Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  “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.

  Chapter Four

  Eric couldn’t concentrate. He stared at page one of the three hundred-page education bill, and his eyes glazed over. Courtney’s parting comment swirled in his brain like the fudge in his favorite ripple ice cream. Was she serious about the sex toys? Was she really a virgin? He’d never encountered anyone even remotely like her. He slammed the bill closed. Courtney warranted some serious analysis. Time to make a list. He took the yellow legal pad from his desk and picked up a pencil.

  The Id of Courtney:

  She’s smart, very smart.

  She’s completely committed to her cause, which shows her depth of character. She isn’t simply hawking the party line, she’s a true believer.

  She’s beautiful, though she isn’t aware of it, which makes her all the more lovely.

  She’s genuine, the real McCoy, the kind of woman you’d take home to meet the parents.

  She’s sexy, though she hadn’t turned it on until the end of the evening. It was more a wakeup call than a come hither.

  What are her motives, aside from swaying a vote? Or is that all she’s interested in? She isn’t flirty, so why the parting come-on? Was it just a joke?

  And if she’s seriously into sex toys, would she be interested in role play? A blindfold? Handcuffs?

  Eric’s heart beat faster than it did after a quick run up the Capitol steps. He ripped the note off the legal pad, tore it into little pieces, and then emptied it into his trash. He considered eating the pieces, lest anyone reassemble them and read the sex toys part. All he’d need was for the media to get wind of his carnal desires. He’d been teasing about the riding crop, but she’d evidently taken him seriously. Playing the jockey to her Secretariat wasn’t his idea of foreplay. If Courtney really had those sex toys, she had to be someone with a rich fantasy life. And if she was truly a virgin, her fantasies were probably all she had. He’d read that many women found the Fifty Sha
des books a turn on, but few actually wanted to experience BDSM. It certainly did nothing for him. Perhaps Courtney was a latent tigress, just itching to be set free. Once unleashed, she might be too wild, and that wouldn’t bode well for his political future.

  He needed to shelve this train of thought or he’d never get through this education bill. But before he dove back into work, he buzzed the intercom for his secretary.

  “Lorena, can you get me Miss Larson’s phone number, please?”

  • • •

  Courtney sat across from her roommate at Co Co Sala, the trendy D.C. lunch spot, absentmindedly picking at her chocolate torte.

  “I can’t believe you got a dessert for lunch,” Helen said. “It’s so not you, and chocolate, no less.”

  “Come on, Helen, you know you have to pry my hands off Three Musketeers.”

  “Yeah, but that’s only after you’ve had a Lean Cuisine for dinner.”

  “Well, I’m a bit confused today. I’m eating dessert first.” Courtney blinked around the busy restaurant like she was looking for a long-lost friend.

  “You’re distracted, that’s for sure. Something the senator said last night?”

  That slammed her back to the present. She propped her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. “It wasn’t what he said; it was what I said. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”

  “Yikes, Court. First dates aren’t the place for true confessions. You’re supposed to put your best foot forward.”

  “I did put my foot forward ... and then I stuck it in my mouth. He must think I’m schizophrenic.”

  “What did you say?” Helen leaned forward.

  “I morphed from Snow White to Belle Watling in a matter of seconds.”

  “Who’s Belle Watling?”

  “You know, the hooker from Gone With the Wind? She was Rhett Butler’s friend.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember her. She had a good heart.”

  Courtney threw up her hands. “That’s how I want to be remembered, as the hooker with the good heart.”

  “It could be worse. You could be Snow White, the anarchist.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Okay, how about this? Why do you care? You’ve never been interested in any guy. I climb the walls when I need to get laid. You give yourself a pedicure. It’s like men are superfluous for you.”

  “I’ve been telling you, Helen, you need a vibrator. Gets the job done without all those messy emotions.”

  “I wouldn’t know how to use a vibrator. It would languish in my tool chest.”

  “And I thought we knew everything about each other. You have a tool chest?”

  “Yes, I do. Let me know if you ever need a screwdriver.” Helen narrowed her eyes. “We’re off the subject. You haven’t told me why this guy fascinates you.”

  Courtney tapped a finger to her lips. “Because under his façade of hot Washington player, I think there’s a really nice guy. And besides, there’s more to liking a man than wanting to jump into bed with him.” Courtney shrugged. “But I’m still so emotional about my mom dying. I can’t imagine investing that kind of feeling in a man. Bottom line, I’m afraid to.”

  “I’m not buying the fear argument. Remember what Eleanor Roosevelt said, and I’m paraphrasing, but it had to do with personal growth based on stretching boundaries and facing fears. Don’t torture yourself over this man. Call him.”

  Courtney walked back to her office, hugging the storefronts to avoid the freezing rain. By the time she reached Montgomery, Haskins & Knoll, she wanted nothing more than to soak in a bath full of bubbles, but the afternoon held a stack of paperwork that threatened to implode her desk. Next time she was at Bed, Bath & Beyond, she’d pick up one of those over-the-tub writing desks so she could work while Calgon took her away. But for now, there was nothing to do but take off her galoshes and get a cup of coffee. She pondered Helen’s suggestion to call Eric, but what would she say? “Hi, Courtney here, the crazy lobbyist who still holds her V-card. Remember me?”

