Commander in Chief

“Not one bit,” he says too easily, grabbing some papers and bringing them to the chair by the bed.

“Not a little bit?” I put three centimeters between my fingers.

He narrows his eyes, then from his seat, leans forward and squishes my fingers. “Maybe that.”

“You’re a dick.”

He scowls. “Hush, you don’t talk to your president like that.” He slips his glasses on and starts thumbing through the papers.

“I just did, Mr. President. Sir.”

He laughs, sets the papers on his lap, and reaches out and strokes my hair. “Go to sleep. I’ve got to read up on something.”

I lie down, Matt, with those sexy glasses, reading but sporadically glancing up to check on me, as if it gives him peace to watch me sleep. The monsters lurking in the shadows can’t get close to me, not with him here.

“Do you remember the boy we visited when campaigning?” he asks.

“Of course. They named him after you!”

“I followed up on him. I invited him to the White House. He and his parents will be gracing us with their company next month.”

“You kept your promise.”

“Of course I kept my promise.”

I squeal and I leap out of bed to throw myself at him, tackle-hugging him and raining kisses on his face. “You’re the best!”

But the best is truly Matt’s low, quiet laughter as I pry off his glasses and shower him with my appreciation. He tugs the papers I just sat on and sets them aside, letting me rain kisses all over him.

Getting instantly hard.

“Now that missed me at least,” I whisper in his ear.

His voice is gruff as he cups my face gently in both hands, and his eyes are hot and liquid as they coast over my face. “You know I missed you, girl. You know I miss you.” He lifts my hand and laces our fingers, running his thumb along mine, and then he lifts my fourth finger to his mouth and wraps his lips around it, licking it clean.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, suddenly more aroused than ever.

“Hmm. You taste good.” He smirks, letting go of my hand and grabbing a fistful of hair as he crushes my mouth beneath his.

Once back in the White House, Matt schedules a few press conferences during the week. I steal into a couple just to hear him.

I love Lola introducing him. “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States . . .”

I love how the room shifts and reenergizes when he enters. How everyone seems to feel more important, wants to do more, be more in his presence; the man has red, white, and blue running in his veins. American royalty: the country’s new commander in chief. The press can’t get enough of him.

He speaks to the reporters casually, as if they’re longtime friends, as if he’s used to speaking to them, which is quite true.

I’m actually sorry that Clarissa told me I needed to look at some crucial issues about the upcoming state dinner this morning, causing me to miss the last press conference.

21

HEADLINES

Matt

“Make no mistake about it. Right and left need to be working together. There needs to be an understanding and full cooperation to move forward. Globalization is a must not only for society, but for our industry, for our trade, for our personal growth, for our mental understanding. We’re working on eliminating the fragmenting of our society. Right and left wings against each other . . . those burnt bridges we’ve encountered? They must be rebuilt. The misinformation that helped lead to those breaking points must be addressed. The White House will have more open communication—online, via letters, and through appointments with the president. New knowledge about our policies, our passed bills, and our plans will be at your fingertips. We’re opening up more than we ever have with a new portal, and . . . ladies and gentlemen . . . the portal will go live tonight.”

I stop there, letting the press corps take notes before I proceed, changing my tone to a more personal one.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’m telling you this, since Lola would have done just as good a job as I did, or even better.” I smirk, then pause.

“Starting today, I too will share something important to me,” I admit, cocking my head from one side of the room to the other, meeting their gazes. “The most important thing that has happened to me next to the death of my father, and being elected your president.”

Heads rise from their scribbles.

I know they can tell I’m talking about more than policy now.

I know these reporters, and they know me.

Some of them I grew up with. Some of them were with me in college. Some, even, I’ve known since my father was here.

Oh yes, they know me.

“I’m sure it may not be a surprise,” I say, clearly and succinctly, meeting their eyes as candidly as I can. “I am in love with the first lady of the United States. At the moment, a dozen vans from District florists are pulling up at the White House, and the staffers are helping me fill up her room. I’m going to ask her to marry me. Today.” I smile and lean closer to the microphone. “If you have any extra time, say a little prayer that she agrees.”

“Go get her, Mr. President!” someone yells.

“I will.” I grin.

I show them the ring from my pocket. “My father’s mother had two large diamond earrings, which she gave to my father. The first diamond, he gave to my mother. The other to me. I want it on her finger. I’ve measured and calculated, and I think I’ve got the size right.” The thought that I may not makes me frown as I look at the ring, then I shake my head as I tuck it away. “And don’t think I’m asking her because Jacobs said I needed a first lady—though it’s true I like the outfits she wears.”