Politically Incorrect

by Jeanne McDonald

  Liam marched out in front of me, blocking Harper from stepping any closer. “No need. We know the way, but thank you for your hospitality.”

  Wordless and a little annoyed, I stared at both men with my mouth hanging open. At any moment, I expected one or both to start throwing punches. Knockdown, drag out fights were commonplace in the political arena and these two had the telltale signs of a battle brewing.

  “It’s no trouble at all. You’re a guest in my house.”

  “She’s more like family, wouldn’t you say, Harper?” Liam bounced back.

  “Fellas,” I stepped in. “We’re tired,” I informed Harper, “so please forgive our rudeness. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated, but we can show ourselves to our rooms.”

  “Well, all right.” Harper took a step back, but not before catching my hand. “We’re still doing our dinner at the Palm tonight, right?”

  Shit! I’d forgotten. Every time I came to Dallas, Harper and I had a standing dinner date. I rubbed the back of my neck, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “Harper, I have a lot of work to do. Raincheck?”

  Harper’s shoulders slumped, and his smile fell. “Seriously? I already got our usual table reserved. C’mon, Bet. It’s tradition.”

  There was that damn rock and hard place thing again, because I could feel Liam’s eyes searing holes into the side of my head. And damn Harper for using those pouty blue eyes on me. I huffed in frustration. “Okay. Fine. I can put off work for a couple hours. It’s not like I can turn down a Palm steak.”

  Harper clapped his hands together once, the sound reverberating through the great room. “Perfect. Our reservation’s at eight. Car will be ready at seven.” He inclined his head to Liam. “I’d invite you to join us, but this is a family engagement. I’m sure you understand.”

  I gaped at him. “What the hell, Harper? That was rude.”

  Liam placed a hand on my shoulder. “No. It’s all right. I’d never interfere with family.”

  “I’m sorry, Bet. I wasn’t trying to be. I can change the reservation if you’d like.”

  “Really, no need,” Liam insisted. “If you’ll excuse me.” He stepped around me, and stormed up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

  I stifled a groan, frustrated to no end. “Fine. I’ll be ready by seven.” I pointed toward the staircase. “I think I better unpack and get a little rest if I’m to be awake for dinner.”

  Harper bowed his head and tipped an imaginary hat. “By all means, madam.” He glanced at Liam’s back, a slow, smug smirk curling his lips. “If he changes his mind, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll see you at seven.” He placed a kiss on the top of my head and disappeared.

  I trailed my palm along the bannister as I ascended the staircase, taking my time. When I reached the top, Liam was nowhere to be found. At my door, my hand rested on the knob. I cocked my head toward Liam’s room, wondering if I should go down there instead. Since the door was closed, I assumed he didn’t want to be disturbed.

  A little annoyed by both men’s behavior, I twisted the doorknob and stepped into my room. Out of nowhere, two large hands grabbed me at the same time my bedroom door slammed behind me. Sweet, hot, kissable lips pressed hard to mine. Liam lifted me up off the floor, wrapping my legs around his hips and carted me toward the bed. I didn’t have time to think. My body simply reacted to the man I loved. His long fingers kneaded my ass, as his tongue hungrily caressed mine.

  He laid me down on the bed, crawling on top of me. I gasped for air when he released me from his kiss. “I’ve been dying to do that since we got on the plane.” His fingers drew down the column of my throat.

  “Is that so?”

  “Very much so.” He ticked the buttons of my shirt, one by one, popping them open. I arched my back toward him, moaning softly as his hand slipped inside my blouse and under the silk of my bra. “Seems like you feel the same,” he teased, rolling my hard nipple between his fingertips.

  “If I didn’t know how thin these walls were, I’d tell you to take me. Right here. Right now.”

  A coy smirk widened across his face. “We can be quiet.” He moved his hand down the plain of my stomach to the waistband of my black slacks.

  “No. It’s too risky. Harper’ll hear us.”

  Liam unbuttoned my pants, gliding his hand into the recesses of my panties. I hissed at his hard but gentle touch. “Let that old coot listen. He might learn something.”

