Courtney pursed her lips, no doubt appraising him. He hated to waste that sweet pucker, but he’d bide his time.
“Hope that didn’t sound sanctimonious,” Eric said.
“No, I know exactly how you feel. Sometimes I walk around Georgetown like I own the place just because I went to school there. And then I remember something my mother always said—that we’re on this earth to serve others, not to be served.” Courtney laughed. “Of course, being the oldest child with two younger, very messy, brothers prepared me for a life of service. I started picking up after them when I was five.”
“And may I say how very much we younger brothers appreciate our older sisters? Although there was a method to my sister’s selflessness—when Jennifer was picking up after me, she made sure Mom knew what a mess I’d made.”
Courtney’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Reporting is part of the job.”
“I suppose. My sister kept a list of my infractions.”
They took the elevator from the garage to the sixth floor where the doors opened to a central hallway that accessed four apartment doors. Eric opened his door and motioned for Courtney to go in ahead of him. His housekeeper had been there just that morning, so he felt confident that his usual detritus of Wall St. Journals and Washington Posts were in the recycling bin. She would also have run and emptied his dishwasher, which, with his busy schedule, only filled up once a week.
They were interrupted by a squeaky whine.
“What’s that?” Courtney asked.
“It’s kind of a dog.” Eric backed away from her and into the kitchen. He motioned for her to follow. “She’s in a kennel in the laundry room. I’m house training her, and it’s been a nightmare. The only saving grace is that her puddles are so small, the mess is minimal.”
He opened the door to reveal his stacked washer and dryer, a washtub, and a large kennel that housed a tiny dog.
“Chihuahua?” Courtney asked, squatting in front of the cage and pressing her fingers to the wire bars. She looked back at Eric. “It takes a real man to have a Chihuahua. You must eat quiche, too.”
“My sexuality has never been in question.” He nodded to the little dog. “Her name’s Pinky.”
Pinky stuck her tongue through the wires to lick Courtney.
“Can I let her out?” Courtney didn’t wait for Eric’s reply. She opened the cage door and scooped up the dog. “Oh, she’s adorable.” Courtney lifted the dog to her face, at which point Pinky plastered her ears against her head and tried desperately to lick up Courtney’s nose.
“Be careful. She’d adept at maneuvering that little tongue up a nostril. So far, my little friend Travis is the only willing subject.” Eric tickled the dog’s rump. “I grew up with Chihuahuas, beagles, and mutts. Sometimes we’d get a very interesting combination if we didn’t get them neutered soon enough. You don’t see many Chihuahuas who bay at the moon like a hound, but we had one.” Eric checked his watch. “I need to oversee things in the kitchen. Want a glass of wine?”
“Sure,” Courtney said. She took Pinky into the living room and sat down on the floor with her.
Eric watched them from the kitchen while he poured two glasses of Pinot noir and stuck the pork tenderloin and asparagus in the preheated oven to warm. God, Courtney was beautiful, and she seemed comfortable around him. His heart thumped.
During dinner, they shared LSAT scores (Courtney’s were slightly higher), favorite movies (Shakespeare in Love and Love Actually for Courtney, Saving Private Ryan and Clear and Present Danger for Eric), best childhood memories (Sea World for Courtney, Civil War battlefields for Eric), and they polished off a bottle of wine.
“Would you like some Courvoisier or Drambuie?” Eric asked after they’d cleared the table.
“Drambuie would be great,” Courtney replied. “I’ll just use the ladies’ room first.”
“First door on the right off the hall,” Eric said. He poured the liqueur in brandy snifters and took the drinks to the coffee table.
