Melanie dug around in her lingerie drawer for the lacy black bra-and-panty set her sister had sent her for her thirty-fifth birthday. It had never been worn, and while she didn’t plan to go to bed with Brian on their first date, she figured it didn’t hurt to be prepared. He’d e-mailed her the morning after their White House tour to say that he’d forgive her for not telling him about Charlotte’s secret trip if she’d meet him for coffee. At the Starbucks across the street from the White House, he’d insisted that she promise him that the next time Charlotte ventured to Iraq or Afghanistan, they’d both be on the trip. “Deal,” she’d committed.
And tonight they were going on their first real date. He was taking her to Bistro Lepic, a tiny French restaurant on Wisconsin Avenue in Georgetown. It was Melanie’s last night of freedom before Charlotte returned from Afghanistan. Having Charlotte out of the country had allowed Melanie’s anxiety to ebb a bit. In the days since her confrontation with Charlotte in the Rose Garden, she’d come to see Michael’s affair rumor as less catastrophic than it had initially felt. If Charlotte was having an affair, which Melanie doubted she was, they would deal with it, she decided. She’d convinced herself that the rumor would prove false and that she and Charlotte would laugh about it when they finally discussed the topic again. She also had come to terms with the fact that it was time to step off the treadmill and get out of politics. Her sister had urged her to come live in New York, and Melanie was considering it. As much as she didn’t want to admit it after knowing him for only a week, she wanted to see if there was any potential for something real with Brian.
Melanie had struggled with the wardrobe decision. She didn’t want to wear a suit, but it was a graver sin to overdress than to underdress in Washington. She’d settled on a black wrap dress that flattered her small waist and gave her a little bit of cleavage. Brian wore dark slacks and a button-down shirt. Melanie thought he looked even younger and more attractive in his casual attire than he had in a texedo. They were seated in the corner, and they shared a laugh about the brusque French service. They drank two bottles of wine with their entrees and shared a chocolate mousse for dessert. The conversation between them was easy and comfortable, and Melanie found herself wanting the night to go on longer than she knew it would. D.C. had no nightlife to speak of for adults over twenty-eight years old.
When they were done with dinner, Brian paid the bill, and Melanie thanked him.
“I have a live shot in the morning, and I know you have to be at the office at the crack of dawn, so I should probably let you go home and get some sleep,” Brian said.
Melanie was disappointed, but she smiled. “Sounds like a plan,” she said.
She stood up and felt the effects of the wine. She put her hand on the chair to steady herself, and Brian put his arm around her waist. They walked to the car like that.
“Can we give you a ride?” Melanie said.
“That would be great,” Brian said. She debated asking him to come back to her apartment for a drink. She didn’t want to misread his signs. He had ended the date, but he’d been the one pursuing her all week. She glanced down at her BlackBerry. He did the same.
“Anything good on yours?” he asked her, skimming his messages.
“Nothing,” she said, smiling at him, “How about yours? Anything good?”
“Nothing,” he answered.
As they rode the short distance to Melanie’s building, Walter and Sherry were doing their best imitation of invisible people. Brian glanced toward the front seat, but neither of them looked up. He moved closer to Melanie and leaned in to kiss her. She kissed him back.
They stopped at the last traffic light before Melanie’s building. What the hell, Melanie thought.
“I was wondering if you’d like to come up for a drink,” she said quietly.
“I would like that,” he said, smiling and kissing her again.
Walter and Sherry were silent when they pulled up to Melanie’s building, but Melanie could swear she saw Walter wink at Brian when he got out. She cringed.
“Good night, guys,” she said to them. “See you tomorrow.”
They waved. “G’night,” they said in unison.
Melanie felt some butterflies in her stomach on the elevator ride up. Once inside, he pulled her toward him and kissed her again. It was a long, flirty kiss that felt like the beginning of exactly what Melanie had been preparing for when she’d pulled out her lacy underwear.
He untied her wrap dress, and it fell open as they stood in her entryway kissing. It was so natural, but she needed to slow things down a bit. She pulled away from him slightly.
“Why don’t you open the bottle of wine on the counter, and I’ll just be one second?” she said to him.
“I can handle that,” he said.
She went into her bedroom and sat down on her bed. She slipped out of her dress and sat on the bed in her underwear. It had been so long since she’d had a man in her apartment. Charlotte would have gotten a kick out of the fact that Melanie had lured a younger man back to her place.
Thinking of Charlotte made her look at her BlackBerry. She saw an urgent message to call the Situation Room at the same time her cell phone and home phone rang. She heard another phone ringing that didn’t sound familiar to her. It was Brian’s cell phone. She heard him answer before she could get to her own phones. She opened the door to her bedroom and saw his face turn white before he hung up his phone.
“Marine One crashed in Afghanistan,” he said. “I need to confirm that the president is still alive.” He looked at Melanie as she stood in the doorway between her bedroom and the living room, suddenly feeling foolish in just her black bra and panties.