The World: According to Rachael (15 page)

Here’s the best part. She meets with Maggie and goes through my social calendar. When Angela delivers the dresses, she’s even awesome enough to label them with which event that I’m supposed to wear them to. She knows my closet well enough to suggest shoes that I already own, or she includes them.

Tonight, she chose the perfect dress for me to be photographed in with Graham.

I slip the silver organza silk cocktail dress, which zips up the side over my head. My petite frame can only pull off certain styles without making me look like I’m wearing my big sister’s hand-me-downs. Usually, that means that dresses are very form-fitting. This one, however, is a beaded one-shoulder number. If it were in any other material but this one, I’d have sent it back, telling Angela that it looks like something Jane would have worn in
Tarzan.
However, the flowy silk ends four inches above my knee and I don’t have to wear Spanx pantyhose with it. Honestly, if I didn’t have to wear a strapless bra, this would be as comfortable as my threadbare “Jones for President” T-shirt.

One last check in the mirror confirms that my makeup and hair are still salon-perfect. I grab my silver clutch and throw open my front door when I see the town car arrive out front. Instead of Lou slipping out of the front, the back passenger door opens.

I forget to breathe.

I haven’t seen him in a week, and it’s possible that he is even more handsome than I remember. Dear God, his suit is even tailored to his athletic frame. His eyes twinkle as he gracefully walks toward me, up my steps, to the very spot where we had our very heated make-out session last Sunday.

“Rachael,” he says in my ear, as if it’s a prayer. His arms wrap around me and pull me to him without regard for my hair, dress, and makeup. I don’t care. This is where I want to be.
Skip the event and let me see what’s under that tailored dress shirt …

He places a small kiss on my forehead just where my hair begins. “I’ve missed seeing you.”

My cheeks heat as dirty thoughts play ping-pong inside my brain, and I realize that his breath has quickened to almost a pant. Looking between us, I half expect to see purple cartoon electricity bolts leaping from my chest to his and back.

“I’ve missed you too.”

We continue to stare into each other’s eyes.

“We should walk down the stairs and get into the car right now before we forget why we’re dressed up.”

He’s right. I know that he’s right. This is a work function, and I have to make an appearance, but my body is remembering what it feels like to be attracted to a man and not just to want to have sex with him. Right now, nothing sounds more important on this earth than getting naked with Graham Jackson and exploring every crevice of his body, and then snuggling up against his side while we watch an 1980’s horror flick and then do it all again.

“Yeah … We should probably go.”

Neither one of us makes a move toward the waiting car.

“Rachael, quit looking at me like that.” His words translate as a warning. The inflection in his tone tells me that he’d really like for me to keep looking at him just like this.

“How am I looking at you, Graham?” I ask, licking my lips.

His left eye twitches just a fraction. “Like you’re a starving man on a deserted island, and I’m a piece of steak.”

“Does that make you feel dirty?” I ask coyly.

A large smile spreads across his face, making his nose crinkle. “Best feeling ever.”

I laugh another genuine laugh.
That’s been happening a lot lately.
I take his hand, leading him away from where it’s obvious we both want to be and to poor Lou, who probably just saw way more intimacy than he signed on for.

His hand grips mine in a possessive way. If the hand belonged to Roan, I’d have squeezed it so hard that he would have yelped. Instead, I give Graham a reassuring stroke with my thumb across his callused pointer finger.

As we step out of the car, I wave at the crowd of people who have gathered out front, hoping for a star sighting. Tonight’s event mixes Hollywood and politicians, so there’s more press than the usual number who normally attend these sorts of things.

“You are radiant tonight, Miss Early,” Graham breathes into my hair as we step out of the town car.

I love the word radiant. It says so much more than beautiful or sexy or gorgeous. Radiant means that my appearance comes from the inside, which is where it matters. My hearts warms, and I find myself feeling more and more excited to be seen with this guy.

I lace my arm around his elbow as we strut down the red carpet. I’m proud of how confident he seems. His back is straight, and his other arm is relaxed. He has a coolness about him that I must admit, is a bit surprising. When he asked if he could accompany me, I was afraid that all of this would be too much, but once again Graham Jackson surprises me.

