Читать книгу The Boss And His Cowgirl - Silver James - Страница 9

Three

Clay stared at the press briefing folder lying front and center on his desk. He did not want to open it. He’d already seen the news coverage of yesterday’s fiasco. The file would hold hard copies of clippings and photographs from print media and the internet. Georgie would have put together a digital file of clips, too, and emailed it, but she knew his preference for paper. He leaned back in his chair and swiveled so he could look out the window. A few of the more lurid headlines made him roll his eyes.

Senator Protects Aide à la The Bodyguard

Barron Rescues Damsel in Distress

Senator Barron—Hero in Disguise

All the articles led with a photograph of him sweeping Georgie into his arms to carry her. He leaned forward, tapping two fingers on the photo. Georgie must have been up before the Arizona sunrise to cull all the stories from the New York shows and national press and prepare them, though she evidently had gone back to bed. She’d been asleep when he returned from the fund-raising dinner last night. The night guard said she’d taken some prescribed sleeping pills and went right to bed. Her door wasn’t locked so Clay had peeked in first thing this morning and she’d been curled up in a semi-fetal position under a thick pile of bedcovers. Then he’d walked into the suite’s study and found his desk set up just like every other working day.

Boone rapped his knuckles against the door and sauntered in, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb. He inclined his head toward the open file. “You’ve seen the headlines.”

Nodding, Clay shuffled through the file, barely glancing at the various photos and clippings. “And the coverage on all the news channels. Your take?”

“You should have a nice bump in the next poll, especially in that all-important women’s vote. They’ll see you as heroic and dashing now. Let’s face it, you’re already the most eligible bachelor inside or outside the Beltway, and we all know you’ve got the Barron good looks.” He chuckled. “Tates are more handsome, but you Barrons aren’t bad.”

Boone reflexively caught the pen Clay tossed at him then sobered. “In all seriousness, now you have that intangible mystique that will draw women. I’m sorry Georgie got caught in the middle, but those protesters did you a huge favor.”

Clay growled under his breath. He, too, hated what had happened to Georgie. Her tears just about undid him. He couldn’t deal with tears. Hadn’t since— He cut off that thought, only to have it replaced by the memory of cradling Georgie in his arms—with very little between them. He’d wanted to take care of her. And maybe a little more. Doing so would have been taking advantage of a bad situation. He was not his father or his younger brothers. He could keep his libido in check.

The curves he discovered when he’d held her had been a surprise, and seeing her in that cute, if rather prim, red lingerie left no doubts. He halted that train of thought and reminded himself that Georgie was...Georgie. She dealt with the press, wrote his speeches and corralled a large portion of his staff. Boone was his right hand and she might as well be his left. Clay kept reminding himself of that. She was his employee, even if thoughts of her made him shift in his desk chair looking for a more comfortable position. Unlike his father, he didn’t dip his pen in company ink.

“Is she still asleep?” Clay needed to see her, talk to her.

“Don’t think so, but she’s not coming out of her room.”

“Have you spoken to her?”

“No.”

Was Boone fidgeting? “Spit it out, cuz.”

Boone stepped fully into the study and closed the door before dropping into a side chair. He put on what Clay called his “headmaster” face before asking, “What happened last night?”

“Happened?”

“Yeah. What went on between you and Georgie while I was packing up her stuff and replacing what had been ruined?”

“That’s none of your business, Boone.”

“It is if it affects the operation of your office. The two of you spent a lot of time in the bathroom. Alone. With the door shut.”

Leaning back in the chair, Clay studied the man he trusted maybe even more than his own brothers. He weighed the pros and cons of disclosure and finally told Boone about their encounter in the bathroom.

“Ah...okay. Yeah. I can see why she’s avoiding us this morning, especially given the publicity. Speaking of which, what in the world possessed you to pick her up?”

That was one question Clay hadn’t asked himself. “I was right there. It just seemed...prudent.”

Boone’s face scrunched into a disbelieving scowl. “Prudent? Dude, there’s not enough preplanning and money in the world to pay for that visual so I’m not complaining, but one of the security team could have caught her.” He arched a brow. “Of course, I’m still trying to figure out why you were holding her hand in the first place.”

