“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.”
“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 lit
tle 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.”
“Followed 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.”
“I study the issues carefully, and I always vote in the best interests of my constituents. You could never fault me on that.”
“Really? Even when their health is at stake?” Warmth crept up her neck, and it wasn’t from the Cadillac’s heated seats.
“Whoa, hold on. Sure you’re not a litigator?”
Courtney realized she was coming on too strong. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I have this overwhelming urge to make you see the light.” Really, why did she care so much? He was just one vote, albeit a significant one. Couldn’t she just relax and have a good time with this yummy man?
“You wouldn’t be the first woman who wanted me to see the light.” One side of his mouth turned up in a grin. Sexy.
I am so sure. “Ha, ha. Don’t worry. People don’t change unless they want to, and I have a strong suspicion you don’t want to.”
“True, but I have a strong suspicion you like a challenge.”
“In my professional life, yes. In my personal life, not so much.”
“Have you had many serious relationships, Courtney?”
I guess I asked for that. Ordinarily, she’d consider a man quite brazen for posing such a personal question, especially someone she’d only known for a day, but she was the one who brought up her personal life. Had she invited his question? She felt like she was in the confessional, and Eric was the obliging young priest behind the screen. And she wasn’t even Catholic. “Honestly, I’ve never had what most people would define as ‘a relationship’ with a man.” She couldn’t help but use air quotes.
“Does that mean you like women?” He could have been asking whether she liked oatmeal because his expression remained neutral, eyes on the road.
“No, my girlfriends are important to me, but I don’t have sex with them.” She was surely crimson by now. She turned her head to the passenger window and tried to fan her face surreptitiously.
“So, no steadies even in high school?” He touched her gloved hand, causing her to jump.
Good grief, here we go. Say ten ‘Hail Marys’ and call me in the morning. “Where are you going with this line of questioning, counsellor? If you must know, I was a total geek in high school and college, and then when I got to law school, I delved even deeper into the books. Now I’m trying to establish a career. It’s not like I’ve been twiddling my thumbs, waiting for Mr. Wonderful to come along.”
“Sorry. I hadn’t planned to launch into an examination of your romantic history.” He tipped his head and glanced at her under his thick eyelashes. “But since we’re on the subject, I might as well get this out in the open … are you a—?”
This is nothing to be ashamed of, so why am I hot under the collar? “Yes, I am a virgin.” Oops, I said that a bit too loudly.
Eric laughed. “I was going to ask if you were available.”
Their conversation was cut short with a turn into the restaurant’s valet circle. The attendant opened the passenger door, helping Courtney out, and then he zipped around the car to accept the keys from Eric and drive the Cadillac off to parts unknown.
In the space of about ten minutes, Courtney had revealed more about herself than some of her best friends knew. She needed to tone it down. More importantly, she had to convince this enigmatic man that she was right about a higher tax on tobacco. She figured she had about two hours to set him straight. And considering how things were proceeding so far, it wouldn’t be easy.
• • •
They were both silent on the ride back to Courtney’s townhouse. In truth, they’d worn each other out at dinner. For every argument she raised, he retaliated with an equally cogent counter-argument. He kept harping about tobacco being the scapegoat for taxes and how it simply wasn’t fair to levy exorbitant fees on a product that had been a staple of the American economy since the pilgrims planted the first crops in the seventeenth century. Generations of tobacco families had tilled the soil. They were part of the fabric
of what made this country great.
Courtney’s counter-argument focused on youth. If adults wanted to wreck their health, that was their business. But for kids as young as ten or twelve years old to be hooked on cigarettes before they had the good judgment or foresight to consider their health was an abomination. With higher taxes, fewer youth would be able to afford cigarettes, and the taxes could pay for a new anti-smoking campaign targeted at kids in elementary school.
She had to give him credit for at least listening to her. He nodded at the right parts, anyway. But Courtney couldn’t see that he’d budged. She felt her hopes of ever convincing him fade as he pulled up in front of her townhouse.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure why. She was pretty worn out from all the back and forth, but she hated to see the evening end. His sense of humor and intelligence were intoxicating.
“Thanks, but I’ve got an early morning.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was probably just as weary as she was from their heated exchange. He moved his jaw around, like he was stifling a yawn.
Now I’m putting him to sleep. And glomming on to the fact that we’re at an impasse on tobacco, he thinks I’m the world’s biggest goody-two-shoes.
“Certainly, I understand.” Courtney held up a hand. “Don’t get out. I’ll see myself to the door.” So, that’s that. What could she possibly do to leave an impression? When all else fails, try shock value. “Unless you’d like to see my drawer full of sex toys?”
His eyes grew wide, but only for a second. “Right, that sounds like you.”
“You don’t know everything about me.” Courtney winked and then ran her finger across his lips. Did I really do that? Swinging her legs out the door, she said, “Goodnight, Eric,” before slowly and seductively walking to her door, which wasn’t easy considering the temperature was close to freezing and she felt more like running. She didn’t look back; he’d have seen her teeth chattering. Well, let him chew on her parting statement for a while. It might warm him up, though in truth, the closest thing she had to sex toys was a vibrator with dead batteries.
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