The Gentlewoman (2 page)

“No thank you. I’m no stranger to public transportation,
keeps me in the real world.”

“Wow, that must be a crack at my sheltered wealthy
upbringing. There’s no way a Dorn has ever been on a subway.” His eyes were
gleaming with humor.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.” Now she felt like
a bitch. “I just need to get going. I have to get moved in and get some work
done this weekend. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes I understand. Why don’t you let me give you a ride and
I’ll forgive your rather furtive insult.” A smile slowly crept to her lips. She
couldn’t help it. She was pretty tired. What harm could one ride do?

“Thank you. I’m in Georgetown. Where are you going?”

“I’m going home to Georgetown myself. I have a condo there.
What’s your new DC address?”

“Franklin Street, number three,” she reported.

He looked at her and convulsed with laughter.

“What is it?”

“Not very far out of my way, come on.” He took her satchel
and heaved it onto his shoulder, taking her by the elbow. “A little light
reading planned this weekend?” She smiled up at him and shrugged, confused
about his strange laughter seemingly at her expense.

They walked down the front steps and he opened the back door
to a waiting Lexus. Rory climbed in and scooted to the far side, placing her
purse beside her and grabbing her bag as he took his seat. She placed the bag
next to her purse, making a barrier between them.

Congressman Dorn asked her questions about how she was
finding everything in DC. He seemed very interested in what she had to say.

As she spoke, he stared deeply into her eyes, holding her
gaze for long periods of time. She stared back, mesmerized by the very real
blue. She was describing her first days and the outcome of the lottery for
freshman Congressional offices when she noticed that he was staring at her
mouth. She stopped talking and his eyes darted back to hers. She turned and
looked out her window. He had her flustered and she didn’t appreciate it.

“So are you going to get involved in any of the
international and domestic security concerns or subcommittees on the hill? With
your background and insight, you might be able to do some good work.”

A shockwave shot through her body and her stomach clenched.
She looked him square in the eyes. “Are you kidding me, Dorn? What kind of shit
are you trying to pull?”

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “I’m sorry. I
assumed with your background and the experience you had with your marriage,
you’d be looking to legislate on those topics.”

“What topics would those be?” she said very slowly in a low,
angry voice. “Criminal husbands? Sick psychopaths? Just what do you know about
it?”

“I’m so sorry, Rory…”

“I really don’t care to be used by you and your friends. Is
Maine such a boring place you have to use my story to get attention? I’m not
biting. If you’re looking for a partner in championing some initiative, you can
fucking forget about using the poor victim girl from Ohio.” Their eyes were
locked on each other. He stared at her as if she might attack him and she
seethed pure hatred. She looked away and soon they pulled to a stop in front of
her building. She shot out of the car and slammed the door behind her. Jackson
got out and followed her.

“Son of a bitch!” Rory shouted.

She hurried to the front door of the brick building and used
her key to enter, ignoring him lurking behind her. She stepped inside and
swiftly shut the door, locking him out. She stared at the bastard through the
window and fought the urge to flip him her middle finger. As she turned to walk
down the hall, she heard the security door open and turned to see him letting
himself in.

“What the hell?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I would be offending you so deeply
by mentioning your experience. I had hoped we could be friends and work
together. I have some experience in law enforcement and I head several
subcommittees doing good work that I’d hoped to tap you for.” He stood in the
middle of the hallway and stared earnestly into her eyes again, a little too
close for comfort.

“Well you’re not forgiven, and I don’t need your apologies.
Just stay the hell away from me. We’re not going to work together, and I’ve
heard exactly how you like to tap women. I don’t need your friendship, and I
certainly don’t want to spend any more time in your presence than necessary.”

“That may be rather difficult for you to stick to,” he said
with a snort.

“Why would that be?”

“Because I live across the hall from you.”

That fucking figures
, she thought, as he let himself
into the door directly opposite hers.