Why had he continued to hold her hand? Clay questioned his motivation, ignoring the heat flushing his skin—color he hoped Boone didn’t see. He’d held her hand because he wanted to, but he wasn’t about to explain that to his cousin. “It just seemed like...” Like what? Like her hand fit in his? Like he felt protective? Like she needed him? Him. Not Hunt. Not Boone. Not anyone but him. “Like the right thing to do. She was upset. She’s a valued member of my staff.”

“Oh. So you would have done the same for anyone on staff?”

Clay ignored the other man’s smirking grin. “Except you. I’d let you face-plant. What are you getting at?”

“You need to be ready for the media. Georgie needs to be prepared, too. Just sayin’.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to her so we’re on the same page. What time are we scheduled to fly back to DC?”

Boone checked his watch. “You have a meeting there at four.” He appeared to be mentally checking the flight time. “We need to leave the hotel within the hour. I’ll notify Hunt and Georgie.”

Nodding absently, Clay continued to stare out the window. “I’ll sit with Georgie on the plane so we can talk.”

Unless he was in full campaign mode, he traveled light where personnel was concerned. There would be plenty of room to spread out in the jet for the flight back to DC. He could visit with Georgie with less chance of being overheard. Not that he planned to say anything the others couldn’t hear; he just wanted to reassure her. Yes, definitely reassure her. That was what he wanted to do.

* * *

Georgie dodged the lead SUV while Clay had his back turned and jumped into the one carrying the luggage and extra security guards. Clay—no, she reminded herself. The senator. He was her boss. She never called him by his first name; that was reserved for her fantasies. Or nightmares, as last night had turned out to be. Call her chicken but she did not want to be in a confined space with him.

On the ride to the airport, she did her best not to think about the puzzled, almost hurt look Clay—the senator—had flashed her direction when he realized she wasn’t riding with him. At the hangar, a knot of reporters were waiting on the apron. Georgie grimaced and prepared to do battle with them. This was her job, and she was very good at it, so she needed to just suck it up and get this over with. She was out of the SUV almost before it came to a complete stop. She had her game face on by the time she reached the SUV carrying Clay. One of the security guards jogged in her wake.

“The media will want a statement, Senator. I apologize we didn’t have time to discuss preparing one.” Yeah, because she was too much of a coward to face him even though Boone said they needed to get their story straight.

“I’ll divert the reporters while you go straight to the plane. I’ll have something drafted for your approval before we reach Washington.” Georgie kept her voice and manner brusque. Professional. Just business as usual. Yeah, right. Nerves thrashed like piranha in a feeding frenzy in her stomach, but she asserted steely control.

The pack was already baying their questions as she plastered her patented I-got-this expression on her face and strolled off to wage a war of wits. She sauntered toward the reporters, held back by a line of uniformed police.

“Georgie! Georgie, hey, Georgie! What’s up with you and the senator?”

She arched a brow and stared down her nose at the reporter. Gratified when he squirmed, she rolled her eyes at him. “Seriously, Stu? Since when did you cover the gossip beat?”

“Georgie, what’s the senator’s stand on that pending eminent domain case in Utah?”

Now this was a slippery slope of a different angle. “As you know, Senator Barron’s family have been cattle ranchers for generations. The government coming in to deprive a landowner of his holdings is an issue that should play out in the courts, as this case is doing.”

“Georgie, you and the senator sure looked cozy last night at the hotel.” A female reporter surged forward, waving her microphone. “Is there something besides business between you two?”

Georgie used her oh-really? face on the reporter. “Trafficking in innuendo now, Jules?”

“The public wants to know, Georgie. Senator Barron is a very eligible bachelor. The two of you work very closely together and I have a source that says you spent the night in his suite.”

Georgie forgot to breathe for a moment as she fought to school her expression. According to the Washington press corps, she had one of the best poker faces in the business. She used it now to cover her distress.

