Valentine Vote (11 page)

“Yeah, I understand she practically lives here. She told me not to miss the new bird's nest exhibit.”

“Absolutely, it's a must,” the gray-haired woman, whose name tag read “Clare Dunwoody,” pointed down the hall. “It's in the garden, through those double doors. Since the weather's not great today, it's a bit wet out there for the kids. You'll have the place to yourselves. Climb away!”

“Now, I'm really curious,” Courtney said as they headed to the double doors.

Once outside, an interactive, crocheted playscape greeted them. Suspended on cables, the structure loomed over a grassy plot.

“Meet the bird's nest,” said Eric. “It's the world's first crocheted jungle gym, kind of a Baltimore Oriole's nest for humans.”

“And it looks like we have it to ourselves,” Courtney said. She climbed into one of the entrance holes. “Come on in. It's damp, but what the heck.”

Eric followed her in, and the weight of two adults in the dynamic gourd collapsed them together. They rolled on the knitted floor like two marbles at the bottom of a bag. Eric took the opportunity to pull Courtney close. They laughed and hugged, their legs intertwined. Eric rolled Courtney on top of him, her hair loosed from its ponytail, tickling his face. He tugged on a strand, bringing her lips to his. “For most of my life, I haven't wanted girls to read too much into a kiss. This time, I don't want you to underestimate what's behind it.”

He closed his lips on hers. Before he could nudge hers open with his tongue, she'd already started a slow explore, running her tongue inside his bottom lip. He moaned, deepening the kiss and pressing his hand into the small of her back.

“Mommy, there are grownups licking each other and rolling around in there!” A little girl's voice shrieked.

Eric and Courtney abruptly ended their kiss, juggled themselves to sitting and clamped their hands across their mouths so they wouldn't laugh out loud. Eric motioned for Courtney to exit through a hole on the opposite side of the bird's nest, hopefully away from the child and her mother. Eric eased himself out then turned to help Courtney. They both smoothed down their pants once they were standing and nonchalantly walked around the contraption and back to the double doors, avoiding eye contact with the little girl and her mother.

“Was it fun?” A woman's voice rang out.

Eric turned slowly and faced the woman, who didn't register that she knew him. “More fun than a barrel of monkeys.”

They raced out of the Children's Museum, holding their sides and laughing all the way to Eric's car.

• • •

As Eric pulled out of the parking space, Courtney said, “What if that woman had recognized you, or worse, been a reporter?” Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She wasn't sure if it was from the run to the car or the near-miss from the spectators … or Eric's kiss.

“I can see the headline now, ‘Senator Morrison Resorts to Childish Ploy for Votes.'”

“More like, ‘Senator Morrison Regresses as Tobacco Vote Nears Senate Floor.'” Courtney winced. “Sorry, I promised not to bring up the ‘T' word.”

“Apology accepted.”

Courtney couldn't believe she'd mentioned tobacco. She studied Eric's profile, intent on the road ahead. She may not have upset him, but she definitely broke the spell. What could she say to make up for her
faux pas
? Before he'd kissed her, he asked her not to underestimate his intent. What was his intent? “How about this headline, ‘Self-Destructive Lobbyist Snags Senator in Love Nest.'”

Eric glanced briefly at Courtney. “I'm all for the love nest snag, but what makes you think you're self-destructive?”

Courtney looked out the window, just in time to catch the imposing Morrison Library on the way back to Eric's family estate. She'd never encountered a family that had invested more in their community. “Helen would say I can't leave well enough alone.”

“We have the potential for better than ‘well enough,' Courtney.”

“Think so?”

“Hope so.”

While Eric showered, he thought long and hard about how Saturday night might proceed … or unravel. What he really
wanted
was to take Courtney to his bedroom and become intimately acquainted with various luscious parts of her. Then he'd offer a post-coital dinner of wine, cheese, and French bread … and some chocolate-dipped strawberries. They'd eat naked and then they'd make love again. Nope, he decided as the hot, pulsating water from the showerhead beat reality into his addled brain, he knew he'd have to shelve that dream. Before he could, in good conscience, make love to her, he needed to tell her once and for all that he would not vote for the tobacco tax. But they'd made a truce not to discuss tobacco this weekend, and if he brought it up, she'd probably launch into lobbyist mode and any hope for lovemaking would fly out the window.

