Politically Incorrect

by Jeanne McDonald

  Almost as soon as Harper got comfortable, a dark figure emerged at the den entrance. Every inch of skin on my body electrified at the sight of the shadowed frame. My breath caught in my throat and I uncrossed my legs, pushing myself to the edge of my seat. Clenched fingers curled into the fabric of the cushions. I lifted my chin and squinted my eyes to see this man as he entered the room. Focused on his face, my heart raced in my chest. Perspiration formed on the back of my neck. My stomach fluttered in excitement. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought I was high. This feeling was unlike anything I’d ever felt before and it frightened me.

  I stood up, only to realize how tall this man was. In heels, I met most men eye-to-eye. This man, however, towered over me still. I took one step toward the door and halted; for he moved into the light and the world stopped on its axis. My heart thundered in my chest and air rushed in my ears.

  With a light shake of my head, I straightened up, forcing back the wiggly feeling in the pit of my stomach. That wasn’t me. I wasn’t some silly school girl or hormone crazed teenager. I inhaled deep, adjusted my skirt, and put on my best smile.

  “Elizabeth McNeal,” Harper extended a hand out toward the god standing before me, “I’d like to introduce you to Congressman William Baxter.”

  “My friends call me Liam,” the tall drink of water noted, extending his large hand to me.

  Out of habit, I accepted his offering. We both froze, locked in that simple action of shaking hands. His skin was warm against mine and the smell of his cologne was tantalizing. He moved forward, closing what little gap remained between us. His hooded eyes were glued to mine. Long, smooth fingers engulfed my small hand. For a moment everything around me faded into the background. Gone was the smell of expensive alcohol and the crackling of the fire. I couldn’t even hear myself breathe. Only this man stood in the haze of my thoughts.

  Deep chocolate eyes, so dark they appeared almost liquid, stared down at me under long, chestnut lashes. Lips, full and pink, spread into an award winning smile ─ one I was certain he’d perfected over the years, and like any good politician, he’d used it to get his way a time or two. He was dressed in a tailored slate gray three-piece suit with a silk orange tie that was virtually bright as the sun. Aside from the monstrosity of his tie, I had to admit this man was almost perfect. But me being me, I had to find imperfections, no matter how small they might be.

  I blinked several times and licked my lips, my gaze running up and down his tight, hard body. Broad shoulders dropped to a trim waistline. He was an athlete; of that I was sure. His body was too firm not to be. The mere way he stood, with near perfect posture, suggested former military, which would also explain why his golden brown hair was cut far too short. A buzz cut might be standard for military personnel, but for a senator people expected a man with hair ─ unless he was naturally going bald. Don’t ask me why, I’d never been able to explain the American public perception, but naturally balding men equates distinguished and wise while a buzz cut elicits fear.

  Then there was a little scar above his left eyebrow. No one would notice it if they weren’t scrutinizing him, as I was, but it made me wonder what the story was behind such a tiny imperfection. While his smile was charming, his two bottom incisors were crooked. There was a small bump on his otherwise perfectly straight and narrow nose.

  A sports injury, perhaps?

  Up and down, my eyes raked over him, and trust me, that was no easy feat. The man had to be six-four, maybe six-five. His height alone was intimidating.

  Out of all his physical imperfections, which really weren’t imperfections at all, they actually added to his handsome demeanor, the one thing I noticed ─ the most important thing I noticed─ was his youth. Since Harper was suggesting him for the senate seat, I knew he had to be over thirty, but not by much. This man was barely a man. He was still a child when it came to working on the Hill.

  I released his hand and took a step back. My heart thundered in my ears, but I managed to ignore it. Instead, I allowed my professional nature to take over. I swiveled around by my hip to catch Harper’s eye. “Please tell me this is a joke.” I thrust my thumb upward toward Liam, who seemed incapable of taking the hint that I needed space to breathe as he’d, once again, invaded my personal space. The hairs on the back of my neck tickled with excitement. I rolled my shoulders to push back the completely inappropriate and unwanted attraction I had toward this guy.

