In Bed With the Opposition

by Stephanie Draven

  That was overstating it a bit, but Grace had to admit, she put up with more from her boss than anybody else she knew. “Look, when my dad left, he didn’t stick around to see me on weekends and holidays or anything. He just called my mom names and walked out on us like we were trash. If it weren’t for Kip Halloway—”

  “Tell it to the voters,” Molly said, holding up a hand.

  “You’re voting for him, aren’t you?”

  “And face your wrath if I don’t?” Molly affected a shudder. “Is it true that a constituent called to complain, and Senator Halloway called him right back and told him off?”

  Grace’s stomach soured at the idea that this little anecdote had made it into the papers. “Senator Halloway always speaks his mind. And I think voters like that about him.”

  “You’d better hope so.”

  …

  Red and gold leaves carpeted the street in front of the senator’s Georgetown brownstone and Grace dodged jack-o’-lanterns as she passed through the familiar wrought iron gates. The first time she’d seen this place as a girl, she’d been awed. With its graceful turrets and decorative stonework, Halloway House had made her feel like a peasant visiting a palace.

  “Gracie Girl!” the senator said, throwing the door open. “Is your mother expecting you?”

  Grace raised an eyebrow. Had he forgotten? “You asked me to go over the environmental bill with you tonight, sir. You said it couldn’t wait until Monday.”

  He’d also told her that he didn’t care if she had to break another movie date with Molly because there would always be other movies, but there was only one planet to save. So she’d canceled her plans with Molly, again. She’d driven all the way to Georgetown, again. And now he didn’t remember?

  She watched him grope for a recollection with a sort of desperate and sad expression on his face, until suddenly his eyes lit up. “Ah, yes. Talk to me about the Chesapeake Bay…”

  Grace spent the better part of her evening working with the senator. She had a better grasp of the policy details, but once Kip Halloway’s keen mind kicked in, he pointed out more than a few places where the language of the bill needed to be changed.

  After a few hours, when it was time for the nurse to check his blood pressure, Grace slipped away to the kitchen where her mother was fixing dinner. Mama’s big brown eyes brightened and after she’d wiped her plump hands on her apron, she pulled Grace into a quick, damp embrace. “All done with work, mija?”

  “For tonight, anyway,” Grace said, then caught a glimmer of a smile from the other side of the kitchen. It was Blain, who greeted her with a nod of his chin. She was glad to see him. She nearly sighed in relief, in fact. They’d have a nice family dinner together; maybe it would help him to remember how well they fit together in each other’s lives.

  Of course, at the moment, Blain was talking on the phone to the campaign treasurer, and turned his back to her. Then an altogether familiar and thrilling voice stopped Grace in her tracks.

  “He’s had his chance,” Ethan said. “And he’s never going to come through for you. It’s time to take a risk on somebody new.”

  Whirling around, Grace came face-to-face with the small under-the-cabinet television, where Ethan Castle proceeded to school the pundit sitting on the other side of the table. “That’s the pitch you make to the electorate when you’re an unknown,” Ethan continued. “That’s how you win a campaign. You make it a referendum on the incumbent. You don’t—”

  “What’s the matter, mija?” Mama asked, drowning out the television with the noises of cupboard doors shutting in her hurry to get dinner on the table. “You look pale.”

  “I just can’t stand that show,” Grace said, shaking her head clear of the surreal sensation of having Ethan in the room with her when he was hundreds of miles away. Finding the remote, she turned the show off with a violent flick of her finger. Keep it together, Grace. “Mama, what can I help you with?”

  “You can set the table. The vegetables are already blanched and chicken enchiladas are in the oven. I’m just working on the chocolate now.” Her mother seemed to have things well in hand. The chocolate molds were on the counter and ready to go, and the familiarity of watching her mother mix chocolate with chili pepper was comforting.

  When Grace was a little kid she always wanted her mother to experiment with other flavors like cherry or almond, but now that she was all grown up she thought, why risk ruining the whole batch with new ingredients? What if it didn’t taste right? Even if it tasted delicious, would she really want to eat cherry-flavored chocolate the rest of her life?