• • •
Courtney started to re-apply her lipstick in the bathroom mirror and then stopped her hand midstream. What if he wanted to kiss her? She switched to a pale pink gloss and applied it sparingly. Her head throbbed. The wine had contributed, but mostly her nerves had seized up. She knew you weren’t supposed to take ibuprofen when you’d been drinking, but if she could find some, her liver would just have to cope. She looked first in the recessed medicine chest on the wall. Finding nothing there, she opened the cabinet below the sink. She rifled among the prescription bottles, most of which were expired antibiotics and flu remedies. No ibuprofen, but as she was about to close the cabinet, something pink and silky caught her eye. She retrieved a pair of bikini panties; no, make that a thong. She forgot about her headache. She replaced the thong and closed the cabinet door. Passing by an open door on the way back to the living room, she stopped to peek inside what appeared to be Eric’s home office. He hadn’t been kidding about his collection. An entire wall was chock full of framed riding crops and dressage whips, a few of which looked antique, like from a previous century, or perhaps from a museum of sex? Courtney pressed her fingers to her temples. Her head pounded. Was she scared or excited? How about both?
She returned to the living room where Eric waited, proffering a brandy snifter. She took it, swirled the thick amber liquid, and inhaled the warm aroma of the Drambuie. Her heart was beating out of her chest as she took a tentative sip of her drink. Would this be the night she lost her virginity? She couldn’t deny her attraction to Eric, but beyond the dastardly deed, was she ready to be that close to him? Her body tingled all over, so that was all systems go, but a little voice in her head urged caution. She thought about what advice Helen would offer at a time like this. No doubt, Helen would say it was time to put up or shut up.
Courtney started to take another sip of her drink, but Eric took the glass out of her hand and set it on the coffee table. Then he pulled her into his arms. When his lips met hers, they were oh, so soft as he traced a slow journey inside her bottom lip with his tongue. He was an expert, and she followed his lead. Nothing invasive about this kiss, just sensual and slow. She spread her fingers over his solid back, feeling his muscles flex. This was the best kiss of her life, and she wanted it to last. She eased her hands up to his neck where her fingers on the prickly little hairs above his sweater made them both shiver. They continued their slow kiss, nipping and tasting. While the feelings coursing through her body were insanely pleasurable, a wave of panic suddenly gripped her. She’d never been this close to surrender.
Abruptly, Courtney ended the kiss and looked deeply into Eric’s eyes. “I’ve never wanted to have sex this badly in my life.” Helen would be proud of me.
Eric drew a deep breath, and then blew it out slowly. “Do you want to have sex with me, Courtney?”
“Honestly, I’m not really sure.” Courtney chewed on her bottom lip. “I just know my body is a jumble of nerve endings, and they’re all firing.”
“I want to make love to you, Courtney, but I’m not going to until you’re sure it’s what you want. What you’re sacrificing means more than that.”
Courtney took a few shallow breaths. She pressed a hand to her heart. He hadn’t said ‘sex,’ he’d said ‘love.’ Whoa. She needed his touch, even if it was just a brush of his fingers across her cheek.
Eric took her hand, and they stared into each other’s eyes, both steadying their breathing.
“I’m afraid we’ll get carried away if I kiss you again.” One side of his mouth turned up in a grin.
“We would.” Courtney shivered, whether from disappointment or Eric’s save, she wasn’t sure. “I’m going to need to lose it sometime.”
“Yeah, but it needs to be with someone you really care about. The first time can be awkward, but if it’s with someone special, it can also be magical.” He touched her cheek gently. “The truth is, we barely know each other. There’s no rush.”
Courtney knew Eric was righ
t. She’d been so ready to throw caution to the wind, but her hormones had at least fizzled to the point where her head could take over. Warmth spread through her limbs, and it wasn’t from the Drambuie. It was the abiding warmth of gratitude, tinged with a dose of embarrassment. “I, I think I should go home now.”
Chapter Six
“I’m glad to see you’re back to soup for lunch, instead of chocolate.” Helen added another teaspoon of sugar to her chai tea at their usual haunt, Co Co Sala.
“I could live on soup. It’s the world’s most perfect food.” Courtney blew on her spoonful of beef barley, though she still yearned for chocolate.
“And sounds to me like you’ve found the world’s most perfect man,” Helen said.
“Yeah, it’s been two weeks since the big reveal, and he’s still around.” Courtney shook her head. “But we’re sticking to coffee shops, art museums, and the zoo. Places where we can’t get into an intimate conversation.”