  My blood ran cold. “Excuse me? Old?” I scooted out from under Liam. My body already fighting against my mind. Let it go, my body screamed. I need him to touch me, it pleaded. My mind on the other hand was suddenly pissed. “Harper’s only four years older than me, Liam.”

  Liam realized what he’d done and instantly tried to pull me back to him. “That’s not what I meant.”

  I stiffened, refusing to let him budge me. “Then what did you mean?” I pulled my shirt back over my breasts, clasping the pearl buttons together.

  He threw his arms up over his head, defiance written all over him. “I don’t like the way he looks at you. Okay.”

  “And how does he look at me?”

  “Like he wants to eat you. And frankly, I’m the only one who gets to do that.”

  Be still my ovaries. Even angry, the thought of Liam’s face between my thighs made me instantly wanton.

  “Stop exaggerating. He doesn’t want to eat me, Liam. He’s my oldest and dearest friend. You know that.”

  Liam sat up and pushed to the edge of the bed. “No, what I know is my girlfriend is going to dinner with a man who wants to fuck her every which way from Sunday while I’m stuck here, unable to protect her.”

  Thus the pissing contest. I should’ve known.

  I sidled up next to Liam, cupping his face in my hands and pressing a long, hard kiss to his lips. “I’m yours. You know that.”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t.”

  I planted a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It’s tradition. And when I get back, you better be here, in this bed, naked and hard.”

  “Why? I thought you were afraid of him hearing us.”

  His little pouty face was kind of cute. “He’ll be asleep.”

  “You’re contradicting yourself, you know.”

  “Maybe, but it’s my prerogative as a woman to be contradictory.”

  A quirk of a smile lighted Liam’s face. “So stay with me. Don’t go to dinner with him tonight.”

  I traced the line of his lips with my thumb. “I can’t do that. He’d only end up staying in, sulking.”

  “At least you wouldn’t be alone with him.”

  “I’m going to be in a crowded restaurant. That’s not alone.” I bowed my head, kissing along his neck. “You could go if you want. He did invite you.”

  “Reluctantly,” Liam huffed, but tilted his neck as my kisses progressed along into the collar of his shirt. “Damn him. Why did we agree to stay here again?”

  “Appearances.” I moved my hand around to the back of his neck, slowly scraping my nails along his hairline. “So be a good boy and learn your speech for tomorrow.”

  Liam grabbed my hips and pulled me to straddle him. “On one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  A hint of mischief crossed his face. “I want you in the shower, tonight.”

  “What?” I gasped. “Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe, but I do think turnabouts fair play. You saw me naked getting out of that shower, now I want you naked in it.”

  I cut him a scandalized look. “You’re playing dangerously. You know that, right?”

  “I am. But that’s how you like me.”

  I laughed and smacked his shoulder. “Your ego is too big for this room.”

  “You’ve never complained about my ego before.” He grabbed my hand, placing it on his crotch. He was hard. Very hard. Which made my whole body weak with want.

  I began to rub my hand along his length, aching for him to be inside me. “And I never will.”

  “G
ood. So, shower. Tonight.” He leaned in, sucking my earlobe between his teeth.

  I squirmed as he pumped his hips against my hand.

  “Fine,” I caved. “But if we’re caught…”

  “We won’t be, and what’s he going to do if he does catch us?”

  “Pull your funding for starters.”

  “This late in the game. Not gonna happen.” Liam’s mouth found mine. I melted against him. “Besides, if he did that he’d also be hurting you,” he murmured against my lips. “And he wouldn’t hurt you. That much I’m sure of.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Trust me, I do.”

  “If you say so,” I mumbled.

  Liam fell back on the bed, pulling me on top of him. I allowed myself to get lost in his touch. His kiss. His passion.

  Hours later, I was downstairs in Harper’s car, heading to a dinner I really wasn’t interested in attending. Upstairs, naked and sated, rested the man who held my heart.

  Was it stupid to have sex in Harper’s house? Yes. Very stupid. But worth it if it meant the man I loved was a little less stressed and happy.

