by Silver James
“This afternoon.”
“Yup. Figured he’d be cutting this trip short. Did she tell you that you were fired?”
“Yes.”
“That old jackass is up to his tricks again.” Ev patted her shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Georgie. The old coot has fired me more times than I can remember. I’ll find out how they got clearance and keys.”
The phone on Georgie’s desk rang. “That’s my cue to get to work.”
* * *
Clay lathered shaving cream on his cheeks, watching Georgie through the mirror. She lay sprawled on her stomach in his bed—their bed now. He hadn’t convinced her to actually move in with him, but over the last few weeks, some of her things were slowly migrating into his closet and onto the counters of the vanity in the bathroom. He liked having her in his house. A lot. And that was like taking a kick from a mule. There was no getting used to things, no need to make concessions to having her underfoot all the time. He preferred her with him. The nights she spent at her own place left him restless and pissed off.
He continued to feel off balance though he had a better understanding of his brothers’ predicaments now. Cord and Chance both found the women who completed them. He’d never considered finding his own. Was Georgie the one? Or was this some idiotic infatuation that would cause him to crash and burn—personally and politically?
“Okay, how’s this sound?” Georgie cleared her throat as he turned to face her, offering her his entire focus. “My name is Clayton Barron. Some of you are familiar with my name. By the time this election is over, the entire country will know who I am.” She glanced up from her notes. “A little too arrogant?”
“Keep going.”
“Okay.” She coughed into her hand and pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. “The Office of the President of the United States should be held by an individual who has actual solutions to change America for the better. We need to fix the things that are broken. We need to remember the principles upon which America was founded. This country needs a drastic new approach before it’s too late. Change is never easy, but if we do things as they’ve always been done, America will stagnate even more.
“If you’re sitting here tonight, it means you have questions and want answers. You’re here because you care, because you want to know what I plan to do. You want to make sure I have real solutions to the problems that matter—the economy, national security, the ability of future generations to fully embrace the freedoms past generations have fought and died for. No one can truly be free without economic security. No one can truly be free when our enemies threaten our very existence.”
Georgie pushed up, shifting her body so she was sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Ugh. It sucks. Totally and completely.”
“It doesn’t totally and completely suck.”
“But it sucks.” She sighed loudly, grabbed her hair and twisted it on top of her head. Jabbing her pen into the messy bun, she made a show of ripping up the top sheet of the yellow legal pad. “Maybe your father is right. Maybe you do need that team he keeps trying to shove down your throat.”
She looked so thoroughly disheartened and sad he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and assure her everything would be okay. He grabbed a washcloth and wiped the shaving cream off his face so he could do just that. Joining her on the bed, he pulled the pen from her hair so it cascaded around her shoulders. He loved the silken fall of it, loved the way it played through his fingers when he kissed her, which he did at that moment.
“Love your hair down,” he murmured. Leaning in, he teased her bottom lip, nipping lightly before claiming her mouth. “What’s wrong, sweet pea?”
“Nothing.”
“Georgie.”
She sighed and leaned against his shoulder. “I hate doctors.”
He furrowed his brow, trying to follow her non sequitur.
“My yearly checkup is this morning at ten,” she explained.
He zeroed in on her mouth again, this time using his tongue instead of his teeth. After a long moment he put enough space between them that he could see her face. “It’s just a physical, honey.”
“Guys have it easy,” she groused.
Only then did he understand. This wasn’t just a yearly physical, this was a yearly...exam. “Oh.”
Georgie nodded solemnly. “Oh is right.”
“Want me to go with you?”
Blushing furiously, she shoved at his shoulder and scrambled away. “Ewww. No! Nada. Nyet. Nope.” Then she laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m a big girl and the tabloids would have a field day if they caught us together at my ob-gyn’s office.”
“Good point.”
“I get first dibs on the shower.”
“I have a better idea. Let’s save water.” He waggled his brows, rolled off the bed and scooped her into his arms, losing his towel along the way.
The shower was hot and steamy, which had nothing to do with the water temperature and everything to do with tongues and hands. Afterward, Clay dried Georgie off and sent her to get dressed with a pat on her very sweet, heart-shaped behind while he finally finished shaving. He had a meeting with that blasted election team so he could get them out of his hair. He didn’t need or want them and he’d counted on Georgie—and Boone—to be there, to show they were a team. Still, he couldn’t begrudge her the time for this appointment. He needed to take a page from his younger brothers and put his foot down where his father was concerned. He didn’t need backup for that. He could handle the old man. And he would. Or else.
Twelve
Had it only been a month? Georgie peeked out the curtains of Clay’s townhouse, frowning at the throng of photographers swarming the sidewalk outside his gate. She texted Hunt with the situation and received a reply that a car would pick them up in the alley behind Clay’s garage.
The story had snowballed after the blurry picture of them appeared in that tabloid after the state dinner, and Parker Grace had led the charge. Talk about the poster child for Women Scorned Anonymous. Even now, Parker was camped outside with a cameraman.
Clay jogged down the stairs and cocked his head. “Georgie?”
