“Nothing happened between us.”
“Well, all-righty, then.”
Clay glared when Boone didn’t hide his smirk quite fast enough. He ignored his cousin and focused on the woman striding toward them. The bright autumn sun bounced off her glasses. She’d done some twisty thing with her hair again and he didn’t want to think too hard about why he preferred it down and loose. She stopped in front of him, her expression perfectly neutral.
“Georgie.”
“Senator.”
“Sit with me.”
Clay noticed the slight pursing of her lips. And was that a hint of panic in her eyes? Interesting. He ushered Georgie forward and followed, his hand resting on the small of her back to steady her. He guided her to the group of seats at the front of the plane. Two pairs of seats faced each other over an inlaid wood table.
Clay guided her into the second set of seats so she’d be sitting with her back to the rest of the plane. Then he nudged her over so that she was trapped between the bulkhead and...him. He slipped her bag off her shoulder and tossed it into one of the facing seats.
“Sit, Georgie. And buckle in. We need to take off.”
A few moments later the Rolls Royce engines on the Gulfstream whined to full-throated life and the plane eased onto the apron headed toward the runway. Within minutes they’d lifted off and were at cruising altitude. A vanilla latte appeared in front of her while a cup of black coffee was delivered to Clay. He waited until she took her first swallow before opening the conversation.
“You’ve been avoiding me. I want to know why.”
Georgie grimaced and swallowed hard. He shifted in his seat so he could watch her. A surge of color stained her throat and he wondered about the reason for it. No matter what she did or said, he worried this might not end well. She couldn’t stall him. He was determined to find out what was going on in her head, becoming even more curious when she curled her lips between her teeth, pursed them then chewed on them again as she evidently marshaled her thoughts.
She stared into his eyes then glanced away. “I’m a little embarrassed, Senator.”
“Embarrassed.” Why would the girl—woman—be embarrassed?
“Well, yes. Embarrassed.” Though everyone else sat at the rear of the cabin, she dropped her voice. “Last night. In the bathroom.”
“Why should you be embarrassed?”
Georgie gave him a scathing look. “Why? Oh, let’s recap the situation. I trip and almost fall on my face, only my boss snatches me in mid face-plant and carries me up to his suite. Then I go into full panic mode, while wearing only my underwear, with said boss present to witness said meltdown. I end up in a puddle of tears, and then we make national news. You’re right. Why in bloody blue blazes should I be embarrassed?”
Clay was a consummate politician. He knew how to camouflage his emotions. Georgie didn’t realize her voice had risen in volume and that everyone on the plane, except maybe the pilots, now knew what had happened in his bathroom. With a supreme effort, he swallowed his laughter.
“Precisely. I see no reason for embarrassment.”
“Argh!” She threw up her hands and almost knocked over her latte. He grabbed it and held it out as a peace offering even as she muttered, “Men!” under her breath and gripped the edge of the table.
With gentle pressure, he pried her fingers loose, placed the cup between them and curled her fingers around the porcelain mug. He studied her again as she drank.
She was his communications director. She literally put words in his mouth. His thumb traced lazy circles on the table and a part of him wished it was her skin he touched.
“There’s no need to be upset, especially since I...since we owe you an apology.” She opened her mouth to refute, but he silenced her with a finger touching her lips as he continued. “I personally promise it won’t happen again. From now on, Glen will be your shadow whenever we’re at a function. He’ll protect you.” His gaze caught and held hers. “I’m sorry, Georgie. I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you.”
* * *
Georgie couldn’t look away from the sincerity in his gaze. She swiveled in her seat so she could face him. His expression stunned her. She’d seen him determined, angry, sad, happy, disgusted...but she’d never seen him like this. Her stomach lurched as her pulse sped up. Georgie couldn’t name the emotion in his eyes with their thick, dark lashes the color of his ebony hair. In her imagination, where her fantasies lived, she described his hair in romance-novel terms—as glossy as a raven’s wing. And his eyes—burnt umber, even if she didn’t really know what burnt umber looked like. It sounded sexy and that term definitely fit Clay. Or cognac. Yes, that was the color. She knew what cognac looked like in a leaded glass tumbler and his eyes looked like that—smoky, swirling brown with glinting lights. Lost in his gaze, she simply took him in, letting him fill her up. The force of him edged into the empty places she’d ignored her whole life, the places where her hopes and dreams lived.