“Your legs and eyes are your ‘to die for’ features,” Helen insisted. “Show them off.”
Courtney had spent her first month of work blinking incessantly and pulling her skirts down to cover her knees, but she’d gotten used to her new look. The nods and smiles of appreciation from the opposite sex were novel, but quite nice.
And today’s outfit for her meeting with Eric Morrison would say, “Yes, I’m professional, but underneath I’m all woman.” The new, hot red lingerie that lurked beneath her business suit would hopefully pump up her power. In law school, her most provocative move was pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Now, with Helen’s help, she understood the advantage of using her beauty as well as her smarts. It could be the difference between success and failure for the upcoming vote.
By the time Courtney arrived for her two o’clock appointment at the Hart Senate Office Building, she was already fifteen minutes late. She’d been so engrossed in her research on Senator Morrison that she’d lost track of time and then an exploded manhole cover had forced the taxi to take a long detour. As a result, she knew more about Eric Morrison than was necessary … or healthy. She was developing a crush, and she hadn’t even met him. He was one of those guys who did everything well. She’d seen photos of him horseback riding (he’d won junior championships in dressage), water skiing, snowboarding, pole vaulting (how does anyone do that?), and sailing in the America’s Cup. The sailing photo looked straight out of a Ralph Lauren ad. It was a close-hauled shot with sails pulled in, and the good senator smiled broadly as he leaned against the rigging. He even had a dimple. Courtney hoped there was just one dimple. Two would just be too … perfect.
But his voting record wasn’t perfect or predictable. In fact, it was an enigma. He’d voted in favor of the smoking ban in restaurants and bars across North Carolina, but he’d voted against the last tax increase on cigarettes. What was up with that?
She checked her coat at the reception desk and passed through the atrium where Alexander Calder’s “Mountains and Clouds,” one of the sculptor’s last works, rose majestically. Courtney would have liked to spend a few moments gazing at it, but she was already late. No time for lollygagging. She took the elevator to the fifth floor.
The senator’s office was at the end of a long hall, studded with photos of notables, but again, she couldn’t delay. She took a deep breath. The air was heavy with tweed and musty books, just the kind of aroma you’d expect in a contemplative environment. It reminded her of the Georgetown law library. She tugged at the hem of her fitted jacket. Helen had chosen the color, deep purple. She said it enhanced Courtney’s blue eyes. She pressed her lips together and then used her pinky to swipe at the space between her cupid’s bow where lipstick tended to clump.
She opened the door to face a secretary who looked like she could have worked for J. Edgar Hoover. Not that the woman was that elderly, but her style was definitely from a bygone era. Her eyeglasses swung from a chain around her neck, and she had a pencil stuck in her gray-streaked chignon. “May I help you?” She put on her wire-rimmed glasses and promptly glared over the top of them.
“Yes, thank you. I’m Courtney Larson from Montgomery, Haskins & Knoll. I have a two o’clock appointment with Senator Morrison.” Courtney smiled.
“Well, you’re late.” She frowned. “Won’t you have a seat?” Lorena Eddington (Courtney read the nameplate on her desk) buzzed her boss from her desk phone then pointed to the door when a deep voice on the other end said, “Send her in, but I’ve only got a few minutes.”
Courtney had barely taken her seat, and now her knees wobbled as she got up. Must be the new boots. When she pushed open the massive wood door leading to the senator’s inner office, he rose from behind his desk and rounded it to greet her. Proffering a hand, she slipped hers into his and looked up into green eyes flecked with gold. Criminy, he was gorgeous. And he was wearing Burberry cologne. She’d given the fragrance to her brother last Christmas, but Senator Morrison didn’t look like her goofy brother. Oh, no, the senator was Bradley Cooper with a splash of Michael Fassbender in the set of his strong jaw. Yum.
“Good afternoon, Senator Morrison. I’m Courtney Larson from Montgomery, Haskins & Knoll.” Were her hands sweating?
