The Boss and His Cowgirl(48)
“You are not breaking up with me, Georgie.”
A soft smile teased the corner of her mouth. “No, I’m not breaking up with you.”
Clay leaned in and kissed her. Her knees spread to make room for him and her arms circled his chest. “Good.” He whispered the word against her lips.
Georgie’s cell phone rang in the other room. Boone peeked around the corner. “Not sure you want to take this one, sugar. It’s CNN.”
She sighed. “Let it go to voice mail. They all can.” She glanced back at Clay. “When’s the announcement?”
“A week from today, in Oklahoma City at The Peake.”
Her lips pursed and Clay wanted to kiss them again. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Damn, but she turned him inside out like getting hit with a bucket of ice water followed by blazing sunshine.
Georgie pushed her glasses up. “Okay. I’ll coordinate with Chase’s people. We need to lock down the office here in DC. No information out, not even a no comment, unless it comes from you, Boone or me. Anonymous sources get cut off at the knees. For today Ev needs to put out a memo that we’ll be holding a press conference Monday. There will be requests for appearances on the Tuesday morning shows. We’ll see who calls after the presser. We want to answer their questions but control the supply of information.”
Boone let out a soft snort followed by a chuckle. “Dang, sugar, but you make me proud.”
“She’s pure awesome once she gets wound up,” Hunt added.
Color returned to her cheeks and a real smile curved her lips. Warmth flooded Clay and he didn’t resist the urge to kiss her this time. “Have I mentioned how much you mean to me?” He leaned back, caught the glitter of tears on her lashes. “Ah, baby.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
Shocked, he stared at her. “For what?”
Her hand fluttered in an absentminded gesture. “For all of this.”
He gripped her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “I’m not. Not sorry for a bit of it.” That got a shocked look and a gulp. “Don’t get me wrong, Georgie. What you’re facing? It’s killing me. I’d take it away in a heartbeat if I had the power. You’ll get through this. I’ll help. We’ll all help.”
* * *
Midday on Monday Georgie and Clay stood near the brick pad of the “Swamp Site,” a spot located on the grass across the drive from the east Senate steps. A podium covered with microphones awaited them. Clay held her hand and she inhaled through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. He figured the technique was to keep her from hyperventilating. They’d worked on their statements. They were as ready as they’d ever be.
Clay gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it and stepping to the podium. “Thank you—” The high-pitched squeal of microphone feedback filled the air and people winced at the piercing noise. A sound tech ducked to the podium, fiddled with one of the microphones and slunk back into the pack of reporters and cameramen.
“Ground rules,” Clay stated without preamble. “We appreciate you coming, but here’s the deal. We will answer questions but until both Ms. Dreyfus and I have made our statements, I don’t want any interruptions. We clear on that?”
Murmurs ran through the group, but no one spoke out.
“Good. First, there’s been a lot of speculation about my decisions concerning a presidential campaign. That speculation will be laid to rest this Friday, when I make an announcement in my hometown, Oklahoma City. You can check with my press office on the availability of credentials. The event will be held at Chesapeake Energy Arena. Since the OKC Thunder plays basketball there, I’m pretty sure there will be room for everyone.” This elicited chuckles from the pack of reporters.
“Second, I’m here to confirm that I do have a relationship with my communications director, Georgeanne Dreyfus. We’ve been seeing each other exclusively for several months and haven’t attempted to hide this fact. However, considering my position, innuendos and speculations have been aired freely. Now you know the truth. Yes, our relationship is serious. And that relationship is no one’s business but our own.”
He stretched his hand toward Georgie and she stepped closer to take it. Reeling her to his side with utmost care, he continued, “Friday morning we awoke to a report that my entire staff found offensive. That my colleagues found offensive. That my constituents found offensive.” He searched the throng, found a certain reporter and met her gaze with a hard glare. He didn’t smile when the people nearest her moved away, leaving her isolated. He squeezed Georgie’s hand and shifted to the side, opening the microphones to her.