In Bed With the Opposition Read online

  Flattered and mildly horrified, she wondered if she were having some kind of strange dream. “You can’t just get on a plane and fly in to see me…”

  “Why not?”

  Grace flailed. “Because it’s—it’s kind of nuts!”

  “If you were advising a losing candidate and all conventional methods weren’t working, what would you suggest?”

  “I’m not a campaign manager—”

  “Pretend,” Ethan insisted.

  “I’d tell him to try something unconventional.”

  “Exactly. Flying in to take you to breakfast is my bold new campaign strategy. How’s it polling?”

  Grace counted up the voters in her room. “Well, in a representative sample, one out of two voters approve.”

  Ethan took umbrage. “Only one out of two? Who is the holdout?”

  “Thurgood. You’re losing the orange tabby cat demographic.”

  “I’m marking him down as undecided,” Ethan said optimistically. “So will you meet me?”

  He’d hopped on a plane for her. She could hardly refuse.

  Of course, it was only after she’d agreed that she remembered how sick she was. She smelled like eucalyptus, her nose was red, and even her hair had finally gone limp. Hopefully, the hot steam of the shower would help her breathe and put some color in her cheeks.

  Once she was cleaned up, she put a white hooded sweater on under a black hooded sweater, realizing only too late that it looked like a habit. Oh, well. Hopefully it would make her look beautiful in ill health, like Sister Mary Benedict in The Bells of Saint Mary’s.

  …

  When Grace got to the diner, Ethan rose to greet her, but she waved him away and not just because being near him did strange things to her. “Don’t come close. I’m a walking contagion,” she said, affecting her best Ingrid Bergman accent.

  Ethan grimaced. “Why are you dressed like a nun?”

  “Imagine that I have tuberculosis,” Grace replied.

  He looked dubious. “I think you’re feverish. I would’ve brought food to your bedside but I couldn’t think of a non-stalkerish way of inviting myself to your apartment.”

  Grace realized that waffles were already on the table, and hers were covered with whipped cream and strawberries. “Why do you keep ordering for me?”

  He flashed his dimpled grin. “Because I know what you like.”

  It made her catch her breath, and as sick as she was, it wasn’t good to be oxygen-deprived. “I think you have control issues.”

  Ethan chuckled. “Says the girl who won’t even trust her laundry to a dry cleaner.”

  True. Grace didn’t trust anybody to do almost anything for her, much less order her waffles. But those waffles looked really good, and she quickly dug in.

  “So what are your plans for the holidays?” Ethan asked.

  “Same as every year. Senator Halloway throws a big celebration…” Grace trailed off, not wanting to talk about her boss or Blain or anything other than the man sitting in front of her. “What about you?”

  “Christmas in Kansas. My parents will have a full house. I’m the youngest of eight kids, so I’ve got a bunch of nieces and nephews. I’m getting them all game systems. What do you suggest? Wii, Xbox, or PlayStation?”

  “You’re asking me?” Grace asked, unable to remember the last time she played a game. “You’re one of those uncles who buys the kids everything they aren’t supposed to have, aren’t you?”

  “Nothing wrong with finger paints and drums! Besides, what’s Christmas for if not going overboard?”

  “Exactly!” Grace was delighted to find someone who shared her enthusiasm. “I love holidays. Especially Christmas. It’s my favorite time of the year, and not just because we’re gearing up for a congressional recess.”

  “That’s great. You’ve gotta foster your inner kid, or you end up a stuffy old guy like my dad with a boring desk job and eight kids to feed.”

  “You’re lucky to have a dad like that,” Grace said before she could stop herself. “It could be worse. My dad couldn’t ever hold down a job even before he left us. He had to indulge every instinct and, I dunno, follow his bliss…”

  “Haven’t forgiven him yet?” Ethan guessed.

  Grace shrugged.

  “Do you at least still talk to him? Is he on your Christmas card list?”

  “He’s dead.” When Grace told people—which was almost never—she liked to say it quickly, without emotion. Sometimes that made it less awkward. Not this time.

