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She could sit here for hours, she thought lazily. Listening to the crack of the Ping-Pong paddles, watching the tourists nose through the kiosks, nestling her head on the solid heat of Jack’s arm. She didn’t realize her eyelids had fluttered shut until his amused voice drifted down to her.
“You going to sleep on me again?”
“Maybe.”
“Before you zone out completely, let’s set a date for you to make a visit to D.C. My folks are anxious to meet you.”
That woke her up. The little she knew about Jack’s family suggested they probably wouldn’t welcome her with open arms. Not his father, anyway. But she’d promised. Digging into her purse, she checked the calendar on her iPhone.
“I can’t do next weekend. Does the second weekend in June work for you?”
“I’ll make it work. Go back to sleep now.”
Seven (#uf787832a-bba3-5d25-8934-389f8b91f761)
Gina ended up making the jaunt down to Washington a week earlier than expected. Her change of plans kicked off the following Thursday morning with a summons to Samuel’s office, where her boss relayed a request from the head office.
“Nicole just called. She needs you to fly down to D.C. You’ve got a reservation on the two-twenty shuttle.”
“Today?”
“Yes, today. TTG’s coordinating a black-tie reception and private, prerelease movie showing for two hundred tomorrow evening.”
“And Elaine needs help?”
Elaine Patterson managed the TTG’s Washington venue. Gina had met the trim, elegant brunette once when she’d flown to New York for a meeting with Samuel.
“Elaine’s father had a heart attack. She’s in Oregon and her assistant just checked into the ICU with a bad case of pancreatitis, whatever the hell that is. The rest of the staff is too junior to handle a function this large. Nicole wants you to take charge.”
Samuel shoved a folder across his desk. “Here are faxed copies of the timetable, menu, floor plans, proposed setup, list of suppliers and contact phone numbers. I had them also email copies so you’ll be able pull ’em on your iPad in case you need to make changes on the fly. You can stay in the venue’s bridal suite. It’s fully equipped and stocked.”
“But...”
“I’ll cover the consult you have scheduled for this afternoon.”
“What about the Hanrahan retirement party on Saturday? I’m lead on that.”
“I scanned the file. From the looks of the checklist, you’ve got everything in good shape. I’ll take care of the last few prep tasks and get Kallie to pull floor duty with me.”
Gina thought fast. She’d have to call Maria to see whether she could come in Sunday and check on Grandmama. If she could, Gina might extend her stay in D.C. for another day, possibly two.
The prospect of spending those days with Jack made her heart do its own version of a happy dance. She could feel it skittering and skipping as she let drop a casual comment.
“My calendar’s pretty light on Monday. I don’t have anything scheduled that can’t be moved. I may take some comp time and stay over in Washington.”
“Fine by me.” He flapped a hand. “Just get your butt in gear.”
* * *
She got her butt in gear!
A call made while the cab whisked her uptown confirmed Maria would be happy to check on la duquesa Sunday afternoon. When Gina dashed in and explained the arrangement, Grandmama issued an indignant protest.
“I’m neither crippled nor incapacitated, Eugenia. There’s no need for Maria to come all the way in to check on me.”
“She’s not doing it for you, she’s doing it for me.”
“Really,” the duchess huffed. “It’s not necessary.”
“I know. Just humor me, okay? The thing is, I may stay over in D.C. a day or two. Jack wants me to meet his parents. If they’re available, I’ll try to cram in a visit.”
“Indeed?”
That bit of news stifled any further objections from her grandmother. Her faded blue eyes lingered thoughtfully on Gina’s face for a moment before she commented dryly, “How fortunate the purple washed out of your hair.”
Extremely fortunate, Gina thought as she rushed into the bedroom. She hurried out again after stuffing toiletries, a sequined tuxedo jacket she appropriated from Sarah’s closet, black satin palazzo pants and some casual clothes into a weekender.
“I’ll call you,” she promised, dropping a kiss on her grandmother’s cheek.
She hit the lobby and had Jerome flag her a cab to LaGuardia. Collapsing in the backseat, she fished out her phone and called Jack. His cell phone went to voice mail, so she left a quick message. For added insurance, she called his office and got shuffled to his chief of staff. Her nose wrinkling, she asked Vickers to advise his boss that she was flying down to Washington.
“Certainly, Ms. St. Sebastian.”
He sounded a little more polite but about a mile and half from friendly. Gina wanted to ask him what his problem was but she suspected she already knew the answer.
