Valentine Vote (3 page)

And then there was the little issue about dating in general. Did she have time for this?

Oh, lighten up, Court.
It's one little date, hardly something to cream one's panties over, as Helen would say.

Courtney jumped when the doorbell rang. She'd been trying to keep herself busy by reading the latest issue of Martha Stewart's
Simple Living
magazine, but all that registered in the recipe for Brunswick Stew was that there was no Brunswick in it.

“You look … lovely.”

The senator's eyes traveled from Courtney's freshly bobbed hair to pause at her cleavage (
thank you, black wrap dress
), and then graze across the above-knee hem to end at her leopard pumps. He returned to her eyes, a sheepish grin on his adorable mug.

Courtney smiled. “Would you like to come in for a drink? It's freezing out there.”

“Thanks, but I left the car running.” He shrugged, perhaps disappointed.

Courtney grabbed her coat out of the hall closet. Eric helped her put it on, briefly brushing her shoulders in the process. Courtney wanted to lean into him. She'd inhaled the briefest hint of his tweedy maleness, laced with Burberry, when he stepped over the threshold. So, instead of rubbing against him (no, she wouldn't actually do that, though it was tempting), she grabbed her clutch bag from the entry table and stuffed her hands into her gloves.

As they rushed to the car, the senator's hand rested on her back, and he opened the passenger door for her. Once he settled behind the wheel, Courtney asked, “Where to?”

“I thought we'd try Zaytinya. Do you like Turkish food?”

“I love it.” She'd never tried it. Why did she say she loved it? What was wrong with her? “Actually, I'm not sure I've ever had it.” Honesty is always, well, sometimes, the best policy. “Lots of curry, right?”

“It's a lot like Greek food. So, if you like lamb, eggplant, and chicken, you'll be able to find something on the menu. And then there's always octopus.”

“I'll bet you didn't grow up on octopus in North Carolina.”

He laughed. “Not even close. It was all barbecue, grits, and buttermilk biscuits.”

“Followed by chewing tobacco?”

They reached a stoplight, and he took his eyes off the road, turning to her. “Don't tell me you're launching into business already.”

“Sorry. I can be kind of intense when I'm involved in something.”

“I promise there will be time for your tobacco spiel, but for now, I'd just like to get to know you better.” The light changed, and Eric adjusted his rear view mirror before taking off. Courtney looked at his long fingers as they moved the mirror a degree down. She imagined those fingers on her and shifted on the plush leather seat of Eric's Cadillac.

“I'm glad you drive an American car,” she said, returning to more practical matters.

“Thanks. I fought for the auto stimulus money, and I'm proud of the turnaround in the industry.”

She knew that. She knew everything about his voting record. What she didn't know were his motives. Was it all about his constituents, or did political aspirations rule his decisions?

“Come on, tell me about Washington's up-and-coming lobbyist.” He glanced at her from under his eyelashes. “That would be you.”

“It's a standard tale.” She shrugged. “Geeky bookworm gets scholarship to major law school and lands her dream job.”

“No, I mean about what makes you tick. I already know the basics. I Googled you.”

“Bet you don't know as much about me as I know about you,” Courtney said. “Lobbyists are skilled at digging up dirt.”

He half-frowned. “Wait a minute, what kind of dirt are you talking about?”

“Feeling guilty?” Courtney smiled. She gave a dismissive wave. “Let's just say that in reviewing your voting record, I think you're walking a tightrope with your stance on tobacco. You voted for the ban on smoking in restaurants and bars in North Carolina but against the 2008 tobacco tax increase. You're going to be viewed as wishy-washy if you don't watch yourself.”

“I study the issues carefully, and I always vote in the best interests of my constituents. You could never fault me on that.”

“Really? Even when their health is at stake?” Warmth crept up her neck, and it wasn't from the Cadillac's heated seats.

“Whoa, hold on. Sure you're not a litigator?”

