Extreme Exposure (2 page)

Good journalists never let politicians buy them drinks. “Oh, no, I—”

“Another margarita?”

Blue. His eyes were blue. “On the rocks with salt.”

He smiled, took her empty glass, and turned toward the bar. The crowd seemed to part for him, and in a matter of moments he was back, two drinks in hand. He gave her one and took a sip from the other—amber liquid in a small glass. “I don’t know about their margaritas, but they have the best selection of single malt in town. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Kara drank, tried to recover her sense of detachment. She had no business getting cozy with a senator. Particularly not a handsome one who oozed charm the way slugs oozed slime.

He gestured toward the fern and grinned. “Are you undercover or something?”

Kara felt her aloofness slip to the floor and shatter. She took a step away from the plant. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“No! No—a friend from work. She’s somewhere out there.” Kara gestured toward the undulating crowd. “We put our names in for a table and—”

“Reece! There you are!” A young woman who reminded Kara of Malibu Barbie emerged from the crowd and reached for the senator.

Kara watched as Senator Sheridan took Barbie’s hand and bent down to kiss her cheek. He seemed happy to see her. Blond, curvy, tanned—she was just the sort of woman Kara had imagined he would find attractive. For some reason, being right disappointed her.

He put his arm around Barbie’s shoulder and drew her nearer. “Melanie, I’d like you to meet Kara McMillan of the
Denver Independent.
”

Melanie—Kara thought Barbie was a better name for her—reached out a delicate, well-manicured hand. “Oh, I’ve heard of you. You’re the reporter who got that city official fired, right?”

Kara shook her hand and forced a smile. “Right.”

Melanie turned to the senator. “I’ve saved us a little table in the back corner. You can talk some more if you want. I’ll
head back to the table. I’m afraid someone will steal it.”

Blond hair swinging, Malibu Melanie disappeared back into the crowd.

Senator Sheridan shifted his gaze back to Kara, a look of regret on his face. “I hate to end this conversation, but I need to go. Are you going to be here for a while?”

Kara wanted to tell him to drop dead, but he hadn’t done anything wrong. “We were planning on having dinner.”

“I’ll look for you in the restaurant.” Then he flashed her another smile and disappeared into the crowded bar.

He’d been gone perhaps two seconds when Holly reappeared, eyes wide, a big smile on her face. “Who was that?”

“Nobody.” Kara took another sip of her marg.

Holly’s big brown eyes narrowed. “Nobody, my ass! You were talking to the hottest guy in the bar! I saw him buy you a drink!”

“You were watching?” For some reason Kara wasn’t really surprised.

Holly crossed her arms. “Who was he—or didn’t you bother to get his name?”

Kara gave up. “That was Senator Reece Sheridan.”

Holly’s eyes widened. “A senator? Oooh!”

“Y
OU
’
RE TOO
damn picky. That’s your problem.” Holly dug a corn chip into the salsa, popped it into her mouth, and crunched. “You don’t know anything about this senator guy, and you’ve already written him off.”

They’d gotten a table, had placed their orders, and still Holly wouldn’t quit harping at Kara.

“He’s here with a woman.” Kara drank the last of her second margarita. “Besides, he’s not my type.”

“Tall, sexy, and blatantly male isn’t your type? Good God, Kara, what is?”

“I want someone real.”

Holly considered her for a moment and sipped her Diet Coke. “This is all
his
fault.”

“Oh, don’t start—”

“If he’d been a man instead of a rat bastard, you might have a love life.”

“You can’t blame him for my decisions.”

“The jerk should be neutered.”

Kara opened her mouth to protest, shut it again. She had once been in love with Galen Prentice, had believed he loved her, too. But he had betrayed her and dumped her when she’d needed him most. She’d found herself in the exact same situation as her mother—raising a child by herself.

“You know what I think?” Holly took another sip of her Diet Coke.

“I feel certain you’re going to tell me.”

“I think you were so hurt by that S.O.B. you’re afraid to spend time with any man who might actually turn you on. That’s why you haven’t been on a date in five years. You hide behind motherhood and your job and use your responsibilities as a way to hide from life.” Holly nodded her stylish blond head decisively, and, apparently done preaching, bit into another chip.