“Have you walked a red carpet before?” I yell in his ear over the noise.

He bends slightly so I can hear his reply. “You’ve de-virginzed me.”

I smirk at his joke as I direct us over to one of my favorite reporters. A red rope separates us.

“Cara,” I coo as I give her a kiss on the cheek. “I didn’t know you’d be covering this tonight? You should have called.”

She rolls her eyes, clearly indicating that this was not her assignment of choice. “My boss thought there might be something politically interesting going on, but you and I both know that everyone will be on their best behavior.” Her head finally moves to my right and sees the very cute guy on my arm. “I’m Cara Mason,” she says, offering her hand.

“Graham Jackson,” he replies as he shakes her hand.

“Haven’t seen you around before?”

I interject. “He’s a teacher and coach at Drake’s school.”

The press that covers the White House knows the President’s kids. Cara got her start in the business by covering President Jones’ campaign, so she’s especially familiar with the boys.

“Don’t tell me that little Drakey set you two up?” She laughs, shaking her head. “That kid kills me.”

I smirk. “More like Shelby set us up.” I squeeze Graham’s arm. “Apparently the lacrosse moms think he’s cute.”

“Does Roan know about this?” She motions between us.

Blunt should be Cara’s middle name. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times! There’s nothing between us.”

Graham stiffens at my side. “Don’t we have to, like, pose for pictures or something?”

“I guess that’s my cue. Bye, Cara,” I say as I give her a hug. “See you inside?”

“Yeah,” she replies, rolling her eyes again.

As we walk away, he whispers in my ear, “Told you everyone thinks that you’re a couple.”

I stand on my tiptoes and brush my lips against his cheek. “Well tonight we’re proving them wrong now, aren’t we?”

Speak of the devil, as we turn to walk away from the press section, I spot Roan with a gorgeous six-foot Brazilian model on his arm. We acknowledge each other a slight head nod, but I choose to ignore him. There will be plenty of opportunities—because I’m lucky like that—to say hello inside.

Graham and I pose for a couple of pictures, and a few reporters ask his name. I proudly tell them “Graham Jackson,” and I even joke with one of the guys, “and he’s not in politics.”

A reporter asks if he can be referred to as my significant other. Graham’s hand on my back presses a little more forcibly into my spine. I tighten my smile and reply, “Just a friend.”

As we walk towards the hotel lobby, Graham leans down and says, just above a whisper, “I’m not sure I approve of the ‘just a friend’ line. Isn’t that the same one that you gave Roan?”

I think about it for a moment. I never gave Roan a title. I think it was always just understood that we were both political players who attended events together. The curiosity around Graham is that he’s not in the bright lights of politics. I raise an eyebrow and sweetly reply, “Roan has never gotten to kiss me against my front door or been asked to come inside.”

He lets out a breath and shakes his head. “It’s a good fucking thing. That guy is a douche.”

He’s done beautifully for his first time participating in this circus. As we enter the hotel lobby, I tug on his arm and pull him into what used to be a private room for making landline phone calls. Now, it sits empty, as if waiting for a purpose again.

His handsome face looks confused as his eyebrows meet in the middle and a small smile crosses his lips. “Stealing me for a private moment?” he asks as I shut the door behind us.

I stand on my tiptoes as he spreads his legs. His hands move to my waist. Our lips meet in a soft, sweet embrace. It’s not a kiss of desperation or promise of more things to come. It’s more of a thank-you-for-just-being-you kind of kiss.

I pull away first, and I smile as I reach up to wipe my pink lipstick from his bottom lip. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, turning to the side. “I don’t think I did anything?”

“You did,” I reply as I take his hands into mine. “You were yourself. It’s the first time that I’ve been proud of the person that I was photographed with. You make me happy, Coach Jackson.”

Graham’s eyes sparkle. “I think that’s quite possibly the nicest compliment that I’ve ever been paid. Thank you, Miss Early.”

We’re standing with barely a foot between us. The atmosphere in the room begins to shift, and I swear someone just kicked the heater up to high. Graham’s eyelids become heavy, and a clump of dark hair falls over his forehead resting just above his dark eyebrow. I bring my hand up to his chest and run my fingers under the lapel of his tux.

