Election Day (By Design Book 10) Page 10

  Lamkin chuckled. He liked Jameson. He also realized that he’d been hand selected for this detail. Candace Reid had more pull than most people realized. She’d made it clear that she wanted someone with Cooper who knew how to interact with a small child. Jeff Lamkin fit that bill. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he replied. “I’ll knock when we’re ready.”

  “Thanks.” Jameson closed the door. Good thing the White House has a pool.

  ***

  “Lawson, you need to lay low for a while.”

  “Why? Because of some ridiculous story in The Post?”

  Bradley Wolfe shook his head. “Lawson, just do us all a favor and don’t do me any favors right now; okay?”

  “Who leaked that document?” Klein asked.

  “Don’t you think I’d be doing something about it if I knew?”

  “I don’t know. Would you?”

  “You’re becoming paranoid. It’s fodder. Let it die its death naturally.”

  “The FBI names me in an investigation…”

  “You don’t know that. No one knows what that document was linked to.”

  “It was linked to me! This is that bitch’s way of trying to put me down like an old dog.”

  Wolfe forced himself not to roll his eyes. “Just do what Ritchie told you to do.”

  “What’s that? Keep funneling money to you?”

  Wolfe grinned.

  “Two can play this game,” Klein muttered.

  “Lawson, whatever you are thinking, stop.”

  “You don’t pay me, Wolfe. You don’t scare me either. You’re nothing more than a lowly altar boy holding someone else’s chalice. Instead of telling me what I need to do, maybe you should start performing your duty.” Klein walked through the office door and slammed it behind him.

  “How’d it go?” Jed Ritchie asked.

  “Exactly as we planned,” Wolfe said.

  “Good.”

  ***

  The short ride to the hotel felt endless to Candace. Her phone had buzzed endlessly since landing, offering one dire message after another. None of them rated as dire in Candace’s mind. All of them ranked at the highest level of importance to someone in her sphere. She had one priority—spending a few hours alone with Jameson. The next day would be harried and hurried. First, there would be breakfast with Nate Ellison and his family. That would be closely followed by a meeting with Candace’s advisers and Ellison to pour over campaign strategy, talking points, and schedules. Jameson and Cooper would be given the task of entertaining Ellison’s family until Candace and Nate Ellison’s first appearance as running mates. There were moments that Candace found herself shrouded in disbelief. Life felt like a strange dream. She’d traveled with presidents. She’d campaigned for presidents. She’d been part of national security discussions and domestic policy initiatives. As governor, she’d been apprised of what were deemed credible terrorist threats and comforted families after tragedies. Pursuing the presidency was an honor. It was also an enormous responsibility. Amid the excitement of crowds, the questions from media, the curiosity about everything from her hairstyle to her children, the demands of her job as governor, and the needs of her family, Candace felt the weight of the future. She was no longer speaking to a small constituency of hopeful citizens. She was addressing the entire world. Her success or failure as a candidate would dictate the course the country would take for the next four years and beyond. Her ability to navigate the minefields of special interest, military and intelligence agendas, the political aspirations of others, the deeply held beliefs of a diverse electorate, and the grievances of old adversaries would determine whether she could prevail not only as a candidate but as a president. She let her eyes fall shut and willed her mind to quiet its thoughts and questions. A few hours away from the rest of the world would refresh her spirit. She replayed Jameson’s call to her to slow down. There was little room for quiet in her world. When the opportunity knocked, Candace understood that she needed to take it. Hotel rooms would serve as home for much of the next four months. Jameson was the person who could create that reality into a refuge. Just get me home.

  ***

  Jameson heard Candace’s voice as Candace entered the hotel suite. She stretched and yawned and headed toward the sound.

  “Thank you, Dominick.”

  “Have a good evening, Governor,” Agent Dominick Macpherson bid Candace goodnight.

  Candace dropped her bag, closed the door and collapsed against it.

  “Rough day?” Jameson asked.

  “Not really.” Candace made her way across the room and fell into Jameson’s arms.

  “Not your most convincing argument, Governor Reid.”