She let herself into her condo and dropped her bags to the
hardwood floor. Leaning back against the door, she took several deep breaths.
She held her hands out and watched them shake. She always shook when she got
angry. She thought she’d learned to deal with this better. This wouldn’t be the
last time somebody brought it up. Jackson Dorn just seemed to do it in such an
intimate manner.

She walked down the hall and into the bathroom to wash her
face. She stripped down to bra and panties and sifted through several boxes for
running pants, then draped on a sweatshirt, gloves and hat for a quick run.
After a drink of water, she pulled on her running shoes and headed for the
door. She wanted to put some miles between herself and that unfortunate car
ride. She couldn’t fucking believe he lived next door. She attached her iPod to
her upper arm and turned up the music. Maroon 5 blared in her ears as she
headed down the street.

It was starting to get dark. DC was still mild, even with
the full winter upon them. As she ran down the street toward the university,
she remembered her fall wedding four years ago and memories came rushing back.

She could picture Aidan and how he looked on their wedding
day. How the church looked decked out in flowers and the runner up the long
aisle. She remembered how her dad looked in his tux as he smiled at her with a
hint of bittersweet anguish. Both of them had wished her mother could have been
there, that she hadn’t succumbed to cancer the year before. As it turned out,
it was probably a gift from God that she wasn’t there to witness what happened
after Aiden and Rory got married. It would have killed her too.

She stopped on the street and put her hands on her knees,
breathing hard. She forced the thoughts from her mind. She rubbed her left hip
bone and could feel the scarring even through her pants. It ached as though the
attack had happened yesterday instead of three years ago. It didn’t matter. It
happened and there wasn’t anything she could do to change it. She turned and
started to run back home.

She was feeling a little foolish about going off on Dorn.
She had been harsh. He didn’t deserve it. It was a legitimate question to ask
after she had helped the FBI try to take Aidan down. People were always
interested in her story and she knew it was because she had killed her own
husband. She had saved herself, but she wished every day that she could have
saved her father.

She renewed her mental note not to verbally eviscerate
anyone who mentioned what happened to her in her marriage. The week’s events
had frayed her nerves. So many events she’d hardly had any time to herself.
Nicole always said Rory spent too much time alone. It was just easier.

She returned to the building to find a delivery boy standing
outside the door, leaning on the bell.

“What number do you need?” There were only three condos in
the building. Rory’s was on the right half of the first floor and she had a
neighbor above her, a professor of literature at Georgetown who was in England
for the year. Dorn, apparently, was on the left half of the building and she
knew that condo had both floors.

“One, Dorn,” he said, ringing the bell.

She took her sweaty running money out of her shoe and
offered it to the kid. “Here, I’ll take it.”

“Twenty-five fifty, ma’am.”

“Keep the change.” He didn’t seem to mind it had just been
in her shoe. She was going to keep her losses to a minimum and try for a peace
offering.

She entered the building and knocked on his door. He
answered after a couple minutes, wearing nothing but a towel. Her mouth fell
open as she gaped at him. He looked at her, narrowing his eyes and smiling. He
shifted on his feet and leaned against the doorjamb, obviously feeling no
discomfort in his state of undress. Holy shit, was he carved. Broad, muscular
shoulders led to a hard chest and lean six-pack abs, nice biceps. She loved a
man with biceps. She looked at the floor when she realized she was staring and
held up the food.

“Here, peace offering. Sorry I went ballistic on you in the
car.”

“Well, sorry may not cut it around here, Morgan.”

“Sorry, and I paid for your dinner.”

“I see. Have you eaten?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well, I’ll forgive you if you join me for Chinese food. How
about it?”

“Hmmm, since I haven’t unpacked a single kitchen implement,
I accept.” She surprised herself. Maybe it was the towel he was wearing, but
something inside her was now eager for his company. “You will put on some
pants?”

“If it would make you feel more comfortable, I’ll even put
on underwear. Come on in.”