  At least Grace knew she could live with chocolate and a pinch of chili pepper…

  “Yikes, but what about the senator’s sweet tooth? You’re only going to tempt him.”

  Mama threw up her hands. “I give him one piece a night. His doctor agreed. Chocolate’s good for the heart, mija.”

  “Right,” Blain said, finishing his phone call and stooping to give her mother a quick hug. “Save some for me, will you, Florencia?”

  “You’re not staying?” Grace asked.

  Blain shook his blond head. “Sorry, I’ve got a meeting.”

  “But it’s Sunday night,” Grace objected, though she knew weekends had little meaning for campaign managers.

  “It’s just dinner,” he said, smooching her cheek. “But we’re still on for Halloween, right? I’ll call you.”

  …

  Annihilated. That’s the only word to describe what Ethan just did to the mouthpiece for the White House. He’d exposed his talking points, destroyed his arguments, and wrecked his composure on national television.

  And it really ought to have felt a lot better.

  Trying to bask in his victory, Ethan sucked down the contents of a water bottle while his rival continued to sputter. “That didn’t have to get so ugly, Castle.”

  “It’s nothing personal,” Ethan said. “Except for the part where your boss is trying to destroy the country…”

  “You’re a dick.”

  Yeah. He kind of had been. More than usual, he thought. Lately, everything about his job made him impatient and fractious. He thought it would make him feel better to confront Grace Santiago about why they’d broken up in law school, but now that he knew…well, her explanation hadn’t made a lot of sense. And when a chick dumps you without a good explanation, she’s just not that into you. Sometimes girls lost interest. It happened.

  Just not to Ethan. And it was hard to accept that she’d lost interest, given how she’d reacted when he kissed her at the EZ-Clean. She’d practically melted into his arms. She was soft and syrupy and made all those little adorable sighs at the back of her throat as if she’d been waiting years for someone to kiss her like that.

  He’d left her wanting more. Which is exactly how he left most women. But Grace was still under his skin, and not just because she represented an unsolved question in his life anymore. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to do a lot more than kiss her. But he didn’t even have her goddamned cell phone number.

  Oh, he’d sent his assistant hunting for it, but apparently there were government officials working for spy agencies who could learn a thing or two about preserving one’s privacy from Grace Santiago. The last time she’d called him had been from a phone line inside Halloway campaign headquarters. He could call Senator Halloway’s office and ask for her, but knowing Grace, that’d only piss her off. If he wanted her private phone number, he’d have to resort to extraordinary measures and wheedle it out of someone who worked with her.

  But what would the point of that be? The election was almost a year away. He needed to find a candidate and pick a campaign already. Obsessing about a woman who dumped him seven years ago wasn’t going to help him get his shit together, was it?

  …

  As far as holidays went, Grace thought Halloween had a lot going for it. First, free candy. The government didn’t need to pass a bill or anything—you could just knock on a fellow citizen�
��s door and they’d give you sweets.

  Talk about redistribution of wealth!

  Second, on Halloween, you could pretend to be somebody else. This was especially advantageous because although Grace didn’t consider herself much of a seductress, Wonder Woman always got her man…

  As the workday ticked down, Grace reviewed her plan. Blain would call at the end of the workday, then pick her up and whisk her off to Georgetown for the outlandish street-filled display that seemed to get bigger and wilder every year.

  And after? Well, let’s just say she’d shaved her legs to a perfect smoothness and Blain had a good chance of getting lucky. Grace was so antsy waiting that she was almost relieved when she got called into a meeting with the majority leader’s staff, knowing it would help her pass the time. The only downside was having to see Dale Delmont, who worked in that office.

  In law school she’d befriended Dale, to her everlasting regret. Now Grace couldn’t believe she’d once thought he was a decent guy. On her personal list of the Worst People in the World, Dale Delmont was at the top. So she couldn’t keep the scowl from her face when she found Dale sitting at the end of the conference table fiddling with his iPhone. It was a damned phone that caused all her trouble back in law school too. A Sanyo, if she recalled. Dale had carried it with him everywhere and used it to make Grace’s life hell.

