“I have a way of being invited to places I don’t need to be. No one really tells me no. So, I’ll be there. Don’t worry.” The perks of being the up-and-coming senator—it should all go according to plan.
Forty minutes later, he’d covered a few blocks in the Fashion District, where her rehearsals were. Ricky had sent him the details, and Asher hauled to see her. His suit looked out of place, and his tie strangled his neck. At a red light, he stood next to a few hipsters and a man pushing a cart of dresses.
Dodging a wayward taxi inching through the horde of bodies, Asher breathed in the city and let excitement charge his blood. Energy revitalized him after the hours on the high-speed Amtrak train.
He found the building, was waved through security, hit the sixteenth floor, and pushed past a gaggle of models who all looked like Barbies. He stepped over a red-head kid in pigtails lying on the floor, reading a commercial script for apple juice.
This place is a madhouse. He rounded the corner toward the room number Ricky had texted him, pushed the door open, and—
Holy hell…
Dry mouthed, Asher slammed to a halt, nearly stumbling over his own feet. Jenny was busy talking to the seamstress at her knees, who sewed something shiny onto something that glittered. Under the glaring lights, Jenny sparkled.
But the glittering getup—the sky-high heels, corset, and fringe—had nothing on her flat stomach, perked breasts, and legs that every model in the hallway would commit homicide for. Asher stared, drinking her in, too shocked to move or even wave hello.
A man carrying a clipboard swaggered around Jenny, inspecting her. He pushed his glasses into his hair, put his knuckles to his chin, and studied. Asher contained a primal roar. The bastard might not live through the day. He fisted his hands into his pants pockets and needed to calm the urge to rip the guy’s eyeballs out.
Ricky bounced over, a feathery mess slung over his shoulder. “Costumes are going well. This is the last one to get fitted—”
“Who’s that?” Asher growled.
“Talking to Jenny? That’s the director, Colton. Cole for short.”
“Well, Cole’s too close to her.” Asher took a step forward, fists still in pockets, rage bubbling as the man adjusted a strap on Jenny’s leg.
With a flip of the feathers, Ricky tapped Asher on the chest. “Mr. Congressman, get it together.”
Asher stifled another urge to maim and growled again instead. “Richard—”
“Maybe you need a smoothie too. She’s in such a better mood since I gave her a snack.”
He eyed his buddy. “I’m impressed, by the way. Have me fooled.”
“Whatever.” He flicked his hands out with the feather rope then drew it back at Asher’s scowl. “What, you don’t like my boa?”
Jenny looked over, finally noticing him, and laughed. She did look in a good mood, much better than the last time he’d seen her when she’d been gnawing on her nails over Maxwell.
He nodded at her half-naked, jewel-costumed body. Jenny had stunned his thoughts silent.
“What do you think?” She gave a spin, ignoring the seamstress trying to keep up with her.
He pinched his eyes closed. What did he think? Thinking about her was his problem. He could ditch big money’s daughter, find a hotel room, and they wouldn’t leave for a week.
“I need to speak with Jenny.” Asher stepped toward her. “Alone.”
Cole took a step back from her, eyebrows bunched, but stopped and walked forward, extending his hand. “Congressman McIntyre, so nice to meet you.”
Asher moved across the worn, wooden floor and completed the obligatory hello. The seamstress smiled and waved as she passed. Even Ricky stepped out, which surprised Asher.
Mirrors surrounded him on three sides. Floor-to-ceiling windows served as the fourth wall.
“How do I look?” Her fingers knitted together like she was suddenly nervous under his attention. “I’m going for hot, but, ya know… So?”
“You want hot? Pretty?” Were there even words for how she looked? “How about you try every man’s lifelong fantasy? You’re making Victoria’s Secret angels look like knobby-kneed bums.”
She laughed, and her already-red cheeks flamed. “Thanks.”
“My lifelong fantasy.”
Teetering on breakneck high heels, she stopped fidgeting and looked up from under the sexy veil of her eyelashes. “Really?”