“The zoo is especially good. Coffee shops can be intimate and there’s always something erotic at an art museum, but animal sex isn’t much of a turn on. ‘Oh, Eric, look at the rhinoceroses humping. Let’s go home and get it on.’” Helen sipped her tea. “But you’re avoiding the inevitable.”
Courtney looked at Helen sideways. “I think the plural is rhinoceri, but what do you mean by inevitable?”
“I mean, you like this guy.”
“Oh, criminy, I know. And I want to melt into him. I want to snuggle into his chest and breathe him into me so that we become one person.”
“Okay, aside from the fact that sex would do that, what’s your problem?”
“What if I’m way too tame for him? I’ve never done this before. What if I freeze up in bed with him? What if I’m a vanilla-sex girl?”
“Maybe he’s worried about the same thing. He’s got toys, but has he used them?” Helen patted Courtney’s hand. “Look, the first time for sex is like jumping in a frigid lake, but once you get past the initial plunge, the pleasure takes over. Don’t worry about it so much, Court. You’re not a vanilla girl. I’d peg you for Cherry Garcia. Lots of bursts of flavor, that’s you.”
“Easy for you to say! What if I’m the frigid lake?
“Well, you like this guy right? I mean, sex aside?”
“Yes, I like Eric. I more than like him. I find myself thinking about him all the time, and I’ve never felt that way about a man. He’s everything I never wanted.”
“Huh?”
“I didn’t realize falling for someone could be such a major distraction,” she shook her head. “The vote’s fast approaching and I still need two more senate votes.
“Yeah, and you don’t even have Eric’s yet,” Helen pointed out.
“I’m working hard on everyone else. Maybe I can turn someone. It’s great that this tax is bipartisan. It provides an opportunity for both parties to finally agree on something. “
“Have you given up on convincing Eric? It could be a post-coital bargaining chip?” Helen waggled her eyebrows.
“I hope you’re kidding. I would never do that.”
“Of course, I’m kidding, although he may think you’re sticking around just to take another stab at swaying his vote.”
“I’m sticking around until I blow it, which I inevitably will.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I really don’t know what I’m doing.”
• • •
Eric was used to linear relationships. Not that he had a checklist for the steps to take, but he typically didn’t start with a major confession and then work backwards—at least not until he met Courtney. But damn, no woman had ever intrigued him like this. He’d butt heads with her any day on congressional issues, where she was more than capable of holding her own. But in terms of sex, she was a babe in the woods. And except for his first sexual encounter—at age fifteen with his equally inexperienced girlfriend—it had been at least ten years since he’d dated a virgin. Whoa. That revelation travelled to his heart. The prospect of being Courtney’s first lover made him feel … special.
They’d spent the last two weeks being safe, only going to places where they weren’t alone. Hell, he hadn’t even kissed her. And the longer he waited, the more nervous he became. Tonight, they were meeting for a drink on the mezzanine at the Mayflower Hotel. It would be the most intimate setting he’d dared—since his apartment. Elegant, yet cozy. He planned to scout out a secluded table before she arrived. They’d only have time for a brief drink as they both had work engagements elsewhere, but he hoped there’d be a moment for a kiss … or two.
• • •
Eric tapped his foot under the cocktail table. He’d arrived early, which was totally out of character, and had already ordered two glasses of pinot grigio. He downed half of his by the time Courtney arrived.
“Hi.” She slid into a red leather bucket chair.
Eric handed her the wine glass and then scooted his chair closer. “Hi. You look flustered.” Her cheekbones held splotches of red.
“I had three congressional appointments today. Every one of the legislators was late, and I had the fight of my life with one of them. You know how that goes.” She swirled the wine in the glass and then took a sip. “Nice bouquet. You know your grapes, Senator.”
He much preferred when she called him Eric. “Thanks. We have a winery on the farm. The grapes are in a valley between the tobacco barns.” As soon as he mentioned tobacco, he wished he hadn’t.
