In Bed With the Opposition Read online

  Her fingers squeezed his in what he hoped was approval. “Where are we going?”

  “Wherever we want,” Ethan said.

  It wasn’t any quieter outside. Georgetown on Halloween was a mass of college kids and costumed partiers on parade. Ethan and Grace had to walk several blocks before they were able to escape the press of humanity and flag down a cab. But the fact that they had to shout to be heard reduced their communication to heated glances, and when it came to body language, Grace was eloquent as hell.

  She wanted him. He wanted her. And if there had been a goddamned phone booth anywhere in sight, he’d have slipped her into it faster than Superman.

  By the time they got into the cab, he couldn’t resist her for one more second. The car turned, her body slid against his, and he kissed her. Her lip gloss tasted like strawberry and waves of her hair kept tickling his face, but all he cared about was the feel of her tongue tangled with his. When he tilted her head back, she whimpered, but he could sense a protest brewing. He was sorely tempted to take her back to his hotel room, but if she was this resistant to kissing in the back of a cab, he’d better slow down before he screwed everything up again.

  They got out of the cab at the Lincoln Monument, all lit up against the dark night. He held her hand as they climbed the stairs, fully intending to romance her. But when he caught another glimpse of that lasso of truth on her hip, he thought about tying her up and then all the blood drained from the vicinity of his tongue to somewhere decidedly south of there. Without any coherent thought, he pulled Grace into the shadowy recesses and pushed her up against a pillar…where she froze.

  Following her gaze to the enormous spotlighted statue, he realized his error. Lincoln’s weighty sadness was a mood-killer. He should have kissed her under the ethereal dome of the Jefferson or groped her next to the waterfall at the FDR. What the hell was he thinking making the moves on her under the dour gaze of Honest Abe?

  Grace gulped air. “I—I…what are you doing?”

  “Making up for lost time?” Ethan suggested with a wink. “Relax, nobody’s watching.”

  “Just a thousand security cameras!”

  She sounded totally freaked out. He knew she liked her privacy but this was getting silly. “Do you have any idea how many people kiss each other here? It’s romantic, Grace.”

  “I shouldn’t be doing this. And I shouldn’t be doing this with you.”

  “Why not? I’m Superman. You’re Wonder Woman. It’s fine; we’re fellow members of the Justice League…”

  She gave a little laugh, but then it wobbled into a frown. “You’re not looking for a girlfriend.”

  He wasn’t. That was a good point. But it wasn’t nonnegotiable. “Why, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

  It gratified him that she didn’t brush it off. “I don’t know. We hardly know each other—”

  “Oh, I beg to differ,” he said, vivid memories of their past sweeping through his mind.

  “But Ethan, you never stay in one place longer than a campaign season…”

  All he wanted to do was kiss her. Well, he wanted to do a lot more than that, but right now all he wanted to do was kiss her. So, why was she making this so complicated? “It’s a brave new world. We’ve got planes, phones, e-mail…”

  She frowned. “I don’t want to be your booty call every time you fly into DC.”

  Now she was kind of pissing him off. “Jesus, where did that come from? I haven’t even tried to get to second base yet, and you’re accusing me of making booty calls?”

  She blinked, giving a rueful shake of her head. “I’m sorry. Blain stood me up tonight and I thought leaving with you would make me feel better. But the only reason I’m here with you now is to forget somebody else.”

  Ethan reeled as her words hit him on several levels. First, her honesty. She’d been stood up and it’d hurt her feelings. Not too many girls would admit a thing like that. They’d play the game, never letting on that anybody would pass up the chance to be with them. Which brought Ethan to the second part of his reaction. Indignation. How stupid would a guy have to be to stand up Grace Santiago? Blain Halloway must be a blind, dickless jackass.

  And then there was the third and most potent emotion that ran through him: Fury.

  Was she seriously telling him that all this chemistry between them was one-sided? That she was only here with him to get back at some other guy? Screw that, Ethan thought. He was nobody’s rebound. Anger swirled together with his attraction for her in a dangerous cocktail. “You know, Grace, it’s never going to work out with him.”

