by Lori Wilde
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
She just glared and leaned over to dust off the knees of her jeans. When she did the gauzy top she was wearing fell forward, giving him a clear view of her cleavage.
Tish’s skin was so creamy and soft. He remembered exactly what it felt like to press his face into the delicious scoop of her cleavage. He could smell her scent—an intoxicating cinnamon, ginger, and licorice mix. His heart did a weird somersault.
It had been a very long time since he’d been privy to that amazing view and he hadn’t realized exactly how much he missed it. Shane blinked and just stood there for the few seconds it took to remember where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.
You’re an adult, he scolded himself. Not a randy teenager. Knock it off. Remember what you promised yourself. Remember, you’re engaged to Elysee.
Tish raised her head and her eyes met his. For that split second in time it was just him and Tish and the way things used to be.
Once upon a time, when it came to sex, they’d been insatiable for each other. Even in the rockiest moments of their marriage, their lovemaking had been monumental. She could turn him on with just one sultry, well-placed glance. Fortunately for Shane, she was scowling at him as if he had leprosy.
“Where’s my camera?” she demanded.
“Hang on.”
“I want my camera.”
Shane glanced around and saw that Cal had it slung over his shoulder. He also saw his old partner had noticed Tish’s cleavage. Shane had the sudden urge to smack him right in the kisser.
“Cal?” He stepped closer and held out his hand. “May I have the camera?”
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“She’s not a security threat,” Shane growled. And stop looking at her like that.
“Maybe not intentionally,” Cal muttered low enough where only Shane could hear. “But she’s got ‘walking disaster’ written all over her. Remember the first time you met her?”
“Give me that.” He snatched the camera from him. “And mind your own damned business.”
Cal arched an eyebrow. “Guarding the first daughter is my business. What’s yours, Tremont?”
Shane glared. He knew where Cal was coming from, but he also knew Tish was mentally browbeating herself for having caused such a scene. She took things so personally.
“I feel so humiliated,” Tish moaned softly when Shane brought the camera back to her.
“Don’t be. It happens.”
“What about the President?” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Is he okay?”
“He’s gone to change his clothes. Don’t worry about it. No damage done. President Benedict knows you were just nervous.”
“I don’t get how you do it.” Tish shook her head.
“Do what?”
“Move in these circles and act so cool.”
“Practice,” he said. “FYI, whenever you bend forward, that blouse shows off a lot more than it should.”
Tish splayed a hand to her cleavage. “Really?”
“Really. Why do you think Cal was staring?”
“Oh, no, and I leaned over the President to pick up my camera. Do you suppose he—”
“Saw your ta-tas? Probably.”
“I flashed the President?” Tish groaned and covered her face with a hand. “God, kill me now. Thanks for telling me. I’ll be extra careful until I get a chance to pin it up.”
Sympathy stirred inside him. Shane reached out to touch her, wanting to reassure her that everything was going to be all right. The minute his fingers brushed her skin, he knew it was a grave mistake. Immediately, he drew back his hand.
Madness.
The heat was back again, hotter than ever. A maze of emotions rushed through his blood. Shane steeled himself. He had no right to feel this way. He was grateful that his back was to Elysee. He’d hate for her to read in his eyes what he struggled so hard to hide.
The pilot’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “If everyone could take their seats, we’ll be on our way.”
Everyone was already sitting down except for Tish and Shane. And everyone was staring at them.
“Shane?”
He turned to take his seat beside Elysee. She crooked her finger at him. He leaned in.
“Why don’t you take Tish to the back and get her settled in? I think she’ll feel more comfortable back there. Go ahead and sit with her until we’re airborne. She’s probably feeling very embarrassed and could use some moral support from a familiar face.”
Elysee’s thoughtfulness was the thing he admired most about her. Honestly, he didn’t deserve her. Not with the way these contradictory emotions were running through him.
“You’re one hell of an understanding woman, Elysee Benedict,” he said and gently chucked her under the chin. “You know that?”
She smiled sweetly. “I try. Now, shoo. Go on, so we can take off.”
He escorted Tish to the back of Air Force One, found two empty seats side by side, stowed her camera in an overhead bin and then plunked down beside her.
Tish raised an eyebrow. “You’re staying back here with me?”
“Elysee thought you could use the company.”
“Hey,” she said, “don’t do me any favors. I don’t need you. Go sit with your bride-to-be.”
“You are pissed off at me.”
“Oh please, stow your ego. I have better things to think about than you.”
“Look, you’ve got a right to be upset. I know it’s disconcerting to be tackled by six Secret Service agents.”
“It was V-8 juice, for God’s sake. What’s the potential crime? Assault with a deadly beverage?”
“You’ve got to understand the Secret Service’s position.”
“If I could do that, we’d still be married.”
She had a point. “You’ve got to understand. We’re always waiting for an attack. On constant alert. Our adrenaline switch is always ramped to high. We’re trained to react to danger with a hair-trigger response. They overreacted, sure. But they live and breathe for the President.”