“I like to forget you’re from a tobacco family.” She didn’t smile.
“Sometimes, like right now, so do I.” He ventured a brief grin.
She sighed. “Sorry, it’s been a long day, and I’m being too sensitive. But before we get off the subject, did you ever smoke?”
“No. No one in my family smokes now, though my grandparents did—like chimneys.”
“What happened to them?” Courtney looked him directly in the eyes.
Eric ducked his head. “They both died of emphysema.” He remembered his grandmother’s labored breathing, and his heart clenched. He shook the memory, not wanting to dwell on the pain.
“And you wonder why I’m on this campaign?” Courtney crossed one leg over the other and jiggled her foot.
“I know precisely why you’re taking a stance for higher taxes. I simply don’t agree.”
“How can you think like that when your grandparents died as a direct result of smoking?”
“Courtney, we’ve been over this. I’m supporting my constituents.”
“And you’re killing the rest of us.”
“Could we please not talk about tobacco?
Courtney glared at him. The tips of her ears turned red.
“You’re losing perspective, Courtney.”
She continued to glare. Her foot jiggle reverberated up her leg.
“I was hoping for a pleasant, relaxing conversation, a few stolen moments before I have to be on stage again” He tried to smile, but his jaw was tense. It probably came off as a sneer.
“This wasn’t a good idea.” She contemplated the Greek friezes on the mezzanine wall. “Maybe we’re not a good idea.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. Why don’t you go home and soak in a tub?” He cringed. He’d meant to suggest she do something nice for herself, but it came out sounding more like, “Why don’t you take a long walk off a short pier?”
“And why don’t you cut off your nose to spite your face?” Tears welled in her eyes. “That’s what you’re doing with this tobacco bill. You say you’re helping your constituents, but will they thank you in the long run … when they’re dying?” Her voice rose an octave. She swiped at her tears.
“Courtney, please don’t take this personally. I know this is about your mom, but you can’t get so worked up over it.”
“Why not? What else should I get worked up over?”
“Well, since you asked …” Eric grinned, which she probably read as lascivious. All he’d wanted was a few moments
of closeness, and he botched it with sexual innuendo. Damn if he didn’t just come across like a snarling wolf. “Courtney, I’m sorry. That was crude, and I didn’t mean to downplay your feelings.”
“Didn’t you?” She pushed herself out of the chair. “Thanks for the drink.” She stormed out and didn’t look back.
• • •
Courtney rushed to the street and hailed a cab. When she gave the cabbie her destination, the Dirty Martini, he informed her that it was just a short walk from the Mayflower. She thanked him and pulled her camel hair coat tighter around her. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She hiked up Connecticut Avenue, chiding herself with each slap of boot on pavement. She’d let the day get to her and then Eric had been a complete jerk. They’d had an opportunity to really talk, and he completely blew it. Thank goodness Helen would be at this event tonight. Her pro bono work as a guardian ad litem often put them in the same places at the same time. She needed to vent.
She elbowed her way into the restaurant/bar, which was already jammed. An old Bob Seger song, “Still the Same,” played in the background. The Dirty Martini was a popular spot for political and non-profit events, and tonight’s fundraiser had really packed the huge space. She squeezed her way to the bar, but was directed by the bartender to a waiter holding a silver tray laden with champagne flutes above his head. “There’s going to be a toast first,” he’d told her. She held up her hand to the waiter, and he made his way to her. Lowering the tray, Courtney chose the fullest flute.
A poke in her ribs jerked her head to the left. Helen pointed to a space at the end of the bar, and the two women shimmied through the crowd.
“Whew,” Helen said. “I think they’re going to corral us into a private space soon, but it wasn’t ready when I came in.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Let’s see, this is my third champagne, so about half an hour.” Helen blinked. “Did the cat drag you in? I thought you’d be all bouncy and glowing from your meeting with Eric.”
“It was awful. I’d get drunk, but I’ve got too much work to do.” Courtney rolled her eyes, and then caught her reflection in the huge mirror behind the bar. She did look horrendous.
Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories Page 39