“We have to go out the back. Hunt’s bringing a car.”
“I take it the herd is restless?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s an understatement.” Sighing, she peeked out again and turned back to face the man who’d become her everything—and needed to become her nothing ASAP. She rubbed her fisted hand across her chest over her heart, surprised at how much the decision she’d come to this morning—after a solid week of harassment—hurt.
Clay’s expression sharpened and he stepped closer, arms reaching for her. “Sweet pea?”
Despair washed over her and Georgie threw up her hands to keep him from touching her. “Listen to me, Clay. I care for you, but I care even more about you. I’m still your communications director, which means I’m your employee. That dang reporter outed us and look what’s happened. We can’t go anywhere together without getting hounded. You’re the front-runner for the nomination, even without a formal declaration. You will be the next President of the United States. We can’t play at being...a...a thing any longer.”
“A thing?” Clay’s voice dropped into the bass range, his displeasure evident in his tone and expression. “This is no game, Georgie, and our relationship is not a thing.”
Her heart fluttered at his intensity. Clay Barron had a reputation on the Hill—most eligible bachelor. She’d seen the women he dated. This...thing between them was only a fling. It had to be. Even if walking away broke her heart.
She wasn’t the right woman for him. She wasn’t a starlet, supermodel or debutante. She was plain ol’ Georgie Dreyfus with drab brown hair, thick glasses and muddy green eyes.
Clay grabbed her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake,
the careful action totally at odds with the stormy expression on his face. “I’m not going away, Georgie. This is something real. At least to me.”
His gaze searched her face, probing all the way into the place she hid her deepest secrets—especially her feelings for her boss. She swallowed and fought the urge to fall into his arms. “This won’t work. We won’t work.”
Clay stared at her, his expression smoothing to that of the polished politician. “Oh...?”
He pinned her with his gaze, waiting for a reply. She blinked several times and ignored the ding on her phone. Clay didn’t. He lifted her hand and removed her phone. He read the text and replied.
“Hunt’s two blocks away.”
“Oh. Right. Time to go.”
The corners of his mouth curled up but the smile wasn’t friendly. “This conversation isn’t over. And we are far from done.”
Before she could recoil, he had her wrapped in his arms and pressed against his chest. “I say when we’re done. You got that?”
“But...why me? How can you be with someone like me?”
“Ah, sweet pea.” His voice mellowed as he stroked her back. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re sweet and funny and warm. You’re beautiful. And the best damn speechwriter on the Hill.” His eyes twinkled as he said that last bit. “So. Are we clear, sweet pea?”
She blinked up at him. “About what?”
“About us not being done. A real thing. Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Kiss me, darlin’.”
“I can do that.”
“So why aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Clay laughed and cupped her face so he could kiss her deeply. He only released her mouth when her phone dinged again.
“Time to go.”
“Uh-huh.”
Clay helped her into the backseat of the SUV then urged her to scoot over so he could join her. She didn’t stop blushing until the vehicle rolled to a stop in front of the Russell Senate Office Building. A gaggle of reporters surged forward. Glen was out of the SUV before Hunt put it in Park, but he didn’t open the rear door.
“Slide over, Georgie. I go out first.” Clay tugged on her hand as he maneuvered in the tight space. She did as she was told without comment. “And I’ll do the talking.” At that, her expression cleared and her mouth opened. He took advantage and kissed her, his tongue sweeping through her open lips. With reluctance, he broke off. “Yes, you’re my communications director, but in this instance, I’m doing the talking. You with me?”
“I...yes. Of course.”
“Good. Now, big smile for the cameras.” He winked and nodded to Hunt, who opened the driver’s door and stepped out. Seconds later Glen opened the back door and Clay emerged onto the sidewalk. He met the barrage of shouted questions and whir of cameras with a smile firmly fixed in place. Then he moved away just enough to give Georgie space to come out of the SUV. He offered his arm, with elbow crooked, and she accepted his offer after a moment’s hesitation. Her slim fingers slipped between his arm and side, curling over his forearm.
“So you two are dating, Senator!”
It wasn’t a question so Clay ignored it. Glen moved to Georgie’s side, protecting her from the press of reporters.
“Senator Barron, is it true you’re forming an exploratory committee with an eye on the presidency?”
He flashed his patented Barron smile with its hint of dimple toward the reporter. “No. I am not forming a committee.” He paused, waited two beats and his voice penetrated the shouted follow-up questions. “I’ve already formed it.”
That statement was like throwing a two-ton boulder into a small pond. Ripples ran out in concentric circles and the crowd was shocked silent—for about ten seconds. Ten seconds that were long enough for Clay, Georgie and Glen to make it into the building. The reporters would have to go through security checks to enter, giving them time to escape into the elevator and up to Clay’s office.
In the elevator, Glen kept his expression neutral as he faced the doors, his back to Clay and Georgie. Clay could feel the waves of curiosity wafting from her, but she didn’t say a word. Every staffer knew the elevators and stairwells contained security cameras. The trip to the second floor was quick and as the elevator doors slid open, Glen stepped out, on guard and alert. Only after he scanned both directions in the hallway did he motion them out.