Courtney realized she was coming on too strong. “Sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me. I have this overwhelming urge to make you see the light.” Really, why did she care so much? He was just one vote, albeit a significant one. Couldn't she just relax and have a good time with this yummy man?

“You wouldn't be the first woman who wanted me to see the light.” One side of his mouth turned up in a grin. Sexy.

I am so sure.
“Ha, ha. Don't worry. People don't change unless they want to, and I have a strong suspicion you don't want to.”

“True, but
I
have a strong suspicion you like a challenge.”

“In my professional life, yes. In my personal life, not so much.”

“Have you had many serious relationships, Courtney?”

I guess I asked for that.
Ordinarily, she'd consider a man quite brazen for posing such a personal question, especially someone she'd only known for a day, but she was
the one who brought up her personal life. Had she invited his question? She felt like she was in the confessional, and Eric was the obliging young priest behind the screen. And she wasn't even Catholic. “Honestly, I've never had what most people would define as ‘a relationship' with a man.” She couldn't help but use air quotes.

“Does that mean you like women?” He could have been asking whether she liked oatmeal because his expression remained neutral, eyes on the road.

“No, my girlfriends are important to me, but I don't have sex with them.” She was surely crimson by now. She turned her head to the passenger window and tried to fan her face surreptitiously.

“So, no steadies even in high school?” He touched her gloved hand, causing her to jump.

Good grief, here we go. Say ten ‘Hail Marys' and call me in the morning.
“Where are you going with this line of questioning, counsellor? If you must know, I was a total geek in high school and college, and then when I got to law school, I delved even deeper into the books. Now I'm trying to establish a career. It's not like I've been twiddling my thumbs, waiting for Mr. Wonderful to come along.”

“Sorry. I hadn't planned to launch into an examination of your romantic history.” He tipped his head and glanced at her under his thick eyelashes. “But since we're on the subject, I might as well get this out in the open … are you a—?”

This is nothing to be ashamed of, so why am I hot under the collar?
“Yes, I am a virgin.”
Oops, I said that a bit too loudly.

Eric laughed. “I was going to ask if you were available.”

Their conversation was cut short with a turn into the restaurant's valet circle. The attendant opened the passenger door, helping Courtney out, and then he zipped around the car to accept the keys from Eric and drive the Cadillac off to parts unknown.

In the space of about ten minutes, Courtney had revealed more about herself than some of her best friends knew. She needed to tone it down. More importantly, she had to convince this enigmatic man that she was right about a higher tax on tobacco. She figured she had about two hours to set him straight. And considering how things were proceeding so far, it wouldn't be easy.

• • •

They were both silent on the ride back to Courtney's townhouse. In truth, they'd worn each other out at dinner. For every argument she raised, he retaliated with an equally cogent counter-argument. He kept harping about tobacco being the scapegoat for taxes and how it simply wasn't fair to levy exorbitant fees on a product that had been a staple of the American economy since the pilgrims planted the first crops in the seventeenth century. Generations of tobacco families had tilled the soil. They were part of the fabric of what made this country great.

Courtney's counter-argument focused on youth. If adults wanted to wreck their health, that was their business. But for kids as young as ten or twelve years old to be hooked on cigarettes before they had the good judgment or foresight to consider their health was an abomination. With higher taxes, fewer youth would be able to afford cigarettes, and the taxes could pay for a new anti-smoking campaign targeted at kids in elementary school.

She had to give him credit for at least listening to her. He nodded at the right parts, anyway. But Courtney couldn't see that he'd budged. She felt her hopes of ever convincing him fade as he pulled up in front of her townhouse.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked, though she wasn't sure why. She was pretty worn out from all the back and forth, but she hated to see the evening end. His sense of humor and intelligence were intoxicating.

“Thanks, but I've got an early morning.” He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He was probably just as weary as she was from their heated exchange. He moved his jaw around, like he was stifling a yawn.