She made her flight with all of five minutes to spare. When the adrenaline rush subsided and the plane lifted off, she rested her head against the seat back. The next thing she knew, the flight attendant was announcing their imminent arrival at Ronald Reagan National Airport. Gina blinked the sleep out of her eyes and enjoyed her view through the window of the capital’s marble monuments.
The short nap left her energized and eager to plunge into the task ahead. She wheeled her weekender through the airport with a spring in her step and exited into a beautiful June day only slightly tainted by the exhaust pluming out of the cars and taxis and shuttles lined up outside the terminal.
Gina didn’t have to dig deep to know why she was so jazzed. The idea that Nicole trusted her enough to step in at the last minute and take charge of a major event had given her self-confidence a shot in the arm.
Then there was the chance she might cram in some time with Jack. That possibility prodded her to whip out her cell phone and take it off airplane mode. The flashing icon indicating a text from Jack put a smile on her lips.
Just heard you’re en route to D.C. Call when you arrive.
She crossed the street to the parking garage and aimed for the rental car area while she tried his private number. He answered on the second ring.
“You’re here?”
The sound of his voice moved the smile from her lips to her heart. “I’m here. Just got in.”
“This is a surprise. What brought you to D.C.?”
For once she managed to catch herself before blurting out the truth. He didn’t need to know the possibility of spending some time with him was one of the reasons—the main reason—she’d jumped at this job.
“I’m a last-minute stand-in to coordinate an event tomorrow night.”
“Which event?”
“A fancy-schmancy cocktail party and prerelease showing of the new action flick starring Dirk West.”
Gina wasn’t a real fan of the shoot-’em-up, blow-’em-up type movies West had been making for several decades but she knew every new release pulled in millions.
“The event’s being hosted by Global Protective Services,” she told Jack. “According to their company propaganda, they’re—”
“One of the largest private security contractors in the world,” he interrupted. “They have more boots on the ground in Afghanistan right now than the U.S. military. Rumor is they put up most of the money for the movie. Probably because the script makes a very unsubtle case for decreasing the size of our standing armies and increasing the use of private mercenaries.”
Holding the phone to her ear, Gina skimmed the Hertz reservation board to find the parking slot for the car Kallie said would be waiting for her.
“Sounds like this shindig would be right up your alley,” she commented as she started down the long row of parked vehicles, “but I didn’t see your name on the attendee list.”
“That’s because I declined the invitation. I might have to rethink that, though, if you’re going to be working the event.”
“Oh, sure,” she said with a laugh. “Screw up the head count, why don’t you?”
“I won’t eat much,” he promised solemnly.
“Well...” She found her car and tossed her briefcase onto the passenger seat. “I guess I can add you to the list.”
“That takes care of tomorrow, then. What’s on your agenda tonight?”
“I’ve got what’s left of the TTG crew standing by.” She slid into the driver’s seat but waited to key the ignition. “We’re going to go over the final task list and walk through the venue.”
“How long will that take?”
“I have no idea.”
She hesitated a moment before laying the possibility of an extended stay on him. Would she really be up to meeting his parents after working this event? Yes, dammit, she would.
“I told Samuel I might take a couple extra days in D.C. If it fits with your schedule and theirs, maybe we could work in a visit with your folks.”
“We’ll make it fit. I’ll give them a call and arrange a time. Where are you staying?”
“At TTG’s L’Enfant Plaza venue. We have a full bridal suite on the top floor.”
“A bridal suite, huh?” His voice dropped to a slow, warm caress. “Want some company?”
God, yes! She gripped the phone, almost groaning at the idea of rolling around with Jack on the Tremayne Group’s signature chocolate-brown sheets. Instant, erotic images of their bodies all sweaty and naked buzzed in her head like a swarm of pesky flies.
“Thanks for the offer,” she said, making a valiant attempt to bat away the flies, “but I’d better pass.”
Somewhat to her disappointment Jack didn’t press the issue.
“You sure you can’t sneak away for an hour or two and have dinner with me?” he asked instead.
Desire waged a fierce, no-holds-barred, free-for-all with duty. The old, fun-loving Gina would have yielded without a second thought. The new, still fun-loving but not quite as irresponsible Gina sighed.
“Sorry, Jack. I really need to spend this afternoon and evening prepping for the event.”
He conceded with his usual easy charm. “I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
* * *
Jack disconnected, swung his desk chair around and settled his gaze on the slice of Washington visible from his third-floor office. Since he held ambassadorial rank, he rated a full suite at the State Department’s main headquarters on C Street.
