In Bed With the Opposition (5 page)

But what would the point of that be? The election was almost a year away. He
needed
to find a candidate and pick a campaign already. Obsessing about a woman who dumped him seven years ago wasn’t going to help him get his shit together, was it?

…

As far as holidays went, Grace thought Halloween had a lot going for it. First, free candy. The government didn’t need to pass a bill or anything—you could just knock on a fellow citizen’s door and they’d give you sweets.

Talk about redistribution of wealth!

Second, on Halloween, you could pretend to be somebody else. This was especially advantageous because although Grace didn’t consider herself much of a seductress, Wonder Woman always got her man…

As the workday ticked down, Grace reviewed her plan. Blain would call at the end of the workday, then pick her up and whisk her off to Georgetown for the outlandish street-filled display that seemed to get bigger and wilder every year.

And after? Well, let’s just say she’d shaved her legs to a perfect smoothness and Blain had a good chance of getting lucky. Grace was so antsy waiting that she was almost relieved when she got called into a meeting with the majority leader’s staff, knowing it would help her pass the time. The only downside was having to see Dale Delmont, who worked in that office.

In law school she’d befriended Dale, to her everlasting regret. Now Grace couldn’t believe she’d once thought he was a decent guy. On her personal list of the
Worst People in the World
, Dale Delmont was at the top. So she couldn’t keep the scowl from her face when she found Dale sitting at the end of the conference table fiddling with his iPhone. It was a damned phone that caused all her trouble back in law school too. A Sanyo, if she recalled. Dale had carried it with him everywhere and used it to make Grace’s life hell.

The price of Dale’s silence had been getting him a job on the Hill—Blain had helped with that—but now Grace saw her mortal enemy on a weekly basis. They never spoke about the pictures or how he’d gotten his job, but she couldn’t hide her hostility.

“You’ll be glad to know I’ve found new employment,” Dale said.

Grace couldn’t contain her glee. “Really? Was there an opening on Lucifer’s staff?”

Dale was undaunted. “I’m jumping into media as a political correspondent.”

Dale Delmont as a political reporter? So she’d been right. He
was
going to work for the devil. Not that she begrudged him his rightful place in the battle of good and evil, but she’d hoped he’d be
out
of her life. Now she’d have to see him at press events. Worse, the idea that Dale would be in a position to publicize what he wanted, whenever he wanted, made her sick.

Five-year-old photos of a half-undressed Senate staffer weren’t newsworthy—not even for gossipy bloggers like PolitiGal. But Dale was leering at her like he always did and it made her want to punch him.

No
. She wouldn’t let him get to her. Not tonight. It was Halloween and she had an official date with Blain. Her sixteenth official date with him, actually, if she wanted to count all of them over the years. And that added up to something significant, didn’t it? Encouraged by that thought, she shrugged Dale off and left as soon as they’d finished debating about carbon credits. She checked her watch. Five-thirty.

Actually, Blain should have called by now, but luckily Grace had packed her Wonder Woman costume in her overnight bag. Some superheroes changed in phone booths, but the bathroom of the Hart Senate Office Building would have to do. She slipped into costume and posed in front of the mirror.

Bulletproof bracelets?
Check
. Lasso of truth?
Check
. Red and gold bustier that showed off her assets?
Check
. But it was the red go-go boots that would really do the trick, as long as she didn’t break an ankle walking on the Georgetown cobblestones.

That’s when she realized that she had to wear the outfit in the office until Blain called. This violated Grace’s
Rule #44
about dressing appropriately for work, so she slipped into her trench coat. Unfortunately, knowing it concealed a pair of blue starred Amazonian panty-briefs made her feel a bit pervy.

When Grace returned to her desk, Norma Billingsly peered over her cat-eye glasses. “Expecting rain?”

Grace tried not to annoy the chief of staff, but sometimes sarcasm was the only answer. “Yes, and I thought the plastic tiara would help keep my hair dry.”

Norma handed Grace a stack of paper. “More changes to the environmental bill from the majority leader’s office.”

Grace groaned. She got the impression the majority leader was gutting the bill’s enforcement provisions. Unfortunately, it was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on penalties for environmental evildoers even with a lasso of truth at her side. After all, Blain was about to call…

But Blain didn’t call.

Not her desk phone, not her cell phone, and not even her home phone. (She checked remotely.) He didn’t even leave her an e-mail or text message. And Grace sat there waiting until everyone else in the office went home for the night.

He wasn’t going to call.

She’d been stood up.

Thankfully, Molly came to the rescue. Ushering her into a cab, then into a Georgetown bar that throbbed with a techno beat, Molly asked, “Who needs Blain Halloway? We can have a fun night of girl power!”

