by Silver James
“Georgie! Georgie, hey, Georgie! What’s up with you and the senator?”
She arched a brow and stared down her nose at the reporter. Gratified when he squirmed, she rolled her eyes at him. “Seriously, Stu? Since when did you cover the gossip beat?”
“Georgie, what’s the senator’s stand on that pending eminent domain case in Utah?”
Now this was a slippery slope of a different angle. “As you know, Senator Barron’s family have been cattle ranchers for generations. The government coming in to deprive a landowner of his holdings is an issue that should play out in the courts, as this case is doing.”
“Georgie, you and the senator sure looked cozy last night at the hotel.” A female reporter surged forward, waving her microphone. “Is there something besides business between you two?”
Georgie used her oh-really? face on the reporter. “Trafficking in innuendo now, Jules?”
“The public wants to know, Georgie. Senator Barron is a very eligible bachelor. The two of you work very closely together and I have a source that says you spent the night in his suite.”
Georgie forgot to breathe for a moment as she fought to school her expression. According to the Washington press corps, she had one of the best poker faces in the business. She used it now to cover her distress.
“I’m sure all of you are aware of the security breach involving the senator’s appearance at the Western States Landowners Association event yesterday. Due to the protection detail’s concerns, all members of the senator’s immediate traveling party were relocated to the Sonoma Suite, which boasts of amenities for a large group. I’m really disappointed in you, Jules. I thought you were a political reporter. Maybe you and Stu should go to work for Inquiring Minds.”
She pivoted to leave but one last question caught her attention.
“Yo, Georgie, so this means you aren’t dating Senator Barron?”
Glancing over her shoulder, she offered the reporter—a grizzled veteran old enough to be her father—a dazzling smile. “Why, Ed? Do you want to ask me out?”
The reporters all laughed and Georgie made a mental note to send Ed a bottle of good scotch. He’d given her the perfect out and she owed him one. She glanced at the private jet waiting on the tarmac and gulped. Clay stood at the bottom of the steps, arms folded across his chest, feet braced apart. And he looked pissed.
* * *
Clay fairly vibrated with anger. Boone cleared his throat and elbowed him. “Smile, Clay. She handled it perfectly. That’s why we pay her the big bucks.”
“I want the names of those reporters.”
“Georgie will have them.”
“I don’t want her to know I asked for them.”
“Dammit, Clay. Take a breath, bud. This is Georgie’s job and she does it damn well. Don’t muck it up. She handled the situation. Subject closed.” Boone angled his head so he could watch Georgie’s approach and Clay’s expression. “Unless... Clay, please tell me nothing happened between you two.”
“Nothing happened between us.”
“Well, all-righty, then.”
Clay glared when Boone didn’t hide his smirk quite fast enough. He ignored his cousin and focused on the woman striding toward them. The bright autumn sun bounced off her glasses. She’d done some twisty thing with her hair again and he didn’t want to think too hard about why he preferred it down and loose. She stopped in front of him, her expression perfectly neutral.
“Georgie.”
“Senator.”
“Sit with me.”
Clay noticed the slight pursing of her lips. And was that a hint of panic in her eyes? Interesting. He ushered Georgie forward and followed, his hand resting on the small of her back to steady her. He guided her to the group of seats at the front of the plane. Two pairs of seats faced each other over an inlaid wood table.
Clay guided her into the second set of seats so she’d be sitting with her back to the rest of the plane. Then he nudged her over so that she was trapped between the bulkhead and...him. He slipped her bag off her shoulder and tossed it into one of the facing seats.
“Sit, Georgie. And buckle in. We need to take off.”
A few moments later the Rolls Royce engines on the Gulfstream whined to full-throated life and the plane eased onto the apron headed toward the runway. Within minutes they’d lifted off and were at cruising altitude. A vanilla latte appeared in front of her while a cup of black coffee was delivered to Clay. He waited until she took her first swallow before opening the conversation.
“You’ve been avoiding me. I want to know why.”
Georgie grimaced and swallowed hard. He shifted in his seat so he could watch her. A surge of color stained her throat and he wondered about the reason for it. No matter what she did or said, he worried this might not end well. She couldn’t stall him. He was determined to find out what was going on in her head, becoming even more curious when she curled her lips between her teeth, pursed them then chewed on them again as she evidently marshaled her thoughts.
She stared into his eyes then glanced away. “I’m a little embarrassed, Senator.”
“Embarrassed.” Why would the girl—woman—be embarrassed?
“Well, yes. Embarrassed.” Though everyone else sat at the rear of the cabin, she dropped her voice. “Last night. In the bathroom.”
“Why should you be embarrassed?”
Georgie gave him a scathing look. “Why? Oh, let’s recap the situation. I trip and almost fall on my face, only my boss snatches me in mid face-plant and carries me up to his suite. Then I go into full panic mode, while wearing only my underwear, with said boss present to witness said meltdown. I end up in a puddle of tears, and then we make national news. You’re right. Why in bloody blue blazes should I be embarrassed?”
Clay was a consummate politician. He knew how to camouflage his emotions. Georgie didn’t realize her voice had risen in volume and that everyone on the plane, except maybe the pilots, now knew what had happened in his bathroom. With a supreme effort, he swallowed his laughter.