Asher stepped to her. He dropped his hand to her flat stomach between the corset top and the sequin bottom, and his finger traced softly. Her skin was velvet. They were suspended in the moment, Asher holding Jenny to him with the strength of a gaze.
Her chest rose and fell, mirroring his tempo. Jenny sucked her bottom lip, nailing him with textbook bedroom eyes. Her palm found his, smoothing it from her hip, over her bare stomach, and stopped on the corset. She leaned against him, pushed onto her toes, and pressed her lips against his ear. Warm breath caressed him, and his mind spun.
A knock on the door, and Cole popped his head back in. “You guys good? Photographer’s here for her promo pieces.”
He dropped his finger but ignored the director. “I need to get you out of here.”
The room filled.
“Asher,” Ricky sang to him. “I got you a smoothie. Wheatgrass with strawberries. It’ll help your mood, whatever’s wrong with you.”
She shook her head. “I have to work. And then there’s a happy hour I have to go to. We’re celebrating… me, I guess.”
He stepped back, drawing a fresh breath and hoping for some perspective. “I have a dinner thing to go to too.” Ricky stood next to them with a green smoothie. It looked disgusting.
“Try it.” Jenny smiled. “Pretty good, actually.”
He shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“Take it anyway.” Ricky pushed the cup into his hand and turned to Jenny. “I’d say the congressman looks horny, but that’d cross the line, wouldn’t it?” Ricky winked at Jenny and walked away.
She covered her mouth, shocked and laughing. “Oh my God. How well do you two know each other again?”
“You could call us old poker buddies.” I’m going to kill him. “All right. You do your thing; I’ll hit this dinner and find you afterwards.” He turned and walked away. Each step felt heavier than the last. Jenny was permanently seared into his retinas. But he had to take one last look. He turned and stared over his shoulder. “See if you can bring some of that outfit home tonight. I’ll put it to good use.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Agent Murphy’s name appeared on his phone, and it was the perfect excuse to bail on the boring dinner party. Asher had done his piece. He’d said hello to the right people, discussed all the issues and impending legislation that dinner guests had asked about, and even thrown out a few insider-only campaign details that the dinner guests would love and he needed leaked. Like the new poll numbers that had him holding a solid lead over his opponent.
He answered right before the call would hit voice mail. “Hey, Murphy. Tell me you have good news.”
“I have good news.”
“Really?”
“Well, it’s news. A lead. After combing through your old constituent mail, we found several letters from M. H. Bowie. Recognize the name?”
“No. But we get thousands of letters, e-mails, phone calls. I don’t handle them myself.”
“This guy showed up at least once in your office last year, but we don’t think you ever saw him. Met with your deputy chief of staff after harassing a couple interns.”
“M.H. Bowie is Maxwell?”
“Bowie’s first name is Maxwell. He’s the fifth Maxwell Bowie in his family. All military, all the way back to the revolutionary war. We’re talking steep family history.”
“How does that relate to the notes?”
“New York seized his home under the claim of eminent domain. A highway is under construction, and Maxwell’s family home—they call it the Bowie Estate—is where an exit ramp is planned.”
&nb
sp; Asher nodded. “I know about the so-called Bowie Estate. They’ve applied and have been denied for historic and national landmark designations. The Bowies have zip in terms of documentation.”
“Exactly. And Maxwell the Fifth was dishonorably charged from the Army after a few incidents. His psych evaluations fit with the profile of someone trying to redeem himself in the eyes of his family.”
“So Maxwell Bowie is our guy? Got a picture of the dick?”
“Not one hundred percent positive, but he’s the best we’ve got. We’ll get his picture and file e-mailed to you. Now for the bad news. He’s also off the radar. Don’t know where the bastard is. Here’s the deal, Congressman—”
“Asher.”
“Yes, sir. If it is him, he’s not your typical politically driven stalker. He’s had some mid-level specialty training. Enough to make him dangerous.”
“Just terrific.” Asher blew out harshly as he hailed a cab. “I’ve hired a protective detail for Molly and Jenny.”
“Well, actually, sir—”
“Asher.” A yellow taxi pulled over, and he hopped in and gave the intersection for the happy hour. He looked at his watch. Five minutes, tops.
