Chapter 6

Genny had spent the morning alone in the Residence. Being alone, the first thing she’d did was her daily workout of stretches, techniques, and kata. Because she’d missed yesterday, she pushed for over an hour until she’d needed another shower. Then she’d worked on catching up on e-mails and trying not to feel self conscious about being in Peter’s home when he wasn’t. She’d started in his Living Room, but moved to the Central Hall. Even that was too personal, but she was unsure where else to go. He was taking a series of morning meetings in the West Wing before their flight.

Their flight.

Just minutes from now they’d be declaring to the world that they were seeing each other. Dating. Sleeping together. That didn’t bother her overly much. What other people thought about them being a couple was not her concern, what they thought was their problem.

What was different about this public declaration was the impact on herself. It wasn’t that she’d taken a new lover, they came and they went, not often, but it was part of the cycle of a healthy life. But to be dating the President, that was a more definitive statement, made more real by his office and his importance to the world at large. Such a thing meant that more thought and consideration had been given to the matter than someone you met at a conference and liked.

Peter Matthews had topped the most-eligible bachelor list for the two years since his wife’s death. Of course, Prince William had been married by then. Young Harry, now fourth in line to the British throne, had only placed a distant second.

Even that was not the matter. It was how she felt around Peter. She had never been so comfortable except in her own home. She’d had lovers who were casual about nudity in the home, but she had never so enjoyed walking in front of a powerful and erudite man and striking him speechless. And how could such a man know her so perfectly that he spoke not a word when the nerves overwhelmed her, but simply cradled her until she could want to be nowhere else.

He was maddening, frustrating, beautiful, and kind. He was also almost as afraid of intimacy as she was. Not physical intimacy. That was clearly not a problem between them They had found such joy in each other’s bodies that it was hard to credit. Even thinking of him caused her pulse to rise and bring a flush to her cheeks, despite the e-mail she was writing to her Assistant Unit Chief regarding how to gracefully accept a keynote speaker position for a major conference that she had already said she wouldn’t be attending as a participant.

She and Peter hadn’t been like two teenagers gone wild with hormones, nor had they been like two adults enjoying a good round of casual sex. They had made love as if each moment were a new discovery to be cherished and remembered. It overshadowed all her past experiences.

That was the intimacy that he brought to their relationship, unexpectedly and not entirely welcome. She knew this man. Not his past, there had been so little time for that. But she knew him nonetheless. As if he had slipped a piece of her heart into clearer view than it had ever been.

He did that to her. President Peter Matthews overshadowed all her experiences of men, and he had done it in only two days. How could she account for this to herself? It was impossible for a relationship to be built on such a narrow pedestal, and yet it felt as stable as the Borobudur Temple which had survived fifteen-hundred years despite jungle growth, being buried in volcanic ash, ever-chaotic Indonesian politics, and even extremists’ bombs.

“Are you ready?”

Genny startled and looked up to see the same Secret Service agent standing nearby. She hadn’t heard the woman’s approach. She packed away her laptop and turned to make a quick survey, nothing left behind her. Just her suitcase and cross-shoulder bag that held her purse and computer.

The agent led her toward the elevator. “Sorry about not offering to carry your bags, ma’am. But I need to keep my hands free.”

“It was not expected that you would do so. So, are you assigned to me?”

They traveled together down the long hall on the White House Ground Floor. Here the Christmas décor was more subdued than elsewhere. This corridor was only traversed by servants and by those from the West Wing with business in the Residence. There were no public tours here, and it felt more normal.

“I am, ma’am. For as…” She ended awkwardly.

“For as long as I am dating your President. I understand. Then you should call me Genny.”

“That wouldn’t be proper, Ms. Beauchamp.” She held open a door and guided Genny through the Palm Room and outside along the Colonnade that led toward the West Wing.

“And why do we women care about such things as being proper? That is for the men to care about.”

The agent stopped for a moment, just feet from a Marine guard at a glass door. At a glass door in a wall that curved.

Genny took a deep breath. The Oval Office was through that door. She had best make herself ready. It gave her more nerves than the first time she’d entered the U.N. Security Council Chamber to address the council.

The agent held out a hand. “Beatrice, most call me Beat.”

“Beat, that is your agent name. Beatrice, that is what I shall call you. Me you shall call Genny.” They shook hands and Genny took a deep breath and held it before nodding for Beatrice to lead the way.

The agent held open the door, let her through, and then let it close remaining outside. Leaving Genny to face the Oval Office on her own.

# # #

Peter was just finishing up with Daniel on the latest budget proposal from the National Science Foundation for next year’s Arctic and Antarctic research when the door opened off to his right.

By the time he was able to glance over, Genny’s face was turning bright red.

“Breathe, Geneviève! Breathe!” he called out as he went to her.

She blew out a breath, gulped in another, then managed little more than a squeak, “I can’t, Mr. President. I just can’t!”

He placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the room. “I know. I know. I had the same problem. Sometimes I still do, so many great Presidents have walked here before me.”

“Me too, Genny,” Daniel offered cheerily as he gathered up the paperwork from the Resolute Desk. “First time I was actually in the room was for the interview that led to me being Chief of Staff. So scared you could hear my knees knocking clear back to Tennessee.”

She blew out a breath again, loudly, and slowly her normal color began coming back.

“We should make love here, Mr. President.”

“Whoops! I’m gone.” Daniel practically sprinted for the door. Traitor.

“Uh, I don’t think that even I have the nerve to do that, Geneviève.”

“I’m not suggesting one of Jack Kennedy’s naked coed pool parties, or that you smuggle me into your room like FDR did. I merely suggest that you and I should make love here.”

“You’re serious?”

“Well, I think it would be good for you. This is the center of your power, this oval room. And…,” she abruptly blew out a final breath and laughed a little shakily. “But I think I agree with you. I would not have the nerve to make love in such a place.”

A secretary breezed in through one of the doors. “Here’s your speech and your coat, Mr. President.” She held it open for him to slip on.

“Thanks, Jasmine,” he turned his attention back to Geneviève. “Besides, there’s a couple problems. For one thing, the doors don’t lock.”

Jasmine’s sudden backward glance told him that he should have waited a moment longer before speaking. He almost called her back in to explain that they were joking, like that sounded believable. He let her go.

“That is why you have guards,” Geneviève was studying the several doors that the room boasted.

“Well,” he turned her by the shoulders to look at the bay window facing the broad South Lawn. “The guards also stand outside the glass on this side.”

“So, tell them not to peek. We will turn out the lights. I will promise not to cry out too loud no matter how much you make me want to.” Now she was clearly teasing him, her hand patting his cheek, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

“I am not having this conversation. I am not standing in the Oval Office and having this conversation.” He checked the portfolio Jasmine had handed him to make sure she’d also included his schedule and the notes for the other meetings.

“What? You think that others have not been here and made love to their women in this place? If so, you are a big fool, Mr. President.”

Peter glanced up at the portraits of Washington, Lincoln, and Kennedy hanging from the office walls. Kennedy definitely. Grant maybe. And…

“I am not having this conversation.”

“How do you feel about kissing a woman in the Oval Office? Because I feel as if I am about to fly apart.”

“I think I can accede to that demand at least.” And before she could respond and make him even crazier, he swept her into his arms. She grabbed onto his coat’s lapels and hung on.

Then he guided her toward the door she had just entered.

Great. Just great.

The image of her languishing naked and sweaty upon the Oval Office rug was now firmly lodged in his brain, and he knew it would remain there for as long as he served as President.