“Precisely. I see no reason for embarrassment.”
“Argh!” She threw up her hands and almost knocked over her latte. He grabbed it and held it out as a peace offering even as she muttered, “Men!” under her breath and gripped the edge of the table.
With gentle pressure, he pried her fingers loose, placed the cup between them and curled her fingers around the porcelain mug. He studied her again as she drank.
She was his communications director. She literally put words in his mouth. His thumb traced lazy circles on the table and a part of him wished it was her skin he touched.
“There’s no need to be upset, especially since I...since we owe you an apology.” She opened her mouth to refute, but he silenced her with a finger touching her lips as he continued. “I personally promise it won’t happen again. From now on, Glen will be your shadow whenever we’re at a function. He’ll protect you.” His gaze caught and held hers. “I’m sorry, Georgie. I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you.”
* * *
Georgie couldn’t look away from the sincerity in his gaze. She swiveled in her seat so she could face him. His expression stunned her. She’d seen him determined, angry, sad, happy, disgusted...but she’d never seen him like this. Her stomach lurched as her pulse sped up. Georgie couldn’t name the emotion in his eyes with their thick, dark lashes the color of his ebony hair. In her imagination, where her fantasies lived, she described his hair in romance-novel terms—as glossy as a raven’s wing. And his eyes—burnt umber, even if she didn’t really know what burnt umber looked like. It sounded sexy and that term definitely fit Clay. Or cognac. Yes, that was the color. She knew what cognac looked like in a leaded glass tumbler and his eyes looked like that—smoky, swirling brown with glinting lights. Lost in his gaze, she simply took him in, let
ting him fill her up. The force of him edged into the empty places she’d ignored her whole life, the places where her hopes and dreams lived.
I’m in so much trouble now. Having a crush on the man was one thing, but she feared that after this trip, she’d fallen way over her head in love with her boss. She cleared her throat, dragging her gaze from his to break their connection. She managed to say one word.
“Okay.”
Another emotion flickered across his expression, lightening his mood. “Okay. Good. Then we’re all settled. How about some breakfast?”
Breakfast. Yes, breakfast would work to put some distance between them and let her get her fantasies back under control. “Okay.”
He patted her arm. “For a woman whose job is words, you seem to have very few of them at the moment.”
* * *
They were somewhere over Tennessee when Georgie fell asleep. She dreamed of Clay, of him slipping his arm over her shoulders to pull her against his side.
“Georgie?” He whispered her name.
“What?” She whispered back.
“I think I’m going to kiss you now.”
She sighed, wanting to feel his lips on hers. “You think?”
“I know I want to.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Um...yeah. Okay.” Inside the dream she wanted to bang her head on the table. What was up with her managing to only say okay?
She focused on his mouth. Full lips. Firm. Hints of smile lines at the corners.
He plucked her glasses from the end of her nose and set them aside on the table. The corner of his mouth quirked as he looked at her.
“What will you taste like?” dream Clay asked. “Dessert sweet and rich? Or twenty-year-old scotch, a smoky burn in my mouth? I can’t wait to find out.”
He lowered his head and his lips brushed across hers. She licked her bottom lip, her tongue darting out to sample the taste of him. He moved in again, no hesitation this time. His lips fastened onto hers, sucking in her bottom lip as his teeth nipped. One hand secured the back of her head, angling it to the perfect position for his tender attack.
Normally bold in her fantasies about Clay, she now felt shy and her actions mirrored her emotions. Her hands, hesitant and timid, latched onto his leather jacket—he always wore leather in her dreams—and clung there as though her life depended on it. Emotions rushed through her and a little voice said she should run. Ignoring it, Georgie pressed into their kiss, her tongue now bold enough to dance with his—until he pulled away.
“Georgie, wake up. We’re getting ready to land.” Breathing hard, she opened her eyes to discover that Clay was watching her, amusement twitching his lips into a sexy grin.
“Oh, pistachios on pita. Please tell me I wasn’t talking in my sleep.”
Four
Clay smoothed his features into a neutral expression. He had heard his name on her lips several times, and the little smooching noises and puckering of her lips was both cute and...arousing. While he’d surely like to know the details, there would be a time and place to discover what Georgie dreamed about—and specifically his role in those dreams—but this wasn’t it.
“Do you make a habit of talking in your sleep?” He snapped his mouth shut, shocked he’d pursued the subject.
Georgie pushed her glasses up her nose and stared at him. Her forehead crinkled and her lips pursed as she gave the question serious thought. “I...don’t know, seeing as I’m usually asleep. Would you like me to set up a recorder to find out?”
She looked so serious, Clay hesitated a few seconds before laughing. He opened his mouth to say the first thing that popped into his head, but stopped as innate political instincts kicked in. Offering to watch her sleep at night was not a smart move. He relayed a stern warning to all interested body parts. Georgie was an employee and off-limits. Period.
“Would you?” He wanted to head-slap himself. And shut up. Yes, keeping his mouth shut would be a good thing right about now.
“Ah, Clay?”
