After Hours Bundle

by Karen Kendall

She crossed one long, lithe leg over the other and sat like a czarina in spite of the fact that she was naked. Her posture was that of a dancer, her body a work of sculpture. Jack wanted to run his hands over every inch of her smooth skin—not necessarily in a sexual way, but just for sensuality’s sake.

  He stared at the red rose she’d painted on that one toenail, fascinated at the detail she’d managed to incorporate. She’d used a darker color of red to add dimension and depth to it, and had even painted a dark green stem.

  Like a Georgia O’Keeffe flower, the rose resonated with sex, hinted of dark velvet depths and extended an unspoken invitation to a man: explore at your leisure…but also at your own risk.

  Jack got hard all over again. How could this woman turn him on with just a toenail? The idea was preposterous.

  But she did.

  And since he wasn’t sitting like her, with his legs crossed, his interest became immediately noticeable, winking at her with its one eye.

  “Hello,” said Marly, her lips twitching.

  “What can I say?” Jack spread his hands, palms up.

  “He likes you. He’s ready to go exploring again.”

  “In case he missed something the last time?”

  “Yeah. Thoroughness is important to him.”

  “Gosh, how many condoms do you carry in your wallet at once?” Marly lifted an eyebrow.

  “Shit. I hadn’t thought about that.” Crushed, Jack stared at her longingly.

  She pulled her little bag over and unzipped the top of it. “Colored? Ribbed? Lubricated?”

  He blinked at her. “Uh. How—how many do you have?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I dumped some in my little makeup bag a while back. Why?”

  “You’re not sure?”

  “That’s what I said. What’s the funny look for?”

  “Meaning you don’t remember how many encounters you’ve had?” Jack heard the suspicion and tinge of outrage in his voice, but somehow he couldn’t control it.

  “No.” She glared at him. “Meaning I don’t remember how many I put in there to begin with! Besides, my encounters are so none of your business.”

  “You just made them my business,” he growled.

  She actually pushed him with her foot. “Oh, did I? Well, but gosh, Governor, I thought all of that information would be in my file—down to the fact that I didn’t even vote in the last election. Did you not do your homework? Because if you had, you’d know that I haven’t been with anyone in over a year and a half.” Clearly furious, Marly reached for her clothes.

  “I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I just—”

  “Have a double standard? That it’s okay for you to walk around with condoms, because you’re a guy. But if I do, then I’m a slut?”

  “No.”

  “That is so unbelievably…” She searched for words. “Republican!”

  “It has nothing to do with my politics, Marly. It has to do with the simple fact that it made me jealous to think about you with other men. All right?”

  “That’s just—primitive.”

  “I’m a guy. We are primitive in certain ways.”

  “Jack, let me make something clear to you. Just because we’ve had sex does not mean that you possess me or something.” She shook her head at him. “That’s really Republican, too.”

  Jack ground his teeth. “No, it’s human. And your sniping about my party is starting to get on my nerves. Wanna tell me where all that’s coming from? Besides the fact that it’s not ‘cool’ these days to be a Republican? I’m giving you credit for not being that shallow.”

  She shrugged and looked out the window. “You got elected on a conservative ticket, on promises to return family values to the state of Florida.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You think your voters would approve of what we just did?”

  “It’s really not their business,” said Jack. “But I’m unmarried, so are you. We practiced safe sex. We didn’t expose ourselves to impressionable children—or even to adults for that matter. Again, where’s this coming from?”

  “You got elected, Jack, on a platform of reform that included sweeping statements about a return to morality.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Why does that bother you?”

  “Let’s just say that there are a lot of people in your party, a lot of people who have supported you, who are…intolerant.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean that I share their views. Getting the nomination to run for office is all about compromise. It means that I can’t necessarily push my personal agenda, I have to push for the party’s agenda.”

  “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “Hell yes, sometimes it bothers me. But it’s the reality of politics.” He put a hand on her arm. “Marly, there are days when I absolutely hate what I do. Of course, if you ever quote me on that I’ll categorically deny it.”

  “I wouldn’t quote you. But if you hate it so much, then why do you do it?”

  “It’s complicated. It’s about stepping up to the plate and taking responsibility. If I don’t do it, there are plenty of other people willing to take my place—but not always for the right reasons. I have been blessed with a certain amount of charisma, heart, integrity and leadership ability. I can get things done, and most of the time I can get them done without pissing off too many people unnecessarily. And I care about Florida. I guess that’s what it all boils down to—I may hate my job sometimes, but I care too much to walk away.”

  Marly had to respect that, but she sighed. “My dad once went against family tradition and crossed over to your side, you know. Until he and our whole town were betrayed by one of your party’s finest. Patrick Compton, upstanding state representative. Spewed all kinds of promises, anything anyone wanted to hear.

  “We elected him to see after our interests up there in Tallahassee, and he sold us out. He was in bed with a huge fruit corporation, whose name I will not mention. And that huge corporation made it impossible for our farmers to compete with them price-wise. They were all going bankrupt.

