True Colors

by Yolanda Wallace

  Taylor stared at her so long Robby was afraid she was going to call her bluff.

  “I love my father,” Taylor eventually said. “I know he loves me, too. Yes, our different political opinions make sharing a home—or a dinner table—somewhat challenging.”

  “Then why don’t you move out?”

  “I had my own place when we lived in Missouri, but our circumstances are different now, to say the least. Given the toxic political environment during the presidential campaign, I’m told it’s too much of a security risk for me to live on my own here.”

  “Or perhaps you’re less likely to create unwanted headlines if you’re on lockdown twenty-four seven. George W. Bush probably wished he had instituted similar restrictions when his twin daughters were cited for underage drinking when they were running wild in Texas and Connecticut while he and Laura lived in DC.”

  “Whatever the reason, I’m holding out hope my father will eventually stop listening to his advisors and start listening to his heart.” Taylor leaned forward as if she wanted to be sure she had Robby’s attention. “You can ask me any question you want about me and I’ll answer it, but please don’t expect me to answer any about him. I’m his daughter, not his press secretary.”

  Robby couldn’t imagine the pressure Taylor was under. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for her. Almost. If Taylor wanted to change her lot in life, one well-timed interview would do the job. Others weren’t as fortunate.

  “Sounds fair.”

  She studied the drink menu as she tried to hide her disappointment. She’d never had to work this hard to earn a woman’s trust. All she usually needed to do to get what she wanted was bat her eyes a few times and count to ten. Not this time. What made Taylor so different? And why was she so determined to find out?

  “What’s your first question?” Taylor asked.

  Robby looked up from the extensive wine list. “How long are you going to make me wait before you let me kiss you?”

  Taylor blushed, a quaint reaction Robby found disarming. And downright charming. Unless Taylor grew a thick skin or picked up a suit of armor over the coming months, this town was going to eat her alive.

  “It’ll happen sooner or later.”

  “In case you’re wondering, I prefer sooner.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Taylor spread her napkin in her lap as the food arrived. “Now what’s your first real question?” she asked after the waiter left.

  Robby was torn between asking a question her readers would want to know and one she wanted the answer to. So she went with both. “What are you wearing to the inaugural ball?”

  “A dress my mother’s stylist picked out.”

  “You don’t sound very excited by the prospect.”

  “I haven’t worn a dress since I was five. Tuesday, I’ll be expected to wear two in one day. One for the inauguration and another for the ball. Hopefully, I won’t be required to stay for the whole event. Otherwise I might lose my mind before the night ends.”

  “I’m sure the right woman could take your mind off things. And help you out of your dress.”

  “Are you saying that woman’s you?”

  “Are you asking me on a date?”

  “We’re already on a date.”

  “Are you asking me on another one?”

  Taylor paused in mid chew as she considered the question. “Yes,” she said at length.

  Robby’s heart rate tripled as she wondered if she was about to be invited to the social event of the year. “I’m free Tuesday night.”

  “But I’m not.” Taylor’s smile faltered as she slashed at the grilled steak on her plate. “I have to spend the evening watching a string of political bigwigs line up to audition for the few remaining cabinet appointments my father hasn’t already filled.”

  “Sounds like fun.” And Robby would love to be able to bear witness to the high stakes parlor game as political favors were called in, repaid, or rebuffed.

  “I doubt watching groveling is your idea of entertainment. What do you do for fun?”

  “Well, I don’t read three-inch thick books about Eleanor Roosevelt, that’s for sure.”

  “What kind of books do you prefer?”

  Robby decided to downplay her interest in the written word.

  “In my opinion, a good movie beats a good book every time. Give me a smart romantic comedy, an opulent costume drama, and a bowl of popcorn, and I’m a happy girl.”

  “I could recommend several authors who could change your mind.”

  “The books are better than the movie. Intellectuals always say that.”

  And Taylor definitely fit the bill. In addition to studying for her master’s degree, Taylor worked as a teaching assistant for one of her professors. She probably kept her nose buried in so many books she would rather read about someone else’s life than live her own.

  “They say it because it’s usually true,” Taylor said.

  “What kind of books do you like?” Robby asked, turning the tables.

  “I’m a sucker for historical fiction. Especially works with two female protagonists.”

  Robby imagined co-starring with Taylor in their very own bodice-ripper. She pictured herself in a beautiful Victorian-style evening gown, her breasts spilling over the top of a tightly laced corset while Taylor tore through the formal dress to get to the whalebone undergarment and flounced petticoats underneath.

  “Who knew talking about books could be so sexy?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink to cool off.

  Taylor pushed her empty plate away from her. “I think talking about pretty much anything with you would be sexy.”

  “In that case, why don’t we go back to my place and find out?”

  Taylor signaled for the check. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Three

  Robby’s tiny apartment reminded Taylor of the one she used to rent while she was enrolled at the University of Missouri. The place she and her roommates turned into party central every weekend as they hung out to watch football or basketball games or simply played beer pong on the back deck. But that was a lifetime ago. Before her family left Kansas City for the District of Columbia. Before it was “suggested” that she transfer from Mizzou to Georgetown. Before she traded in her apartment for a room in the White House. Back when she had a life.