“And while you were guarding Elysee, you did all that for her?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you weren’t on protective detail when we were married.”
“How come?”
“Heady stuff. I would have been fiercely jealous. No wonder Elysee is head over heels for you. All the macho, save-the-day stuff makes a girl feel tingly.”
“I never made you feel tingly?”
Her eyes met his. “You seriously underestimate yourself, Tremont.”
“So I do make you tingly?”
“Stop fishing for a compliment.”
He grinned.
The plane taxied down the runway.
“Besides,” she muttered under her breath, “it doesn’t matter whether you make me feel tingly or not. You’re with Elysee. There’s no more tingly feelings allowed between you and me.”
Now he was feeling tingly.
Think about something else.
But that was hard to do considering how good she smelled and how her quick-witted teasing was bringing back fond memories.
Take a deep breath. The feeling will pass.
“How’s your friend Delaney?” he asked, desperate for something neutral to talk about, something that wouldn’t stir unwanted feelings.
“She’s fine. Got married.”
“She and Evan?”
“Actually no, she married a cop.”
“No kidding.”
“He’s very sexy.”
“Sexier than me?”
“There you go again, fishing for a compliment. You’d think we were still married or something.”
“We’re not,” he said hurriedly.
“No.”
The plane thrust forward, leaving the runway. Glancing down, Shane noticed Tish was gripping the armrests with white-knuckled intensity as they became airborne. He remembered she hated flying.
“Do something to distract me from takeoff, will you?” She had her eyes squeezed shut.
He put a hand on her forearm and she let out a tight sigh. “We were such total opposites. It’s little wonder our marriage didn’t work.”
“But the sex was good.” She opened one eye to peer at him and looked so damned adorable his pulse skipped a beat. “Right?”
“It was great.” God, why was he doing this to himself?
“Best you ever had?” Tish smirked.
“Now who’s fishing for compliments?”
“I just want a ballpark figure. On a scale from one to ten, ten being the best you ever had. Where did I fall?”
“Eleven,” he said without hesitation.
Tish lowered her voice. “Where does Elysee fall?”
Shane shot a guilty glance toward the front of the plane. Elysee was dictating something to Lola, who was taking notes on her BlackBerry. The airplane noises drowned out the sound of their conversation. “We haven’t—”
“Done the deed?” Tish’s grin turned impish.
“We’re waiting. You know. To consummate.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m just saying celibate Shane doesn’t sound like the Shane I knew.”
“Things change. She’s the President’s daughter.”
“And I was raised by Dixie Ann.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I was really an eleven?” Her voice turned husky.
“No,” he said. “I lied.”
“Huh?”
“You were at least a twelve.” He was getting in deep here. He should stop this and he knew it, but the smile on her face lit him up like hot chocolate on a cold winter day.
“Twelve is not on the scale.”
“My point exactly. When it comes to sex, you’re off the charts. No one can hold a candle to you.”
“But when it comes to my money management skills, I’ve got a feeling I’m off the charts in the opposite direction. Say negative fifteen?”
“Let’s not get into it. We’ve been down that road before with no resolution.”
“Come on, admit it,” she said. “Sex is the only reason we hooked up in the first place.”
“You don’t really believe that.”
She cocked her head. “No? Then why were we together? If it was more than just sex, why didn’t we fight harder for each other?”
Shane shifted in his seat and met her gaze. He felt a heavy, hollow feeling deep inside him. “What do you want me to say? Just tell me and I’ll say it.”
“I don’t want you to say what I tell you to say. I want you to say what you really feel.”
“I’m way past the point of understanding anything about what I feel where you’re concerned,” he admitted.
“At last, honesty. This is nice,” she said. “That we can still tease each other, but it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Her quick wit had always made him feel inadequate. She could out-quip him every time.
“Shane?” she said.
“Uh-huh?”
“You can let go of my hand now. We’re at cruising altitude. That scared feeling I get on takeoff has passed.”
He moved his hand away. His palm was hot and damp from holding hers.
“In fact,” she murmured, “why don’t you go back to Elysee? I’m sure she’s wondering what’s keeping you. What is keeping you?”
Her eyes met his and made him long for all the things he’d forgotten. How it felt to soap up her body when they showered together. How she could almost keep up with him when they ran in the park. How she was a terrible cook and how all her recipes had something to do with Ramen noodles.
There was so much he wanted to tell her. Express his regret over the way things ended. Apologize, maybe, somehow. But how could he do that? They were surrounded by Secret Service and generals and a senator.
And there were just no words. If words could fix what had gone wrong, he would have spoken them two years ago.
He would have saved his marriage.
Elysee Benedict felt sorry for Tish. She was such a nice person, but she seemed to make a habit out of doing the wrong thing. For instance, beyond the V-8 juice incident with her father, she had let a wonderful man like Shane slip through her fingers.
Not the ploy of a brilliant woman.
Elysee glanced over her shoulder at Shane and her heart swelled with pride. He was so handsome and strong and brave. He’d laid his life on the line for her, taken a tremendous hit and she would be forever grateful.