  “Honest, it was just another long day.”

  “Did you eat?”

  “On the plane.”

  “Feel like a glass of wine?”

  Candace shook her head. “What if I told you that all I want is to be with you?”

  “That’s it? Really?”

  “Really. Cooper’s asleep?”

  “Yeah. He spent three hours in the pool.”

  “I don’t believe it. Jeff must’ve loved that.”

  “He’s a good sport—for a Secret Service Agent. He’s good with Coop. At least he speaks to me—more than three-word answers. Do they send them to stoic school or something? Can you institute a personality class when you get elected?”

  Candace laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Jameson leaned in and kissed Candace. “I missed you.”

  “Mmm. I missed you too.”

  “Why don’t you go check on Coop? I’ll take your things into the bedroom.”

  Candace placed a light kiss on Jameson’s lips. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m just happy to be here.”

  Jameson nodded. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” She watched Candace make her way into the room Cooper had. You need a break. Jameson grabbed Candace’s bag and brought it into the bedroom. She shook her head. Candace seemed in good spirits, but she was tired. Jameson went to the bathroom and started the water in the large tub. A long, hot bath would help Candace relax. Jameson wondered when the last time Candace had allowed herself the indulgence of some alone time had been. She would gently force the issue of relaxation tonight.

  ***

  Candace brushed her hand across the top of Cooper’s head. Oh, Cooper, what am I doing?

  “Mommy?”

  “It’s me.” Candace bent over and kissed Cooper’s head. “Go back to sleep, honey.”

  Cooper grabbed Candace’s hand. “Can you stay with me?”

  Candace’s heart ached. She missed all her children. She missed Cooper most of all. She took off her suit jacket and tossed it aside, kicked off her heels and complied with her son’s request. He snuggled against her happily. “Did you have a good day with Momma?”

  “Yep. We went on the plane and then we went in the pool.”

  “I heard.”

  “Yep. Momma made me mac and cheese for dinner. She made broccoli too. She said green is just as important.”

  “Momma’s right.” Candace smiled and let her lips brush against Cooper’s head. Candace and Jameson were determined to make things as normal as possible for Cooper when they traveled. That meant suites with kitchens and tables where meals could be prepared and shared. Candace found herself musing that she would have given anything to share macaroni and cheese with broccoli with her two favorite people. Who would have imagined I’d miss that?

  Cooper nestled as close to Candace as he could manage. “Jeff has a nephew just like me.”

  Candace chuckled. Cooper had only recently begun to grasp that his favorite playmate was also his nephew. She and Jameson had explained it numerous times, but something seemed to have triggered a new understanding for Cooper about who he was to his parents and who Spencer was to him. Candace wasn’t sure if it was the birth of Michelle’s twins or the amount of time Cooper had been spending with Mari
anne. He shared a unique bond with his eldest sibling. While Candace knew he adored Jonah and Michelle, Marianne occupied a special place in Cooper’s heart. She imagined that a shared understanding of loss had created that bridge. He listened to everything Marianne said as if it were the most important nugget of information he’d ever heard. And, Candace was also sure that Cooper confided in his sister about his feelings. Marianne would only share what she deemed necessary with her mother and Jameson. Cooper was small, but he understood the concept of trust better than most adults Candace knew. Slowly, Cooper was beginning to put the pieces of their large family and his place in it together.

  “You like Jeff, don’t you?”

  “Yep. He showed me a picture. His nephew is seven. That’s older than me.”

  “Only a little bit,” Candace said.

  “Mommy?”

  “Hum?”

  “How come Momma doesn’t go to work anymore?”

  “I think Momma wants more time to spend with you.” Candace was positive she could feel Cooper’s smile.

  “Momma dived in the pool.”

  “She did?”

  “Yep. She said I’m part fish.”

  “You do love the water.”

  “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “Dive? I’ll bet Momma will teach you.”

  “Yep. She said so. I think Momma’s a whale.”

  Don’t tell her that. “Why is Momma a whale?”

  “Cause she spitted too!”

  Candace laughed. She hugged Cooper close. Listening to him talk about his day with Jameson reminded Candace how much she loved them both.