Cramming their way into a group of obnoxious interns who wore their badges on their costumes, Molly and Grace ordered two bleeding-heart martinis. The party atmosphere should have cheered her up; it was a holiday and Molly looked great in her Batgirl costume, but Grace was having trouble relating to her inner superheroine.

She didn’t feel strong and sexy anymore. She felt underdressed. Then she caught a glimpse of familiar green eyes roaming all over her and felt completely naked…

Chapter Five

Holy shit
, Ethan thought.

Or maybe he actually said it out loud when he nearly stumbled over Grace-as-Wonder-Woman in the crowded bar.
Wow
. The dark hair, the sloe eyes, that well-rounded ass…he’d never imagined her rocking a bustier and a red cape but he could now see this was a serious oversight in his repertoire of sexual fantasies…

“What are you doing here?” Grace asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

“I was invited by some bloggers. You know PolitiGal, right?” He sidled up to Grace at the bar both because he wanted to be close to her and because his mouth was suddenly so dry he needed another drink. Did she seriously not have any idea how seductive she was, all girl-next-door charm wed to banging Latin curves?

Grace narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “No, I mean, what are you doing
here?
”

Jesus, she
did
think he was a stalker. “I told you I’d be back in town tonight, remember? But I didn’t know you were gonna be at this bar. Georgetown’s a big place.”

She nodded, relaxing a little, a hint of a smile creeping onto her face. She leaned forward, raising her voice to be heard over the music. “So, where is she?”

“Who?”

Grace downed her bleeding-heart martini in an impressive two swallows. “PolitiGal.”

“She’s on the dance floor,” Ethan said, not bothering to look that direction. “What about your date?”

“Change of plans.”

Now that sounded promising. Maybe Ethan’s night was about to get a lot better. At the idea of her availability, he felt himself tense, keenly interested. “So, you don’t have a date tonight?”

Grace shot a nervous glance at the tough-looking bat chick standing next to her. “This is my date tonight.”

“Who, me?” Batgirl asked with a sly smirk. “I don’t even know her. We just met.”

Grace elbowed her friend. “Molly, meet—”

“Ethan Castle. I know. I’ve seen him on TV.” With that, Grace’s dark-masked companion smiled conspiratorially, then started to move off into the crowd.

Grace called after her, panic in her voice. “Molly!”

Ethan flashed Batgirl a thumbs-up in thanks.

And then they were alone. Or, at least as alone as you can be in a bar full of drunk zombies, vampires, and superheroes. Ethan ordered a beer, then leaned against the bar. “Grace, that’s a killer costume…”

He loved the way she flushed and nervously wet her lips at his praise. “Thanks. Yours sucks. I didn’t even think they let people in here without a costume.”

“Oh, I’m wearing a costume.” Ethan took a pair of dark-framed glasses from his pocket and slid them on. “Clark Kent.”

Grace scrunched that adorable nose of hers. “That’s cheating.”

Ethan smirked. “Is it, really? Don’t you wanna undress me to find out if I’m really Superman underneath?”

That did it. Those dark eyelashes of hers fluttered open. Then she sighed, clutching her arms over her bosom as if she was afraid she
would
reach out and start unbuttoning his shirt right here and now.

“Did that line seriously work on you, Grace?”

“I think so. Which means I must be a little drunk.”

“Me too,” he confessed.

“But you
do
look like Clark Kent, now that you mention it. And I always thought he was better-looking than Superman.”

Ethan was totally charmed by the way she just blurted it out. Sure, he wanted to grab a fistful of her dark hair and drag her off somewhere private, but her slightly off-center personality warmed his heart
and
his loins. “So you like nerds.”

“I like smart guys.”

“I’m smart. Smart-mouthed, anyway.”

He watched her try to smother a grin. “I like policy wonks.”

As they talked, the cups of her costume slipped down a little bit, giving him a peek at the lacy strapless bra beneath. From what he could see, it was decorated with tiny pumpkins. So, she was still quirky. He liked that.

Then someone in the crowd jostled Grace into his arms and when she wilted against him, he knew he had her. “Listen, Grace. I can hardly hear you over the music. Do you wanna get outta here?”

She looked tempted, but glanced over her shoulder. “I shouldn’t leave my friend.”

Batgirl was engaged in some hot and heavy dancing with a guy in a Frankenstein costume, so Ethan said, “I don’t think she’d mind.”

“I can’t go without telling her, though.”

“Text her,” Ethan said, happy to abandon the friend, the blogger, the bar, and the beer.

Grace managed to catch her friend’s eye, then did some sort of girl-talk pantomime to secure the requisite permission to leave. As soon as she had it, Ethan dropped a big bill on the bar, took Grace by the hand, and led her out.

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.