  The price of Dale’s silence had been getting him a job on the Hill—Blain had helped with that—but now Grace saw her mortal enemy on a weekly basis. They never spoke about the pictures or how he’d gotten his job, but she couldn’t hide her hostility.

  “You’ll be glad to know I’ve found new employment,” Dale said.

  Grace couldn’t contain her glee. “Really? Was there an opening on Lucifer’s staff?”

  Dale was undaunted. “I’m jumping into media as a political correspondent.”

  Dale Delmont as a political reporter? So she’d been right. He was going to work for the devil. Not that she begrudged him his rightful place in the battle of good and evil, but she’d hoped he’d be out of her life. Now she’d have to see him at press events. Worse, the idea that Dale would be in a position to publicize what he wanted, whenever he wanted, made her sick.

  Five-year-old photos of a half-undressed Senate staffer weren’t newsworthy—not even for gossipy bloggers like PolitiGal. But Dale was leering at her like he always did and it made her want to punch him.

  No. She wouldn’t let him get to her. Not tonight. It was Halloween and she had an official date with Blain. Her sixteenth official date with him, actually, if she wanted to count all of them over the years. And that added up to something significant, didn’t it? Encouraged by that thought, she shrugged Dale off and left as soon as they’d finished debating about carbon credits. She checked her watch. Five-thirty.

  Actually, Blain should have called by now, but luckily Grace had packed her Wonder Woman costume in her overnight bag. Some superheroes changed in phone booths, but the bathroom of the Hart Senate Office Building would have to do. She slipped into costume and posed in front of the mirror.

  Bulletproof bracelets? Check. Lasso of truth? Check. Red and gold bustier that showed off her assets? Check. But it was the red go-go boots that would really do the trick, as long as she didn’t break an ankle walking on the Georgetown cobblestones.

  That’s when she realized that she had to wear the outfit in the office until Blain called. This violated Grace’s Rule #44 about dressing appropriately for work, so she slipped into her trench coat. Unfortunately, knowing it concealed a pair of blue starred Amazonian panty-briefs made her feel a bit pervy.

  When Grace returned to her desk, Norma Billingsly peered over her cat-eye glasses. “Expecting rain?”

  Grace tried not to annoy the chief of staff, but sometimes sarcasm was the only answer. “Yes, and I thought the plastic tiara would help keep my hair dry.”

  Norma handed Grace a stack of paper. “More changes to the environmental bill from the majority leader’s office.”

  Grace groaned. She got the impression the majority leader was gutting the bill’s enforcement provisions. Unfortunately, it was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on penalties for environmental evildoers even with a lasso of truth at her side. After all, Blain was about to call…

  But Blain didn’t call.

  Not her desk phone, not her cell phone, and not even her home phone. (She checked remotely.) He didn’t even leave her an e-mail or text message. And Grace sat there waiting until everyone else in the office went home for the night.

  He wasn’t going to call.

  She’d been stood up.

  Thankfully, Molly came to the rescue. Ushering her into a cab, then into a Georgetown bar that throbbed with a techno beat, Molly asked, “Who needs Blain Halloway? We can have a fun night of girl power!”

  Cramming their way into a group of obnoxious interns who wore their badges on their costumes, Molly and Grace ordered two bleeding-heart martinis. The party atmosphere should have cheered her up; it was a holiday and Molly looked great in her Batgirl costume, but Grace was having trouble relating to her inner superheroine.

  She didn’t feel strong and sexy anymore. She felt underdressed. Then she caught a glimpse of familiar green eyes roaming all over her and felt completely naked…

  Chapter Five

  Holy shit, Ethan thought.