  “I beg your pardon,” Liam scoffed.

  Harper’s lips curved into a cocky smirk. He shrugged a shoulder and gave me a wink.

  “No wonder you said money wasn’t an option!” I huffed in frustration. I raked a fingernail over my eyebrow. “Do we even have a clue who the Republican candidate or candidates might be?”

  Harper’s smile dropped. He clasped his hands together over his knee. “Not exactly. But I’m pretty sure we both know who it’ll be.”

  My hand smacked over my forehead. “Governor Keating,” I groaned. “Now, I know this has to be a joke. There’s no way you’d send this guy, a nobody, up against Keating.”

  As shrewd as politicians came, Bonnie Keating fit the bill. Her wily antics and cunning charisma could lull a person into a false sense of security. She had the ability to make a person believe she could change the world so it would no longer revolve around the sun but rather around you before cutting you down to size in a matter of a few words. Bonnie would do just about anything to get elected, which she’d proven time and time again. Her crooked tactics were what landed her in the Governor's office. If she was the person we’d be up against, we needed a hard hitter not the rookie kid who was still wet behind the ears.

  “Where do you get off…”

  I whipped back around to Liam, raising my chin to meet his dark gaze. “Look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy, and maybe even a great Congressman, but this is the big leagues, kid, and I’m afraid you’ll be eaten alive.”

  His once adorable smile turned downward and bright red burned through his cheeks. “I don’t know what makes you think you have the right...”

  Cutting him off again, I snapped, “Years of experience.”

  I turned back to Harper, my temper flaring. “You called me here for this?” I flung my hand backward, uncaring that I’d just smacked the Congressman in the chest. “He’s barely reached puberty.”

  “She can’t be serious?” Liam barked.

  Harper crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth screwed tight in an attempt to fight off laughter.

  “I know you said she’s the Queen of Politics, but I’m not taking this ageist crap from anyone. I don’t care if it’s the Pope himself. I appreciate your support, Mr. Harper, but I’m out if it means I have to work with someone who’s as prejudice as she is.”

  If my blood wasn’t already boiling before, it was now. I jerked back around to him, my teeth gritted. “Ageist? Prejudice? I’ll have you know I’m neither of those things, but what I am is a person with a great deal of experience. I was running high-profile campaigns while you were discovering hair in awkward places. How old are you anyway? Thirty? Thirty-one?”

  “Thirty-four,” he reluctantly replied.

  “And that right there is my point. The odds are already stacked against you being a Democrat in Texas. Not to mention the fact you’ll most likely be running against a well-known politician, where no one even knows your name. Those two issues alone put us in the weeds, but you add being under forty to the mix and we might as well kiss that seat goodbye.”

  He puffed out his chest and dropped his chin, locking his eyes on mine. I knew his stance was meant to intimidate me, and the truth was, it did, but I’d never let him know that.

  “Lady, you don’t know me.” The tension in his voice was so tight it sounded like he could snap at any moment. Yet somehow he managed to hold it together. “So don’t pretend to. I might be young but I have a lot of experience under my belt, and I won’t allow some know-it-all consultant to tell me I don’t have what it takes to serv
e the American people because I’m not old enough.”

  I tried to interject but he lifted a finger to my face, almost touching my lips. My whole body was enraged by his display of authority. No one ever spoke to me like that. Ever. They knew to trust me and to accept my advice. This little punk was challenging me, which felt both exhilarating and infuriating.

  “Age is but a number,” he continued. “It doesn’t equal knowledge or experience. An eighteen-year-old can have more experience in their short life than a sixty-year-old. And, frankly, I am not some sort of statistic. We live in a world where a woman is the president of the United States. A black man has held that coveted seat in the oval office. There are no limits on what a person can or can’t do. Age, race, sexuality, and religious creed no longer define us. My age is a benefit. Bonnie Keating is old news. The Texas population is young and they want someone their age to help lead them into this new era. They thirst for new ideas and leadership. And, Ms. McNeal, I’m the person for the job.”