  And at least with his kiss still fresh on my lips, I could enjoy my dinner, too.

  At least that’s how I rationalized everything. And you know me. Ms. Rationality.

  Diversion was a wonderful tool to have in a communications arsenal, and tonight it came in handy.

  For the most part, Harper and I enjoyed idle chatting during the hour long drive from Lone Star Ranch to downtown Dallas. We spent most of our time talking shop or about Jordyn. Anytime he tried to sway into my personal life, I found a loophole to divert him. It worked, but there was a constant nagging at the back of my mind that something was off. There seemed to be a weirdness hanging between us. We laughed and talked like old friends do, but it wasn’t the same. I chalked it up to me being different and Harper somehow intuitively feeling it. Or maybe it was all my imagination. Either was possible.

  Inside the restaurant, we ordered our favorite meals with a bottle of wine. As promised, he arranged for us to sit at our usual table. I loved this spot because it gave me full view of the restaurant while granting me privacy from the rest of the patrons. This place was a hotspot for celebrities, politicians, and those of wealth, many of whom were honored by having a caricature of their face painted on the beige walls.

  “So,” Harper mumbled through a mouthful of baked potato. “You and Baxter seem rather chummy lately.” He gulped down his bite.

  I slowly chewed my asparagus almost moaning at the buttery flavor. “I hate that word,” I deflected.

  He wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin “What word?”

  “Chummy.” I sliced into my steak, cutting a small bite and stabbing the tender beef with my fork.

  “What’s wrong with chummy?”

  With a little shrug, I proceeded to chew my food. “You know how some women don’t like moist or pussy?” Harper nodded. “Well, those words don’t bother me. You could say cunt, twat, or snatch all day long and I’d think nothing of it. But you say chummy and I get this shiver down my spine.” I rolled my lips upward, wrinkling my nose. “Maybe it’s because it makes me think of salmon and those fish are nasty.”

  Not to mention that ugly ass salmon-faced tie of Liam’s. God, I hated that tie. So much, in fact, that I stole that hideous thing and shredded it in the industrial shredder at HQ. Never again would he wear a tie with an ugly fish face on live television.

  “Fine. Instead of chummy, how about friendly?”

  I sipped my wine. “Friendly’s good.”

  A lull of silence hung between us.

  “Well?” he pushed.

  I glanced up at him over my glass. “Well, what?”

  Harper dropped his fork on his plate. He rested his elbows on the table and templed his fingers in front of his mouth. “You. The kid. Friendly.”

  A hint of anger flared inside me. It was really none of his business. Besides, he’d never pressured me about men before. Well, except Russell, but that was his best friend and happened a long time ago.

  I took another bite of my delectable meal, sadly not savoring it this time because of Harper’s inquisition. “Of course we’re friendly,” I finally stated. “He’s my client. There has to be some semblance of normalcy between us if we’re to win an election.”

  “Normalcy?”

  “Friendship? Comradery?” I snapped my fingers, droning. “Comradery might be too much.”

  Harper took a bite of his overly rare steak. I snarled. How he could eat the thing while it was still mooing was beyond me.

  “You know you can talk to me about anything, Bet.”

  That made me feel a little guilty, but not enough for me to spill my secrets to him. “I know.” I took a sip of my wine and glanced toward the door. “Oh good Lord!”

  My wine glass hit the table with a loud clink. I slinked down into the bench seat, wishing I could disappear into the dark wood and the green vinyl upholstery. My hand slapped over my face, I peered through my fingers to see if I’d been noticed.

  What was it with me, restaurants, and unwanted appearances? Geez!

  “What?” Harper whipped his head around, trying to see what I was staring at.

  “Don’t look!” I hissed, waving my free hand at him.

  Harper turned back to me, flabbergasted. “How can I see who’s there if I don’t look?”

  “You don’t need to...shit! He’s coming this way.”

  “Who’s coming this way?”

  “Elizabeth?” The somewhat forced southern drawl of Dr. Jack Gamble sent chills down my spine. “Elizabeth McNeal?”

  Fuck me!

