Bedroom Diplomacy. Michelle Celmer

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СКАЧАТЬ her head, laughed nervously. “No, no, not at all, it’s definitely his project. Although I did have fun helping with the plans, then watching it all come together. I toured day-care centers all over the city and scoured the internet for ideas.”

      Looking puzzled, he said, “So how then is it not your project?”

      She really needed to stop talking. “It’s not my name on the checks.”

      “Writing the checks is the easy part,” he said, as though he knew that from experience. “It sounds as if you did the hard part. All the real work.”

      If it got back to the senator that she was taking credit for the day care, he would come unhinged.

      “My part of it was nothing, really.”

      “For nothing, you seem quite proud of what you’ve done. And it sounds as if you should be.”

      But it wasn’t worth the hassle if it meant stepping on her father’s very large toes. Why had she even brought this up in the first place?

      “You look nervous,” he said.

      “Sometimes my mouth works independently from my brain, and I say things I shouldn’t.”

      “Would it help to say that what you and I discuss in private will never reach the senator’s ears?”

      She blew out a relieved breath. “I would really appreciate that.”

      “Though it’s a shame you feel the need to hide your accomplishments.”

      It was a survival instinct. “My father and I, our relationship is… complicated. It’s easier for everyone if I don’t rock the boat.”

      “I think I understand.”

      Did he? Really?

      She looked at the clock. “Wow, I didn’t realize how late it is. I really have to get inside or Betty is going to think I drowned.”

      “Betty, the housekeeper?”

      She nodded. “She sits with Dylan while I do my laps. I’m usually only gone forty minutes.…” She paused, working the time out in her head. “Did you say that you woke up when I dove into the water?”

      “The splash roused me.”

      Yet he didn’t say anything to her until after she swam her laps. So what was he doing all that time?

      “Yes,” he said, as if he were reading her mind. “I was watching you swim, which I know was a violation of your privacy. My only excuse, flimsy as it is, is that I was mesmerized.” He reached for her hand, drawing it between his, and… talk about tingles. His hands were big and strong and a little rough. “I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

      Damn, this guy was good. She made the mistake of looking up into his eyes, and felt herself being sucked into their unearthly blue depths. A woman could drown in eyes like that.

      His eyes never leaving hers, he said, “Why is it that when something is forbidden, it makes you want it that much more?”

      Come and get me, she wanted to say. Then she reminded herself that he was a politician, and no matter how sincere he may have looked or sounded, he possessed the ability to lie through his royal teeth. And very convincingly.

      But a little innocent flirting never hurt anyone. Right?

      His eyes searched hers, then dipped lower, settling on her mouth, which of course made her look at his mouth, and all she could think was how kissable his lips looked, and how much she wanted to be the one kissing them.

      He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across the back, and the earth pitched under her feet. It had been a long time since a man’s lips had touched any part of her body.

      “It was a pleasure talking with you,” he said.

      Yes it was. “Maybe we could do it again.”

      “Maybe,” he said, letting go of her hand. But he did it slowly, his fingers sliding across hers, pausing as they reached the very tips.

      Don’t go, she thought. Only because she didn’t have the guts to say it out loud. But apparently he wasn’t a mind reader after all, because he turned, grabbed his shoes and sweater and walked away.

      She watched in silence as he disappeared into the dark, wishing they really could do it again, but knowing that it was better if they didn’t. Not that it hadn’t been fun flirting with him. But it could never be more than that.

      When Rowena got to her suite, Betty, their live-in maid, was stretched out on the sofa watching Dynasty reruns on cable.

      “That must have been some swim,” she said, sitting up and switching off the television, her tight gray curls pressed flat against the back of her head.

      “Betty, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long.”

      “As if I have somewhere more exciting to be,” Betty said. She didn’t ask Rowena what had taken so long, and Rowena didn’t indulge.

      Betty slowly rose from the couch, stretching her arthritic back. She had been with the family since Rowena was a baby. She taught Rowena to bake cookies, told her about the birds and the bees and took her for her first bra, since her mother couldn’t be bothered. And when Rowena was battling her addictions, Betty was the only person who never lost faith in her. But she was getting older, slowing down physically, and eventually it would be time for her to retire.

      “Did Dylan wake up?”

      “He didn’t make a peep.”

      “Thanks for watching him,” she said, giving Betty a hug.

      “No problem, sweetie. Tomorrow night, same time?”

      “If you don’t mind.”

      As she walked her to the door, Rowena casually asked, “So, what do you think of my father’s guest?”

      “Mr. Middlebury? He seems friendly and very polite. A bit of a flirt, I suppose, and boy is he a hottie.” She looked back at Rowena. “Do they still call attractive men hotties?”

      “Hottie works.”

      “Well, then, he definitely is one. Maybe, if I were thirty years younger…” she said with a grin. “Why do you ask?”

      Rowena shrugged. “Just curious.”

      “Are you interested?”

      She shook her head. “Not at all. You know I don’t date politicians.”

      “Oh, he’s not a politician. He’s just here as a favor to his family. They seemed to think that because he’s a war hero, he would have more of an influence in Washington.”

      Not a politician? Interesting.

      “You seem to know an СКАЧАТЬ