“Most people would, Dreyfus. How wonderfully Fifty Shades. The mousy press secretary and the handsome, powerful senator.”
Georgie laughed. “Oh, apple pie, my eye. What have you been smoking?” Georgie gripped the woman’s arm and tugged her away from the others, though the cameraman followed. Lowering her voice, she fluttered her lashes in perfect imitation of Parker. “Ooh, Senator, I’d love to get my gold-digging claws into your trust fund.”
The guy with the camera huffed out a snort and rolled his eyes as Georgie stepped even closer to the reporter, her palm covering the microphone. “You want to get up and personal with me, Grace, bring it. But this vendetta you have because you threw yourself at the senator and he had the good taste to ignore you needs to stop. Don’t make me go to your producers.”
Arching a brow, Georgie waited. She had information Parker didn’t—mainly that Barron Entertainment owned the majority shares in the station the reporter worked for. And she was fairly positive that a word to Boone would result in a phone call to Chase Barron, Barron Entertainment CEO.
“Don’t threaten me, Georgeanne Dreyfus,” the other woman hissed. When Georgie just continued to stare, Parker blanched. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Let’s get everything out in the open, Parker. When it comes to the senator, there’s very little I wouldn’t dare. I’m telling you unequivocally there is not, nor has there ever been anything of a romantic nature between Senator Barron and me. If you want to go fishing in that pond, be careful what bait you use. You never know what you might catch on the end of your line. Some things out there in the water bite. Hard.”
Parker assessed her with a questioning eye but Georgie didn’t flinch. “When did you get so tough, little girl?”
“Honey, I’m an Oklahoma cowgirl. We’re born tough. And don’t you forget it.” Georgie offered the cameraman a sympathetic look as Parker stormed away, her ridiculous heels tap-tap-tapping on the pavement. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
He snorted again and with a resigned slump of his shoulders, followed the retreating talent.
“I am still capable of speaking for myself, Georgie.”
Startled by the voice in her ear, she whirled and almost tipped over when she bumped into Clay—who was standing inordinately close. Heat crept up her cheeks and she settled her glasses more firmly on her nose. “The last time I checked, talking to reporters is still in my job description.”
“So...Parker had a thing for me, huh?”
Her mouth dropped open and she closed it, only to gape again as Boone chuckled and nudged Clay’s shoulder with his. “I told you so.” He held out his hand. “Pay up, cuz.”
Georgie snapped her mouth shut again. “Wait...you made a bet? On what?”
While Boone tried to look innocent, she didn’t fall for it. “Please don’t tell me you were betting on me confronting her.”
A wickedly sinful grin spread across Clay’s face. “Okay. We won’t tell you.” He snagged her arm and headed toward the building’s entrance. “But I would appreciate knowing the next time a sexy woman finds me desirable. Men need to know these things.”
Sputtering, Georgie allowed Clay to tow her along beside him. Jealousy flared hot as a sparkler on the 4th of July and she stuffed it deep. As they entered the Russell’s rotunda, Clay leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“And for your information, I find nothing mousy about you.”
* * *
Three weeks later Clay sprawled in the desk chair in the study at the Barron family compound in Oklahoma City, feet propped on the scarred desktop. Despite his busy schedule, he’d caved to his sister-in-law’s demand for a family Thanksgiving gathering. He’d insisted it was a working break and brought Georgie with him. They were currently dealing with his upcoming schedule. Georgie, all business, stood at the whiteboard ticking off a list when his nephew plowed into the room. “Uncle Clay! Aunt Cassie says time to eat. You gots to come now, ’kay?” The boy was all but bouncing out of his cowboy boots and Clay wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Cord, his next younger brother, had almost died earlier in the fall. During his recovery, he’d reconnected—sort of—with his ex-girlfriend, only to discover he had a son. CJ looked like a Barron and Clay remembered when Cord and Chance had been filled with the same energy.
He’d been their caretaker during their mother’s final illness and death from cancer. Their father hadn’t wanted to deal with the domestic situation so he didn’t. Cyrus Barron had done what he did best: abandoned his parental responsibilities. And after the accidental death of his first stepmother, Clay had also taken on the twins, Chase and Cash, when Cyrus pulled his disappearing act.