  Pencils sharpened, she settled into her work, but before she tuned everything out and focused, she allowed herself one fleeting thought of Eric. In her mind’s eye, his lips turned up in a provocative smile, exposing his dimple. Damn, he was enticing, like the best fantasy ever. When she left Eric last night, she’d thrown out a hint. She wondered if it had left an itch in his craw.

  Jumping when her phone buzzed, she stared at it a moment before hitting the speaker button. “Yes?”

  “There’s an Eric Morrison on line one for you.” Elise’s voice lilted playfully.

  Courtney’s windpipe constricted, and she had to gulp for air.

  “This is Courtney.” The “ney” sounded more like “neigh.” When had she picked up a British accent?

  “Hi, it’s Eric.” He cleared his throat. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” Her tone was brisk, clipped, to make sure her voice didn’t quake.

  “Working hard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Too hard to spare me an evening?”

  “No.”

  “Great. How about tonight?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “Right.” She hung up. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a monosyllabic conversation with anyone. Oh, yeah, it had been with her dad, not long after her mom passed. She hadn’t wanted him to hear her voice crack. He’d had enough grief of his own to deal with.

  Tears welled in Courtney’s eyes. The tobacco campaign had provided a way to honor her mother’s memory. She’d been hell-bent on securing Eric Morrison’s vote, and now all she wanted was to see him again. Where was her dogged determination?

  She took a tissue from her desk drawer, dabbed at her eyes, and sniffled. She was tougher than this. She’d concentrate on the other votes she needed and then she’d circle back with Eric Morrison once she had some momentum under her belt. In the meantime, she’d try to enjoy being with Eric, the charismatic man. She promised herself she’d bite her tongue if she talked politics tonight.

  What would she wear? Helen had a hot pink sweater dress that she said she’d lend if Courtney would reciprocate with her ankle boots. Yeah, that’s the ticket. She’d already tried on the dress. It hugged her curves, and paired with textured stockings and pumps, it would be sexy, yet demure—just right for a virgin into sex toys. Speaking of which, what would Eric be expecting? And could she possibly live up to his expectations? He was so calm and collected, a sophisticated man of the world. She’d been provocative, but did he see past the veneer to the sexual novice she truly was? Sure, they’d tantalized each other with talk about riding crops and sex toys, but if she were pressed to come up with a collection of sexual accoutrements, she’d have to march out her lucite statue of the Washington Monument. While phallic, it would be a stretch as a sex toy.

  And rather painful.

  But maybe he’d like that.

  Good grief, she’d never get out of the office if she didn’t buckle down. She’d worry later about her evening with Eric. For now, the stack of paperwork screamed for attention.

  Chapter Five

  Eric leaned back in his chair and almost toppled over. He grabbed the edge of his desk to steady himself. Well, that was an interesting conversation, if you could call it that. He couldn’t tell whether Courtney was happy to hear from him or terrified. She’d said all of five words, but the most important one had been “yes,” so in the aggregate, he’d have to put the call in the plus column. And in just a few hours, he’d see her. So much for his “never date a lobbyist” rule. He’d let down his guard … big time.

  Oh, God, was he reading too much into her sex toy confession? Or was she just like him, a collector who’d never actually used the paraphernalia? He was reminded of a friend in high school who collected Star Trek sabers. Just because he could swing one around didn’t mean he was Luke Skywalker.

  He had to admit he loved the juxtaposition of a straight-laced woman with a t
igress in the bedroom. He pictured her dressed like a schoolmarm, with her hair pulled back in a bun and her feet laced in matronly oxfords. She’d sit primly in a chair, smoothing down her long skirt, but underneath, she’d wear crotch-less panties.

  Was Courtney the woman of his dreams?

  Maybe he’d be too tame for her.

  Tonight he’d find out.

  • • •

  He arrived at her townhouse promptly at eight. Blowing on his fingers, he tightened the scarf around his neck just as the door opened.

  My, my, she was gorgeous, all pink, feminine, and hot. She was the kind of woman who made a man’s chest puff with pride.

  “You look incredible,” he said.

  “Thanks.” She ducked her head a bit. “Where’re we going tonight?”

  “I thought I’d subject you to my cooking, if that’s all right.” He hadn’t cooked for a woman since he’d last been home. And that woman was his mother.

  “That’s fine, but where did you find the time?” She motioned him into the foyer.

  “I had some serious help from the gourmet market on the corner. Actually, about all I have to do is warm things up.” I’d like to warm you up.

  “Nonetheless, I’m impressed.” She retrieved her coat from the hall closet.

  “Don’t be … yet.”

  They caught up with each other’s day on the way to Eric’s apartment in Arlington. Courtney mentioned three senatorial meetings, though she kept it vague as to the content. Maybe she’d decided to keep tobacco out of the conversation for the evening. That was a good sign.

  “Aren’t you a bit out of the action here?” Courtney asked as they pulled into Eric’s underground garage.

  “I’m just around the corner from the Clarendon Metro, so it’s an easy train ride downtown. Besides, I love the history in Arlington. And being close to the national cemetery keeps me humble. If I start to get a big head about being a senator, I remind myself that what I’m doing can’t begin to compare to the sacrifices some people have made.”