Poor Tish.
Her gaze shifted to the other woman. Her color was pale and she looked to be on the verge of airsickness.
Poor, poor Tish.
She was proud of herself for sending Shane back to sit with her. She could afford to be generous. Shane belonged to her now. She felt a sense of pride and gave herself a mental pat on the back. It was the same way she felt after hosting a charity event or visiting sick children in the hospital. Or deciding to get involved with WorldFem and helping Rana get Alma Reddy out of India.
Poor, poor, poor Tish.
It had to be tough. Watching while her ex-husband married the President’s daughter.
Had hiring Tish for the job actually been a cruel thing to do? She hadn’t intended it that way. She’d just thought it was time she found out about Tish, time to force Shane to deal with any leftover baggage from his first marriage before he took fresh vows with her. Her plan had seemed simple enough at the time, but now she found herself questioning her wisdom.
Too late now. Tish is already here.
Doubt nibbled at her. She looked over her shoulder again—searching for reassurance that Tish was okay. Elysee hated seeing anyone in pain. But she didn’t have to worry. Tish was leaning back in the seat with her eyes closed and Shane was making his way back toward her, a big, strapping smile on his face. He settled into his seat across from her, taking his rightful place, and all her fears vanished.
Everything was right in Elysee Benedict’s world.
Chapter 13
Why don’t you take Tish sightseeing around DC?” Elysee suggested to Shane after they’d arrived at the White House. She’d come into Shane’s bedroom on the pretext of helping him unpack. She hung up the suits from his garment bag and turned back to look at him.
The truth was she was anxious to get to the bank, take the antique coins out of her safety-deposit box, and liquidate them without anyone finding out what she was doing. If Shane knew what she was up to Elysee feared he might try to talk her out of it.
Or worse, tell her father she’d gotten deeply involved in WorldFem.
Rana had called her before she left Texas and begged her to keep their endeavor as quiet as possible for Alma Reddy’s safety. She would have to take Agent Ackerman to the bank with her of course, but she hoped she could convince him they didn’t need a full entourage. Plus, she didn’t have to let him know exactly why she was going to the bank.
“Is there a particular reason you keep throwing me together with my ex-wife?” Shane asked.
“Come on, being with her isn’t that bad, is it?”
Shane swallowed. “No.”
She could tell this was hard on him. Elysee crossed the room to slip both arms around his waist and looked up into his dark brown eyes. “I feel sorry for Tish. She’s alone here, except for us, and far out of her element.”
“Why don’t we all three go sightseeing?” He smiled down at her, ran his finger over her forehead to push away an errant strand of hair.
“You know what a production that would be if I came along,” Elysee said, worrying she might not be able to talk him into this.
“I’d rather just stay here with you.”
“Come on, please? Do it for me.”
“What are you going to do while we’re gone?”
“You forget my aunt Jackie and uncle Felix are arriving soon. We’re having dinner wi
th them tonight. You want to be stuck with them all day, too?”
“Aunt Jackie with the purse dogs?”
“And Uncle Felix the draft-dodging hypochondriac.”
“Gotcha. Sightseeing with Tish it is, then.”
“You’ll thank me later,” she teased, glad she’d found an angle.
“We’ll see about that.”
“It’s a kind thing you’re doing. Good karma and all that. I know Tish will appreciate the company.” Elysee went up on tiptoes to brush her lips against his. “Dinner’s at seven; see you guys then.”
She hurried out of the room, glad she’d gotten Shane squared away. Now to find Agent Ackerman and get on over to the bank before her relatives showed up.
Her pulse rate quickened and her palms grew slick with anticipation as she thought about helping Alma Reddy escape her assassins. She felt like a spy.
And for a quiet woman who never rocked the boat, it was an exhilarating sensation indeed.
The last thing Shane wanted was to take Tish sightseeing. Not because he didn’t enjoy her company, but precisely because he did. He knocked at the door of the Lincoln bedroom where Tish was staying at Elysee’s urging.
Tish flung the door open. She grabbed him by the lapel and tugged him over the threshold. “Look at this room. Look at this furniture. Presidents have touched it. Celebrities have slept in this bed. How can I sleep in this bed with so much history surrounding me?”
“You probably won’t.”
She took his hand and pulled him over to the stately desk. “Look, look, a copy of the Emancipation Proclamation under glass. It makes me feel so American!”
He chuckled at her wide-eyed enthusiasm, but he fully understood. He remembered the first day he’d come to the White House, wide-eyed, overwhelmed, and trying his damnedest to look cool.
“Omigosh, Shane, can you believe it? We’re here! In the White House. In the infamous Lincoln bedroom. Pinch me. I must be dreaming.”
“You’re not dreaming, sweetheart. You’re here. You held on to what you wanted, never giving up, even when I wasn’t very supportive of your dreams, and now you’ve made it.”
She looked at him with sudden sadness in her eyes. “You’ve made it, too.”
“Yeah.”
“Too bad we couldn’t have made it together,” she said.