“Rachael, I want to kiss you,” he whispers in a choked voice.

I grasp his jacket pulling him towards me as my way of communicating that’s exactly what I want also. I’m pushed up against the wall. My purse falls carelessly to the ground. Greedily, I open my mouth, inviting him inside. His lips and tongue steal from me the desperation and hunger that I’ve felt for him all week. They also offer the reassurance that I need that he feels the same way about me. We’re connecting in a way that’s purely physical, but mentally, I feel him also. This kiss is branded with the newness of our relationship, but it’s also so familiar, as if we’ve shared this passion many times before.

I’m thankful to be wearing a loose-fitting dress as I wrap my right leg around his waist drawing him to me so there’s not a millimeter of space between us. His mouth opens in a moan as I rub my breast against his chest. His hands cup my behind, giving it a squeeze.

“You’re killing me, Rachael,” he breathes in my ear.

Moving to his neck, I find his pulse with my tongue and lick and nip it. His hands grip my cheeks tighter, lifting me so my center is pressed against the very obvious bulge in his pants.

Without asking permission, my hips begin to rub against him. Dear God, it’s been so long since I’ve felt like this. I want Graham Jackson like I’ve never wanted another man before.

“Rach … Rachael … We have to stop. There are voices outside of the door,” he says as he carefully places me back on the ground and begins to straighten my dress.

I don’t care about those voices. All I care about is indulging more in the feelings that race through my veins when I’m with him.

He reaches down and picks my silver bag up and hands it to me. Then, he steps away from me and runs his hand through his hair. The other hand rests on his hip. He looks just as affected as I feel. “That was so fucking hot.”

I lean against the wall, and attempt to get my breathing back to a normal rate. With a smirk on my face, I say, “We could skip the event and check into the hotel.”

Sure, I’m expected to network, but Evan is here also. He can grease palms just as well as I can. And I need Graham Jackson. My silk thong panties are uncomfortably wet, and my libido is in overdrive.

The right side of Graham’s cheek pulls up into a knowing smile and he chuckles as he reaches down, fisting his very hard dick. I lick my lips in anticipation. “As much as I’d like to make love to you until next week, I got prettied up for this. I don’t want to be the reason that you neglect your job.”

I must look as confused as I feel. This is the second time he’s shot me down when I offered sex. A girl could really get a complex. And because I’m not used to being told no, I turn on my heels and march out of the room, leaving Graham standing there.

He calls my name, but I ignore him. As I’m heading towards the bathroom, I realize that I’m embarrassed. I’ve thrown myself at this guy, and he’s dumped a bucket of cold water on me not once, but twice.

Fortunately, the bathroom is empty. I sit down in the lounge area that is outfitted with two plush chairs and a couch, staring at the beige-striped wall. Doubts creep into my mind. I question if he is only with me because of my job title? Although I’m not sure what benefit a teacher and lacrosse coach gets out of dating the White House Chief of Staff. It’s certainly not my paycheck he could be interested in. My salary is public record, and let’s just say that nobody works for the President because they desire to be wealthy. I think I have whiplash. I’ve gone from ready to give my body to him to questioning his motives.

I’ve never been turned down before. Never. I’m not sure how to handle this. I have to exit this bathroom. Obviously, I can’t stay here all night.

Digging down deep in my soul, I find the resolve to see this night through. No man dictates my emotions. I’m Rachael Early, White House Chief of Staff, for God’s sake.

I walk to the full-length mirror and stare at my reflection.
You knew that he was too good to be true.
I begin to feel very foolish for letting myself like him as much as I do. I’m no longer a silly girl who thinks that Prince Charming rides a white horse and will sweep me off of my feet. No guy is this perfect. I should be smarter than this, I
tisk
at girl in the mirror.

I open my purse and proceed to touch up my makeup, especially my lipstick, run a brush through my long hair and readjust my strapless, padded pushup bra.

Once I’ve gotten my game face on, I exit the bathroom, deciding that I will not make a move on Graham again. He wants some of my awesomeness, then he’s going to have to work for it. But, most importantly, I’ve snatched my heart off the table. It’s officially closed once again.