  My mouth gaped open. Somehow, in the interim of his speech, we’d moved so close together that if he leaned forward just a little and I perched up on my toes, our mouths would surely meet. While that thought was tempting, there was something about his speech that thrilled me even more. His words were unrehearsed. They were natural. They came from deep inside him and with honest conviction. It was unusual to see so much raw passion exude from someone in politics. His impromptu speech breathed life into my chest. It excited me.

  I glanced over my shoulder to Harper who was on the edge of his seat. Wide-eyed, his expression mirrored how I felt. Engaged, intrigued, and sold. Harper gave me a simple nod, as if to tell me Liam had just proven him right. I returned the nod, agreeing with him. It was yet another perk to being friends with someone for so long. Words weren’t needed between us. We knew what the other was thinking, and we were both thinking we had ourselves a candidate.

  I stepped back, steepling my fingers together. “Okay.” I floated down onto the couch next to Harper. With a pat on the knee, I side-eyed him. “The kid has moxy,” I admitted.

  “Moxy?” Liam echoed.

  Harper and I ignored him. I shifted sideways, turning toward Harper. “Full DNC support?” I reiterated.

  “Not only does he have full DNC support, but he also has complete backing of Harper Industries. Funding won’t be an issue.”

  I nodded, drumming my fingers against each other as I calculated how best to play out this campaign. “I have provisos.”

  “I expect nothing less.” Harper scooted back in his seat. He glanced up to Liam and held out his hand for the young Congressman to take a seat in the armchair adjacent from the sofa. Liam seemed hesitant at first but unbuttoned his jacket and dropped into the chair.

  Note to self: Dark colors are good for his tanned skin. But the neon ties have to go!

  “Let’s start off with cosmetics.” I glanced over at Liam, a look of confusion on his face.

  “Okay,” Harper chuckled.

  I stood up and circled around Liam, resting my hands on the back of the armchair. “He has nice form. Commands a room well, but the hair. It needs to be grown out.”

  “What?” Liam glanced up and over his shoulder at me. God, those eyes. Empires would fall over those eyes.

  “Your hair, Congressman. If you want people to take you seriously, you need to grow it out a few inches. This,” I circled my finger around the top of his head, “might work well in the military, you were in the military, right?”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I thought so.” I dared to touch his short hair. It was soft, baby-fine and I wished it was already grown out so I could run my fingers through it. I jerked my hand back at such a thought. He was my client now. No fraternizing with a candidate was rule number one. But it was more than that. He was far too young for me. Almost eleven years too young. “But politics is sort of like Hollywood. People have certain expectations on how candidates should look.”

  “No one had an issue with my hair before. Why now?”

  I balled my hands at my side, putting my campaign face on. “Because as a US Congressperson for the state of Texas you’re one of thirty-six faces. It’s easy to overlook some things. However, as a US Senator you’re one of two. People are finicky and a man who purposely chooses to have no hair is either military or part of some cult. No one wants a KKK member as their senator. Ya get my drift?”

  Liam’s eyes grew so large they were almost cartoonish.

  “Okay, so we grow out his hair. What else?” Harper asked.

  I stepped around to the side of the chair, catching his profile. Liam cocked his head to look at me, his brows raised in anticipation of what I might suggest next. “The tie.”

  He lifted the bright orange excrescence and glanced down at it. “What’s wrong with my tie? I happen to love this tie.”

  “It looks like something Big Bird would wear. We need you regal and that makes you look comical.”

  Liam dropped his tie and crossed his arms over his chest. “What else?” he challenged.

  “Are you in a relationship, Liam?” My heart stopped in my chest as I waited for the answer.

  Liam leaned back in his chair, crossing his leg over his knee. His long fingers wrapped around his ankle and a cocky smile perked his lips. “Are you interested?”