He was in a catch-22—damned if he did and damned if he didn't. And this was about more than sex, much more. He was falling in love with Courtney, and one false move could ruin more than a roll in the hay. Sure, they could make love … and then mosey back to D.C. where the shit would hit the fan when he voted against the tax. On the other hand, he could tell her tonight that his position was intractable, she'd rant and rave, and they'd fly back to D.C. looking out of opposite windows of the airplane. After a curt handshake, they'd say goodbye … forever.

On the plus side, maybe her stance had softened. She seemed sympathetic to the plight of the farmers and impressed with his family's philanthropy, but how far did that go? Would she forgive him for voting against the bill that meant the world to her?

Well, he couldn't take her to his bed under false pretenses.

So, they'd go to one of his favorite restaurants in the village. Being in public would at least keep temptation at arm's length. He'd go light on the alcohol because there'd be nothing better than some heavy petting in the library when they got back to the house, and he didn't want to get carried away. He'd have to play it safe.

In a perfect world, they'd have a future beyond the vote. But this was not a perfect world. And even if she forgave him, they'd still need to come to terms with what they wanted from each other physically. Beyond the fantasies they both enjoyed—in their heads—could love survive?

• • •

Courtney soaked in the deep, claw-footed tub. She paid special attention to shaving her legs, even to the little hairs on her hot-pink painted toes. What did Eric have in store for tonight? She'd hoped he'd want to stay in because an evening curled up on the couch with him would be her idea of heaven, but he'd seemed a bit wired on the way home from downtown, like he had some energy he needed to expel. Shoot, he could expel it on her!

As much as she'd like to get down-and-dirty with him, though, she feared she'd disappoint him with her lack of experience. Aside from what she'd read in romance novels or conjured in her wild fantasies, she was a novice on the mechanics. (She flashed to a mental image in
Popular Mechanics
of inserting rod A into slot B.)

Truth be told, wild fantasies had nothing to do with true affection or closeness, and with him, sex was about more than just fitting their bodies together. It was about sharing something with him she'd never shared with anyone else. It was about becoming one.

Face it, Court, you're falling in love
. She took a deep breath then sunk under the rising water in the tub. She squeezed her eyes shut and thought about how she'd need to be honest with Eric … even if it meant losing him. But not tonight.

Tonight she just wanted to be in his arms.

• • •

The restaurant, Sanctuary, had formerly been a small brick home. It was tucked on a quiet street near the university, an area more residential than commercial. Courtney tried to mask her disappointment at not staying at Eric's house by chatting incessantly as they exited the car and walked up to the front door.

The restaurant owner, who Eric introduced as Michael, led them to a small room that looked to be a former bedroom. He pulled out a chair for Courtney. “You'll be the only party dining in this room tonight.” Courtney caught his wink to Eric. Theirs was one of three tables, each set for two diners. “We have a couple of special items since you were last here, Senator, including rack of lamb and veal piccata.” He handed menus to Eric and Courtney. “The wine list is on the table. I'll be back in a few minutes to take your selection.”

“Just bring us something from Shelton's. Whatever white you like, Michael,” Eric said.

“Shelton's?” Courtney asked as the owner left the room.

“It's a local winery, and if I remember correctly, you like white.”

“I do like white, but I don't eat lamb or veal.”

“I've seen you gobble bacon, so I know you're not a vegetarian.”

“No, but those baby animals never had the chance to grow up. Ever since I saw lambs frolicking in a spring meadow and a PETA film about calves, I swore off them.”

“Good for you.” He reached for her hand. “I can vouch for the trout; it's top notch.”

Goose bumps rose on Courtney's arm when Eric turned her palm over and stroked it with his other hand. He could keep that up … forever.

“Uh, this restaurant seems excellent, but I was kind of hoping we'd stay in.” She could feel the heat creep up her neck with her bold remark.