  “The Pattywhacker came to town and promised them all job stability if they’d sell out to this fruit company. Most of them didn’t have a lot of choice but to trust him and do it. So they sold, on the understanding that they’d keep their jobs.

  “Within six months, the company used a loophole they called ‘moral perishability’ and shut down every operation. Closed them and stripped them of assets. Took off, leaving the town to die—because its residents had all worked in the citrus industry.

  “My dad—” Marly’s voice cracked. “My dad, who had the pride of twenty men, died inside the day he had to go on welfare, but his military pension wasn’t enough to keep us going.”

  “Marly,” Jack said quietly, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that happened to your family—”

  “Guess who got a fat consulting contract with the big fruit company six months later?”

  “—but is it fair to blame the entire party for the actions of one individual?”

  “That’s not the only story like that out there, Jack, and you know it.”

  “There are Democrat creeps, too, Marly. You’re generalizing and stereotyping.”

  “Don’t tell me that! What happened to us and to our town was very specific. But if you’re going to accuse me of generalizing, sure, let’s go there! Republicans endorse big business, and big business encourages behavior like that. Everything’s about the bottom line, screw the little people.”

  “It’s called competition. Businesses have to pay attention to their bottom lines. They’ll go belly-up if they don’t. A business isn’t a charity. Capitalism isn’t socialism—though your tax-and-spend Democrats would sure like to change that, wouldn’t they?”

  Marly shook her sarong and top. “Yeah, God forbid any of us should have a heart and try to feed starving people or try to correct the injustices of society….” She wrapped the sarong around her lower body and shrugged into the top.

  Jack
sighed. “Society will never be perfect, Marly. It’s composed of human beings, not angels. The government cannot fix everything—nor should it be expected to.”

  “Interesting philosophy, coming from the mouth of someone who ran on a platform of restoring morality to the state!” She grabbed her ripped panties and bra and shoved them into her tiny tapestry bag. “Please take me home.”

  “Marly—”

  “Please.”

  His jaw tight, a pulse jumping in the side of his neck, Jack hit the button that allowed him to communicate with Mike. He gave the instruction and then got dressed himself in silence.

  They went for long minutes without speaking. Finally he said, “So the gist of this little talk is that you’re calling me a hypocrite.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “Yes, you pretty well did say it. So now you can listen to me. I’ve given up years of my life to public service. I do the best I can. I’m there in the trenches actively doing something. And you know what pisses me off more than anything, Marly? It’s people like you, who rant and rave about politics but don’t lift a finger to try to do anything.

  “You like to sit around and blame the Republicans for being the root of all evil? That’s just great. You don’t like what we stand for, then get out and work for the other side. But don’t you dare treat me with disrespect if you’re not even voting on state issues. And how about all those social injustices you want rectified, sweetheart. Why don’t you get off that pretty little ass of yours and go raise some funds?”

  With flawless timing, Mike brought the limo to a stop just outside her apartment complex. Marly looked daggers at Jack, glared at him as if she’d be glad to dig out his still-beating heart with a pair of shears.

  Jack didn’t flinch. He stared right back at her. He might still desire her for reasons beyond him, but he wasn’t going to take her canned left-wing crap.

  For a moment he thought she might actually slap him.

  Instead she took a deep breath and slipped on her shoes. “I’d like to say something incredibly rude to you right now,” she said in a low voice. Then she paused. “But I can’t, because—damn you—you’re right.”

  And without waiting for Mike, Marly opened the door of the limo and slipped out.

  10

  MARLY SLAMMED her apartment door and threw her tapestry bag onto the couch. She stood in her living room, staring into the filmy curtains that covered her sliding-glass doors, able to see the roofs of the factory buildings in spite of them.

  Jack Hammersmith was too damned good looking and way too amazing in bed (or limo seat). She didn’t particularly care for the way he’d challenged her. She was used to the comfort of being agreed with by her fellow liberal friends, not criticized for her political apathy.

  She really didn’t want to think about how lazy she’d been during the last elections; how because it had been pouring rain she’d put off going to the polls until she barely had time to make it…and then taken a client at the last minute so that she hadn’t made it.

  Her dad would have been ashamed of her. Quite frankly, she was ashamed of herself. After all, she’d been lucky enough to be born in a democracy where people were free to choose their leaders. She didn’t have to get involved in the particulars of how that democracy operated on the local and state levels, but she did have an obligation to vote.

  Otherwise, she was really ceding her right to have opinions. She was saying, through her inaction, that it was okay for decisions to be made without her input. She was accepting the rule of someone else without question. Ugh.

  Marly had never had any problem looking in the mirror before. She’d always been proud of her decision to help her father, and proud of the fact that she was good at her job and lived a stable lifestyle—since a lot of people she knew didn’t.

  But now as she turned to walk into her bedroom and caught sight of herself in the big oval mirror over her dresser, she grimaced.

  Jack, the jerk, was right. He was right about a lot of things—that she was guilty of stereotyping, that she hadn’t really bothered to find out what he was all about before labeling him “Republican: yuck.” And he was right that someone who didn’t get involved had no business criticizing those who did.