Now I'm putting him to sleep.
And glomming on to the fact that we're at an impasse on tobacco, he thinks I'm the world's biggest goody-two-shoes.

“Certainly, I understand.” Courtney held up a hand. “Don't get out. I'll see myself to the door.”
So, that's that
. What could she possibly do to leave an impression?
When all else fails, try shock value.
“Unless you'd like to see my drawer full of sex toys?”

His eyes grew wide, but only for a second. “Right, that sounds like you.”

“You don't know everything about me.” Courtney winked and then ran her finger across his lips.
Did I really do that?
Swinging her legs out the door, she said, “Goodnight, Eric,” before slowly and seductively walking to her door, which wasn't easy considering the temperature was close to freezing and she felt more like running. She didn't look back; he'd have seen her teeth chattering. Well, let him chew on her parting statement for a while. It might warm him up, though in truth, the closest thing she had to sex toys was a vibrator with dead batteries.

Eric couldn't concentrate. He stared at page one of the three hundred-page education bill, and his eyes glazed over. Courtney's parting comment swirled in his brain like the fudge in his favorite ripple ice cream. Was she serious about the sex toys? Was she really a virgin? He'd never encountered anyone even remotely like her. He slammed the bill closed. Courtney warranted some serious analysis. Time to make a list. He took the yellow legal pad from his desk and picked up a pencil.

The Id of Courtney
:

1. She's smart, very smart.
   
2. She's completely committed to her cause, which shows her depth of character. She isn't simply hawking the party line, she's a true believer.
   
3. She's beautiful, though she isn't aware of it, which makes her all the more lovely.
   
4. She's genuine, the real McCoy, the kind of woman you'd take home to meet the parents.
   
5. She's sexy, though she hadn't turned it on until the end of the evening. It was more a wakeup call than a come hither.
   
6. What are her motives, aside from swaying a vote? Or is that all she's interested in? She isn't flirty, so why the parting come-on? Was it just a joke?
   
7. And if she's seriously into sex toys, would she be interested in role play? A blindfold? Handcuffs?
   

Eric's heart beat faster than it did after a quick run up the Capitol steps. He ripped the note off the legal pad, tore it into little pieces, and then emptied it into his trash. He considered eating the pieces, lest anyone reassemble them and read the sex toys part. All he'd need was for the media to get wind of his carnal desires. He'd been teasing about the riding crop, but she'd evidently taken him seriously. Playing the jockey to her Secretariat wasn't his idea of foreplay. If Courtney really had those sex toys, she had to be someone with a rich fantasy life. And if she was truly a virgin, her fantasies were probably all she had. He'd read that many women found the
Fifty Shades
books a turn on, but few actually wanted to experience BDSM. It certainly did nothing for him. Perhaps Courtney was a latent tigress, just itching to be set free. Once unleashed, she might be too wild, and that wouldn't bode well for his political future.

He needed to shelve this train of thought or he'd never get through this education bill. But before he dove back into work, he buzzed the intercom for his secretary.

“Lorena, can you get me Miss Larson's phone number, please?”

• • •

Courtney sat across from her roommate at Co Co Sala, the trendy D.C. lunch spot, absentmindedly picking at her chocolate torte.

“I can't believe you got a dessert for lunch,” Helen said. “It's so not you, and chocolate, no less.”

“Come on, Helen, you know you have to pry my hands off Three Musketeers.”

“Yeah, but that's only after you've had a Lean Cuisine for dinner.”

“Well, I'm a bit confused today. I'm eating dessert first.” Courtney blinked around the busy restaurant like she was looking for a long-lost friend.

“You're distracted, that's for sure. Something the senator said last night?”

That slammed her back to the present. She propped her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. “It wasn't what he said; it was what
I
said. I couldn't keep my mouth shut.”

“Yikes, Court. First dates aren't the place for true confessions. You're supposed to put your best foot forward.”

“I did put my foot forward ... and then I stuck it in my mouth. He must think I'm schizophrenic.”