Kara felt tears prick behind her eyes, fought them back. “I’ve been on dates. I went out with Todd Myers, remember?”

Holly gave Kara a withering look. “Todd Myers is gay as a daisy, and you knew it! You prove my point.”

The waiter arrived at the table with two plates, a sizzling platter and all the fixings for fajitas for two. “Is there anything else I can get you ladies? More drinks?”

Kara started to say no, but Holly had already answered for her.

“More Diet Coke for me, and definitely another marg for her.”

By the time the remains of the fajitas were cleared away, the conversation had moved from men to having sex with men, and Kara was feeling better than she’d felt in ages. She was floating, and everything in the world seemed warm, fuzzy, perfect.

She glanced at her empty glass and wondered what exactly
they put in their margaritas. Whatever it was, it was really, really, really strong.

“What I miss most is kissing.” She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to conjure up the sensation. “I love it when you feel that first brush of his lips on yours. And when his tongue slips into your mouth—mmmm.”

Holly smiled at her and poked at the ice in her glass with her straw.

“You know what else I love?”

“Hard cock?”

Kara heard Holly, of course, but she wasn’t going to let Holly interrupt her train of thought. It was so like Holly to go straight for the crotch. “I love it when a man licks my nipples. It makes me crazy! I can’t even think about it without feeling turned on.”

Holly shrugged, still smiling. “That’s nice, but I prefer his mouth a bit farther south.”

“Galen refused to do that. But I knew this guy in college who said he really liked it.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Was he any good at it?”

Kara nodded and felt heat suffuse her cheeks at the memory. She leaned forward and looked straight into Holly’s eyes. “I think it’s soooo erotic when you kiss him afterwards—and taste yourself on his mouth!”

A man’s voice interrupted the conversation. “What are you ladies talking about?”

Senator Sheridan. He stood beside the table, his coat draped over his arm.

Kara looked up, felt the heat of his smile, and answered without thinking. “I was just saying I think it’s really erotic when you kiss a man and taste yourself on his mouth.”

Some part of her wondered through a tequila haze whether she had just said something she shouldn’t have. But before she had time to consider it, the senator pulled out a chair and sat.

“I’d have to agree.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “That is erotic.”

She could smell his aftershave—something warm and enticingly male. He had taken off his tie and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt, exposing a bit of chest. His shirtsleeves, too, had been unbuttoned and were rolled up to reveal the muscles of his forearms.

Kara couldn’t remember noticing a man’s forearms before.

Holly was right.

Senator Sheridan was hot.

Reece knew he should be going. He had to finish editing the last of his five bills for the session, as it was slated to be heard in committee next week. He also needed to read through the bills he would be expected to vote on next week. And there were always phone calls and e-mails from constituents to return. But he found he couldn’t budge.

Kara McMillan was nothing like he’d expected. The black-and-white photograph that ran every week with her opinion column showed a rather stern woman, hair pulled back, staring gravely into the camera. But the real Kara McMillan was much softer, more colorful, and much more feminine than her photo revealed.

He could tell she was tipsy by the color in her cheeks, a pink glow against her otherwise creamy skin. Her features were delicate, almost elfin. Her eyes were an unusual shade of green, dark with flecks of gold. Her hair was almost black and fell, thick and shining, to her waist. She was almost a foot shorter than he and willowy, with delicate curves in the right places. She looked more like a ballet dancer than a tough reporter.

Kara had a reputation for being ruthless. When she called, people worried. Last year she had lost a city department head his job after discovering he was writing thousands of dollars in checks to a nonexistent contractor who turned out to be his mistress. Reece had been impressed.

Then she had called him.

He’d been taken aback by her voice—soft and sexy. He had
answered her questions—surprisingly insightful questions—and found himself wondering if her reputation wasn’t more the result of her determination and her success. As he knew too well, nothing pissed people off like success—and a refusal to break the rules.

Kara turned to her friend. “Holly, I’d like to introduce Senator Reece Sheridan.”