  Her spine stiffened. “Why not?”

  “Because the next time you’re with him, you’re gonna be thinking about me. And you’re gonna be thinking about this…” Ethan dipped his head to capture those glossy lips of hers and pressed his whole body against her. She tensed and went so rigid he worried he’d misread her, but then she gave in to the kiss completely.

  At the pressure of his rock-hard erection against her belly, she moaned into his mouth and he let his hands drop to caress her arms. As they made out, her body came awake under his hands. He loved the way she reacted to him, like she was a bottle of pent-up need that he’d just uncorked. She clutched at him, encouraging him with every heated breath. He was pretty sure he could have had her, right then and right there. He was also sure that she knew it.

  And that’s why he stopped.

  “Next time I’m in DC, Grace, maybe we can talk about who used who for a booty call.”

  …

  Well, I’ve certainly screwed that up, Grace thought in the cab ride home, absently tracing her lips where Ethan’s kiss still tingled. She’d never seen him so angry, and she couldn’t blame him. If there were an award for giving mixed signals, she’d definitely be in the running to win it.

  He’d kissed her, in public, again. And in spite of knowing better, she’d loved it. That scared her. What kind of girl was she, kissing a man in laundries and taxicabs and at the feet of the Great Emancipator?

  She wanted Ethan just as much as she’d ever wanted him before, but nothing good could come of a one-night stand with Ethan Castle. Not even a string of one-night stands—which is exactly what it would be, given what he did for a living. She didn’t want a long-distance relationship with a guy who had no time for her.

  Especially since she was already sort of in a relationship with a local guy who had no time for her.

  The next morning, while she tried not to yawn during a meeting with bickering legislative aides, Blain poked his blond head around the corner. “Oh hey, Grace. I’m sorry about last night. It completely slipped my mind.”

  She had to hand it to Blain; he’d inherited his grandfather’s political instincts. Apologizing to her in front of their colleagues, where she couldn’t make a scene, was a stroke of genius. All Grace could do was shrug.

  Blain smiled conciliatorily. “I’m sorry we missed the parade of costumes, but there’s always next year, right?”

  Grace nearly snapped the pencil in her hand. “Sure.” She’d waited this long for Blain, so why wouldn’t he think she’d still be waiting for him next Halloween? He didn’t need a lasso of truth to tell him she was just that loyal…or pathetic. And why did she let him get away with it?

  When she got back to her desk, she found a big vase of black-eyed Susans and an apology note from Blain, saying he was looking forward to spending Thanksgiving together. Black-eyed Susans were not only the state flower, but also Grace’s favorite, and Blain knew it. He knew everything about her.

  Maybe that’s why she let him get away with so much.

  She didn’t like to explain herself to people and with Blain, she never had to. He knew her dad had abandoned her; he’d been there to wipe Grace’s tears when her father then started a whole new family and never looked back. Growing up, Blain had protected her, mentored her, and comforted her. He’d been the first guy she’d ever slept with, the first guy she’d ever loved, and the guy who risked his career for
her.

  He’d even been with her at the funeral…

  So sure, Blain was often a jerk about the little things, but every time she’d really needed him, he’d been there. On the other hand, he had never, ever, kissed her the way Ethan kissed her last night. She was pretty sure that nobody in the whole world kissed like Ethan did.

  It hadn’t been true, what she’d said at the Lincoln Memorial. She hadn’t only gone with Ethan to forget Blain. She’d gone with Ethan because he made her feel wanted. Because he’d always made her feel wanted…and given the expression on his face when they parted at the monument, she’d made him feel like crap.

  …

  The leaves weren’t on the trees anymore, frost was on the ground, and Ethan knew that McLanahan was out. Within five minutes of meeting the guy, he knew he couldn’t vote for him, much less work for him. Sure, Ethan could sell wooden-but-earnest do-gooders who felt the clarion call to serve. He could even sell eccentrics. He’d once helped to elect a former tattoo parlor owner, covered in ink, by enlisting the help of motorcycle aficionados. But what Ethan couldn’t do was convince voters there was something to a candidate when there was nothing.