  Not literally. Please never try to fuck me literally!

  I plastered a grin on my face and sat up straight. “Jack Gamble,” I schmoozed.

  Harper lifted an eyebrow, mouthing, “Who is this?”

  I slightly shook my head. Harper, the ever relentless, wasn’t satisfied. He drummed his fingers on the table, as if he were expecting me to just blurt out that this guy was the prick I’d ripped apart for insulting me.

  Jack leaned forward and gave me an awkward hug. “It’s so great to see you. You look amazing.”

  That’s not what you thought the last time, asshole. Grr.

  Everything about this guy sent me into a murderous rage. He was easy on the eyes, which explained why I agreed to go out on a date with him in the first place. His dark black hair and ocean water eyes were a tantalizing combination. However, I would never forget his arrogant, self-righteous indignation. It infuriated me to think he’d pulled that shit on other women. And I’d have laid money down most of them would’ve fallen prey to his high and mighty shit.

  “Thank you,” I said, neglecting to return the compliment. No need to fuel his ego further.

  His cocky grin faltered a bit, but one look at Harper and it returned in full force. “Hi,” he greeted Harper. “I’m Doctor Jack Gamble.” Harper accepted his handshake and I almost snorted. Jack appeared in pain by Harper’s strong grip.

  “Guy Harper.”

  “Pleasure.” He turned back to me. “So, Elizabeth, what brings you to Texas? The last time I saw you, you said you were heading back to Washington.”

  Really, douchebag? You’re going to try to make conversation with me?

  I swirled my finger around the rim of my wine glass. “I’m running Congressman William Baxter’s campaign for Senate,” I bragged.

  “Is that so? So, do you always go on dates when you come to Dallas?”

  Harper pretended to cough, but I could see those damn eyes of his dancing. Bastard.

  I laughed, almost sick at Jack’s insinuations. “Harper’s one of Congressman Baxter’s major contributors.”

  Maybe I glossed over my relationship with Harper, but this douchebag didn’t need to know any more about my life than he already did. Although, by the look on Harper’s face, I might’ve said the wrong thing. What did he expect? For me to proclaim he’s
my lover?

  “I see.” Jack tucked his hands into his pockets. “So, are you seeing anyone?”

  My eyes bulged out of their sockets, and I damn near choked on my own saliva. Was this guy really trying to proposition me after how I left his ass the last time?

  “I...ah…”

  Harper leaned forward, waiting for me to complete my sentence. Jack’s mouth twisted in a smirk, his perfectly plucked eyebrows raised in anticipation.

  “I stay rather busy.” That wasn’t a lie.

  Harper fell back against the seat in a huff. Jack nodded. “Same here. Speaking of which, I should head over to meet my party. I’ve kept them waiting long enough.”

  “What? No busty blonde bimbo on your arm tonight?” I spat. Call me bitter, but I couldn’t let him walk away without taking a jab at him.

  Jack’s teeth clamped together and his blue-green eyes flashed red. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oh, I apologize. I’m simply curious about your dating life since you’re so interested in mine.”

  “I’ll have you know the last blonde bimbo I went on a date with was you,” he seethed.

  I snorted. “I hardly classify as a bimbo according to what you said the last time we met. Besides, I know how to eat with a fork and don’t require my tits to carry my leftovers for later.”

  Harper barked in laughter. I gave Jack a wink and waved him off. “Now, go on to your party. I’m sure they’re dying to be entertained by your small penis...I mean mind.”

  “You’re a bitch, lady.”

  “And you’re a douchebag. Are we done stating the obvious?”

  Jack stormed off and I dropped back into my seat, laughing with Harper. “God, that felt good!”

  “Tell me what you really think of him.”

  “Does twatnugget cover it?”

  Harper banged his fist on the table, rolling in laughter. “Damn, Bet. That’s cold. Who is he, anyway?”

  “Remember that night you called me to meet Liam?”

  Harper stared at me for a moment, then twisted his head around to the direction Jack trampled off to, and then back to me. “That’s the guy? The one who thought you needed work done?”