five baths, all the amenities.”
“You’re stalling, Georgie. I don’t want a travelogue. I want the down and dirty.”
She inhaled and blew her breath out through puffed cheeks and pursed lips. In a resigned voice, Georgie recounted the events, ending with, “Then he left.”
“Wait. You played strip Jeopardy?”
“My boss saw me in my undies and you’re making up games? And what part of him holding me and...and...” She started to hyperventilate again. “OMG, Jen. I have to resign. I can’t face the man.”
“Breathe, Georgie. Does he have any idea how you feel?”
“You mean have I told him that I love him like crazy and have since the moment I met him? Oh, yeah, right. I definitely confessed that to him last night.”
“Your sarcasm is showing. That’s a good thing. It means you’ll be okay. But you can’t quit, Georgie. You have your dream job. Besides, if the man can’t look beyond your tighty-whities and see what a jewel you are, he doesn’t deserve you.”
“Awww, Jen. Loyal to a fault. But they were red.”
“I’m serious. You’re just panicky. How many times have you had to put your head between your knees this morning?”
Laughter burst from Georgie’s mouth. “Too many.”
“See? I know you. Now, grab a shower. I’d tell you to put on something sexy but you don’t own...wait! Red? You own red panties?”
“And a red bra.”
“Are they lacy?”
“Well...um...no.”
“Just as I thought. Now go put on your business suit of armor, get more coffee and do what you do best—work. Okay?”
Georgie nodded then remembered Jen couldn’t see her. “Okay. You’re right.”
“Of course I am. I’m always right. I’m your BFF. Keep me posted. I never want to find out stuff like this from the news ever again. Capisce?”
“Capisce.”
Clay stared at the press briefing folder lying front and center on his desk. He did not want to open it. He’d already seen the news coverage of yesterday’s fiasco. The file would hold hard copies of clippings and photographs from print media and the internet. Georgie would have put together a digital file of clips, too, and emailed it, but she knew his preference for paper. He leaned back in his chair and swiveled so he could look out the window. A few of the more lurid headlines made him roll his eyes.
Senator Protects Aide à la The Bodyguard
Barron Rescues Damsel in Distress
Senator Barron—Hero in Disguise
All the articles led with a photograph of him sweeping Georgie into his arms to carry her. He leaned forward, tapping two fingers on the photo. Georgie must have been up before the Arizona sunrise to cull all the stories from the New York shows and national press and prepare them, though she evidently had gone back to bed. She’d been asleep when he returned from the fund-raising dinner last night. The night guard said she’d taken some prescribed sleeping pills and went right to bed. Her door wasn’t locked so Clay had peeked in first thing this morning and she’d been curled up in a semi-fetal position under a thick pile of bedcovers. Then he’d walked into the suite’s study and found his desk set up just like every other working day.
Boone rapped his knuckles against the door and sauntered in, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb. He inclined his head toward the open file. “You’ve seen the headlines.”
Nodding, Clay shuffled through the file, barely glancing at the various photos and clippings. “And the coverage on all the news channels. Your take?”
“You should have a nice bump in the next poll, especially in that all-important women’s vote. They’ll see you as heroic and dashing now. Let’s face it, you’re already the most eligible bachelor inside or outside the Beltway, and we all know you’ve got the Barron good looks.” He chuckled. “Tates are more handsome, but you Barrons aren’t bad.”
Boone reflexively caught the pen Clay tossed at him then sobered. “In all seriousness, now you have that intangible mystique that will draw women. I’m sorry Georgie got caught in the middle, but those protesters did you a huge favor.”
Clay growled under his breath. He, too, hated what had happened to Georgie. Her tears just about undid him. He couldn’t deal with tears. Hadn’t since— He cut off that thought, only to have it replaced by the memory of cradling Georgie in his arms—with very little between them. He’d wanted to take care of her. And maybe a little more. Doing so would have been taking advantage of a bad situation. He was not his father or his younger brothers. He could keep his libido in check.
The curves he discovered when he’d held her had been a surprise, and seeing her in that cute, if rather prim, red lingerie left no doubts. He halted that train of thought and reminded himself that Georgie was...Georgie. She dealt with the press, wrote his speeches and corralled a large portion of his staff. Boone was his right hand and she might as well be his left. Clay kept reminding himself of that. She was his employee, even if thoughts of her made him shift in his desk chair looking for a more comfortable position. Unlike his father, he didn’t dip his pen in company ink.
“Is she still asleep?” Clay needed to see her, talk to her.
“Don’t think so, but she’s not coming out of her room.”
“Have you spoken to her?”
“No.”
Was Boone fidgeting? “Spit it out, cuz.”
Boone stepped fully into the study and closed the door before dropping into a side chair. He put on what Clay called his “headmaster” face before asking, “What happened last night?”
“Happened?”
“Yeah. What went on between you and Georgie while I was packing up her stuff and replacing what had been ruined?”
“That’s none of your business, Boone.”
“It is if it affects the operation of your office. The two of you spent a lot of time in the bathroom. Alone. With the door shut.”
Leaning back in the chair, Clay studied the man he trusted maybe even more than his own brothers. He weighed the pros and cons of disclosure and finally told Boone about their encounter in the bathroom.
“Ah...okay. Yeah. I can see why she’s avoiding us this morning, especially given the publicity. Speaking of which, what in the world possessed you to pick her up?”
That was one question Clay hadn’t asked himself. “I was right there. It just seemed...prudent.”
Boone’s face scrunched into a disbelieving scowl. “Prudent? Dude, there’s not enough preplanning and money in the world