  “Jesus, Grace.”

  “It’s fine. We weren’t close. I mean, I wished we would’ve been. He got in touch with me when I was in college, but then he got into a terrible car accident…”

  “When?”

  “Just before I got accepted to law school.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan said, and it was clear he meant it. “How the hell did I not know that?”

  “Because I didn’t tell you.” Grace sipped gratefully at the hot chocolate Ethan had ordered for her with the waffles. “I don’t dwell on it. I just miss him this time of year and wish we had a big family, but it’s just Mama and me.”

  In spite of her germs, Ethan took her hand and held it so warmly that it made her forget her chills. “Big families can be overrated. It’s always a madhouse. I was the youngest, so I was always pulling some escapade to get attention—like the time I set a trap for Santa in the chimney. My mother was washing soot out of my hair for hours.”

  Grace could imagine it. “It sounds wonderful to me. Watching the Halloways has always been like pressing my nose against a bakery window full of treats I can look at, but can’t have.”

  “You can have anything you want, Grace,” Ethan said, suddenly very serious. “You’re that kind of person. If you want it, if you work for it, you can have it.”

  That really hadn’t been Grace’s experience in life, but it made her feel good to hear him say it. In fact, it felt good to be sitting here with him, talking. It wasn’t easy for her to open up to Ethan, to tell him things about her upbringing that embarrassed her, but she wanted to try. He was so open, so confident, that it made her feel like maybe she could be the same way…

  When the waitress swung by to check on them, Ethan said, “Grace, you mentioned pressing your nose against bakery windows which leads me to believe you really want the Napoleon cake again.”

  Grace balked. “No, I can’t taste it. My nose is stuffy. The waffles are perfect.”

  “Then bring an order of tuna salad to go,” Ethan said to the waitress, explaining to Grace, “It’s for Thurgood. I always fight for every vote.”

  “What exactly are you campaigning for?”

  He looked her right in the eye. “You.”

  Grace’s fingers trembled only slightly, but it was enough to make her drop her fork. She wasn’t used to being pursued. She was usually the one trailing after Blain with her heart on her sleeve.

  She started to say something, but Ethan cut her off. “Grace, if you’re gonna shoot me down again, can it wait until after we eat?”

  She wavered. “I’m not going to shoot you down.”

  His boyish grin was super sexy. “You’re not?”

  She wet her lips, thinking it through. She’d told Blain that she was starting to think she didn’t have the first clue of whom she really was inside. Maybe a relationship with Ethan—even if it couldn’t go anywhere—would help her find out. “I just need to take things slow.”

  “I can do slow,” Ethan said, fixing those green eyes on her in a way that made her shiver. Then he traced her jaw with his thumb. “We can put all the hot and steamy stuff on hold. I can control myself if you can.”

  “You’re not irresistible,” Grace said, though she was pretty sure that was a complete lie. “But how is this going to work? You can’t keep flying into Baltimore to see me.”

  “Why not?”

  Because it was against Rule #58, the one against immoderation. But Grace wasn’t ready to introduce him
to all her neuroses just yet. “It’s bad for the environment. Think about all that jet fuel.”

  “It’s the best idea I’ve got until I find a more permanent solution,” he said.

  And in spite of her doubts, Grace really wanted him to find a more permanent solution.

  …

  Ethan loved a challenge. A mountain to climb, a river to forge, a serpent to slay. All that. And he was at his best when facing difficult odds. When it came to challenges though, politics had nothing on Grace Santiago. He hadn’t liked it when she’d accused him of being the kind of guy who didn’t stick around. He couldn’t take that lying down.

  Well, maybe he could. Had, in fact. He’d caught Grace’s cold and it laid him out flat for a week. Which meant it was almost the middle of December and he still hadn’t found a campaign he was willing to work on. It was this fact combined with his compromised immune system that led him to agree to meet with the unusual candidate.

  That, and morbid curiosity. Because everyone in the blogosphere had taken to calling Professor Kim “Dr. Dark Ages.”