“I see you found your way, finally. I must say that lobbyists are generally punctual. It must have something to do with their intent?” His eyebrows rose with the question, but she didn’t miss that his eyes then traveled up and down her body.
“It’s inexcusable, but I hope you’ll grant me just a few minutes of your valuable time.” She didn’t wait for him to offer her a chair. She sat, crossed her legs, set her briefcase next to the chair, and ran her fingers up her calf before returning to his gaze. “I’m really sorry I was delayed because what I want to talk with you about is one of the most important issues you’ll decide this year. But I can be brief, and I hope, convincing.” She smiled.
“Brief away.” Senator Morrison sat on the edge of his desk, spreading his long legs out and bracing his hands on either side of his hips. Just the kind of casual, but intimidating, posture she’d expect from him.
“Your voting record would indicate that you care deeply about your constituents. You consistently support bills on education and the environment. In fact, you voted for the ban on smoking in North Carolina restaurants and bars, proving that the health of your citizens is foremost in your mind.” Courtney clasped her hands together and leaned forward in her chair. “I know you voted against the last tax increase on tobacco in 2008, but the bill that will come up next month to increase the surcharge by another paltry few cents will help your state fund educational improvements, specifically new programs in the community college system in fields like medicine and engineering.” Courtney took a breath, and was getting ready for the rest of her spiel, when Senator Morrison held up a hand to interrupt.
“Pardon me, Miss … Larson, was it?”
Courtney nodded.
The senator crossed his arms. Someone, like his public relations person, should tell him not to do that. It looked confrontational. “Before you go any further, Miss Larson, I’d like to tell you what I’m doing for my state in the realm of tobacco. I’m pushing the USDA to help tobacco farmers by making an adjustment to the tobacco federal crop insurance program so that claim amounts can better reflect market prices. I’m working on the price election issue in direct response to requests from tobacco farmers all across eastern North Carolina who contacted my office seeking assistance. So far, no one in my district seems to be concerned with teenage smoking.”
Courtney straightened in her chair. “While I appreciate your focus on protecting small business owners, have you considered helping farmers transition out of tobacco to a more environmentally-friendly crop … like hemp? And unlike tobacco, which is harmful in every form, hemp has a multitude of practical uses. I even have a pair of hemp shoes.”
Courtney watched the senator’s eyes move to her feet, travel slowly up her legs, pause briefly at her calves, and then settle back on her face. She thought she detected a hint of appreciation in his gaze.
“Miss Larson, what you’re suggesting is akin to asking Ford to start making Toyotas. You don’t just yank out one crop and start planting another. I have to help my farmers where they are in this lifetime … with the crop that’s been on their land for generations.”
“What about sustainability, Senator? Looking ahead twenty years and more, wouldn’t you want to be supporting a crop that could enhance the planet, rather than one that destroys it?” Was it getting warm in here? Courtney fidgeted with her thin gold necklace.
“Just so I understand, you came here to try to convince me of something, and now you’re questioning my judgment?” The corner of his mouth twitched. Was he suppressing a scowl or a grin?
He’s right. What am I doing? Cool down, Court. “Look, what you’re doing with price election is admirable, but it doesn’t begin to touch on the crux of the tobacco issue.”
&n
bsp; “Which is?”
Like he doesn’t know. “Which is the recent upswing in tobacco use by teenagers.”
“I’m assuming you have statistics on that.”
“Absolutely.” Courtney reached into her briefcase and pulled out a folder. “I’ve prepared a dossier of information that you are welcome to use to build your case in the Senate.” She handed the folder to Senator Morrison. “I’d be happy to send you electronic copies, as well.”
“That won’t be necessary at this point,” Senator Morrison said. He flung the folder into his desktop inbox, which was already overflowing. “It’s important that you know why I took this job, Miss Larson. I work on behalf of the citizens of my district, and the bills I push are ones that I know will directly benefit them.”