  So McLanahan was out.

  Which meant Ethan still didn’t have a campaign.

  Now, to the extreme annoyance of the other morning commuters on the metro, Ethan’s backpack and papers sprawled over three seats. He tried to clean up the mess with one hand, and answered his phone with the other.

  “Listen, I’m flattered,” he said to the persistent would-be candidate, some Maryland professor-turned-politico. “But you can’t afford me.”

  “I’ve studied your work, Mr. Castle,” the professor said. “You used to run grassroots campaigns on a shoestring.”

  And it used to be a lot more fun, too, Ethan remembered. It was more exciting than working for some douche bag like McLanahan or even a fossil like Kip Halloway. That’s for sure.

  “Just an interview, Mr. Castle. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Ethan admonished himself for even considering a fringe candidate. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to waste your time or mine.”

  Just as he finished the conversation, his phone vibrated in his hand with a text message.

  I was a jerk last night. -GS

  GS? Grace Santiago. Jesus Christ, she was so hyper-detailed that she initialed her text messages! Let it go, he thought. This woman is a bundle of girl-next-door trouble tied up in a sex-starved bow. She got his blood moving, but also pissed him off. If he took a job working for Professor Kim, he’d piss her off right back…but also get to see a lot more of her. And he had to admit, he found both prospects appealing.

  He used his thumbs to type into his phone.

  Yes, you were a jerk. -EC

  I’m sorry. -GS

  You can make it up to me by taking me to dinner tonight. -EC

  I’d be happy to, but I have an event at the Elks Lodge tonight. Seriously. -GS

  He’d have to rent a car to get there and an Elks Lodge wasn’t exactly the most exotic venue, but in sex, war, and politics, you had to learn to make do.

  Which lodge and what time? -EC

  Chapter Six

  Sadly, this was not the first time Ethan had stepped foot in a lodge belonging to the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks. He was helping to rearrange bingo tables when Grace arrived on the senator’s arm, wearing a navy pantsuit that made her legs look a million miles long. She gave off the air of a high-powered she-devil, but Ethan remembered when ponytails, blue jeans, and being eager to please were her trademarks. Ethan wasn’t sure which Grace he liked better. He was very sure, however, that he wanted them both.

  Grace made her way over to Ethan’s bingo table and put her hands on her hips. “You actually showed up. It would’ve served me right if you didn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t miss a chance to hear your curmudgeon-in-chief launch into his fifty-year-old stump speech.”

  “Hey,” she said with smile, but a firm warning tone. “My boss is off-limits.”

  Washington types. They were so easy to needle. “Duly noted. Any chance you’ll let me take you out after this is over?”

  Now she smiled, digging her hands down into her jacket pockets. Grace’s brown eyes sparkled as if they were all alone. “I thought I was buying. What, aren’t stale Oreos and flat soda good enough for you?”

  “Yeah,” Ethan laughed. “But they’re not good enough for you.”

  He wanted to take her somewhere fancy, but it was late when the meeting ended. As it turned out, the diner on Route 40 was one of Grace’s favorites, so Ethan’s luck was holding. The owner kept hot chocolate brewing for Halloway staffers during the fall campaigns, a welcome respite for the volunteers who handed out pamphlets while their fingers froze. “How’d you know to bring me here?”

  “I’ve always had good instincts when it came to you,” Ethan said. At least, he used to. Sometimes you had to bluff.

  At this hour, the diner was mostly empty, but the scent of cinnamon and chocolate warmly welcomed them. Truth be told, Ethan was already feeling pretty warm being with Grace again, and it wasn’t just the sexual heat. There was something inherently wholesome about her. Even back in law school when he’d pressed her against a bookshelf with her skirt up around her thighs and made her moan things that would make even a naughty librarian blush, she’d had a girlish charm. He was reminded of that now as Grace literally pressed her nose to the glass covering a spectacular Napoleon cake. “That looks so good.”

  He loved how her eyes got wide, like she’d never eaten before. “Don’t they feed you on the Hill?”

