Peter's Christmas by M. L. Buchman

Author:M. L. Buchman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, SOAR, Night Stalkers, 160th, White House
Publisher: Buchman Bookworks, Inc.
Published: 2016-02-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

“And by what method do you justify this to your American taxpayers?” Genny waved a hand to indicate herself seated aboard Air Force One, in the corner of the President’s in-flight office. There had been only a few high-level meetings where she had retired to one of the equally comfortable seats in the corridor to afford him privacy. For the most part they both had sat quietly and worked. Now they were ten hours into the seventeen-hour flight and sharing a meal.

She was surprised to learn that dining on the President’s airplane was nothing special. They served airplane fare, high quality and tasty, but she’d eaten far fancier menus when flying first class on Air France or SAS. Corned Beef on Rye along with potato salad, a fruit bowl, and a bag of chips. She drank a very nice wine and he a beer.

She didn’t doubt that Peter would have a perfectly valid explanation of how he was not bilking the taxpayer in the slightest. She liked hearing such explanations from him, poking holes in them where she could. Which was always difficult because he was such an ethical man. Twice this week, he had brought a tricky problem from his workday to their bed and used her as a sounding board until he found a tenable solution.

Their bed. The President’s bed. The lines were already blurring and she honestly didn’t know how to feel about it. She decided that she wouldn’t think about it until her family had a chance to meet Peter and she could ask Gram’s advice. Genny knew she was in over her head, but her Vietnamese grandmother was wise in many ways.

In the week between the cookie night and the flight to Hanoi, she had actually been able to work mostly from the White House, only spending two days in New York. Peter had set her up with an office in the Residence. She didn’t need much; her laptop, phone, and a fax/copier on loan from the IT department had filled most of her needs.

Air Force One had actually afforded her some peace. By refusing to use the aircraft’s telephone system, she’d been able to get a fair amount of work done, though she did appreciate her guest access to the on-board wireless network so that she could continue the never-ending battle with her e-mail.

“I just tell them,” Peter saluted taxpayers everywhere with a tipping of his beer. “That I’m not going anywhere without my main squeeze along.”

“Main squeeze?”

“Sorry, American slang. Old slang from my parents’ youth, maybe even earlier. It means my main girl.”

“And you have so many others that you are not telling me about? I maybe am part French which makes me understanding, but I am also part Vietnamese and that makes me possessive and dangerous.”

Peter didn’t even have the decency to squirm. “You’re the main one for me.”

“Tu es impossible!”

“And proud to be.”

# # #

Despite Peter’s hints about his private cabin and an opportunity to join the Mile-High Club, Genny had decided that wouldn’t be a good idea with his staff so close by.

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