she speaks for periods of time. It’s sexy and seductive. I focus on her words, her ideas, and everything sounds like she’s looked me up and knows about me. As she should’ve before meeting me. Just hearing her speak is stoking the nearly extinguished fire in my belly, causing it to flicker with new life. Aside from this gorgeous woman making me feel something else, something a woman hasn’t made me feel since Brooke, I can also feel she doesn’t want me to fail. Not only because it would make her company look bad, but on a personal level, I can see she’s rooting for me. I’m one hundred percent sure she’s like this for all her clients, but damn, she makes me feel good and something else I haven’t been for a while. Hopeful.
“A bus you say, take a few weeks probably, right?” I question.
“I can have a typed schedule ready for you in the morning,” Cassie says.
“Okay, let’s do this…but I have one condition.”
Both women look at me, Ella’s eyes wide with expectation.
“That you travel with us,” I say, looking at Cassie.
Chapter 3
Cassie
I never walk into a client meeting without being prepared, and that mean’s knowing much more than the high level facts from the file Sawyer gave me. If they’ve given press conferences, I watch them. If they’ve ever written articles, I read them. Research is imperative, as more o
ften than not it takes a while for the client to open up to you. To trust you enough to share the little things that help define who they are and what they want to achieve. Any pieces of their life I can gather before my first meeting helps me until that bond begins to form.
Despite all the solid preparation I’d done before meeting Jake Reid, nothing could’ve prepared me for the actual man.
Wearing a fitted black suit, belt and square-toed shoes, his royal blue shirt is tailored to his torso, a contrasting tie completing his look. It has to be said that not only does he dress like the youthful, masculine congressman he is, he’s one of those men who makes any garment he wears seem like he’s doing it a favor. With piercing blue-grey eyes that appear to not miss anything and lightly tanned skin that suggests he likes the outdoors, his sexy salt and pepper hair is cut short against his head. I can tell it holds a natural wave; one I’m sure if left to grow out would become a curl. He also has the kind of perma-stubble women love, as if they either know or imagine how amazing it feels scratching the insides of their thighs. Although I have no doubt that’s true, all I can do is stare at how perfectly it frames his jaw and mouth. Both of his lips are plump, the bottom slightly larger than the top, making them a perfect cushion for kissing. As if all of this wasn’t enough, at just over six feet he looks solid and strong, muscled in a way that says actual hard work and not just a gym program.
While everything about Jake draws your eye, it’s his presence that lures you in. He had charisma. The kind of charisma you can’t fake and you can’t learn. I’ve found myself more than once drawn into his sphere, zoning out of everything but him, my thighs pressing tightly together in an attempt to relieve the burn being this close to him has created.
No two-ways about it, Congressman Jake Reid was a clit-twitcher.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” I ask him to repeat his condition, even though I’d heard him perfectly.
Act of Congress Page 2