His place was obviously bigger than hers, and she noticed
right away that it was decorated in a very comfortable, upscale manner. A cream
sectional sat in the large living room with a wooden coffee table in front of
it. Glowing lamps were on tables on opposite ends of the sofa. To the right, a
staircase led to the second floor, and to the left, a large open kitchen lined
with maple cabinets glowed with light. A dining area was to the left of the
kitchen. Hardwood floors and crown molding reminded her that she was in
Georgetown, but if she didn’t know better, she’d expect to go outside and hunt
moose. She felt as if she were at a lodge in Maine.

“Make yourself comfortable while I go get decent. Help
yourself to wine or beer in the fridge.” He jogged up the stairs. She watched
him go and noticed how every muscle in his legs rippled. He was in shape for
his age. Although forty-something wasn’t old.

She walked into the kitchen and opened his fridge. She
didn’t know what possessed her; she usually felt comfortable only in her own
home. Maybe she was just lonely for company on her first night on her own in
DC. It had been a long stressful week, and she would like to let her hair down,
so to speak. Nicole was right; she needed a break to relax. Why not with Dorn?
Her apartment was not exactly stress free with the number of boxes that required
unpacking.

She found a bottle of water in the fridge and decided she
should start with that since she had just run three miles. She wished she had
showered before coming over. She checked her reflection in the mirror back in
the living room and dragged her hair from the ponytail holder. Holding it in
her teeth, she bent over and ran her hands through her hair. She heard throat
clearing behind her.

“Looks good to me, Morgan,” he said, amused again. He looked
heavenly in jeans and a baby-blue T-shirt.

“Bent over or loose hair?” she asked playfully, wondering
what had come over her.

“Both would suit me. Did you get a drink?”

“I have water. I’ve just run three miles.”

“Is that what improved your mood?” He poured himself a
frothy beer.

“Maybe. Look, I’m really sorry. It’s been a long week with
all kinds of public appearances and not-so-nice questions being tossed around
about the incidents that happened in my life. I guess I’ve just had enough. I’d
really rather people forget about what happened and let me represent the real
needs of my district.”

“I can understand that,” he said as he piled Chinese food
onto plates and set the kitchen island for two. “But you may want to regard the
incidents that happened to you as some of the issues that need action for your
district. But I won’t bring it up again.” He was very measured in his words
now, almost compassionate. “I know the first week is stressful. That’s why most
people fly back to their districts on the weekend.”

“Thank you. Maybe we can just relax and get to know each
other.” They were neighbors, after all.

“Have a seat, let’s eat.” He pulled out a stool with his
foot and took a seat at the counter. “So have people been asking about your
age? You’re considered young for Congress, just like I was when I started
here.”

“Yes, everybody. I like to think of it as a compliment,
although I know they don’t mean it that way. Everybody has compared me to my
predecessors, repeating ‘thirty-five’ over and over like I was a babe in the
woods. I’ve done more legislation than most of the people I’ve met this week,
albeit on a smaller stage.” She took a bite of the pepper steak.

“Same thing they did to me five years ago. You were clerk of
courts, right?”

“Yes.” She was surprised he knew anything about her and
found it suspicious. “You know of Landon McCollum, right?”

“The director of the Department of Commerce. I remember when
he first came to Washington.”

“Well, I started right out of college with him when he was
the mayor of Cleveland. He was my mentor and like an uncle to me, still is. I
worked on everything from tax legislation, to health and human services, to
judicial items. It was a good overview and training ground. Twelve-hour days,
seven days a week.”

“That is good training. Where did you go from there?”

“I kept that pace until I was twenty-seven and decided I
would run for clerk. Uncle Landon and my dad, who was the Cleveland police
chief, helped me. They co-chaired the party for ages. I was sworn in on my
twenty-eighth birthday. Council came later when I was thirty-one and I served
there until being appointed here. Unfortunately for my constituents, they’ve
had to deal with a lot from my predecessor. What about you?”