“Please, just call me Reece.” He reached out a hand to the pretty blonde who sat across the table from Kara.

She shook his hand. “Holly Bradshaw.”

“Don’t let me interrupt your conversation. You were just talking about—”

“Oral sex,” Kara supplied, apparently unembarrassed. “So tell me the truth, Senator, how do men really feel about going down on women?”

“She’s had three,” Holly mouthed, pointing toward Kara and holding up three fingers.

But Reece had figured that out for himself. “It’s Reece, and I can’t speak for all men, but I—”

Kara shook her head. “How like a politician to dodge the question!”

Reece tried not to laugh. “If you’d let me finish my answer . . .”

“Let the man talk.” Holly shot Kara a stern look.

More pink crept into Kara’s cheeks. “Oh. Sorry.”

“I can’t speak for all men, but I enjoy it just fine—provided the woman gets into it. Not all women are comfortable enough with their bodies to enjoy it, you know.”

Kara looked puzzled by this and stared at . . . his mouth. “Do you like to kiss women?”

“Yes. But not as much as I like to go down on them.”

Kara’s gaze met his. He saw her pupils dilate and heard her little intake of breath. Her reaction, unguarded and sensual, intrigued him, and he found himself wondering if she was anywhere near as fiery in bed as she was in print.

A voice in his head reminded him he was treading on dangerous ground. Kara McMillan was a journalist. There
was nothing to stop her from printing every word he said, nothing to stop her from taking her embarrassment out on him once her hangover had passed. He had a feeling she wasn’t used to drinking and that, while she might be adept at asking tough questions, those questions probably never involved anyone’s views on oral sex.

But in short order, she’d peppered him with an array of queries.

“Do women really taste like tuna?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Is it fair that some men expect a woman to give them head but refuse to return the favor?”

“Hardly.”

“Do men like regular sex or getting head more?”

“That depends on the moment—and the woman.”

If she was trying to turn him on, she was doing a good job of it. He took a sip of whisky and nearly choked at her next question.

“What does it
feel
like to be inside a woman?” She leaned toward him, her gaze fixed on his, her chin resting on her hand.

“Um—”

“Good grief, Kara, are you interviewing him?” Holly laughed, stood. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to use the ladies’ room.”

Kara giggled, then made a grave face and spoke with mock severity, as if quoting a newspaper headline. “Sen. Sheridan Says Not All Women Like Oral Sex.”

Reece laughed. “It’s Reece, and please tell me this isn’t tomorrow’s lead story.”

“I’m afraid it is, Senator.” She looked at him sternly. “It’s a senatorial sexposé.”

A moment later he caught sight of Holly as she waved good-bye to him and slipped out the front door.

In his mind, he heard the doors of the trap swing shut with a clang.

CHAPTER 2

R
EECE SHIFTED
his gaze back to Kara, who was licking salt from the rim of her margarita glass with a distracting pink tongue. “How are you getting home?”

She glanced across the table at Holly’s vacant spot. “Holly is driving me. Coming here was her idea.”

From her tone of voice, Reece gathered Kara hadn’t wanted to come along, an intriguing notion, since she’d obviously gotten very much into the spirit of the place. “I think Holly has deserted you. She just walked out the door.”

The look of panicked surprise on Kara’s face as Holly passed them outside the window and blew them a kiss convinced him Kara was as caught in Holly’s snare as he. He felt oddly relieved. He didn’t have much respect for women who tried to manipulate men into bed. Since he’d been elected, he’d met far too many women like that—grasping women who sized up men according to social status and potential future earnings and saw sex as the fastest means of securing their share.

That sort of woman hadn’t been interested in him at all when he’d been nothing more than a high school social studies teacher and youth soccer coach. But once the title “Senator” had been placed before his name, they couldn’t spread their legs fast enough. He had learned the hard way not to take a sexy, willing woman at face value.

But it was obvious Kara hadn’t been privy to Holly’s
scheming. She sat for a moment, eyes wide with astonishment. Then she grabbed her purse, threw her credit card on the table, stood—or tried to stand. But three margaritas had taken their toll.