For
the next few weeks, Stephen avoided Anne as he’d promised Patty. With his busy
schedule and large office, it was usually an easy thing to do. If he wasn’t
rushed and he happened upon her, he’d acknowledge her with a nod and move on,
but sometimes it was difficult.
Once
he heard one of his legislative assistants call the ski resorts in West
Virginia pathetic compared to those in Colorado.
“It
doesn’t matter,” Anne replied. “I don’t go to resorts much anymore. I usually
ski in the backcountry.”
As
she chatted with the staffer, Stephen was tempted to join in the conversation.
Biting his tongue, he kept about his business, but not without another
side-eyed glance. He summed her up with one thought: She’s really cool.
Despite
his interest, he stayed away, until one day he noticed her alone in the copy
room near his personal office. With some regret, he continued on his path down
the hall, but the temptation proved too much. He backed up and peered into the
small room. There she was—leaning on the counter as she studied a letter that
bore his signature at the bottom. Her finger traced the page as she
concentrated on each word.
After
a quick look to make sure no one was nearby, he quietly stepped into the room.
“What did I say this time?” he asked.
She
jumped. “Oh! I didn’t hear you walk in. I’m sorry.”
“No,
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He smiled to reassure her. “I asked
about the letter. What did I say this time?”
“You
mean, what did I say this time?” She
returned his smile and waved the paper as if to bat him away. “I’m joking. I
drafted a new form letter outlining your position on the deficit. This is the
final version. I was just seeing what your legislative director kept of what I
wrote.”
“And?”
“It’s
pretty similar.”
“May
I see?”
“Sure.”
She handed him the letter.
Skimming
through a paragraph, he concluded it was well written and persuasive.
As
he nodded, she spoke, “The LD left in the part about how an extension of
unemployment benefits actually grows the economy. I’m proud of that.”
“Spoken like a true policy geek.” It was a
dismissive statement, but he meant it as a compliment.
“I
guess I am.” She shrugged awkwardly. “It’s always debate night at the Norwood
dinner table. My brother never showed any interest in politics—he’s in med
school now—so my dad talked to me because I kept up with things.”
“Sounds
like my family.” He smiled.
“Except
I debate my parents. Everyone in your family agrees.”
“We
do—for the most part.”
“Must
be nice.” She rolled her eyes.
Stephen
paused for a moment, quickly assessing the woman before him who was so
different from the women he dated. He liked her irreverence, which she seemed
to hold for everything, including her family and even him. Other than his own
family, very few people treated him that way.
His
eyes drifted from her face down to her shoulders and rested briefly on her
small but perky chest. He imagined for a moment what her breasts might look
like. Pleased with the image in his mind, he let his eyes wander upward. He
noticed the cute freckles from years in the strong mountain sun dotting her
nose and cheeks.
Finally,
their eyes met again. He admired her flowerlike hazel irises, and the look in
her eyes told him she’d noticed him checking her out. She lifted a brow as if
to ask him what he was going to do next.
Normally,
in such a moment, if he wanted to cut to the chase, he might ask the woman out.
If he was really interested, he’d pay her a small compliment beforehand. With
Anne, he wanted to tell her she was beautiful—simply to see if he could make her
bashful.
Whatever he chose to do, he presumed she’d be
receptive. Though she was young, her expression wasn’t innocent; it told him
loud and clear any advance would be welcomed.
He
took a breath of anticipation. Their connection was temptingly easy, but it was
also unnerving, like he stood on a precipice with untold consequences.
Maintaining his stare for a few more seconds, he debated those consequences—and
stopped himself.
Passing
back the letter, he broke her spell. “Good job,” he said softly. With an abrupt
turn of his heel, he left the room, chiding himself for what he’d done.
After
Anne watched him pass through the door, she caught her breath while her mind
swirled in confusion. Oh my God. What was
that? It was a silly question because she knew what had happened. In that
moment, Stephen McEvoy wanted her, and her rapid heartbeat was evidence of the
connection she’d made with him.
Her
eyes widened as she realized what it could mean, and she quickly reprimanded
herself. Are you crazy? He’s a senator,
for Christ’s sake, and you’re an intern. You’ll destroy your career before you
even have one.