  An Asian man of small stature whose silver hair matched the rims of his spectacles welcomed Ethan into his office. A brief glance around told Ethan everything he needed to know. Too many books. A beat-up office chair. A desk piled high with research. Ethan had seen it all before and felt compelled to issue a warning to his prospective client. “Typically, academics don’t do well in elections.”

  Professor Kim didn’t seem afraid. “I’m more worried about what will happen if I don’t run.”

  He had a quiet earnestness that drew Ethan in. “Why’s that?”

  “Because the threat of a nationwide pandemic isn’t being addressed by Congress. People underestimate the kind of damage a simple flu could do to our economy and our way of life.”

  Fighting the urge to pop a cough drop into his mouth, Ethan said, “You can’t run a campaign on the signature issue of people getting the sniffles…”

  The professor slid back on his office chair. “See? You’re a smart man, Mr. Castle, but even you dismiss it. A pandemic flu of epic proportions is coming and it’s no joke.”

  “That’s a pretty grim slogan,” Ethan said.

  “With preparation, it doesn’t have to be grim. That’s the message.”

  Ethan sat back in his chair, then forward, then back again. He couldn’t get comfortable. “I have nothing but respect for you and your work, but I have to tell you…”

  “I can’t win the primary,” Professor Kim finished for him.

  “Right. You’d be running against an incumbent with decades of name recognition. Kip Halloway is well-loved by the party.”

  “I don’t expect to win, Mr. Castle. In fact, I don’t want to win.”

  “Then why run?” Ethan asked, unable to tamp down his arched brow.

  “If I run, powerful people will have to listen and start stockpiling the necessary vaccines. It’ll draw attention to my concerns.”

  “There have got to be easier ways of getting attention than putting yourself through the torture of a campaign.”

  The professor eyed Ethan. “I’ve been told you’re a man who knows how to get attention, and you don’t look like you think campaigns are torture.”

  Ethan drummed his fingers on his knee as if trying to recall a marching beat. “Oh, hey. Don’t get me wrong. Elections are modern-day gladiator games, where I get to fight in the arena by proxy and slaughter my opponent. I love it. But you’re the one who’d be out there, bloody and beaten, waiting for the mob to give you a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down. Not me.”

  “That’s an interesting analogy. I’d say gladiator games were more dignified than our system,” Professor Kim said, going on to explain all the reasons that running for office would help highlight the issues he cared about. “I wouldn’t put myself or my family through it unless someone of your stature was behind me. We’d have to keep it quiet until I’ve cleared everything with the university, so can I count on your discretion?”

  “Naturally,” Ethan said. “But I haven’t said yes.”

  “Give it some thought.”

  There was no way the professor could afford his normal fee, but Ethan was starting to warm to the idea. It was the first thing that had interested him in a long time. When Grace offered him the job working for Senator Halloway, she’d all but accused him of having sold out—of having abandoned his political passions for cold hard cash. Maybe it was time for a change. This would certainly shake things up.

  Ethan loved an underdog, he liked Professor Kim, and if he took this job, he could stay right here in Maryland and see if there was anything worth pursuing between him and Grace Santiago.

  Not bad for a more permanent solution…

  Chapter Eight

  Grace’s boss was yelling at her. Again.

  “You let the majority leader’s people gut this bill,” Kip Halloway thundered, pounding the huge stack of papers on his desk. “Clearly, he’s on the payroll of Big Pollution!”

  Because she’d been sick, work had piled up. She’d had to skip lunch, so her stomach was growling. Add that to the senator’s red-faced temper and Grace should’ve wanted to curl up into fetal position.

  But her mood was buoyant.

  “Big Pollution, sir?” Grace asked, merrily. “Is that a thing now?”

  “Don’t snigger at me, young lady.” Grace’s phone rang and she knew it was Ethan, but she dared not answer it when the senator was this cranky. “You march over there and get them to back down.”