“I’m sure all of you are aware of the security breach involving the senator’s appearance at the Western States Landowners Association event yesterday. Due to the protection detail’s concerns, all members of the senator’s immediate traveling party were relocated to the Sonoma Suite, which boasts of amenities for a large group. I’m really disappointed in you, Jules. I thought you were a political reporter. Maybe you and Stu should go to work for Inquiring Minds.”

She pivoted to leave but one last question caught her attention.

“Yo, Georgie, so this means you aren’t dating Senator Barron?”

Glancing over her shoulder, she offered the reporter—a grizzled veteran old enough to be her father—a dazzling smile. “Why, Ed? Do you want to ask me out?”

The reporters all laughed and Georgie made a mental note to send Ed a bottle of good scotch. He’d given her the perfect out and she owed him one. She glanced at the private jet waiting on the tarmac and gulped. Clay stood at the bottom of the steps, arms folded across his chest, feet braced apart. And he looked pissed.

* * *

Clay fairly vibrated with anger. Boone cleared his throat and elbowed him. “Smile, Clay. She handled it perfectly. That’s why we pay her the big bucks.”

“I want the names of those reporters.”

“Georgie will have them.”

“I don’t want her to know I asked for them.”

“Dammit, Clay. Take a breath, bud. This is Georgie’s job and she does it damn well. Don’t muck it up. She handled the situation. Subject closed.” Boone angled his head so he could watch Georgie’s approach and Clay’s expression. “Unless... Clay, please tell me nothing happened between you two.”

“Nothing happened between us.”

“Well, all-righty, then.”

Clay glared when Boone didn’t hide his smirk quite fast enough. He ignored his cousin and focused on the woman striding toward them. The bright autumn sun bounced off her glasses. She’d done some twisty thing with her hair again and he didn’t want to think too hard about why he preferred it down and loose. She stopped in front of him, her expression perfectly neutral.

“Georgie.”

“Senator.”

“Sit with me.”

Clay noticed the slight pursing of her lips. And was that a hint of panic in her eyes? Interesting. He ushered Georgie forward and followed, his hand resting on the small of her back to steady her. He guided her to the group of seats at the front of the plane. Two pairs of seats faced each other over an inlaid wood table.

Clay guided her into the second set of seats so she’d be sitting with her back to the rest of the plane. Then he nudged her over so that she was trapped between the bulkhead and...him. He slipped her bag off her shoulder and tossed it into one of the facing seats.

“Sit, Georgie. And buckle in. We need to take off.”

A few moments later the Rolls Royce engines on the Gulfstream whined to full-throated life and the plane eased onto the apron headed toward the runway. Within minutes they’d lifted off and were at cruising altitude. A vanilla latte appeared in front of her while a cup of black coffee was delivered to Clay. He waited until she took her first swallow before opening the conversation.

“You’ve been avoiding me. I want to know why.”

Georgie grimaced and swallowed hard. He shifted in his seat so he could watch her. A surge of color stained her throat and he wondered about the reason for it. No matter what she did or said, he worried this might not end well. She couldn’t stall him. He was determined to find out what was going on in her head, becoming even more curious when she curled her lips between her teeth, pursed them then chewed on them again as she evidently marshaled her thoughts.

She stared into his eyes then glanced away. “I’m a little embarrassed, Senator.”

“Embarrassed.” Why would the girl—woman—be embarrassed?

“Well, yes. Embarrassed.” Though everyone else sat at the rear of the cabin, she dropped her voice. “Last night. In the bathroom.”

“Why should you be embarrassed?”

Georgie gave him a scathing look. “Why? Oh, let’s recap the situation. I trip and almost fall on my face, only my boss snatches me in mid face-plant and carries me up to his suite. Then I go into full panic mode, while wearing only my underwear, with said boss present to witness said meltdown. I end up in a puddle of tears, and then we make national news. You’re right. Why in bloody blue blazes should I be embarrassed?”

Clay was a consummate politician. He knew how to camouflage his emotions. Georgie didn’t realize her voice had risen in volume and that everyone on the plane, except maybe the pilots, now knew what had happened in his bathroom. With a supreme effort, he swallowed his laughter.