“Perhaps they don’t feel it would be in their best interests to curb teenage smoking. Maybe they’d rather deal with the heartache of lung cancer when those teenagers hit their fifties.” Courtney didn’t need a cigarette to generate smoke. It rose from her ears and swirled around her head. “As their senator, it’s your responsibility to ensure that the future generation is smoke free, and that begins with your constituents. They look to you to lead them, and this is an issue where you can take a noble stand for their health. You say you want to help tobacco farmers, but what help can you be when you’re perpetuating the problem?” Add flaring nostrils to those smoking ears.
“Whoa, can we dial it back a bit here?” The senator made the timeout sign, and again, that little mouth twitch seemed to suppress a grin.
“Sorry. Perhaps I got a bit carried away. I didn’t mean to tell you how to do your job.” She was just trying to appeal to his better nature … if he had one.
“Didn’t you?” He chuckled, displaying that one dimple. “You told me exactly how you think I should do my job.”
“I try to remain objective about the issues I represent, but this one is personal. My mother died of lung cancer.” She’d had no intention of telling Senator Morrison about her mother, but she didn’t want him to think she blathered like that on a regular basis.
“I understand.” He spoke slowly, his voice evoking empathy. “Being passionate about an issue is admirable.” He looked at her from under his eyelashes. He was either sincere or very good at rhetoric. He checked his watch. She’d vote for the rhetoric. “Listen, you’ve made a cogent argument, but I’m firm on my position. And right now, I have another appointment. In fact, they’re probably waiting.”
Courtney’s heart sunk to the soles of her black pumps. She couldn’t let this defeat her. Think … think … think. “Certainly, Senator. I won’t take up more of your time, but I’d like to leave you with this passing thought. I know you’re a supporter of the Big Brother Program, and I wonder how you’d feel about your little brother, I believe his name is Travis, taking up smoking?”
The senator’s eyes grew wide. “I see you’ve done your research, Miss Larson, and the answer is no, I wouldn’t want Travis to start smoking.”
“I suspected as much,” Courtney said. She wanted to say something about how her information had hit home, but she bit her tongue. Better to let him mull this over.
He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Can we continue this discussion another time?”
“Certainly. I’ll check your schedule on my way out.” Courtney bolted up from her chair, and then pressed her fingers to her temple, feeling a bit light-headed.
He opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, “Are you free for dinner tonight, say seven o’clock?”
Mixing business and pleasure—never a good idea. She felt her cheeks blaze. Her mind scrambled for a plausible excuse, but nothing surfaced. Oh, what the heck. Live a little dangerously, Court. “Uh, yes I am.”
“Great. Leave your address with my secretary.”
Minor victory but Courtney would take it. She took a deep breath, finally able to relax, and suddenly her head grew light, her vision blurring—should’ve grabbed lunch—and she blinked hard to focus. There was a collection of photos on the wall behind the senator’s desk and Courtney stared hard, willing the brief detached sensation to pass. They were duplicates of the photos she’d seen online: group shots featuring Eric and friends fishing at a lake, posing with horses in equestrian gear, and bundled up on a snowy ski slope. Next to the photos was a framed riding crop. Curious. Something about it spiked her interest. “Do you use that for riding?”
The senator smiled, but this time his lips didn’t turn up in a politician’s grin or a condescending smirk. This time, his lips curled seductively. “Yes, for all sorts of riding. I have quite a collection at home.”
Besides horses, what would he be riding? Oh ... Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush, Courtney chanted to herself. And what else might he have in his collection? “I’ll … be … going … now.” As she walked away from the senator, she realized she was leading with her neck, which jutted out like a horse just sprung from the paddock, anxious to hit the meadow.
Chapter Three
Courtney had never, ever succumbed to an invitation like the one she accepted from Senator Morrison. And she’d been asked many times, though most of the legislators she met had wives in their home states and were just trolling for some action while they were in session. This time, the legislator was not only unattached, he was drop dead gorgeous.