  “What’s going on in here?” Jameson poked her head into the room.

  “Cooper was just telling me that you remind him of a whale.”

  “A whale? Am I that big?” Jameson asked.

  Cooper giggled. “No!”

  “Do I have a tail?”

  “No, Momma!”

  “Then why am I a whale?”

  “Cause you dived and you spitted!” Cooper laughed.

  Jameson shrugged. “I swallowed a little too much water,” she tried to explain.

  Candace shot Jameson a doubtful gaze.

  Cooper kept laughing. “You spitted like a whale!”

  “Whales have spouts—and tails,” Jameson clarified. The look she received from Candace made her clear her throat. “Okay, Flounder.”

  “I’m not Flounder!” Cooper laughed some more.

  “I think it’s sleepy time for you and Mommy.”

  Cooper groaned and clung playfully to Candace.

  “Come on,” Jameson gently urged her son. “Let Mommy go. You’ll see her in the morning.”

  “Promise?” he asked.

  Candace smiled. “I promise.”

  “’Kay. I love you.”

  “Goodnight, sweetheart.” Candace placed another kiss on Cooper’s head. “Momma and I love you too.”

  Jameson took hold of Candace’s hand and led her from the room. She gently pulled Candace forward until they reached the large bathroom that adjoined their bedroom.

  “What’s this?” Candace gestured to the bathtub full of steaming water.

  Jameson started silently undressing Candace.

  “Looking to play whale again?” Candace teased.

  Jameson had become lost in a sea of unexpected emotion. It had been weeks since she had made love to Candace. They’d shared reverent kisses and loving embraces. Jameson missed her wife. She missed touching Candace. She missed the way Candace’s skin felt against hers. Her eyes roamed appreciatively over her wife as Candace’s clothes pooled on the floor.

  “Jameson,” Candace called softly. She lifted Jameson’s eyes to hers. “I’ve missed you too.”

  Jameson’s fingertips caressed Candace’s cheek. She brought their lips together softly. A hint of Chardonnay lingered on Candace’s lips, tempting Jameson’s senses. She struggled to tame the beating of her heart as her desire to lower Candace to the bathroom floor swelled. She started to pull away but Candace’s mouth claimed hers insistently. Thought evaporated in an instant. Emotion flooded any hope of reason. The kiss continued searching, probing, asking permission, promising submission, and begging to be carried away all at once. Seldom had Jameson endeavored to take Candace without warning. Soft, slow, yielding—that had always dictated Jameson’s touch. Feeling Candace’s hands as they glided up and down her back, Jameson’s resolve crumbled like sand. Damn the bath. Forget the bed. She kicked the door to ensure it was closed. She should lock it. Small, curious eyes might wander into this space without warning. Screw it. The only thing that mattered to Jameson now was the woman pressed against her. Too many moments were stolen from them every day. She’d be damned if this one slipped into oblivion.

  Jameson’s lips wandered from the warmth of Candace’s mouth over the cool textures of Candace’s skin. She nipped at the flesh behind Candace’s ear, enjoying the scent of perfume that greeted her. It conjured brief images of sunflowers, all bright and yellow, an elegant majesty that rolled on in gently swaying rows. Beautiful. Everything about Candace was beautiful. Strength and gentleness mingled in the woman she held close. Jameson’s lips traveled with abandon as if she had never explored the landscape beneath them.

  “Jameson,” Candace’s voice quivered.

  Jameson pulled her T-shirt off and tossed it aside. She lowered her sweatpants and stepped out of them. She needed to feel Candace against her. No words now—Jameson had no desire to waste a moment on words. Something sacred was passing between them. Perhaps that would have seemed strange to most people—making love in the bathroom of a hotel suite. On paper, it sounded like a scene from a bad romance novel. The thought brought a smile to Jameson’s lips. Life was stranger than fiction. If lust was the most intoxicating part of living, love was the most peculiar experience life could offer. Combined, the two could easily drown logic from the most stolid soul. Jameson was anything but stoic. And, Candace? Passion burned in Candace’s veins. Candace’s passion for every moment and possibility life offered elicited a consuming need in Jameson. Her mouth covered Candace’s nipple, delighting in the shudder the twirl of her tongue evoked. How much longer could she stand, she wondered? Jameson was pulled under by Candace’s presence like a pebble sucked out to sea at high-tide.

