Incumbent(32)

A woman seated next to Charles asked, “What about abortion?”

Lucy began to cough, and I placed my hand on her back. “Are you okay?”

She set her wineglass down. “Yes, thank you. I just swallowed wrong.”

Our salads arrived and the conversation lightened. Although this was a political fundraiser, I wanted people to enjoy themselves. I was all for debates and often encouraged them, but I also wanted to enjoy the evening.

After the first course, the band began to play, and I didn’t hesitate to take Lucy’s hand in mine and lead her to the dance floor. I spun her around once before pulling her into my arms.

“Are you having a good time?”

She gazed up at me and her eyes caught the light reflecting off the chandelier. “Yes, thank you. Are you?”

“I am, although you had me worried before. I’m glad you’re okay.” When her eyes shuttered, I asked, “Lucy, what is it?”

Focusing her gaze over my shoulder, she asked, “How long have you known Ben?”

“A few years now. He ran campaigns for other senators, and when my original manager, Edward, decided to leave politics, I hired him. He works hard for me, and he’s a good friend. Why?”

“I don’t know. He rubs me the wrong way. He seems to snarl every time he sees me. I don’t think he likes me very much.” She frowned, and I felt it in my heart.

“He’s a bit protective of me, but that’s to be expected. It’s his job to keep my campaign on course.” Forcing a smile, I said, “But let’s not talk about him. All I want to do is hold you in my arms, get through the rest of the dinner, and then take you home so you can show me what you have on underneath that gown.”

When I winked at her, her mouth dropped open before she said, “What makes you think I have anything on?”

My eyebrows shot up to my hairline, but when her face turned red, I tried to backpedal. “That’s not what I meant it to sound like. I meant . . .” I shook my head and chuckled. “You know what? Forget it, I don’t even know what I meant anymore.”

? ? ?

The rest of the evening was uneventful. It only took us about five minutes to say our good-byes. There was nothing or no one that was going to take any more time away from me and Lucy. Not even Ben, who scurried behind us while firing off agenda items, could get me to slow down. I waved him off and told him I would be unavailable for the rest of the weekend, and to take tomorrow off.

Driving to Lucy’s apartment would take too long, so I drove us to my place. She happily agreed when she noticed we were headed in the opposite direction of where she lived. I found a parking space not far from my brownstone and helped Lucy from the car. Her red high heels not hindering her speed, she kept up with me and appeared to be as eager as I was to be alone. We made our way to my door hand in hand.

“Your place is pretty swanky.” Lucy stepped into my small foyer as she looked around and took in my decor. “Doesn’t look like the bachelor pad I pictured.”

“It shouldn’t. Your pal Gretchen did it all. Let me see, how did she put it?” I glanced up at the ceiling. “Ah yes. ‘No woman is going to want to be in a house that looks like an expensive frat house.’”

“You decorated it like a frat house?”

“No. It had a couple pieces of black leather furniture, a kitchen table, and my bedroom furniture, of course. But as you can see, it’s a little different now, full of blues and grays. Gretch said it was calming.” I shrugged.

“It’s sublime. She did a wonderful job.” Lucy looked down. “But she has the shabby-to-chic knack. Look what she did for me.”

I linked my fingers behind her back and rested them just above the curve of her ass. My thumbs gently caressed her bare skin above the low back of her dress.

“You were never shabby. The first day I saw you in your classroom, I thanked God you weren’t my teacher when I was a kid. I would have had my notebook or my baseball cap on my lap at all times.”

She giggled. “Really?”

Refusing to release her, I pulled her closer. “Yes. Really. Thank you for coming tonight.”

“Thank you for asking me. It was so fascinating.”

“Well, I’ve never heard a fundraiser described that way.” I chuckled, but she was serious.

“There was so much power in that room. Those men and women write laws and policies, and help our country.” Her eyes wide, she said, “Someone like me doesn’t see that very often.”

“You think men who deal in policies have power?” I asked, and she nodded. “You do realize I’ve helped turn policies into laws, right?” Another nod. “And I’m a man.” This time she bit her lower lip when she nodded. “So, since you’ve conceded that I’m a powerful man who can write policies, then I have one right now that I’d like to enforce.”

“What’s that?” she asked, her words a mere fraction above a whisper.

“That you’ll stay here tonight—with me. In my bed.”

“Is that a law?”

Her pupils dilated, making her eyes look even darker, and it was a miracle my pants zipper was able to contain my shaft, which was now as hard as stone.

“It is now,” I said, but didn’t wait for a response.