by Avery James
When they had picked Charlotte, he had worried how she'd do. He worried that she'd develop a crush on him in some way, and everything would just get messy, but then he saw her walk down those stairs, and he was the one who felt weak in the stomach. She had looked so beautiful that he had just wanted to stare at her. It had taken all his willpower to look away and act nonchalant. Now he was the one kissing her before their first date had even begun. What was he thinking?
He had been surprised at how easily things had come together with Charlotte, the effortless give and take that had started between them. They had chemistry. He knew it. Amy and Callie knew it. Even if she had been oblivious to it for a while, Charlotte seemed to finally know it, too.
So where did they go from here? Dinner was probably a good start. Best to keep a table between them in case he got any other dumb ideas.
The formality of sitting down for dinner helped cool things off. He and Charlotte had to sit there and make trivial decisions about what kind of wine to drink and what sort of experimental molecular gastronomy dishes to try. Jack was so accustomed to overthinking every decision, making sure it sent the right message, but really, who the hell cared if he ordered the salmon and olive spheres or the ginger beef foam? All he cared about was the gorgeous redhead sitting across the table.
He watched Charlotte as she looked over the menu. "Anything sound good?"
"It all looks… intimidating," Charlotte said.
"It's good. I promise."
"Where do they list the prices?" Charlotte turned the menu over in her hand.
"Don't worry about the prices." Jack smiled.
"It's just a little more upscale than I'm used to."
"What are you used to?"
"A few times a year, Callie and I go out to a little bistro out on MacArthur Boulevard. Really, we go there whenever we have something to celebrate. It's a little nicer than the normal places we go, and we get to dress up a bit, but it's not nearly this…"
"Stuffy?" Jack asked.
"I was going to say grand. It's a little place. I don't know why I'm blanking on the name. We've always just called it 'the bistro.' Anyway, this is wonderful."
The conversation broke as they ordered dinner. Jack chose a mango and lychee snapper dish and, at Charlotte's insistence on being unable to decide, ordered the even less familiar sounding oysters with mignonette on her behalf. As soon as the waiter was gone, Charlotte seemed eager to restart the conversation and end the silence.
"So, tell me about your job," she said. "What's one thing I should know?"
"To start, it's not as glamorous as people think. Unless we're voting on something, I'm almost never in the Capitol building. Most of the time I work from the House office buildings across the street. My office is small, and there's a ceiling light above my desk that is almost always broken no matter what I do."
"Come on, there must be something good, secret passages to the White House, stuff like that," Charlotte said as the waiter took the menus.
"There's a monorail between the offices and the Capitol building. It's not very interesting. The whole thing is kind of like high school. There are the popular kids and there's even a cafeteria serviced by the same company that serves food at most of the country's prisons."
"Couldn't you just order out?"
"I usually just eat something fast in between meetings, whatever my secretary gets."
"I figured you'd have a place like this on speed dial."
"Nah," Jack said. "I mean this is great, but it's too much to do on a daily basis. Wait until you see dessert. It's elaborate and inventive, just like all the rest of the food here, but sometimes you just want a slab of pie instead."
"I know that's how I like my pie," Charlotte said, "in slabs. What's your favorite kind?"
"Rhubarb," Jack said quickly. "I like rhubarb."
"My mother used to make rhubarb pie. It's my dad's favorite, too. We'd eat it on his birthday with vanilla ice cream and a tall glass of milk instead of cake. My sister and I always hated that we didn't get to have cake."
"My father wasn't usually home for his birthdays," Jack said. He hadn't told Charlotte anything about his family yet, and he wondered how much he should let slip. A first date seemed like the wrong time to explain how his siblings resented him and his mother coddled him beyond belief. He wondered if he would ever be able to explain why he could barely stand to stay in the same room as them or why his blood boiled whenever someone brought up his father.
Probably better to bring up family as little as possible, Jack decided. His mind drifted to Maria and little Jack. He felt suddenly very conscious of the weight of the secret phone in his breast pocket. He wanted to change the topic of conversation as quickly as possible.
"But you probably got cake when he was home," Charlotte said.
"Cake is overrated," Jack said, "but you should come to my office sometime. It'll be nice. We can get a mediocre lunch. I'll have my secretary add you to the list so you can come whenever."
He lost his train of thought as he watched Charlotte fiddling with her hair, sweeping it back from her face and twirling it around her finger. She was smiling and laughing a lot, but Jack could tell that she was nervous. The way she had looked over the menu when they first sat down, like she didn't know where to begin. He loved her genuine excitement and enthusiasm to learn more about him instead of just interest in using him somehow. He loved all of it. He wanted to know more about her and for their date to be something more than a photo-op. He didn't even want to talk about the fact that photographers were getting ready outside to take as many pictures of the couple as possible. It was one more item on the list of things he didn't want to tell her. He felt like it would break the spell of the nice night they'd been having.
When the staff put Charlotte's entrée in front of her, Jack had a hard time containing his enjoyment at her bewildered reaction.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Oysters with mignonette sauce, molecular gastronomy style," he said.
Charlotte poked at a cloud of something airy. "But this sauce is just foam. And why are the oysters little balls?"
