A Political Affair (9 page)

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Authors: Mary Whitney

BOOK: A Political Affair
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“You’re right. I should stop while I’m ahead, but it’s definitely not garden-variety.” Leaning onto his knees, Stephen rubbed his hands together in thought. “This is different.”

“How different?”

“I’ve never felt like this before, and yet I barely know her. Do you think it’s possible to feel strongly about someone you hardly know?”

“I’ll tell you. Fifty-seven years ago, I decided I wanted to marry Laura really only knowing she was Protestant, she was clever enough to make me laugh, and there was no place I wanted to be more than up her skirt. All of those things are still true today.”

Stephen laughed and shook his head at the man who was both his colleague and substitute father figure.

“Are you sure she’s special?” Grayson asked, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wiped his brow and chuckled. “Now don’t be offended, but in the South, we’d say you’re a hard dog to keep on the porch.”

“I don’t think that would be a problem with the right woman. I’ve always wanted to settle down eventually.”
 

“Well, even your father settled down . . . eventually. Listen, if you’re thinking seriously about that young lady, you need to hear this. I’ve got a daughter whom I love dearly. I bet Elton Norwood feels the same way about his little girl; they’ll always be our little girls, in a way. I’m warning you, if someone such as yourself—with your power and privilege—took advantage of my young daughter . . . well, I would . . .”

“You would what?”

“Cut his balls off.”

“I won’t take advantage of her.” He shook his head. “At this point, I’d just like to get to know her. Tell me something. I keep trying to think of what my father would have done in this situation.”

“Patrick? With Lillian? Aw, hell, thirty years ago he wouldn’t have blinked an eye. He’d have pursued her the moment she walked in his office. Now things are different. An elected official can get crucified for messing around with an intern.”

“Yeah. I know that,” Stephen said sarcastically.

“So what would Patrick do today? I’m not sure. He was as devoted to Lillian as I am to Laura, but . . . he valued his family’s legacy, public service, and had impeccable integrity. I don’t know if he’d jeopardize it.”

“That’s not really helpful.”

“I can’t speak for the dead.” Grayson smiled in sympathy. “And this is your life. You have to make your own way.”

Rubbing his brow in confusion, Stephen nodded.

“Now, I know you came here with Diane Schultz tonight. She’s a wonderful woman, and you need to attend to your date. Let’s go back to that dreadful dinner. You’ll be able to honestly tell her you were talking with me.”

When he entered the banquet hall and saw Anne’s empty table, he grimaced. He assumed they had gone out to a bar for some fun, as most of the younger staff did after a dinner. Looking over to Diane, he noticed she was deep in conversation with a lobbyist.
 

While he and Diane only dated casually, he knew they both expected to share a bed once the evening was over. With his conversation with Anne fresh on his mind, he decided he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to be with Diane. Anne was the one for him, but he couldn’t have her. He shook his head at his predicament; he had no idea what to do.
 

Chapter 7

On Monday morning, Anne walked into the office with trepidation. She told herself she shouldn’t be nervous, but the butterflies from her encounter with Senator McEvoy reemerged. Both worried and hopeful she might see him in the office, she buried her head in the Federal Register to keep her thoughts on work. But when she came back from lunch, she was so self-absorbed she ran straight into his path.
 

   
“Good afternoon, Anne.” His smile twitched as if he held back a chuckle.

“Good afternoon,” she blurted out, not certain how to address him.
What am I supposed to call him now?
He stood before her dressed in his usual suit and tie, which would call for “Senator McEvoy.” Yet they were alone, and his blue eyes danced, so she wanted to call him “Stephen.”

“Did you enjoy the rest of your Saturday evening?” he asked, crossing his arms. “I noticed you left early.”
 

“Um. Yes. We went out.”
 

“I called it an early night to get some sleep. I had to work yesterday.”

She processed his comment as he stared into her eyes with intense sincerity.
Is he trying to tell me he wasn’t with Diane Schultz Saturday night? That he didn’t sleep with her?
She searched his eyes for an answer, and his happy gaze made her think she was right. She smiled and remarked, “Your schedule must be difficult right now.”
 

“It comes with the job. We’ll still get to have a prep session this week.” His smile grew. “That will be fun.”

“You’re generous to do it.”
 

“Well, I enjoy it.”
 

Patty’s voice echoed through the hall. “Stephen, we have a meeting.”

“I’ll be right there,” he said, sounding a little amused.

Anne looked at Patty for a moment as she stood checking her phone. After a few seconds, Patty glanced at them with a suspicious glare. Anne turned to Stephen again, wondering what things were like between the siblings.

“Excuse me. I have to go placate my sister.” Stephen rolled his eyes.
 

“I’m guessing you’ve had to do that your whole life.” She laughed. “Has it gotten worse since you took office?”

“Absolutely. It
should
be easier now—because we’re adults.” He shook his head. “But because of my job and the fact that we’re all working together, it can be worse than when I was twelve.”

“That must be really annoying.”

“Believe me it is.” He nodded toward Patty. “I should go now. Have a good rest of your day.”

“You, too.”

They parted ways, and Anne went back to her desk bewildered—yet again.
 

When Stephen sprinted out of the room after Thursday’s study session ended, Anne was disappointed. She’d hoped they could talk again like the week before, but he obviously had plans. She frowned to herself thinking they might be
with Diane Schultz.
 

As she passed by his office door, Greg called her name. She poked her head in, and saw Megan kicked back in a chair while Greg sat with his feet up on his desk.
 

“Hey, do you want to have dinner with us?” he asked. “We’re just going to the brew pub down the street.”

Anne glanced at Megan to make sure she was welcome. Megan shrugged with a smile. “Come along. It’ll be fun.”