  I rolled my eyes, slumping my shoulders forward. “For professional reasons only, I assure you.”

  If he only knew.

  He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “No girlfriend.”

  “Wife?” I shot back. My eyes locked on his.

  “Nope.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  Neither of us flinched, nor did we blink.

  “Not gay.”

  I sat down on the arm of his chair, crossing my legs. He didn’t even bother to scoot for me to have room. His elbow rested right against my backside. Again, another challenge from him. He wouldn’t back down. That was fine.

  Challenge accepted.

  “If you must know about my sex life, I haven’t had a steady girlfriend in about three years, and even then it wasn’t serious. I’ve been too busy doing what I was elected to do.”

  “Casual sex then?”

  “Absolutely not. Sex is too intimate for it to be casual.”

  I looked over to Harper who’d gotten up to pour himself another bourbon. “Is this kid for real?”

  Liam’s fingers squeezed around his ankle. “I’d appreciate if you’d stop calling me a kid. I’m a grown man and your Congressman. I’m to be respected and addressed as such.”

  I lifted my knuckles to my lips, stunned. Clearing my throat, I acknowledged, “You’re right. Please accept my apologies, Congressman.”

  “Apology accepted, and yes, I’m for real. No matter what, I will never lie about who or what I am. You have my word on that.”

  Chills formed over my arms. For the first time, in all my years in politics, I found myself actually believing a politician. It was an unsettling feeling.

  “Okay.” I paused, meeting his deep stare. “Then I must ask, do you have a friend ─of the female persuasion─ who might be willing to accompany you to special events? We need to make you look stable and having the same young lady by your side will give that impression.”

  A gleam twinkled in his eyes. “Yes. Kristin Page.”

  I bounced off the arm of the chair, grabbing my clutch. I pulled out my cellphone and opened up a new memo to start taking notes. “Who is she?”

  “Childhood best friend.”

  “Is she in a relationship?”

  “Not at this time,” he answered as quickly as I asked.

  “Good.” I jotted her name down to run a background check on her later. One could never be too careful about who was involved in the inner workings of a campaign.

  Harper moved back to where I’d initially found him when I entered the room. He placed his full glass on the mantle and began poking at the dying fire, bringing it back to life. Heat mo
ved about the room and I relished the feeling. I hated the cold. Give me summer heat any day.

  I drifted back to the sofa. “Since you claim to be honest…”

  “I am honest.”

  Harper glanced back to us, but said nothing.

  “Yes,” I noted, attempting to appear unfazed by Liam’s interruption. “As I was saying, are there any skeletons in your closet I need to know about? Any at all? I don’t care how insignificant they might be to you, if it can be used against you, I need to know about it now.”

  “No, ma’am.” He enunciated each word with precise deliberation. A practiced military response, but there was an attorney’s authority that I picked up on as well. For one so young, he might actually have some experience.

  Again, our eyes locked. Those dark chocolate orbs were mesmerizing. His full lips pursed, almost begging me to challenge him. But I didn’t have the facts, which bugged me. With over four-hundred Representatives in the US House, sometimes one would slip off my radar. William Baxter happened to be that one. And since I didn’t know enough about him, I wouldn’t challenge something I wasn’t entirely certain to be true.

  I dropped my gaze and made a quick note on my phone. It never failed, when I vetted a politician, I’d find some sort of skeleton. No matter how much they declared I wouldn’t. My guess was William Baxter would be no different.

  “So, Liam, when you campaign, do you go by William or Liam?”

  “William.”

  “Good. If you’d said Liam, I would’ve suggested a different strategy.”

  He nodded.

  I brushed my hair from my eyes and relaxed back into the sofa. “Well then, there’s only one other demand I have.”

  Harper turned around, holding his hands behind him close to the fire. “And this is the biggie, isn’t it?”

  I laughed. “You know me well, my old friend.”

  “I do. So what’s the deal breaker?”

  “Congressman,” I addressed Liam, “who’s your current press secretary?”