  She took a seat on one end of the L-shaped couch and looked around the room. The furnishings were sparse but well coordinated. The tan microsuede sofa was paired with a matching oversized ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. Four milk crates were stacked next to the flat screen TV. The colorful plastic storage units were filled with DVDs and CDs. The movies were all contemporary or historical romances. The music ran the gamut from pop to rock to dance to jazz. Perfect for setting any mood. At the moment, Norah Jones was doing the honors, her smooth, silky voice filling the room.

  Taylor flinched in surprise when a large black cat trotted in from another room and leaped onto the couch. The well fed feline butted its large head against her hand. When she scratched it between its ears, the cat purred happily and settled into her lap. She peeked at its hind end to see if it was male or female. Definitely male. He kneaded her legs with his oversized paws. She winced when one of his nails poked through her jeans and found skin. “What’s your name, big boy?” she asked, digging his claw out of her thigh.

  “His name’s Orson, and he knows he isn’t allowed on the sofa. Down, Orson.”

  Orson stood, stretched, and jumped off the couch. He rubbed himself against Robby’s legs before ambling out of the room, his long tail pointed straight up in the air.

  “Orson?”

  Robby handed Taylor a glass of water and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “As in Orson Welles. The later years, not the early ones.”

  “I can see the resemblance.” Taylor laughed, remembering the sight of Orson’s pendulous belly swinging back and forth as he waddled away. “He’s cute. How long have you had him?”

 
; “Four years. I found him at the Humane Society the week I moved to Washington.”

  “You’re not originally from here?”

  “No, I’m from Richmond, Virginia. I moved to DC for a woman. The relationship didn’t work out, but I liked the area so much I decided to stay.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  Robby stretched her legs in front of her and crossed them at the ankles, giving Taylor a clear view of her curvy thighs. She was wearing another skirt, though not the one from that afternoon. This one was a gray pencil skirt paired with a burgundy camisole under a sheer ruffled blouse. “What’s your idea of the perfect woman?”

  I think I’m looking at her.

  “One who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, but isn’t above being pampered from time to time.”

  “Shall I expect you to place your coat in my path every time I cross a mud puddle?”

  “I’d rather carry you across it.” Taylor shook off the comparison to Sir Walter Raleigh. She had always fancied herself more of a knight than a noblewoman. Chivalrous and more than ready to come to the aid of a damsel in distress, but definitely far from the manor born. “What’s your idea of the perfect woman?”

  Robby was quiet for a moment. “One who’s strong enough to let me cry on her shoulder, but isn’t afraid to use mine when she needs to.”

  Taylor, who prided herself on being fiercely independent, hadn’t cried on anyone’s shoulder since her pet hamster died when she was eight. She wanted to rest her head on Robby’s shoulder now—but for reasons other than comfort. She wanted to come face-to-face with the gorgeous breasts she had been fantasizing about all day. She placed her glass on the coffee table and moved to the other end of the couch. “What would you like to do on our second date?”

  Robby flashed an indulgent smile. “We haven’t finished our first date yet.”

  Taylor placed one hand on Robby’s knee and brushed the other across her cheek. “I like to plan ahead.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Robby turned and kissed Taylor’s hand, leaving an outline of her lips on the palm.

  Taylor buried her hand in Robby’s hair and drew herself closer. She nuzzled the side of Robby’s neck, smiling at her gasp of surprise. Then she slid her lips across the smooth skin. Moving higher, she drew Robby’s earlobe into her mouth and gently sucked.

  Robby drew in air through her teeth. She slid her right hand across the top of Taylor’s denim-covered thigh and burrowed under her thick cable-knit sweater until she brought her hand to rest on Taylor’s left breast. She gently squeezed, kneading Taylor’s flesh through the thin material of her bra.

  Taylor’s lips found Robby’s at the same time Robby’s dexterous fingers pinched her nipple. Robby’s warm mouth swallowed her cries. Robby tasted as sweet as honey—and felt nearly as pliable. Taylor wanted her in every possible way.

  She pulled Robby into her lap, their tongues sliding against each other’s in a slow, sensuous dance. As Robby scraped her fingernails across her belly, Taylor unbuttoned Robby’s blouse and pushed it off her shoulders. When she reached for the thin straps of Robby’s camisole, Robby pulled away.

  “Whoa, tiger. Let’s slow down.”

  Taylor felt an odd mixture of disappointment and relief. Disappointment over not being able to see Robby naked. Relief that she wasn’t allowed to make the mistake of starting something she couldn’t finish.

  Robby was new, exciting, and different. Nothing like anyone Taylor had ever met. And she wasn’t meant to be a one-night stand. She was meant to be something more. Something Taylor couldn’t have.

  “I’m sorry,” Taylor said. “I don’t normally move this fast. I just—”

  “It’s okay.” Robby ran her fingers through her mussed hair. “We’re not running a race, are we?”

  Taylor thought about her self-imposed deadline. After Inauguration Day, she wouldn’t be able to spend time with Robby like this. Or any other woman, for that matter. But wasn’t that being unfair to Robby? The timing of their first meeting was an accident of fate. Asking her out, however, had been Taylor’s idea. If Taylor stopped hanging out with her now, it would look like she was pouting because Robby had decided not to sleep with her tonight.