"I think the lingo they use is 'pearls'. I guess they're trying to be cheeky. Just try it. I promise it's good." He lifted up a forkful of snapper covered in flavorful bubbles of mango and lychee, inviting her to join him.
Charlotte looked reluctant as she lifted a pearl of oyster to her lips, but on Jack's lead, they both ate at the same time.
"Wow, you weren't kidding," she said, her jaw dropping open.
"They may not be how we ate oysters on the Cape, but they're certainly something, aren't they?"
When Charlotte's face dropped, Jack got concerned.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Charlotte nodded toward the window. She pantomimed taking a picture. So she had noticed the photographers.
Jack winked. "Just keep doing what you're doing, and the pictures will be great."
The more he talked to her, the more everything felt like it was happening in slow motion as the world zoomed by around them. He didn't know what to make of that feeling, but he was pretty sure that he liked it. The meal passed in a blur. Jack barely registered when dessert arrived and Charlotte took a scoop of it with her fork and held it across the table for him to try.
"Definitely not pie," she said as she looked down at the mint-colored foam, "but it looks like it could be good. Too bad there are only two dollops of it on the plate"
Jack laughed. "Do you know why they call it molecular gastronomy?"
"Because of how small the portions are?" Charlotte asked.
"Well, that kind of ruins the punchline," Jack said, "but yeah, something like that."
Before he realized it, the check for dinner was sitting before him and it was time to leave. Jack paid, got up and helped Charlotte with her chair. "Your adoring public awaits," he said.
"They're not the only ones who seem adoring," Charlotte teased.
Jack wondered if he had bee
n transparent in how much he had enjoyed himself. Maybe he had paid a little too much attention to Charlotte. He knew this feeling, this wonderful excitement of possibility that just couldn't last. Soon enough, Charlotte would settle into her role as his fiancée and eventually his wife. The novelty of him would wear off for her, and she'd start to notice the thousand little things she didn't like about him, the annoying little things that always drove people apart. Sooner or later, he'd do something stupid and she'd rightly resent him for it, or she'd decide he wasn't upholding his end of the deal. Jack didn't want to rush toward that future. He just wanted the moment to stay perfect for just a little bit longer.
And God forbid what would happen if she found out how much he had to keep secret from her. He ran his hand over his breast pocket again, checking the phone, half hoping it would be gone. It seemed unfair to burden her with this secret. He was already asking so much of her. Just thinking about it made his head and his chest ache.
Jack pushed back his chair and looked toward the window. "Would you like to take a walk with me?" he said.
"How else would we get back?" Charlotte asked.
Jack waved his hand in a circle. "I meant around. I was enjoying our conversation and thought we could keep going for a while."
"You don't have to." Charlotte followed his gaze to the window again, but the cameras were gone. "A walk sounds nice."
As soon as they left the restaurant, Jack offered Charlotte his jacket. The night air had cooled, and Jack thought she might be cold.
"I think I'll survive," she said. "It did get a bit chilly though."
Jack wrapped his arm around her instead, and they walked aimlessly, crisscrossing Georgetown until finally they ended up outside Jack's house. He nodded toward the front door and said, "This one's mine. Would you like to come in?"
"Maybe I should stop at the doorstep tonight," Charlotte said.
"Right," Jack replied. He had gotten ahead of himself. The suggestion had come off wrong. He just wanted to keep the conversation going to stay with Charlotte a little bit longer. "Do you want a ride back to your place? I just realized that I don't even know where it is."
"I can walk," she said. "After all, who would mess with me, right?"
"I didn't think you'd use that one against me like that. I guess this is goodnight." He looked at Charlotte, waiting for her to say something, but she just looked at him. She was so beautiful it hurt. He just wanted to explain that ache to her. But how do you put that into words? he wondered. There were no words. Jack could only think of one way to express that feeling.
"You know, for a politician, you're—" Before Charlotte could finish her sentence, Jack leaned in and kissed her, pressing his lips against hers, feeling that rush of excitement again. This time was warmer than before, and Charlotte ran her hands over his back as she returned his kiss. As he started to pull back, she held herself close, kissing him deeper and letting out a little sigh as they finally parted lips.
Charlotte smiled and asked, "So where are the cameras hidden this time? Up in a tree?"
"There are no cameras," Jack said. "That one will just have to stay between you and me." Charlotte couldn't hide her smile as she turned toward the sidewalk.
They went on two more dates the next week. With each date, Charlotte opened up a little. Each conversation left him wanting more. Callie and Amy had drawn up a schedule of dates for him and Charlotte, but it wasn't enough. Jack decided he wanted to see her more. He didn't have to pretend around her. He liked that. He could just be himself without worrying about the implications of every little move.
He was drawn to her, and soon, he found himself trying to make their dates better and better. He focused on getting his work calls out of the way beforehand to block out the entire night for time with Charlotte. Soon enough, they'd have to start going to public functions together, and some of the magic of being alone with Charlotte would wear away. He knew she'd have to worry about who to impress and how to help him work the room, but part of him just wanted to forget about the whole public image campaign and just be alone with her for as long as possible.