Well, no time like the present to start thinking about all the reasons she shouldn’t be doing this. She was reminded of the movie, The American President, with Annette Benning and Michael Douglas. Mr. Douglas played the president, and Ms. Benning was a lobbyist. They got into some sticky situations, including criticism from the president’s opponent, citing a conflict of interest. With the tobacco vote looming on the horizon, Courtney dating Senator Morrison would be the Wikipedia definition of conflict of interest.
And then there was the little issue about dating in general. Did she have time for this?
Oh, lighten up, Court. It’s one little date, hardly something to cream one’s panties over, as Helen would say.
Courtney jumped when the doorbell rang. She’d been trying to keep herself busy by reading the latest issue of Martha Stewart’s Simple Living magazine, but all that registered in the recipe for Brunswick Stew was that there was no Brunswick in it.
“You look … lovely.”
The senator’s eyes traveled from Courtney’s freshly bobbed hair to pause at her cleavage (thank you, black wrap dress), and then graze across the above-knee hem to end at her leopard pumps. He returned to her eyes, a sheepish grin on his adorable mug.
Courtney smiled. “Would you like to come in for a drink? It’s freezing out there.”
“Thanks, but I left the car running.” He shrugged, perhaps disappointed.
Courtney grabbed her coat out of the hall closet. Eric helped her put it on, briefly brushing her shoulders in the process. Courtney wanted to lean into him. She’d inhaled the briefest hint of his tweedy maleness, laced with Burberry, when he stepped over the threshold. So, instead of rubbing against him (no, she wouldn’t actually do that, though it was tempting), she grabbed her clutch bag from the entry table and stuffed her hands into her gloves.
As they rushed to the car, the senator’s hand rested on her back, and he opened the passenger door for her. Once he settled behind the wheel, Courtney asked, “Where to?”
“I thought we’d try Zaytinya. Do you like Turkish food?”
“I love it.” She’d never tried it. Why did she say she loved it? What was wrong with her? “Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever had it.” Honesty is always, well, sometimes, the best policy. “Lots of curry, right?”
“It’s a lot like Greek food. So, if you like lamb, eggplant, and chicken, you’ll be able to find something on the menu. And then there’s always octopus.”
“I’ll bet you didn’t grow up on octopus in North Carolina.”
He laughed. “Not even close. It was all barbecue, grits, and buttermilk biscuits.”
“F
ollowed by chewing tobacco?”
They reached a stoplight, and he took his eyes off the road, turning to her. “Don’t tell me you’re launching into business already.”
“Sorry. I can be kind of intense when I’m involved in something.”
“I promise there will be time for your tobacco spiel, but for now, I’d just like to get to know you better.” The light changed, and Eric adjusted his rear view mirror before taking off. Courtney looked at his long fingers as they moved the mirror a degree down. She imagined those fingers on her and shifted on the plush leather seat of Eric’s Cadillac.
“I’m glad you drive an American car,” she said, returning to more practical matters.
“Thanks. I fought for the auto stimulus money, and I’m proud of the turnaround in the industry.”
She knew that. She knew everything about his voting record. What she didn’t know were his motives. Was it all about his constituents, or did political aspirations rule his decisions?
“Come on, tell me about Washington’s up-and-coming lobbyist.” He glanced at her from under his eyelashes. “That would be you.”
“It’s a standard tale.” She shrugged. “Geeky bookworm gets scholarship to major law school and lands her dream job.”
“No, I mean about what makes you tick. I already know the basics. I Googled you.”
“Bet you don’t know as much about me as I know about you,” Courtney said. “Lobbyists are skilled at digging up dirt.”
He half-frowned. “Wait a minute, what kind of dirt are you talking about?”
“Feeling guilty?” Courtney smiled. She gave a dismissive wave. “Let’s just say that in reviewing your voting record, I think you’re walking a tightrope with your stance on tobacco. You voted for the ban on smoking in restaurants and bars in North Carolina but against the 2008 tobacco tax increase. You’re going to be viewed as wishy-washy if you don’t watch yourself.”
Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories Page 37