“Three weeks and the Post covers your stay, but you have to give me something right now. I don’t need the whole meal, just a nibble I can chew on until I hear from you again.”
“Okay, so what I’m looking into directly involves the White House.”
A deep snort sounded from the other end of the call. “This is D.C., Janie. Every story is about the White House.”
It was worth a shot.
“Okay, fine. What if I said it involves a White House intern?”
Ellis’ tone grew more serious at the additional word. “An intern?” His interest sounded more than a little piqued. “Are you sure?”
“About that part? One hundred percent.”
“I have to admit we haven’t had a scandal like that in a while.”
“Give me enough time to look into this thing, and you will.”
Though she had a feeling this was about a whole lot more than a sitting president taking advantage of an impressionable young girl.
“You drive a hard bargain, Janie.” The man who very well could become her boss sighed again. “Three weeks and not a minute longer.”
Her smile grew wide. “You won’t regret this, David. Trust me.”
“This is Washington, sweetheart. Stick around long enough, and you’ll soon learn you can’t trust anyone in this town.”
“We’ll talk soon,” she promised before ending the call.
The sound of running water pulled her attention back to the nearly full tub.
The bath!
“Oh, crap!” Janie exclaimed aloud as she raced to turn off the faucet.
Mountains of thick, white bubbles had formed along the water’s surface. She nearly laughed at herself when she thought about the mess that could have occurred had the phone call taken even a few minutes longer.
Within minutes, she was climbing into the steaming oasis. The water had bite when it first touched her skin, but once she was submerged to her shoulders, the slight sting from the heat was a welcomed, soothing pain.
Janie rested her neck on the tub’s built-in pillow, and for the first time in days, she truly let herself relax. She’d allow herself this brief respite from the world, and then she’d get back to work.
Her lids fell shut, and as she lay there, surrounded by water and mounds of concealing, vanilla-scented suds, she pictured Emmett’s handsome face. She imagined what it would be like to run her fingers through his dark hair or touch the sprinkles of gray at his temples.
Beneath the water, her fingers twitched as she envisioned touching the course hair of his beard. Janie could almost imagine herself toying with the bit of gray that adorned his chin.
Emmett was a man of few words who appeared to take his job very seriously. The client in her was quite thankful for that, but the woman in her needed to be very careful where he was concerned.
Very careful, indeed.
Janie couldn’t remember a time when she felt such an intense, magnetic pull toward a man as she did with Emmett. But this wasn’t about her. It was about finding Amy Weaver, and she couldn’t—shewouldn’t—let herself become distracted from that goal.
Even someone as mouthwateringly tempting as Emmett Shaw.
He stood at his office window, swirling the half-empty glass in his hand, waiting for the man he’d sent for to arrive. The view was truly magnificent.
Killer, some might say.
His lips curled at the thought as he turned to face the person who’d just opened the door to his office. “So?” He returned to his desk and began pouring his guest a drink to match his own. “What did you find out?”
The sharply dressed man without a hair out of place ensured the door was shut before giving his response. “Her name is Janie Reynolds.” He kept his voice low. Quiet. “She’s an investigative journalist from St. Louis.”