  Candace’s head tilted back. Her fingertips pressed into the flesh of Jameson’s hips, desperately seeking support. Her knees trembled. Her body tingled under Jameson’s touch. How had they ended up here? Where had they been? Everything had blurred. Nothing mattered but Jameson’s hands, her mouth, the sound of Jameson’s pleasure as she continued to descend lower. She whimpered when Jameson’s teeth raked over her nipple and tugged gently. How much longer until Jameson would release her? Did she want to be released? No. Candace looked down at Jameson. Jameson’s eyes drifted to hers. Candace made a futile attempt to pull Jameson to face her. Jameson fell to her knees in defiance.

  Jameson’s hands drifted back up to Candace’s breasts, kneading the supple flesh, teasing and taunting, enjoying the sound of Candace’s sighs as they grew desperate. She could feel the steady quiver of Candace’s legs growing more intense. How many times had she made love to her wife? Hundreds? Thousands? She never tired of touching Candace. Every sensation was new each time they came together. Familiarity could not quell anticipation. She kissed Candace’s thigh and let her tongue trail inward.

  “Oh, God,” Candace grabbed Jameson’s shoulders to steady herself.

  Slowly, Jameson guided Candace to her knees. She gazed into Candace’s eyes lovingly before claiming Candace’s lips with a searing kiss. Her fingers found Candace’s center. Warmth greeted her, inviting her to enter. She sucked in a ragged breath and moved deeper. Candace’s head fell back exposing her neck and Jameson moved to taste it again. Her arm slid around Candace’s waist and guided her to the floor. Jameson offered Candace one sweet kiss before descending her body like a cat stalking its prey. Her tongue danced over the dips of Ca
ndace’s stomach and curves of her hips until finally, Jameson reached the destination she longed to explore. A guttural moan laced with pure desire escaped her mouth at the first taste of the woman she loved. She greeted the rise of Candace’s hips with the firm pressure of her hand, forcing Candace into total submission.

  “Jameson,” Candace pleaded.

  Jameson’s only reply was an achingly slow swirl of her tongue around Candace’s center as her fingers dove deeper. She needed Candace. She wanted to drive Candace over the edge of sanity into a sea of ecstasy. Her fingers thrust steadily in time with the playful flick of her tongue, complimenting each other like the melody and harmony of a haunting ballad. She pressed her weight against Candace’s legs, preventing Candace from arching against her touch.

  Candace struggled to breathe against a rising tide. The softness of Jameson’s tongue, the rhythm of her fingers, the feel of her breasts brushing against Candace’s legs—it was all too much. She wanted to touch Jameson, to taste Jameson, to hear Jameson. The hot water in the tub had cooled, leaving a mist hovering in the air. It chilled her skin and stoked the embers of her desire further. Hot and cold, hard and soft, contrast and compliment—Candace’s hands dropped to Jameson’s head, trying to hold her in place, silently begging for release. The sound of her urgent sighs as they mixed with Jameson’s desperate moans sent a rush through Candace’s body, greeting Jameson as a final plea.

  Jameson drank Candace in. She craved Candace’s release. Her fingers twirled inside Candace, delighting in the warm wetness. She sucked gently at first, slowly increasing the pressure of her lips around Candace’s need until Candace screamed her name.

  Candace’s entire body rose to meet Jameson’s. She shuddered when Jameson’s fingers began to probe again, gently but firmly. “No… God, Jameson…”

  Jameson lifted herself and kissed Candace urgently. “Just feel me, Candace.”

  Candace’s eyelids fluttered and closed. She could feel Jameson everywhere. Her entire body hummed like a bee buried in the sweet nectar of a flower. She felt Jameson moving inside her tenderly. Jameson’s voice carried softly as they rocked together.