“Yes, sir. But you are my concern.”
“I’ll be fine. As a matter of fact, I’d welcome a sit-down with Maxwell the Fifth. I have a few things to explain to him.”
“I can appreciate that, sir—”
“Seriously, Murphy. My name is Asher. Call me Asher.”
Murphy laughed. “Not as easy as it sounds.”
Asher could almost hear the sir and shook his head. “Find Maxwell. We’ll stay in contact. After all this is over, we’ll go grab a couple beers and shoot some hoops. See if you’re sirring me then.” He hung up the phone before Murphy could offer another yes, sir.
The taxi pulled over, and he shoved the cash through the slot in the safety glass. Less than five minutes, not bad. The bar was on the corner, and he walked in.
Jenny stood out in the crowd. Her back was turned with her dark hair piled up, but he could pick that woman out anywhere. Her laughter carried from the bar across the loud room, and she tossed her head back. Unaware of him, and Asher was content to watch.
Graceful neck. Sexy, strong shoulders. She reached back to toy with loose strands, and the move punched him in the stomach. Those arms needed to wrap around him, and his fingers would be in her hair, again and soon.
He walked toward her, ignoring the occasional nod of recognition from folks downing their after-work cocktails. Ricky sat at a nearby table, watching Jenny, studying everyone in the room, and making small talk.
Two men flanked Jenny. Both could back off, but Asher wouldn’t concern himself with them. For all he cared, there was only one other person in the room. That gorgeous girl who’d teased him over the years and had become a focal point the second he’d grasped what she meant to him. Maybe he had one thing to thank Maxwell for, and it was that realization.
One last step, then Asher pressed against her back, her ass, and nuzzled his cheek behind her ear.
“Guess you couldn’t go walking around in your costume, huh?” He let his lips tickle the edge of her ear and inhaled her light perfume. She smelled delicious. “What are the chances you brought that thing home?”
Jenny stayed caged to the bar and tilted her head. “One of the perks of my new gig is a furnished, temporary apartment. Rumor has it the closest isn’t empty.”
He closed his arms tighter, and warmth penetrated his suit jacket and shirt sleeves. “Yesterday, I had you pinned against a wall. Tonight, against a bar. Hoping you like that as much as I do.”
Her breaths stilted and hitched. He was close enough to feel the irregular cadence. Close enough that he could savor it, enjoying the prickles that swept across the nape of his neck and shot down his spine.
Slowly, Jenny spun in his arms. She focused on his tie, then her hands found his coat lapel. The delicate touch glanced off the fabric, sliding down its edge until her hands fell to her sides. She raised her chin, and the heat in her eyes nearly made him kiss her right in the middle of the bar, in front of the world. That would make tabloid gossip rags before they even left. She didn’t need that. Nobody did.
“Your dinner went fast.”
“I couldn’t stay away. Let’s get out of here.”
She looked away at a few people he recognized from the audition room earlier. “I can’t just walk out.”
“You’re right.” It was selfish to steal her from her celebration. Didn’t keep him from hovering close enough to kiss her lips. “I’ll—”
One of the men next to her stepped closer. “Jenny, this guy bothering you?”
“No. I’m not.” Ash’s chest rumbled when he spoke.
Another guy elbowed the man who’d interrupted. “Oh, man. That’s—”
A split second later, the flash of a camera phone caught him broadside.
Shit. He ducked his head. Ricky walked over, and Asher heard a brief exchange that resulted in the picture being deleted.
Her eyes were wide. “Maybe we should go.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Ash grabbed her hand. “Tonight’s your night to celebrate. Ignore that; next round is on me.”
He tucked her close and flagged down the bartender.
Another flash of a camera.
She spun toward the camera. “Do you mind?”
“Ignore it,” he whispered. “Just you and your buddies here tonight. Forget everyone else.”
“That was one of my so-called buddies.” Her brow furrowed, and she mumbled, “Bitch.”
“Don’t react.” He knew how hard it was to ignore. “They’ll get bored, and the pics won’t sell if there’s nothing interesting.”