  Or maybe he actually said it out loud when he nearly stumbled over Grace-as-Wonder-Woman in the crowded bar. Wow. The dark hair, the sloe eyes, that well-rounded ass…he’d never imagined her rocking a bustier and a red cape but he could now see this was a serious oversight in his repertoire of sexual fantasies…

  “What are you doing here?” Grace asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

  “I was invited by some bloggers. You know PolitiGal, right?” He sidled up to Grace at the bar both because he wanted to be close to her and because his mouth was suddenly so dry he needed another drink. Did she seriously not have any idea how seductive she was, all girl-next-door charm wed to banging Latin curves?

  Grace narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “No, I mean, what are you doing here?”

  Jesus, she did think he was a stalker. “I told you I’d be back in town tonight, remember? But I didn’t know you were gonna be at this bar. Georgetown’s a big place.”

  She nodded, relaxing a little, a hint of a smile creeping onto her face. She leaned forward, raising her voice to be heard over the music. “So, where is she?”

  “Who?”

  Grace downed her bleeding-heart martini in an impressive two swallows. “PolitiGal.”

  “She’s on the dance floor,” Ethan said, not bothering to look that direction. “What about your date?”

  “Change of plans.”

  Now that sounded promising. Maybe Ethan’s night was about to get a lot better. At the idea of her availability, he felt himself tense, keenly interested. “So, you don’t have a date tonight?”

  Grace shot a nervous glance at the tough-looking bat chick standing next to her. “This is my date tonight.”

  “Who, me?” Batgirl asked with a sly smirk. “I don’t even know her. We just met.”

  Grace elbowed her friend. “Molly, meet—”

  “Ethan Castle. I know. I’ve seen him on TV.” With that, Grace’s dark-masked companion smiled conspiratorially, then started to move off into the crowd.

  Grace called after her, panic in her voice. “Molly!”

  Ethan flashed Batgirl a thumbs-up in thanks.

  And then they were alone. Or, at least as alone as you can be in a bar full of drunk zombies, vampires, and superheroes. Ethan ordered a beer, then leaned against the bar. “Grace, that’s a killer costume…”

  He loved the way she flushed and nervously wet her lips at his praise. “Thanks. Yours sucks. I didn’t even think they let people in here without a costume.”

  “Oh, I’m wearing a costume.” Ethan took a pair of dark-framed glasses from his pocket and slid them on. “Clark Kent.”
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  Grace scrunched that adorable nose of hers. “That’s cheating.”

  Ethan smirked. “Is it, really? Don’t you wanna undress me to find out if I’m really Superman underneath?”

  That did it. Those dark eyelashes of hers fluttered open. Then she sighed, clutching her arms over her bosom as if she was afraid she would reach out and start unbuttoning his shirt right here and now.

  “Did that line seriously work on you, Grace?”

  “I think so. Which means I must be a little drunk.”

  “Me too,” he confessed.

  “But you do look like Clark Kent, now that you mention it. And I always thought he was better-looking than Superman.”

  Ethan was totally charmed by the way she just blurted it out. Sure, he wanted to grab a fistful of her dark hair and drag her off somewhere private, but her slightly off-center personality warmed his heart and his loins. “So you like nerds.”

  “I like smart guys.”

  “I’m smart. Smart-mouthed, anyway.”

  He watched her try to smother a grin. “I like policy wonks.”

  As they talked, the cups of her costume slipped down a little bit, giving him a peek at the lacy strapless bra beneath. From what he could see, it was decorated with tiny pumpkins. So, she was still quirky. He liked that.

  Then someone in the crowd jostled Grace into his arms and when she wilted against him, he knew he had her. “Listen, Grace. I can hardly hear you over the music. Do you wanna get outta here?”

  She looked tempted, but glanced over her shoulder. “I shouldn’t leave my friend.”

  Batgirl was engaged in some hot and heavy dancing with a guy in a Frankenstein costume, so Ethan said, “I don’t think she’d mind.”

  “I can’t go without telling her, though.”

  “Text her,” Ethan said, happy to abandon the friend, the blogger, the bar, and the beer.

  Grace managed to catch her friend’s eye, then did some sort of girl-talk pantomime to secure the requisite permission to leave. As soon as she had it, Ethan dropped a big bill on the bar, took Grace by the hand, and led her out.