Somehow, each date ended with a long walk through the quiet streets and a kiss at Jack's door. For their third date, at Charlotte's insistence, they went to a sushi restaurant in Alexandria. Charlotte met him at his place. He'd been finishing up a call with his campaign manager that had run half an hour too long. He felt terrible, and he didn't know how to make it up to her. They ended up losing their reservation and didn't eat until two hours later.
"One of these days, I'll convince you to come inside for a drink," he said in the doorway to his house afterward.
"What happened to always have a drink but never finish it?" Callie asked.
Jack smiled. "That's for public events. This is different. At some point, you should at least come in. Otherwise, people will start to wonder why I can't seem to seal the deal with the mysterious redhead everyone's been talking about. One of these nights, I'll convince you that the walk inside is a better idea than the lonely walk home."
Jack held his breath. A car horn in the distance cut through the low hum of the city in the night, and Charlotte stared into his eyes as she thought about what he had said. Her face was half in shadow, and Jack doubted he had ever seen anyone more beautiful. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Her kiss was soft and slow, and he could smell her delicate floral perfume as she pulled back, and he just wanted to hold her in his arms, just wanted to hold onto that moment for just a while longer. He had to remind himself to breathe. Charlotte smiled at him. "How about tonight?" she asked.
Chapter 8
Charlotte had barely stepped inside the door before Jack kissed her again. He pressed her against the paneled wall and pinned his lips against hers. Desire swelled up inside her. Jack slipped his fingers between hers and deepened his kiss.
Charlotte wanted to melt into that kiss, wanted its warmth to course through her, but she knew it was a bad idea. She could feel Jack's solid frame against her. With each kiss, her excitement grew, and she knew his did too.
It was dark inside the house, and their hurried breaths echoed off of the marble floor of the entryway.
Just a few minutes, Charlotte thought. Just this kiss, and then I'll stop.
Jack's breath was hot against her skin as he kissed her neck. She tilted her head back and took a deep breath. She felt that dizzy endorphin rush start to spiral into a deeper need, and she knew she needed to stop herself before she went any further. She unlocked her fingers from his and ran her hands over his back.
In one quick motion, Jack picked her up and spun her around in a wonderful, disorienting blur of motion. As he put her back down, he nodded toward the room off of the entry way. Charlotte kicked off her heels and tumbled with him onto the plush leather couch.
Just one more kiss, she told herself.
She could feel a deeper need taking over as she raked her fingers down the back of his shirt. She kissed his chin and planted her lips against his. The slow motion of his tongue against her lower lip would have buckled her knees if she weren't already lying down. Charlotte slipped her tongue against his as bliss hummed inside her. She needed this, and she wanted more.
When their lips parted, she knew she had reached the point of no return.
"I should go," she whispered.
"You should stay," Jack said. He brushed his hand against her cheek and sat up. "It's late. I have several guest rooms. You can stay the night, and I don't have to worry about you walking halfway across the city alone."
"Then don't worry about it," Charlotte said. She straightened herself up. Everything was already confusing enough. She liked Jack. She liked him a lot, but she was starting to worry that she liked him too much for someone who supposedly didn't believe in love.
"But I will," Jack replied. He stood up and turned the light on. "You can leave in the morning. Let me show you to a room."
Charlotte took his hand and followed him up the long staircase to the seco
nd floor. Halfway down the hall, he opened a door and flicked on a light.
"Does this work for you?"
The room was bigger than her apartment. It had a large four-poster bed and a reading area with a library's worth of bookshelves and couches circled around a fireplace. It looked like something out of a magazine.
"This is perfect," she said.
"Goodnight, Charlotte," Jack said. He grinned and kissed the back of her hand. He stepped out into the hallway, and Charlotte stood there in the middle of the room, waiting for him to either leave or stay. "Should I get the door for you?"
"I can get it," Charlotte said. She wondered what Jack was thinking as she slowly closed the door. "Goodnight, Jack."
She stood there with her ear against the door for the next five minutes, waiting to hear Jack either tap on the door or walk down the hallway. Was their relationship still all business, or was it becoming something more? If Jack didn't believe in love, should Charlotte still feel for him as strongly as she did? She wondered if his heart beat with the same sharp ache as hers. She wondered if he was still standing in the hallway, leaning his forehead against the door, deciding whether or not to make his move.
***
The following weeks were full of those moments when Charlotte felt that she and Jack were on the verge of becoming something more than co-conspirators. They were also full of times that made her wonder what the hell she was doing pretending to be Jack's girlfriend.
In a few short weeks, she had been to more gallery openings, charity auctions and dinner parties than she had been to in her entire life. Her time with Jack had blurred together into one long string of handshakes and small talk. He was a rising star in DC, and everyone wanted a chance to gain influence with him while they had the chance. He'd smile and nod and duck away at the soonest opportunity. They'd inevitably follow.
For the first time in her life, Charlotte had acquaintances, not that she could remember any of their names. She had a social calendar. She wore a curated set of designer dresses. When she googled her name, image results came up. She was featured on fashion blogs. She, Charlotte Crowley, the woman who had been handed a credit card and all but told she needed to buy a new wardrobe, now had fans. It was all surreal.