  Taylor felt like she was in a no-win situation. If she bailed now, Robby would probably think she was a heel. And if she continued to see her, the whole world would get to watch her fumble through the feeling-out process, something she would prefer to do in private. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.

  “No,” she said, wishing the words she was about to say were true. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

  “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Robby gave her a quick kiss, then wiped her lipstick off Taylor’s mouth with her thumb. “Definitely not your shade.”

  Taylor reached for her glass after Robby climbed off her lap. She was so hot she was tempted to pour the contents over her head instead of down her throat.

  “You’re a basketball fan, right?” Robby asked.

  Taylor nodded. “I was a starter on the varsity squad for three years in high school and rode the bench for two more as a walk-on at Mizzou. I still play pickup games from time to time, but I haven’t been able to get on the court for a while. Why do you ask?”

  “The Hoyas are on the road this weekend, but the Wizards are hosting the Warriors Friday night. If I can get tickets, would you like to go?”

  Basketball was Taylor’s passion. She realized long ago she didn’t have the skills to make it in the professional ranks, but she once considered becoming a coach so she could stay near the game when her playing career ended. She changed her mind when the siren call of the classroom proved impossible to ignore. She wanted nothing more than to be able to watch a professional basketball game in person, but the venue was much too public considering her new higher profile.

  “I’d love to, but—”

  “But what?” Robby’s lower lip slid forward. Taylor wanted to capture it between her own lips and slowly trace its contours with her tongue.

  “I want to make sure you have a clear idea of what you might be getting into by going out with me. If we were to go on a date, do you know how much scrutiny you would be subjected to?”

  “All I know is I want to see you again. Don’t you want that, too?”

  “Yes.”

  When Robby’s sexy pout turned into an even sexier smile, Taylor couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted something more.

  “Then I’ll see you Friday night. I’ll call you later in the week with the details.” Robby handed Taylor her cell phone so she could program her number into the list of contacts.

  Taylor returned Robby’s phone. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  * * *

  Robby walked Taylor to the door and helped her don her heavy overcoat. She gave Taylor a good night kiss, then reached past her, and turned the doorknob. Steven Alesana stood guard outside the door. He had walked through the apartment earlier to make sure no surprises lurked inside. Then he had stationed himself in the hallway to give them some privacy. When Robby opened the door, he snapped to attention as if an unseen bugler had just played reveille.

  Robby warily eyed the man she felt sure would soon become her nemesis. If he wasn’t already. “Do I need to buy three tickets instead of two?”

  “It might not be a bad idea.” Taylor’s cheeks reddened. “I could probably get away with saying he’s with me, but I don’t want to throw my weight around. I’ll gladly pay for the tickets if the price is too exorbitant for you to—”

  Robby held up her hands to stop her before the situation went from awkward to embarrassing. “I’ll take care of the cost of the extra ticket. Going to the game was my idea, after all.”

  “Tickets for what?” Steven asked. “And what game are we talking about?”

  “I’ll fill you in later,” Taylor said. “Come on.”

  After Taylor and Steven left, Robby sagged against the door. She was two se
conds away—two buttons, really—from having Taylor exactly where she wanted her. So why had she pulled the plug? In the past, she had always been willing to go to any lengths for a story. She would say or do anything if it helped her be first to publish breaking news. Why not now?

  Because tonight didn’t feel like a means to an end. It felt like a beginning. And in this case, it might be the beginning of the end.

  She had never felt so instantly, utterly aroused as she had when Taylor leaned toward her. She could still feel the heat of Taylor’s hands on her skin. Taste the sweetness of her kiss. In a few days, she could have more—much more—of both. As far as she was concerned, Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

  She powered up her laptop and navigated to the Washington Wizards’ website. She examined the interactive map of the arena to see which tickets were still available. Courtside seats were well out of her price range and most of them were already sold out. Seats in the nosebleed section were available for fifty dollars a pop, but, money problems aside, she didn’t want to seem like a cheap date. She moved her cursor to the seats in the middle of the arena.

  “A hundred fifty dollars a ticket? Too rich for my blood.”

  Most of her credit cards were maxed out. The few that weren’t had a limit so low she couldn’t even use them to buy a cup of coffee. And she couldn’t ask for an advance on her paycheck at Virginia’s since she’d be skipping out on Friday night’s shift in order to take Taylor to the basketball game. There was only one thing she could do.

  “Time to visit Osgood National Bank and ask for another interest-free loan.”

  * * *

  Taylor whistled happily as she approached the entrance to the hotel where she and her family were sequestered until Tuesday afternoon. Her brother, Thomas Jefferson “TJ” Crenshaw, puffed on an electronic cigarette as he stood in the small designated smoking area near the lobby doors. A Secret Service agent smoking an actual cigarette stood a few feet away.

  She doubted agents were allowed to smoke while they were on duty, but perhaps he and TJ had a budding bromance. TJ had that effect on people. Even those he met for the first time went away feeling like he was their best friend. In her case, it happened to be true.