  Grace smiled as a waitress ushered them to a booth. “Not really. If I want anything that hasn’t been processed or preserved beyond recognition, I have to steal it from fund-raiser buffet tables.”

  “I used to do that too!” Ethan confessed, and they both laughed.

  By the time the waitress came by, they had lapsed into more traditional conversation, and he realized Grace had grown up a lot since law school. She’d always been bright, but talking to her now about the upcoming environmental bill, her mastery of the issue was a huge turn-on.

  Grace took forever to order. Like she was making up some mental list of pros and cons for each possible dish on the menu. When she finally decided upon waffles, he was surprised. “I saw you drooling over that Napoleon cake. Too scared to try it?”

  Grace precisely arranged her napkin and silverware. “I like waffles. Deep down, I’m a waffle kind of girl.”

  The waitress tapped in annoyance on her pad, and though Ethan was normally a great champion of the working class, he ignored her. “Yeah? What’s wrong with the Napoleon?”

  Grace pondered. “It’s a messy cake named after a brutal French dictator. It’s also exotic and expensive.”

  Expensive? This vexed him. “You know that I could buy this whole restaurant, right?” Before she could scold him for boasting about his financial success, he draped his arms over the back of the booth and said to the waitress, “We’ll have the Napoleon with two forks, please.”

  “Why are you ordering for me?”

  Ethan flashed a smile. “Because I know what you like.”

  He loved that she both blushed then tried to rally. “Then forget the two forks. Order your own. I was an only child. I don’t share well.”

  “Fine, make it two pieces,” he told the waitress. “And add an order of waffles to that, because deep down, I think Grace is the kind of girl who wants it all.”

  More color came to Grace’s cheeks. And once the waitress left them alone, all her bravado was gone. Ethan watched her fiddle with the salt and pepper shakers, lining them up by the ketchup. “I’m sorry about Halloween, Ethan.”

  “You should be. We could have had a spectacular night together.”

  “You sound pretty sure of that,” she said, leaning forward, her voice a whisper.

  “Oh, I am,” Ethan said, grinning like an idiot. He loved looking at her. With those
big brown eyes, that thick dark hair, and her tanned skin, it was hard not to stare.

  When the waitress came back with their order, Grace’s whole face lit up with excitement. Ethan watched as she took a bite of the chocolate-drizzled Napoleon. Her eyes fluttered closed, she sensuously licked pastry cream from the corner of her mouth. And even though they were in the middle of a restaurant, she moaned. “It tastes sooo good.”

  Ethan fixated on the lucky fork nestled between her lips. “You know, I always loved it when you said that…”

  …

  How had it happened? Grace wondered. It was a work night. It was past midnight. Yet, somehow, she found herself in the diner’s empty parking lot making out with Ethan Castle in the front seat of his rented Corvette. She couldn’t remember exactly how they got here, but once he’d kissed her, she’d lost all sense of time and sanity, and now the gearshift was in a seriously inconvenient location.

  She loved the way he threaded his hands through her hair. The way teeth clashed, tongues tangled, and quickened breath fogged up the windshield. He made her feel completely out of control—totally unlike herself. But when he fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, Grace stopped him. It was one thing to kiss in public. It was a whole other world of wrongness to do more than kiss. “What are you doing?”

  At first, Ethan seemed incapable of coherent speech. Then he whispered, “I’m pretty sure I’m trying to undress you.”

  Grace looked out the window where an early snowfall on the pavement turned from green to red with the flashing of the streetlight. “We can’t do this, Ethan. We’re grown-ups now.”

  He leered. “Which means we can do whatever we want.”

  Grace felt shaky. She could still taste his cologne, but it wasn’t stronger than the taste of her own longing. Somehow, she found the inner strength to pull away, lower herself back into her own seat and tuck the hem of her blouse in her skirt. “I know the kind of impression I gave you back in law school. That I was trashy—”

  “That’s not the impression you gave me. Not at all. But don’t tell me you aren’t having just as much fun as I am tonight.”