The side of Eric's mouth twitched. “The temptation was too great.”

“Temptation meaning me?”

“Precisely.”

Courtney tingled all over from the palm massage. She wanted his hands on her breasts. “Sometimes the most sensible move is to give in to temptation.”

“Sensible? I don't think so, Courtney.”

“If you don't mind my asking, what was this weekend about?”

“It was, is, a chance to get to know each other better.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Did you think I'd soften my stance on you-know-what?”

“I believe I know where you stand.”

“So, if you weren't, aren't, going to seduce me, I guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands.” She eased her foot out of her suede pump and inched her toes under the hem of Eric's gray wool trousers.

“You're playing with fire, Courtney. I have my limits.”

“And just what might those limits be?” Courtney smiled seductively as she ran her toes up and down Eric's calf and placed her hand on his thigh.

“Let's just say you're getting dangerously close.” He grabbed her hand under the table, just as Michael returned with the wine.

“I think you'll like this Sauvignon Blanc.” Michael seemed oblivious to the near miss he'd interrupted. “Who'd like to taste?”

“I'll let the lady do the honors,” Eric said. He let go of her hand then removed reading glasses from his shirt pocket.

Courtney swirled the wine in the glass and took a sip. She noticed a slight flare in Eric's nostrils as he picked up the menu and buried his face in it. His breathing seemed deep, like he was trying to calm himself. Good.

• • •

Much as my dick's about to explode, I am not going to cave.
Holy shit, I need a drink!
Eric picked up his wine glass and almost emptied it in one gulp. He'd told himself he needed to keep his wits about him, but right now, he wanted the calming effects of a little alcohol.

“Would you like me to order for us?” He continued to peruse the menu, not daring to look at Courtney. She was probably licking her lips, and he didn't need that image.

“Sure. Want to start with oysters? I've never tested their aphrodisiac qualities.”

Eric lowered the menu just far enough to reveal his eyes. He peered at her for a long moment before answering. “Not a good idea.”

“Mind if I ask why you're being so coy?”

“Men aren't coy.”

“Okay, then, evasive?”

He set the menu down. “Courtney, I think we should wait.”

“Why?”

“I don't take your virginity lightly.”

“Why don't you let me worry about that?” She sighed. “You can't imagine what it's like to be a twenty-seven-year-old virgin. It's embarrassing.”

“Wait a minute, now I'm starting to feel like the means to an end.” Eric laughed.

Courtney touched his hand lightly. “No, you're much more than that, and if I have to admit it, I appreciate your concern. But I'm beginning to understand what sexual frustration is.”

Out of Eric's peripheral vision, he saw Michael approaching.

“Are you ready to order? Would you like to start with some
bruschetta
?” Michael asked.

“Is it loaded with garlic?” Eric swiped a finger across his eyebrow, which was moist with perspiration. Courtney was sexually frustrated and embarrassed, but she'd said something else that truly jolted his heart. She'd said he was ‘much more' than a means to an end. Maybe she really cared about him. Now, more than ever, he had to make sure they didn't end up in the sack.

“Do you want it to be?” Michael asked.

“Yes, absolutely. I want it to ooze out of my pores.”

Both Courtney and Michael's eyes grew wide.

“All right, then,” Michael said, “I'll get going on that while you decide on the rest of the meal.” Michael gave Eric a quick nod and left the room.

“Do you think I'm a vampire? Because if you're trying to put me off with garlic, I'll eat as much as you. We'll neutralize each other.”

Eric raked his fingers through his hair. “I should have known you'd come up with a cogent counter.”

“Hey, counselor, no one said we weren't equally matched.”

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” Eric pushed back from the table, and though he was in no shape to stand up, he kept his napkin strategically placed in front of him as he pushed his chair back under the table and quickly turned to leave the room. He needed to splash water on his face … and maybe down his pants. When he closed the one-man bathroom door, he gripped the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. Courtney was coming on to him like there was no tomorrow. He'd need to turn the tide to dissuade her.