The Perfect Candidate (10 page)

He was going to have to seduce her- not that Ashley had given the impression of being terribly
hard
to seduce.  Michael had a good idea where a kiss on her couch would have led them.  So, he wanted to have sex with her, she wanted to have sex with him, but they couldn
’
t because
…

“Because?” Michael muttered aloud.

Well, because none of this was meant to be
real
.  They had an objective - to get him elected as the next President.  If they started muddying the water feelings, or at least, passions, then things would spiral out of control.  He would upset her one way or another, she would leave, blow the campaign, and before he knew what was happening he
’
d have another Blair on his hands!

It was just a bad idea all around!

However, although Michael logically knew these facts, he didn
’
t seem to be able to communicate them to body, which was still throbbing urgently. 

Fortunately, by the time he found his home his desire was imperceptible to his housekeeper, but Michael was aware of the buzz of unfulfilled lust that was still zipping through his veins.

“Can I get you anything to eat, sir?” Mrs. Martin asked, as soon as Michael stepped inside the front door.  “I’
ve made a stew and left it in the fridge.  Did you want me to heat it up for you?
”
she pressed.

Michael smiled and shook his head.  He thanked the housekeeper for the work she had done that day, especially for taking the trouble to prepare him a supper that he could pop into the microwave later, and then he said goodnight and saw Mrs. Martin out to her car.  He always took the time to make sure the almost elderly lady got off safely, carrying any bags she had, and making sure her antique car started. 

There was something wonderfully liberating about walking back into his empty house all alone after he had said goodbye to the housekeeper.  It was as though he left public (hopefully) soon-to-be President Reese outside, and could go back to being plain old Michael once he was on his own.  There was no one watching, waiting for him to slip up, looking for a story, or digging for a scandal.  There was no one at all though,  and that could be lonely at times.

Or at the very least frustrating! 

He really, really needed a woman!  At least that had been the one positive of having a wife.  There was always a plentiful supply of sex.  Well, in the early days at any rate. 

Michael took Mrs. Martins
’
beef stew out of the fridge and put it into the microwave, shrugging of his suit jacket as he waited for his supper to heat up.  He wondered if Ashley had finished her pizza. He  wondered if she was in bed yet.

“
Stop it!
” he growled under his breath and then went through the motions of getting ready to bed. He spared one last glance at his cell phone and frowned when he saw that he
’
d missed a call.  He picked it up and dialled his voicemail, rolling his eyes when he heard Norm
’
s voice. He campaign manager was obsessing over some little detail that could have waited until morning.  Didn
’
t the man
ever
switch off?  Michael decided to turn his phone off, lest Norm be tempted to ring in the middle of the night- a scenario that, sadly, wasn
’
t that uncommon.

He dried off quickly and sank, naked, into bed, stretching his large frame out over the whole double bed, and almost immediately fell asleep.

8

Ashley didn
’
t sleep well.  She was having too much trouble deciding how she felt about Michael.  Prior to
‘
playing
’
in his girlfriend, he was a man who she never thought about other than as her boss.  Well
…
she was sure you couldn
’
t be
female
and not notice that he was one of the handsomest men on the planet.  However, her appreciation of his body, well
…
and his mind, because there was no denying that he was extremely intelligent, had never been
…
inappropriate. 

She had known where she stood and would never have attempted to catch his eye.  Would she?  She didn
’
t know anymore!  He had picked her out for the
‘
job
’
for
some
reason!

Ashley thumped her pillow and wriggled around, trying to get comfortable.  She could admit to herself that she had always found Michael physically attractive and mentally stimulating, but now she was discovering so many new things about him
…
that he was funny, and charming, and too sexy for words
…
that she was afraid she might be in danger.

Especially if he made any more spur-of-the-moment visits late at night!

She couldn
’
t believe that he had caught her in her pajamas!  What must he be thinking of her?  Ashley shivered as she remembered some of the looks that she was sure she had seen in Michael
’
s eyes when he was staring at her
…
she had thought, at one point, that he was going to kiss her, and she would have been only too willing to let him.

Ashley rolled onto her back and cast her thoughts back to the one kiss that they
had
shared.  She didn
’
t know if her mind had made it into something it wasn
’
t- something more wonderful than could possibly be real, but she was desperate to find out.  She had to kiss him again, just for research purposes.  She just wanted to see if her memory was playing tricks on her.

She giggled into her pillow, finally finding a position that was comfortable to sleep in.  How did one go about enticing the future President to kiss you?  It might be a lot of fun trying to find out
.

Ashley
’
s dreams were good enough to let her live out that fantasy in one or two different scenarios once she finally fell asleep.  She seemed to spend the whole night wrapped up in Michael
’
s arms, although when she did wake up the following morning, she was rather embarrassed to find that she seemed to have actually spent most of the night making out with her pillow!

“What are you doing to me, Michael!” she sighed, stretching and glancing at her alarm clock, unsure as to what had woken her.  She still had half an hour before she needed to get up!

Ashley had just snuggled back under the blankets, imagining taking Michael up where they had just left off, when the doorbell rang.  She groaned and threw off the covers when it rang a second time.  Obviously this person was not going away, but what kind of lunatic came calling at 5.30am?

“Michael?” she gasped. 

Ashley couldn
’
t account for the unlikely thought, except for the fact he
had
called and caught her by surprise the night before, and he had since been on her mind constantly.  Still
…
it was unlikely that it was going to be him, but that didn
’
t stop Ashley hurrying out of bed. 

She grabbed her robe, glanced in the mirror at her reflection, wanted to pull a comb through her hair, but decided she didn
’
t have time.  The doorbell was ringing with increasing frequency.

Ashley hurried downstairs, breathless and rosy cheeked, she unlocked the front door, threw it open
…
and suffered a severe disappointment.

“Mr. Winterson?” she mumbled weakly, pulling her robe more tightly around herself.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’
m sorry to disturb you so very early, Miss Kendall,
”
said the slightly plump, bespectacled, balding man, as he eased his way into the foyer. 
“
However, I thought I should take it upon myself, now that your status has changed somewhat, to see that you have your own chauffeur and car,
”
he beamed, pointing over his shoulder to the shiny brand new car that was sitting in the middle of Ashley
’
s driveway.

“Oh…
wow
,
”
Ashley said.  She couldn
’
t deny that this was a lovely little luxury, but she had to wonder how
necessary
it was
…
especially this
early
in the morning! 
“
Does er- Mi- Mr. Reese know about-?
”

“I’
ll inform him during our morning briefing.  I
’
m also here to make sure that you
’
re ready for dinner tonight,
”
he said, still smiling.

“Dinner?” Ashley frowned.  She had started to wonder if she was still dreaming.  “I- that’
s not until this evening, right?  I don
’
t understand.
”

“I’
ve being talking to some of our people Miss Kendall, and well- we
’
re not sure if we
’
ve got your image
quite
right yet,
”
Norman confessed. 
“
So we
’
d like you to spend the day with some make artists and fashion designers.
”

“But I- my- speech,” Ashley whimpered, looking pitifully towards the living room, where all her notes were still waiting for her. 

What kind of woman was she that she would rather sit down at her computer and type up a speech for Michael on inner city poverty than go and be pampered and dressed up prettily?  She asked herself, but the answer came readily enough.  A woman who thought substance was important than style.  It was more important to her for Michael to have a speech that sounded strong and convincing than it was for him to have the perfect (fake!) little woman on his arm!

“Mr. Winterson, I really
can
’
t
-
”
Ashley tried to argue, but she didn
’
t think that Norman was listening to her.  In fact, he was shooing her back upstairs to get dressed.