* * * *
I don’t join Shae in Owen Taylor’s office, where he and Carter Wilson are already talking when we arrive unexpectedly. I did enjoy the vague terror Taylor’s receptionist displayed as Shae asked fora few minutes of the governor’s time while I stood there with a dark and stony glare on my face. I didn’t have to say a word, because I’m obviously Secret Service.
Not my fault if she assumes I’m Shae’s personal protection.
I wait outside during their chat and throw off scary-guy vibes while they have their conversation.
What Iwasn’tthrilled with was how hot the two guys are.
As in, I’ddo either of them.
Or both of them.
When Shae emerges from Taylor’s office, I find myself face-to-face with those two hunks and I’ll admit I see them as competition.
Competition I don’t want. I like what is currently an uncomplicated relationship with Shae.
I’m not going to admit I love her. Not yet. That’s how people get their hearts broken, by admitting stuff too soon.
Besides, I reservelove for Kevin, and look where that got me.
As we’re leaving, I call down to the kid to have the car waiting for us at the front entrance. Technically, this little errand today is stretching a few regs, but I can explain it all away.
Training the kid, duh. Also, I was already in Florida doing threat assessment. Shae gets dozens of crazy e-mails and letters every week, and some of those we haveto follow up on. Meaning I need face-time with her to discuss them, and a little precaution never hurt anyone.
Thus everything is easily explained away.
I’m interested in talking with her about her quick meeting, but I know we can’t with the kid in the car, or with ears in the capitol. “Townhouse, six?” she softly asks while we’re alone in the elevator on the way downstairs.
“Yep,” I say withouteven looking at her.
I direct the kid to Shae’s townhouse. While I’m no bellboy, I do have manners and get her bag from the trunk for her and walk her up to her door, where I wait until she’s disarmed her alarm before I return to the car.
At five ’til six I’m back, letting myself in with my own key, and she’s got something almost ready for dinner, because the place smells great.
I drop my bagon the couch and walk to the kitchen, where I wrap my arms around her and nibble on the back of her neck.
She laughs and tips her head back for a proper kiss. “Is that your gun, Special Agent Bruunt, or are you happy to see me?”
“Yes, Senator.” Okay, it’s corny, but it never gets old and always makes me smile. “So what happened?”
The smile flees, replaced by a scowl. “No-go. Taylor isn’t interestedin being VP, and Wilson says he’s basically retiring to raise their kids.”
“Ah.” I mentally check my relief. “So the search continues?”
“Yeah.”
I’ve been vetting people for her on the sly. Nothing that would break regs—mostly—but I’ve helped her eliminate several potentials who have down-low scandals that could set her campaign back by a lot were they to come to light as her running mate.
“I really don’t want to run for Senate again,” she says, “but I guess that’s what I’m doing if I don’t nail down a campaign manager before New Year’s. I can find someone to run that. Hell, I can bring back the deputy campaign manager from my last run, if necessary, but I really don’t think he’s POTUS-run material.” The guy she used for her previous Senate campaigns is now chief of staff to the governorof Georgia. He isn’t interested in climbing back into the national political mosh pit, either.
“Four terms in the Senate isn’t a bad cred to have.”
She turns in my arms. “It’s getting too close to my PR expiration date, and like hell am I going through plastic surgery. That’s just stupid. Guys can get away with looking all craggy and weathered. Women? Not so much.”
She’s got a point, unfortunately.Shae is a beautiful woman, with her long, black hair and piercing grey eyes. She’s switched from her contacts to glasses since we dropped her off, and right now she’s wearing a Lightning hockey jersey and a pair of shorts. For forty-five, she looks damn good, although coloring her hair to keep the grey out definitely helps.
“I’m going to go change,” I tell her. I brush one more kiss over herlips and head upstairs with my bag. She really needs a house so we can do everything we want to do and not worry about being overheard. It’s on her to-do list, but I have to admit, finding a campaign manager is pretty important.
