Incumbent(7)

My little sister saw right through me. Although I was the oldest and she was the youngest of our siblings, she knew me better than anyone.

“But you are a senator.” When she noticed I wasn’t amused, she backed off. “Fine, I’ll knock it off, but I want to hear about this woman who’s apparently taken up residence in your head.”

Just the thought of Lucy made my pulse beat a bit faster, and an image popped in my head of her in my arms, with my lips devouring hers.

“Hello,” came across the table from me in a singsong voice, interrupting my fantasy. Gretchen snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Still here, you know.”

I shrugged. “She’s beautiful, smart, and sexy,” I said, tossing my sister a metaphorical bone.

Gretchen leaned her elbow on the table and propped her head in her hand, waiting for me to continue.

“I don’t know what else to say. She’s interesting.”

“Interesting, smart, and sexy.” Gretchen waggled her eyebrows. “Sounds like your kind of woman.”

“You forgot beautiful.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

Our waitress reappeared carrying steaming plates, and I sighed with relief.

Pulling my plate toward me, I focused on my food rather than face my sister. “There isn’t one.”

Ignoring her dinner, Gretchen frowned at me. “Okay, you officially lost me. If there isn’t a problem, then why not go for it?”

“Is that it? Go for it?”

“Does there need to be more?”

She was right; nothing more needed to be said. Hell, even that didn’t need to be said. I knew I needed to get to know Lucy, but for some reason, I felt the need for someone else to tell me it was okay. And not just anyone—someone in my family, someone I could trust.

Once I was back in my brownstone an hour later, I settled into bed and clicked on ESPN. Most of my colleagues watched C-SPAN, or at least claimed to, but I needed to decompress and get some sports action in. The Nationals played Baltimore tonight, and I just wanted a score.

I watched the ticker scroll across the bottom of the screen, and before I knew it, the sun was shining, and I still didn’t know the outcome of the game.

? ? ?

Groaning, I stretched, my muscles stiff from sleeping on the couch. Once I managed to get up and shuffle to my door, I opened it and groaned again when I bent over to grab the Post, which I paid extra to have delivered to my home. I could get the news online, but there was something about the smell of printed ink and my cup of coffee in the morning that relaxed me.

My phone dinged. Finally, the text I’d been waiting for.



LUCY: It was our pleasure. Thank you for coming to my class.





Pleasure—that was all I could picture giving her. The way her pale skin contrasted with her reddish-brown hair and black dress made my pulse race, as if I’d run a few miles around a track. Not to mention the cute freckle on her right cheek. It was pale, but it appeared to dance on her cheekbone with every smile. I couldn’t wait to make it do the salsa with all the smiles I intended to give her.

I made a quick cup of coffee, which was exactly what I needed to wake me up. As I flipped to the sports section of the newspaper, the picture on the society page caught my eye, captioned SENATOR PRESCOTT AND DATE AT FERGUSON FUNDRAISER.

Damn. Gretchen was going to be irritated. Not to mention her boyfriend wouldn’t be thrilled since to everyone else it would seem as if she were stepping out on him. Sure, he knew me and knew it wasn’t true, but his friends and family wouldn’t.

Ben sent me an e-mail to tell me I didn’t have any engagements this evening, but that wasn’t going to be the case if I had anything to say about it. The only thing I knew for sure is I wanted to get to know Ms. Washburn, and Ben wasn’t going to know about it.



DRAKE: Good morning. How are you today, Ms. Washburn?





I glanced at the clock and was disappointed to see it was only eight in the morning, so she might still be sleeping. That turned out not to be the case when my phone pinged with a response.



LUCY: Good morning. I’m fine, thank you. How are you, Mr. Prescott?





Yes! Time to put my plan in action.



DRAKE: Are you busy today?



LUCY: Yes.





That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Apparently I’d paused long enough for her to think I needed an explanation, because she messaged me again to explain. Smart woman.



LUCY: I’m grading US History mid-term papers.



DRAKE: Ah, my specialty. Would you like some help?



LUCY: You want to help me grade papers?



DRAKE: You don’t think I’m qualified?



LUCY: But you’re a senator.



DRAKE: And that doesn’t qualify me?



LUCY: Yes, of course, but it’s boring.



DRAKE: But you’re not.





When she didn’t respond right away, I decided to call her. I wasn’t much for text messages. In my business, we don’t like anything personal in writing.

“Hello?” Her timid voice made me smile.