“Great. Thanks for asking.”

Stephen’s voice came from behind her. “I’m ready to go when you are.”
 

Anne looked over, her mouth agape in surprise to see him beside her.
 

“Are you joining us?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “Greg invited me. Let me get my bag.”
 

Anne flexed her hands as she walked to her cubicle.
It’s a perfectly normal thing to go out after work. Do not make more of it than that.
 

She stuck close to Greg as they walked the few blocks to the local brew pub. The loud and boisterous restaurant eased her fears of an awkward intimate dinner. Instead, the mood was fun. Everyone laughed as Greg and Anne told silly stories of growing up in Summit County, with its odd mix of ranchers, hippies, tourists, ski bums, and wealthy part-time residents.
 

When Megan excused herself to the bathroom, Stephen followed along. The moment they were out of earshot, she snapped. “You duped Greg into this, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” He smiled. “I simply suggested it might be nice to continue to make Anne feel welcome in the office.”

“Huh. A likely story.”

“Well, it’s true,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Oh, and I’ll take everyone home.”

“Wait.” She pulled him aside for an even more private conversation. “In what order are you dropping us off?”

“Greg first, of course, because he lives on the Hill. Then you, and then Anne. She lives in Adams-Morgan, right?”

“Yes, but I should be last.”

“No, you live on the way up to Adams-Morgan, and I can get home quicker by taking Connecticut after dropping Anne off.” His reasoning was sound; she couldn’t dispute it was the shortest route around the city. “And there’s nothing wrong with it. I always take Greg home after something like this. If Anne was a guy, you wouldn’t even question it. Besides, Jim will be driving. We won’t be alone.” He smirked as he said the last sentence.
 

Jim had also been his father’s driver, and he remained intensely loyal to the family. Stephen didn’t think his sister needed to know Jim always listened to the radio through an ear bud while he drove. He never turned to look in the backseat no matter what went on behind him.

“Patty
will not
like this,” she warned.
 

“We don’t have to tell Patty. And if she does find out, it’s not a big deal.” He shrugged. “Come on, Meg. Give me a break. I’m not going to touch her. I just want to get to know her better. This is harmless, and it’s ten minutes tops we’ll be alone.”

“Well . . .” Megan shook her head. “Okay. I’ll cover for you, but you owe me.”

When Anne learned of the ride home, she was happy to avoid the unreliable late-night Metro. Greg was also happy to have the ride, saying he was pleased to get home sooner to his wife. It was only after they dropped him off that Anne learned she would be the last person in the car with Stephen.
 

Anne gulped. While things had been easygoing between them, she didn’t expect to end the night alone together. It would change everything. Something didn’t feel right about it—like it was a setup. As they drove first to Greg’s house and then to Megan’s, Anne tried to calm herself down, but she wondered what he wanted.
 

When Megan left the car at her beautiful home on Swan Street, Stephen switched from the front to the now-open backseat. “So where do you live?” he asked as he sat down. “I’ll tell Jim the address.”

“Um. Kalorama, just off Eighteenth Street.”

Stephen tapped Jim. Removing his ear bud, Jim leaned to hear the address. Afterward, he nodded, replaced the ear bud, and drove on without saying a word.

Anne crammed the left side of her body into the car door. She wanted to be as far away from the senator as possible. Her head down, she focused on her coat buttons as she calculated the driving time to her home. Curiosity soon overtook her, and she glanced at Stephen, who stared at her with a furrowed brow. She didn’t know what to say, so her focus went back to her buttons.
 

“How’s your horse?” His voice broke the silence.

“My horse?” She raised her head and smiled hesitantly. “He’s good.”

“Do you have a picture?’

“Yeah.” She fumbled around her purse and found her phone. After a few taps, she pulled up a photo of a well-fed black beauty with snowy mountains in the background. “Here he is.”

Stephen smiled. “He’s beautiful. With a nice, thick, winter coat.”

“He’s my boy.” She smiled and returned the photo to her bag. “I miss him.”

“You know, there are lots of places to ride in Virginia.”

“Don’t they mostly ride English there?” She shrugged, not waiting for an answer. “I don’t really like it. It feels uncomfortable.”

“I prefer western, too, and actually bareback even more, if I know the horse.”

“Yeah, me, too.” She examined the gaze of his bright blue eyes.
He has to be the smoothest operator on Earth if he’s pulling this stuff out of thin air to impress me.
She grasped for something she could ask to test his abilities at impressing women. “So,
Senator McEvoy
, what are you reading these days?”

Instead of immediately answering, she was surprised when his brow furrowed again. His expression became earnest. “Please, when we’re alone, I want you to call me Stephen. I’m sure it’s confusing, but I . . . I feel like I won’t get to know you if you only think of me that way.

“I mean . . .” His voice became stronger as if he was backpedaling. “When you call me Senator McEvoy, you might as well be talking to my father.”

“Right . . .” She nodded, although she was curious what he meant by
get to know you
.
 

“And I’m not answering your question until you tell me what you’re reading.” He chuckled.

“Why?”
 

“Because my current book is a little embarrassing.”

“Okay. But actually, mine is embarrassing, too—because I’ve read it at least three times already. It’s
Jane Eyre
. I picked it up again last night when I couldn’t sleep.” She cocked her head. “All right,
Stephen
. Now it’s your turn.”

He smiled and shook his head. “You’ll see why it’s embarrassing. I’m reading
Master of the Senate
.”
 

“The LBJ book? I read it last year in a poli-sci class. Is it the title that’s embarrassing?”
 

“I suppose so. In no way do I aspire to be the master of the Senate. It’s a good book, though.”
 

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