  If she really got down to brass tacks, she’d probably have to admit that she wasn’t terribly well informed about most of the issues he dealt with every single day.

  After all, half listening to a network morning news program while she aimed a blow-dryer at her head didn’t exactly qualify as in-depth research. She resolved to do better and to read a newspaper regularly.

  She closed her eyes and could still feel Jack’s lips on hers, hear his voice in her ears. She could feel where he’d been elsewhere, too, on—and in—her body.

  She opened her eyes and stared into the mirror. She looked normal and average, not like the kind of woman who had wild monkey sex with the governor in a limo.

  Marly walked into the bathroom, started the water running in her tub and lit a candle. She poured some bubble bath into the water, shrugged out of her clothes and slipped into warm, scented bliss. This would be the only time she’d have to herself for the next week, because of the salon’s extended hours and her growing client list.

  Being written up in Shore magazine had been fantastic for business, but she was starting to feel a little frazzled. Once word got out that she was styling Jack Hammersmith’s hair, she’d be getting even more calls.

  Marly told herself not to complain—being in demand was fantastic. A compliment. A vote of confidence. And it brought in more money to pay off her father’s medical bills.

  If only being in demand weren’t quite so tiring.

  IN ORDER TO accommodate the flood of new clients over the next two weeks, Marly began multitasking. She began to cut one client’s hair while another was waiting for color to set under the dryer. She finished the color client while an assistant dried and styled the first client’s hair. She skipped lunch in favor of Red Bull and protein bars.

  She started having to skip dinner, too. A painting she’d begun a month ago sat in a corner of her apartment, just a sketch with a few smears of color. And to top it all off, she hadn’t heard from Jack. He was done with her, then. So much for her being The One.

  She didn’t want to think about the fact that she had been extremely rude about his politics. Maybe he just needed time to cool off.

  New vitamin packs mixed into her morning orange juice helped for a while, but she still felt ragged, almost destroyed, by the end of each “day.” Her days ended at midnight and began again at 8:00 a.m. Her career was becoming a brilliant success, but her life had evolved to merely an existence.

  It was on one of her manic, multitasking days at the salon that she heard again from Jack.

  Shirlie scrambled across the room, her baby-blue miniskirt rucked up, only one earring on, and the cordless phone glued to the bare ear. “Marly!”

  “Yes?” Her mouth was full of metal clips and she was working on a new customer’s highlights.

  “Governor Hammersmith is coming on the line! Here.”

  Her first instinct was anger that he’d waited so long to call. Her second was that she didn’t have time to talk to him. “Shirl,” Marly said around the clips, “I can’t take it right—”

  Shirlie made a noise of exasperation and jammed the phone at the side of her head.

  “Uh,” Marly said. “Hello?”

  “Is this my favorite bleeding heart liberal?” Jack’s voice boomed.

  “Yeah, but she can’t really talk right now.”

  “Not even to one of the leaders of the free world?”

  Her client jabbed her in the stomach with an index finger. “Are you crazy?” she asked. “The governor? Go talk to him. I can wait.”

  Thank you, Marly mouthed at her. Then she walked with the phone to the kitchenette, while Shirlie went running to the front to answer another line. What did Jack want? Whatever it was, she didn’t have any more minut
es in the day to accommodate him.

  “What’s up, Jack?” Though she didn’t want to admit it, her heart was galloping around in her chest. “Have you passed a new law that declares open season on Jet Skis?”

  He laughed. “I’m working on it. Listen, I need you to fly to Tallahassee to cut my hair.”

  “What?” Oh, right. I’m going to give you a whole day to do that! You’ve got a nerve, buddy.

  “I have a TV interview in a couple of days. So do you think you could make it up here either this evening or tomorrow? I’ll send the Gulfstream for you.”

  You’ll send the Gulfstream. Of course—like it’s a yellow cab. “Jack, I have thirteen different appointments between now and midnight tomorrow night.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any way to reschedule those? Because there’s a great little French restaurant I was going to take you to, and I have tickets to a play.”

  It did sound wonderful. Marly hesitated. “I’d love to, but I can’t reschedule that many people unless it’s a total emergency. It’s too much revenue lost for the salon—and for me.”

  Jack was silent for a moment. “Well, if it’s a question of money, I can make it up to you.”

  It’s not just a question of money, Marly thought. It’s a question of presumption! You and your play tickets are not more important than thirteen other people, even though you’re the governor and you’re hot and I’d love to see you again—in spite of the fact that you’re a Republican.

  “Jack, I can’t let you do that and you know it. But thank you for the offer.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Jack. You can’t seriously expect me to drop everything just for a whim of yours! Especially after you’ve left me hanging for two weeks.”

  Again, a pause ensued, as if he were just realizing he’d been inconsiderate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging. I’ve been busy and I lost track of time. Well, if you can’t come here, I’ll just have to come in to After Hours, then. Can you clear a spot for me?”

  “Give me a second to look at the book, okay?”

  “Yup,” he said.