“Great-great-gramps saw a cameo portrait of her, and that was it for him. He went to find her and bring her back to the States.”
The tiny hairs on the back of her neck jumped to attention. Then they parted to make way for a deep shiver. But she didn’t react visibly, just eyed him with a tolerance reserved for the insane.
“Isn’t that romantic?” the governor said, swallowing. He ate standing up, his plate in his left hand, sawing through the waffles with the edge of his fork.
She nodded for Ms. Turlington’s benefit. Marly might not have finished college, but how stupid did the man think she was? He figured he could feed her this pack of BS and she’d tumble into bed with him?
It was a lowering thought that she might have done so based on the recommendation of his bare chest alone. She could have just had a fling—to support morality and conscience and Republican values, of course. But there was no way she’d do it now, with this lame talk of love at first sight. How many women had he snowed with this stuff?
Ms. Turlington changed the subject, bless her bossy, crabby, proper little heart. “Mister Governor,” she announced, eyeing his plate with something like despair, “you’ll note that there is an egg-white omelet under that steel dome. Those waffles you’re consuming—with the entire udder of butter and bathtub of syrup—contain a minimum of 3,600 calories and—”
“Turls, you know I detest egg-white omelets, and you probably had them fill it with broccoli and onion, too.”
“—six hundred grams of carbohydrates, not to mention enough saturated fat to deep-fry a herd of buffalo.”
“But I do thank you for your continued concern about my health. It’s very sweet of you.”
Miss Turlington sniffed. Then she produced a bona fide white, lacy handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
“Turls…” the governor groaned. He cast her a look of long-suffering, set down his waffles on a stack of scary-looking legal documents sporting lots of little yellow flags and plucked the steel dome off the omelet plate.
Ms. Turlington stopped dabbing immediately and looked hopeful.
Marly thought the omelet looked and smelled fabulous, but the Hammer wrinkled his statesman-like nose. He poked at the mass of eggs with a knife and looked unimpressed. He set the dome back over the plate, and just then Marly’s stomach had the poor timing to growl. She hadn’t eaten anything before leaving her apartment.
He brightened. “You’re hungry!”
“No, no,” Marly stammered, under Ms. Turlington’s ominous gaze.
“Yes, you are. Isn’t it fortunate that we ordered some extra breakfast!” The gov grabbed a fork, cut a bite of omelet and made choo-choo noises, driving it toward her mouth.
Marly was so appalled that she opened it and he deposited the bite of eggs onto her tongue, emitting a long engineer’s whistle as he did so. Then the lunatic said, “Yum, yum!” and sent her a big ole shit-eating grin.
She almost spat the eggs onto the carpet at Ms. Turlington’s expression, but she managed not to. Instead she swallowed them.
“Now,” said the Hammer, advancing on her with a napkin, “you just be a good kid and eat the omelet. I’ll return to my breakfast of champions. Turls, where’s your oatmeal and prune juice?”
“I have already consumed my morning meal,” growled Ms. Turlington, and swept from the room, closing the French doors with a snap.
Marly blinked. “Governor, really, I’m only here to cut your hair.” She looked at her watch. “And I’ve got to get back. I have a client coming at ten….”
“It’ll take you all of five minutes to eat that omelet, sweetheart. C’mon, can’t you do it for the Ham?” He advanced toward her and put his hand at the small of her back.
His touch was casually intimate, for someone who’d just met her. Though she thought he was nuts, her body didn’t agree. Marly leaped forward as if burned and grabbed the plate of eggs. She held it in front of her like a shield and dodged around the serving cart. “Thanks.”
“Can’t have you all shaky when you’re snipping the gubernatorial locks, eh?” He grinned. “Gubernatorial—isn’t that the weirdest word? Sounds like all things relating to a goober.”
Marly laughed in spite of herself.
“Now, my family and friends know the truth—I am one, but do we need to advertise the fact?”
He didn’t look at all like a goober. He looked like blue-blooded sin in half of a thousand-dollar suit. And he was crazy. Obviously. Because he insisted on returning to their earlier topic of conversation.
“Now that I’ve found you, Marly Fine, I’m going to have to insist that we get to know each other. Are you free for dinner?”
Marly set down the omelet once again. “No, Governor, I’m not. We run a salon, which is open until midnight.”
“You work a sixteen-hour day?”
“Sometimes. Usually I work a twelve-hour one. I go in at noon. Miami is half-Latin, and Latins like to keep late hours.”
“Hmm. I’m asleep by eleven. This could be tough to work out….” He stuck another bite of waffle into his mouth.
Her sense of outrage rose. “Governor Hammersmith, while I am certainly, um, flattered by your interest, there is nothing to work out. I have a very full life and—”
“You married?”
“What? No.”
“Engaged?”
“No, but—”
“Boyfriend?”
She hesitated a split second too long.
“Then we can work something out.”
“Governor, maybe I don’t want to work something out!”
“I’ve been told I’m passably handsome. I floss regularly and use mouthwash. I can even be charming, when I want to be.” He cocked his head to one side and licked a bit of whipped cream out of the corner of his mouth. “What’s not to like?”
Marly closed her eyes. Then she opened them and took a deep breath. “Women don’t say no to you very often, do they?”
He looked a little sheepish. Then he shook his head.
“In fact, I’ll offer a guess that not many people say no to you.”
Hammersmith stuck the last bite of waffle into his mouth and chewed pensively. Then he shook his head again.
“Well,” Marly said brightly. “We all encounter new experiences, don’t we? Now give me that—” she took the plate from his hand and set it on the cart “—and come sit down in that rolling chair again so I can do my job.”
He