“Precisely. I see no reason for embarrassment.”

“Argh!” She threw up her hands and almost knocked over her latte. He grabbed it and held it out as a peace offering even as she muttered, “Men!” under her breath and gripped the edge of the table.

With gentle pressure, he pried her fingers loose, placed the cup between them and curled her fingers around the porcelain mug. He studied her again as she drank.

She was his communications director. She literally put words in his mouth. His thumb traced lazy circles on the table and a part of him wished it was her skin he touched.

“There’s no need to be upset, especially since I...since we owe you an apology.” She opened her mouth to refute, but he silenced her with a finger touching her lips as he continued. “I personally promise it won’t happen again. From now on, Glen will be your shadow whenever we’re at a function. He’ll protect you.” His gaze caught and held hers. “I’m sorry, Georgie. I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you.”

* * *

Georgie couldn’t look away from the sincerity in his gaze. She swiveled in her seat so she could face him. His expression stunned her. She’d seen him determined, angry, sad, happy, disgusted...but she’d never seen him like this. Her stomach lurched as her pulse sped up. Georgie couldn’t name the emotion in his eyes with their thick, dark lashes the color of his ebony hair. In her imagination, where her fantasies lived, she described his hair in romance-novel terms—as glossy as a raven’s wing. And his eyes—burnt umber, even if she didn’t really know what burnt umber looked like. It sounded sexy and that term definitely fit Clay. Or cognac. Yes, that was the color. She knew what cognac looked like in a leaded glass tumbler and his eyes looked like that—smoky, swirling brown with glinting lights. Lost in his gaze, she simply took him in, letting him fill her up. The force of him edged into the empty places she’d ignored her whole life, the places where her hopes and dreams lived.

I’m in so much trouble now. Having a crush on the man was one thing, but she feared that after this trip, she’d fallen way over her head in love with her boss. She cleared her throat, dragging her gaze from his to break their connection. She managed to say one word.

“Okay.”

Another emotion flickered across his expression, lightening his mood. “Okay. Good. Then we’re all settled. How about some breakfast?”

Breakfast. Yes, breakfast would work to put some distance between them and let her get her fantasies back under control. “Okay.”

He patted her arm. “For a woman whose job is words, you seem to have very few of them at the moment.”

* * *

They were somewhere over Tennessee when Georgie fell asleep. She dreamed of Clay, of him slipping his arm over her shoulders to pull her against his side.

“Georgie?” He whispered her name.

“What?” She whispered back.

“I think I’m going to kiss you now.”

She sighed, wanting to feel his lips on hers. “You think?”

“I know I want to.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Um...yeah. Okay.” Inside the dream she wanted to bang her head on the table. What was up with her managing to only say okay?

She focused on his mouth. Full lips. Firm. Hints of smile lines at the corners.

He plucked her glasses from the end of her nose and set them aside on the table. The corner of his mouth quirked as he looked at her.

“What will you taste like?” dream Clay asked. “Dessert sweet and rich? Or twenty-year-old scotch, a smoky burn in my mouth? I can’t wait to find out.”

He lowered his head and his lips brushed across hers. She licked her bottom lip, her tongue darting out to sample the taste of him. He moved in again, no hesitation this time. His lips fastened onto hers, sucking in her bottom lip as his teeth nipped. One hand secured the back of her head, angling it to the perfect position for his tender attack.

Normally bold in her fantasies about Clay, she now felt shy and her actions mirrored her emotions. Her hands, hesitant and timid, latched onto his leather jacket—he always wore leather in her dreams—and clung there as though her life depended on it. Emotions rushed through her and a little voice said she should run. Ignoring it, Georgie pressed into their kiss, her tongue now bold enough to dance with his—until he pulled away.

“Georgie, wake up. We’re getting ready to land.” Breathing hard, she opened her eyes to discover that Clay was watching her, amusement twitching his lips into a sexy grin.

“Oh, pistachios on pita. Please tell me I wasn’t talking in my sleep.”