For
the next few weeks, Stephen avoided Anne as he’d promised Patty. With his busy
schedule and large office, it was usually an easy thing to do. If he wasn’t
rushed and he happened upon her, he’d acknowledge her with a nod and move on,
but sometimes it was difficult.
Once
he heard one of his legislative assistants call the ski resorts in West
Virginia pathetic compared to those in Colorado.
“It
doesn’t matter,” Anne replied. “I don’t go to resorts much anymore. I usually
ski in the backcountry.”
As
she chatted with the staffer, Stephen was tempted to join in the conversation.
Biting his tongue, he kept about his business, but not without another
side-eyed glance. He summed her up with one thought: She’s really cool.
Despite
his interest, he stayed away, until one day he noticed her alone in the copy
room near his personal office. With some regret, he continued on his path down
the hall, but the temptation proved too much. He backed up and peered into the
small room. There she was—leaning on the counter as she studied a letter that
bore his signature at the bottom. Her finger traced the page as she
concentrated on each word.
After
a quick look to make sure no one was nearby, he quietly stepped into the room.
“What did I say this time?” he asked.
She
jumped. “Oh! I didn’t hear you walk in. I’m sorry.”
“No,
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He smiled to reassure her. “I asked
about the letter. What did I say this time?”
“You
mean, what did I say this time?” She
returned his smile and waved the paper as if to bat him away. “I’m joking. I
drafted a new form letter outlining your position on the deficit. This is the final
version. I was just seeing what your legislative director kept of what I
wrote.”
“And?”
“It’s
pretty similar.”
“May
I see?”
“Sure.”
She handed him the letter.
Skimming
through a paragraph, he concluded it was well written and persuasive.
As
he nodded, she spoke, “The LD left in the part about how an extension of
unemployment benefits actually grows the economy. I’m proud of that.”
“Spoken like a true policy geek.” It was a
dismissive statement, but he meant it as a compliment.
“I
guess I am.” She shrugged awkwardly. “It’s always debate night at the Norwood
dinner table. My brother never showed any interest in politics—he’s in med
school now—so my dad talked to me because I kept up with things.”
“Sounds
like my family.” He smiled.
“Except
I debate my parents. Everyone in your family agrees.”
“We
do—for the most part.”
“Must
be nice.” She rolled her eyes.
Stephen
paused for a moment, quickly assessing the woman before him who was so
different from the women he dated. He liked her irreverence, which she seemed
to hold for everything, including her family and even him. Other than his own
family, very few people treated him that way.
His
eyes drifted from her face down to her shoulders and rested briefly on her
small but perky chest. He imagined for a moment what her breasts might look
like. Pleased with the image in his mind, he let his eyes wander upward. He
noticed the cute freckles from years in the strong mountain sun dotting her
nose and cheeks.
Finally,
their eyes met again. He admired her flowerlike hazel irises, and the look in
her eyes told him she’d noticed him checking her out. She lifted a brow as if
to ask him what he was going to do next.
Normally,
in such a moment, if he wanted to cut to the chase, he might ask the woman out.
If he was really interested, he’d pay her a small compliment beforehand. With
Anne, he wanted to tell her she was beautiful—simply to see if he could make
her bashful.
Whatever he chose to do, he presumed she’d be
receptive. Though she was young, her expression wasn’t innocent; it told him
loud and clear any advance would be welcomed.
He
took a breath of anticipation. Their connection was temptingly easy, but it was
also unnerving, like he stood on a precipice with untold consequences.
Maintaining his stare for a few more seconds, he debated those consequences—and
stopped himself.
Passing
back the letter, he broke her spell. “Good job,” he said softly. With an abrupt
turn of his heel, he left the room, chiding himself for what he’d done.
After
Anne watched him pass through the door, she caught her breath while her mind
swirled in confusion. Oh my God. What was
that? It was a silly question because she knew what had happened. In that
moment, Stephen McEvoy wanted her, and her rapid heartbeat was evidence of the
connection she’d made with him.
Her
eyes widened as she realized what it could mean, and she quickly reprimanded
herself. Are you crazy? He’s a senator,
for Christ’s sake, and you’re an intern. You’ll destroy your career before you
even have one. The thought made her speed out of the room.
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