Capitol Conspiracy

27

Ben sat in the front living room of the apartment-what Christina called her purple-and-pink paradise-and wondered where she was. First she slammed the door on him; then, last night, she didn’t come home at all. That had happened before. She was one of the most industrious staffers in the Senate, and her constant socializing and gossiping and temperature-taking and all the other things that made her invaluable often kept her so late that she simply slept in the office. But it couldn’t be a coincidence that she had managed to have absolutely nothing to do with him since he came out publicly in favor of the amendment. And now that it was out of committee and most of the pundits said it was due to his testimony Well, he wasn’t surprised she wasn’t here tonight.

But he wished to God she were.

Maybe if he took her on that honeymoon they never managed to have. Just as soon as the amendment got through the Senate, he could whisk her off to France. First class, maybe. He couldn’t afford first class. Come to think of it, he couldn’t afford to go to France at all. Weren’t senators supposed to be rolling in dough? Where were all those under-the-table bribes and overseas junkets when you needed them? Maybe if he called a few lobbyists…

But he suspected Christina would not go for that.

Maybe if he used his newfound clout to get that Alaskan Wilderness Bill passed. Not that he actually had any clout, as far as he knew, but he should. He was doing a favor for the president. Shouldn’t the president now do a favor for him? Might be a stretch-President Blake had been very vocal in his opposition to the bill for the last two years-but still, wouldn’t that make Christina happy? She’d been fighting for that one since the day they arrived in Washington. Maybe if he got really tight with Senator DeMouy…

But he suspected even that would not make Christina forget what he had done.

And for that matter, neither would a million-dollar contribution to her favorite charity, an autographed set of Red Dirt Rangers CDs, horseback riding with Prince Charles, a diamond-studded hair band, a silver-plated harmonica, the ability to warp the space-time continuum, or lunch with Madonna. And he didn’t have any of those things, either.

Didn’t matter. Wouldn’t work.

Which made her angrier? he wondered. The fact that he supported a proposal she so adamantly opposed or the fact that he had done it without consulting her first? After all, he didn’t have that much time to think about it. The president’s chief of staff had told him to call before midnight, and midnight was only minutes away when he finally called, and if he had stopped to call Christina first, time might have run out and And these were all excuses. He hadn’t called Christina first because he knew what her reaction would be. He chickened out.

Now he was paying the price. He just hoped the assessment wasn’t permanent. He had longed to be with her for so long. To think that he had screwed it all up so quickly ate at him like a two-foot ulcer. Could she ever forgive him? Or was this marriage over before it had even begun?

The doorbell rang, thank God. He knew it wasn’t Christina-she was hardly likely to ring the bell before entering her own apartment-but whoever it was, they would provide some distraction from his own morose musings.

He pushed himself out of the easy chair and opened the door.

His first thought was: I didn’t know Victoria’s Secret sold door-to-door.

She was a short woman, but what she had, she had in great amplitude. As he stood there trying to think of something intelligent to say, her overcoat dropped off her shoulders and fell to the floor, revealing the entire outfit, what there was of it. The corset was black; the frilly edges of the teddy were white. The cups beneath her breasts barely covered the nipple and the backside revealed more bottom than most hospital gowns.

She tossed her blond hair behind her head and smiled. “See anything you like, Senator?”

Ben swallowed. “I-I think you-you m-must have the wrong apartment.”

“I don’t think so. Pucker up, you handsome hunk of manhood.”

She strode toward him with a determined and confident certainty. Ben held up his hands, but she brushed them away and threw herself at him. Before he knew what was happening, her lips were planted on his. A moment later, she leapt up into the air and wrapped her legs around him.

“I-really think there’s-there’s b-been some sort of mistake,” Ben said, struggling to get his face free from hers.

“You know you want it, handsome.”

“I’m-pretty sure I don’t.”

“Let me convince you.” Ben felt her hand grabbing in a place where it should not be grabbing.

“Do-I know you?” Ben asked, pulling away.

And the instant his face emerged over her shoulder, the flash erupted in his eyes.