She harrumphed, but there was no animosity in it. By the time I hung up, the car had pulled up in front of my place. I walked up the three flights to my tiny place, then ripped off my clothes and threw them in a pile in the corner before falling into bed with a smile on myface.
My phone buzzed and I grabbedit.
I put a rush on those lamps. They’ll be heretomorrow.
Is that aninvitation?
Yes.
I shut my eyes and worked hard to remember the feel of him against me, his fingers inside of me, his hot breath on my skin. That look on his face after I came, of pure male satisfaction. Just thinking about it got my body worked up. And then I remembered: I’d met him just three times. He was a stranger, practically. And he’d had his fingers inme.
I covered my face with one hand.I let a near-stranger fingerbang me on his backporch.
This all had the makings of a very bad idea—having an affair with an unknown in the midst of a campaign? Doing sexy stuff outside, where anyone could snap pictures? Trusting a man who clearly had something tohide?
Badidea.
But none of that stopped me from wantingmore.
7
Veronica
I was headedhome from a fundraiser a week later when my phone buzzed in my pocket. The bus chose that moment to turn the corner, so I ignored the phone and ran. Or tottered, rather, since the height of my heels seemed to be in direct correlation with the amounts individuals donated. And tonight was a big money night. The biggest of the entire campaign, which meant four-inch stilettos and a dress so long I’d have to swing the skirt over my shoulder just to go up the steps. The fancier the digs, the bigger the donors, the higher the heels, and the farther the houses were from a bus stop, withoutfail.
I nodded at the driver, huffed to a seat by the rear exit and sank down with a sigh before pulling out my phone with excitement. It had to be Zach. He texted me every evening now, although I hadn’t seen him since that night. He’d invited me back for dinner, but my campaign team had organized one meet and greet after another and, considering that I was the candidate, popping out to see my—whatever he was—wasn’t exactlyfeasible.
And the texting was good. It wassafe.
Things were heating up with Rylie, too. I mean, he still had signs in two-thirds of the city’s yards and businesses, but with the help of my extra teams of canvassers and a new wave of bigger donations—including one massive one from a company I’d never heard of, my name was getting outthere.
I looked at myphone.
You’refamous.
What?
Today’s article. The journalist seems to likeyou.
Oh. O’Neal’s one of my best friends. It’s an Op-Ed.
Preschool Teacher Takes on Local Establishment. I like it. David againstGoliath.
I smiled andtapped.
Nothing so sexy asthat.
I beg todiffer.
Those words had my face heating in the near-empty bus. What was it about him that got my pulse rocking so hard? We’d talked every day since that dinner, but there’d been no sexting oranything.
Where areyou?
Headed home from adinner.
On thebus?
Yeah