The thirties-era building was originally designed to house the War Department, but the war planners outgrew it before it was completed. When they moved into the Pentagon in 1941, State inherited this massive structure constructed of buff-colored sandstone. It and its more modern annexes were located in the area of D.C. known as Foggy Bottom, so named because this section of the city was once a dismal, gray-misted swamp. Many of the talking heads who filled today’s airwaves with their dubious wisdom liked to suggest the decisions coming out State were still pretty foggy and swampy.
The windows in Jack’s office gave a narrow view down 21st Street to the National Mall, with the Lincoln Memorial at one end and the Washington Monument at the other. On good days he could almost catch the glitter of sunlight bouncing off the reflecting pool. The view didn’t hold a particle of interest at the moment.
All his thoughts centered on Gina. The news that she was coming to Washington had proved the only bright spark in an otherwise grim morning spent reviewing casualty reports and incident analyses from twenty years of attacks on U.S. diplomatic outposts. Just the sound of her voice and merry laugh lightened his mood.
Thoughtfully, Jack tipped back his chair. Simply knowing that Gina was here, on his home turf, sparked a need that dug into him with sharp, fierce claws. Her image was etched in his mind. Those bright blue eyes. That luscious mouth. The tumble of white-blond curls.
The image shifted, and he pictured her manga’ed mane. God, what if she was still sporting that look? He could only imagine his father’s reaction. The thought produced a wry grin as he swung his chair around and dialed his parents’ number.
* * *
Jack brought his tux in to the office with him the next morning and changed before leaving work that evening. Anxious to see Gina, he arrived at L’Enfant Plaza early.
The plaza was named for Pierre Charles L’Enfant, the French-born architect recruited by General LaFayette to serve as an engineer with George Washington’s Continental army. A long rectangle, the plaza was bordered on three sides by an amalgamation of office buildings, government agencies, retail shops and hotels. One of I. M. Pei’s iconic glass pyramids dominated the center. A sister to the pyramid in front of the Louvre, it rose from a lower level with gleaming majesty.
The spot was a good choice for evening events. Foot and vehicle traffic died out when the surrounding offices emptied, leaving plenty of underground parking for guests. Or they could hop off the Metro and let the escalators whisk them up to the plaza. Jack had opted for plan B and emerged from the Metro’s subterranean levels into a balmy June evening. Tiny white lights illuminated the trees lining two sides of the plaza. Centered between those sparkling rows, the lighted pyramid formed a dramatic backdrop for lavishly filled buffet tables and strategically placed carving stations.
Two dozen or so other early arrivals grazed the tables or clumped together in small groups with drinks in hand. Jack took advantage of the sparse crowd and lack of lines to hit one of the S-shaped bars set up close to the pyramid. He kept an eye out for Gina as he crossed the plaza but didn’t spot either her blond curls or a waterfall of purple. Nor did he find a bartender behind the ebony-and-glass counter. He angled around to check the other bars and saw an attendant at only one. Flipping and tipping bottles, the harried attendant splashed booze and mixers into an array of glasses and shoved them at the tuxedoed waitstaff standing in line at his station.
The fact that three of the four bars weren’t ready for action surprised Jack until he spotted Gina, a male in a white shirt and black vest and a plump female with a radio clipped to her waist hurrying out onto the plaza. The man peeled off in the direction of one unattended bar, the woman aimed for another. Gina herself edged behind the ebony S where Jack stood.
“Shorthanded?” he asked as she whipped bottles of champagne out of a refrigerated case and lined them up on the bar.
She rolled her eyes. “Just a tad.”
When she started to attack the foil caps, he moved behind the bar to help. She flashed him a grateful look and set him to popping corks while she extracted champagne flutes from a rack beneath the counter.
“I should be in the media center making a last check of the seating,” she told him, “but I’ve been on the phone with the bar subcontractor for twenty friggin’ minutes. He’s supposed to be sending replacements for their no-shows. You can bet this is the last time the jerk will do business with TTG.”
The fire in her eyes told Jack that was a safe bet.
“Keep your fingers crossed the replacements get here before the real hordes descend,” she muttered as she began pouring champagne into the tall crystal flutes.
He nodded toward the crowd emerging from the bank of elevators. “I think they’re descending.”
“Crap.” She slapped the filled flutes onto a tray and hooked a finger at one of the waitstaff. “You’re over twenty-one, right?”
“Right.”
“Take this and start circulating.”
“I’m a food server,” he protested.