She burrowed into his arm. “All right.”
Another snap of a camera. Damn it.
One of the men raised his glass. “To Jenny’s new part and the free publicity.” Several people clinked glasses and offered happy-hour cheers. A couple more clicks of cell phone cameras sounded. Asher could hear Ricky in the background working his way through the crowd, trying to let her have a semblance of privacy. Maybe Asher should have thought this through before he’d shown up.
She smirked at the man who offered the cheers then turned to Asher. “It’s not like that. You’re not free publicity.”
“I know.” Too bad this had New York’s trashy newspaper coverage written all over it. “I messed your night up.”
“Screw them. I want to bail.” She ducked her head. “Let’s go.”
His arm went around her shoulder as they turned to leave. Asher nodded to Ricky, who he knew would do his best to clean up the pictures. Jenny leaned against him as they pushed through the mess of barstools and bodies. Her sweet scent teased him. Asher dropped his chin to the top of her head. “I wasn’t trying to cause a scene, sweetheart.”
“I know.” She nodded as they broke through the front door. He kept her close, walking them down the street, going who knew where. Just away. Her heels clacked over the sidewalk, catching on the cracks and toeing over the grates, until they rounded a long city block and stopped.
He couldn’t stay away and had to taste her kiss. She backed against a building’s brick façade. His shirt touched hers. The swell of her breasts pressed to his chest. He cupped her jaw, sliding his fingers into her thick hair.
“Congratulations, by the way.” He kissed her, and her welcoming response seared into his soul.
“I earned it.” Jenny knotted her hands into his starched button-down, sighing against his mouth.
The confidence in her words turned him on. Hours earlier, she’d been unsure if she would get the part, then she did, and she had realized that talent was on her side. Just yesterday, she’d wavered into their kiss, uncertain of him. But today, she teased him in a glittered costume and with her wicked tongue.
Asher nibbled her lip, tugging until he felt her smile. She slipped her tongue over his. The velvety slash caressed straight to his s
training erection.
Her arms snaked up his chest, locked around his neck. Flexing her hips into his, Jenny rubbed into his hold, and he was consumed and possessed. Everything about her made him hot. Made him lose control. His senses were inflamed, and her touch, her kiss branded her to him.
She belonged to him. In his arms. In his bed. She’s all mine.
Asher pulled her into another kiss. Tongues clashed, lips molded. Together, they were ravenous. He dropped his hands and cupped her ass, picking her up, letting her long legs wrap around him. The effect was catastrophic. The V of her legs shifting against his shaft made him insane.
The honk of a horn and an angry driver yelling out a car window broke his thoughts. His eyes were forced open. They were a few hundred feet from a main street. Even this side street would have the occasional taxi passing through. Fondling her against the wall was the wrong move. They were too public. Too many people could walk by, snap a picture, and sell it to a gossip rag. It’d embarrass her. It’d be a headache for him. But her legs squeezed, her eyes asked for his attention, and he couldn’t stop.
Asher jerked his hips into her. A strangled purr fell from her lips, and he slanted his mouth over hers again.
Another honk of nearby traffic.
She staggered a breath. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips had plumped from kissing until he could barely breathe.
“Don’t forget, they gave me an apartment.” She blinked, and the rapid-fire flutter made her seem too innocent. “It’s not far from here. Haven’t been there yet. There’s a key waiting.”
The color yellow caught in his periphery. Without putting her down, he spun and whistled. “Taxi.”
***
They were at Jenny’s temporary home-away-from-home ten bucks later. Not the greatest building, but it was the perfect location: five blocks from the theatre and half a block from the practice studio.
“The bellman has my key,” she said.
Asher was the picture of cool and collected, completely unfazed as he led her into the building and took the key from the bellman. The envelope was labeled #2306.
Compared to him, she was a mess. Her heart punched her breastbone. Her feminine parts were in overdrive—breasts aching for his touch, dampness teasing between her legs, and a wild curiosity piqued. If kissing Asher was better than she could fantasize about, what would he be like in bed?
The Titan Series: Military Romance Boxed Set Page 91