Boone. Thank goodness. His cousin could always be counted on to pull his butt out of the fire. Clay turned away from Georgie and focused on his chief of staff. “What’s up?”
Boone had to clear his throat before speaking and he wouldn’t quite meet Clay’s gaze. The words that came out were strained as he tried to stifle his laughter. “Transport is waiting at the airport. We’ll head straight to the office. And you have an email from your sister-in-law.”
“Cassidy?”
“Only sister-in-law I’m aware of.”
“What about?”
“Thanksgiving.”
“Thanksgiving?”
“Yes. As in, are we coming home for the holidays? A question also being asked repeatedly by my mother.”
“I don’t have time.”
Boone glanced toward Georgie. “Take Georgie home with you. Make it a long working weekend. And give her time to slide home to see her dad.”
“My dad?” Georgie sounded surprised. “Thanksgiving? He and his buddies go hunting in Montana every year.”
Studying her for a long moment, Clay considered his next comment. “Sounds like your Thanksgivings are a lot like mine. Boone, email Cassie and tell her I’ll be in touch for the details.”
After Boone returned to his seat and buckled up, Clay noticed Georgie’s hands were a little white-knuckled as she gripped the table. “Problem?”
“I don’t like landings. Takeoffs? Not thrilled but I’m fine. Landings?” She blinked at him a few times and her bangs brushed the tops of her glasses as she wrinkled her forehead. “Yeah, not so much.”
Prying one hand free, he laced his fingers through hers. “Good to know I’m not the only one.” He squeezed gently. “Hold my hand to make me feel better? Boone gets all weird when I ask him to do it.”
An odd little noise that was a cross between a giggle and snort burst from her and she tucked her teeth between her pressed lips to hold back the full laugh. “I can imagine.”
Her green eyes flashed in the sunlight streaming through the plane window as the pilot banked to line up on the runway. “Don’t tell my constituents.”
She gestured with her free hand, miming zipping her lips, pressing them closed. “Mmm nnnllps er hhed.”
“Your lips are sealed?”
Georgie nodded vigorously. “We wouldn’t want the voters to know their favorite senator is a ’fraidy cat.”
“Good to know I can trust you.” It struck him then. He could trust Georgie. She’d become an integral part of his inner cadre but he’d never considered the trust he bestowed on her as she moved into her current position. He reflected on what he knew of her. While usually on the quiet side, she didn’t back down easily when she believed herself to be right. And she had a wicked sense of humor, most often directed at Boone.
A flash of jealousy zinged through him. Was there something between Boone and Georgie? Boone called her sugar. All the time. Damn it. But if there was something going on, why should Clay care?
The plane touched down and the engines whined as the pilot applied brakes, diverting him from his thoughts.
Leaving the ground crew to deal with luggage, Clay, Boone and Georgie headed toward his senate offices, driven by Glen with Hunter riding shotgun. The SUV forged through the typically heavy Washington traffic, bullying its way from Dulles to the Russell Senate Office Building in a drive that took almost forty-five minutes. Turning left onto Delaware, the vehicle rolled to a smooth stop just past the main entrance on the southwest corner of the building.
Hunt was out of the front seat and opening doors even as his eyes roved the surroundings in a threat assessment. As Boone stepped out first, his brother tilted his head. “Shark at three o’clock.”
Boone snorted as he help
ed Georgie and then Clay out. “Parker Grace is headed this way.”
“Senator! Senator Barron!”
Georgie schooled her features to keep her thoughts from leaking into her expression. A reporter for a local television station, Parker Grace scurried toward them, her four-inch heels clattering against the concrete sidewalk. With her perfectly coiffed platinum hair and inch-long eyelashes fluttering over blue eyes, the woman was always the epitome of feminine perfection. And Georgie hated her for it.
Parker’s gaze flicked over her and then focused on Clay. “Senator, do you care to make a comment about your affair with a staff member?”
Sugar would have melted on the woman’s tongue, but the vinegar beneath her words soured Georgie’s stomach. She stepped up beside Clay, prepared to do her job, but Boone cut her off.
“Really, Parker? You get demoted to the gossip beat or something?”
The woman flushed but kept her microphone waving toward Clay. “Those pictures from Scottsdale are fairly explicit, Senator, and word has leaked out that Ms...” The reporter’s gaze once again washed over Georgie and dismissed her. “Your...assistant was seen leaving your suite after spending the night there. Care to comment?”
Once again, Boone cut Georgie off and she fumed at being usurped. “Parker, Parker, Parker. Did your sources also say that I was staying in the same suite, in my capacity as the senator’s chief of staff, along with his security chief, other security personnel and Ms. Dreyfus, the senator’s communications director?”
Georgie couldn’t remain silent any longer. “Seriously, Grace? You want to go there?”
“Most people would, Dreyfus. How wonderfully Fifty Shades. The mousy press secretary and the handsome, powerful senator.”
Georgie laughed. “Oh, apple pie, my eye. What have you been smoking?” Georgie gripped the woman’s arm and tugged her away from the others, though the cameraman followed. Lowering her voice, she fluttered her lashes in perfect imitation of Parker. “Ooh, Senator, I’d love to get my gold-digging claws into your trust fund.”