Clay and Georgie were ensconced in his office, the door shut with Ev and the rest of his staff on the other side, before Georgie spoke.
“You’ve already formed an exploratory committee?”
Did she sound hurt? Clay reached for her and led her to his couch. He sat down but had to tug her hand to get her to join him. “Yes.”
“Oh.”
Yeah, definitely hurt feelings. “Sweet pea? Look at me.” When she didn’t, he cupped her cheek and pressed until her head turned. “And that committee has nothing to do with those idiots my father hired. You, Boone, Hunt and a few other people I trust, including my brothers, comprise the committee.”
“Me?” Her voice quivered slightly.
“Of course, you. You’re my communications director.” He leaned closer and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. “And more. I trust you, Georgie. And I value your opinion. I did even before we...” He trailed off without finishing. After another gentle kiss, he added, “Before we became involved.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. I’m not doing anything without consulting the people I trust, and you’re right there at the top, Georgeanne. Okay?”
When she smiled, her eyes lit up and Clay realized he liked being the one to put that expression on her face. Off balance at the idea, he shelved it. Things were happening too fast to stop and consider why. Later. He’d deal with his emotions later.
Thirteen
Georgie couldn’t breathe and her vision was fuzzy around the edges. Pushing through the heavy glass doors of her doctor’s office, she walked blindly down the street. No. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. When the nurse had called two days ago to say she needed to come in to discuss the results of one of her tests, Georgie figured it had to do with her blood sugar—her dad was diabetic—or her blood pressure. A lump in her breast had been what she least expected. Today the doctor had performed a biopsy and was sending the tissue off for further tests. She kept walking, head down, fighting tears.
“Ms. Dreyfus? Ms. Dreyfus!”
She ignored the urgent voice calling to her. She didn’t know where she was going, what she was doing. This. Could. Not. Be. Happening.
“Ms. Dreyfus. Georgie!” Glen grabbed her arm and tugged her to a gentle stop. “Georgie, the car’s back this way.”
She looked at him and wondered for a moment who he was. Then she remembered. She nodded, numb and barely breathing. “Glen. I-I’m sorry. I-I got distracted.”
“Hey, are you okay?”
“I... Yeah. I’m fine. I’m...fine.”
Her bodyguard was still holding her arm as he led her back to the SUV parked at the curb. He settled her into the front passenger seat and buckled her seat belt when she made no move to do so. She watched him pass in front of the vehicle, his phone to his ear.
As they pulled up in front of the Russell Building, Hunt was waiting on the sidewalk. He opened her door and helped her out.
“Georgie? What happened?”
Finally emerging from her fog, she focused on him. “I’m fine. Really. Just. Fine.”
“You don’t look fine, hon. I’m gonna have Glen take you home.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “No. I...no, Hunt. Please. I’m fine. Really. I have too much to do today. I... Clay’s speech for this weekend. And...stuff. Yes. I have stuff to do. Okay?”
“Okay, hon. C’mon. Let’s go up to the office.”
Ten minutes later Ev stood in the door of Georgie’s office, arms folded across her chest, her expression one of concern. She stepped inside, closed the door and leaned against it. “Talk to me, Georgie. Whatever this is, we can fix it. You don’t have to go through it alone.”
Only then did Georgie manage to figure out why everyone was so freaked out. “No! Oh, spittin’ sunflower seeds, no. I’m not pregnant!” She blurted out the denial.
Ev’s arms relaxed and she let out an audible sigh as she crossed the patterned rug to sink into one of the chairs arranged before the desk.
Georgie soldiered on. “I...there were some...anomalies on one of my yearly tests.”
Ev leaned forward, her concern evident. “Which one?”
She swallowed hard, her gaze skittering across Ev’s face. “My doctor...did a biopsy today.”
“Oh, honey.” Ev scooted closer to the desk and reached over to clasp Georgie’s hands. “It’s scary, especially as young as you are. Is there a history in your family?”
Shaking her head, Georgie worked to control the tears swimming in her eyes. “No. It’s so crazy. My dad’s diabetic, but that’s it. That’s the only skeleton in my health closet.”
“There’s a good chance the biopsy will be benign, Georgie.”
“I know. The doctor kept saying he was doing this out of an abundance of caution. It’ll be fine. Women my age...it’s rare. That’s what he said. And it’s just a lump. That’s all.”
Ev squeezed her fisted hands again. “Have you told Clay?”
Panic surged through her. “No. Oh, good gravy, no. I can’t tell him.” Georgie twisted her hands to clasp Ev’s. “You can’t tell him, either. You...you know about his mother, right? About what happened to her?”
The older woman nodded. “Yes, hon. I’ve known Clay and the family for ages. She waited too late to get treatment for her breast cancer. His old man was a bastard about it. Clay nursed her until the end, and then raised his brothers.”
“Then you understand why we can’t tell him. Oh, please, Ev. He can’t know. It’s just a precaution. The results will come back negative and everything will be back to normal. His focus is the campaign. Not me.” Her words tumbled over each other. “Okay? Promise me.”