  “Me?” Seriously, what kind of crazy talk was this? It’s not like the majority leader’s staff listened to anything Grace had to say. She was just a special assistant to a senator without presidential ambitions. Worse, she was pretty sure Dale Delmont had poisoned the majority leader against her before he left for the press corps.

  “Yes, you,” her boss said, offering his arm to the nurse taking his blood pressure. Grace could only imagine how high it was, and when the nurse gave her a cool look, she decided not to argue. She checked her watch—3:30 p.m. Hopefully, the majority leader’s staff would be gone for the day. The holidays were near and there was no earthly reason they should be as conscientious as she was. With luck, she could go home and get a good night’s sleep.

  She picked up the phone and prayed no one would answer at the majority leader’s office. Unfortunately, someone did. Sighing, Grace headed over there, balancing her phone against her ear when it rang again. “I’m not ignoring you, Ethan. It’s just crazy over here.”

  Ethan dropped his voice, low and sexy. “What are you wearing?”

  Grace smiled big. “Stop it.”

  “I really liked the strapless bra you wore on Halloween, the one with the little pumpkins on it…”

  Grace vividly remembered the way they’d made out and hadn’t realized he’d sneaked a peek at her bra. It was a very distracting thought. She almost walked into the corner of the wall. Grinning goofily, she said, “This isn’t an appropriate workplace conversation, Ethan. I’m on the taxpayers’ dime…”

  “What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?” he asked, mercifully changing the subject. “I’ve got two tickets to the party’s annual gala. Wanna be my date?”

  Grace tried not to let out a juvenile squeak of excitement. He was asking her to one of the biggest, most glamorous parties of the year. She’d attended a few times as a volunteer, but never as a guest. “I’ll need a fancy dress…”

  “Only until midnight, then you’ll just need bare skin,” he replied, smooth and suggestive. “So I’ll see you New Year’s Eve?”

  “Yes!” she crowed.

  He chuckled a little. Probably at her enthusiasm. Then he said, “I don’t think I can wait that long. What are you doing on Christmas?”

  “Um…placing the stockings by the fireplace with care?”

  “What if I fly out, spend Christmas Eve with you, then take you back home with me for Christmas Day… My family will like you.”

  Holy moly. W
as he actually asking her to come home with him to meet his parents?

  This time Grace did walk into something.

  Or someone. The majority leader, to be exact.

  Mortified, Grace chirped, “I’m so sorry, sir!”

  The majority leader glared.

  Meanwhile, Ethan snickered into the phone. “Did you just call me sir? I could learn to like that. I could learn to like that a lot…”

  “Shut up,” Grace snapped.

  The majority leader looked decidedly put out. “Excuse me, young lady?”

  “Oh my gosh, not you, sir. I’m talking to someone on the phone. Or, I was, anyway.” Grace ended the call without saying good-bye. Luckily, the majority leader shrugged and brushed past her. He was a busy man with lots of things to do. But just as Grace thought she was in the clear, she heard someone call her name.

  “Grace!” Norma Billingsly was on her heels. “You forgot your files.” The senator’s chief of staff resembled a school principal and scolded with just the same tone. “And you nearly plowed over the majority leader.”

  Grace fought the urge to dig her toe into the nonexistent dirt. “You saw that, huh…”

  “It’s not like you, Grace. Something has you distracted lately.”

  Not something. Someone, Grace thought with some guilt. Not too much guilt, though. And two hours later, she wasn’t feeling any guilt at all. Just frustration.

  As she’d suspected, she didn’t have the authority to get the majority leader’s office to roll back any of the changes. They didn’t take her seriously. If this bill had any chance of passing, Senator Halloway was going to have to take a more active hand in matters. She returned to his office to tell him just that, and found Blain standing by the scheduler’s desk.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” she said.

  They never spoke about the Thanksgiving fiasco, which suited Grace just fine. So when Blain asked her to review the senator’s schedule, she tried to keep things all business. “It’s hard on a man his age. I think you should cancel some of these campaign events and let him focus on legislation.”