Thunderbolt by M. L. Buchman

Author:M. L. Buchman [Buchman, M. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Buchman Bookworks, Inc.

42

At the knock on the Presidential Suite’s door, Senator Hunter Ramson grabbed a plush terrycloth bathrobe off the warming bar behind the door, eased the frosted glass sliding door to the bedroom mostly shut behind him, and answered it.

He’d been expecting dinner a bit later, but this was fine. He wanted to surprise Rose by serving it to her in bed.

The woman was gloriously insatiable today and he looked forward to just how long it would take them to eat a Trout Amandine and one of the Bistro Bis’ fine Angus strip steaks…with each other as a palate cleanser between courses.

He opened the door with a flourish, but wasn’t ready for what was waiting in the hall.

“Good evening, Senator,” Clarissa Reese breezed in. “I’m glad I’m not interrupting anything.”

“You are!” Goddamn bitch of a woman had him traced. Not that it was all that hard. He wasn’t trying to hide some secret affair, so there’d been no need to be circumspect.

“You may want to close the door.”

“Not until you’re on the other side of it, Reese.”

She waggled her fingers at him as if shooing the door closed. Then she sat on the couch, exactly where Rose had been waiting in just his tie when he’d arrived this afternoon.

Somehow it felt as if she knew even that and had been purposeful in her choice of seat.

Out of options, he let the door swing shut. A quick glance toward the bedroom revealed no changes. He’d left Rose sleeping. “We’ll need a nap now to regain our energy for later, dear.” And they had, until the soft knock had woken him. Hopefully, she’d stay that way.

Out of options—short of calling the hotel detective to remove a Division Director of the CIA—he let the door swing.

He chose a narrow loveseat that would keep Reese’s back to the bedroom door.

“We have a problem, Senator.”

“What have you screwed up now?”

“Touchy. Touchy. Touchy. Perhaps I should say that we each have a problem.”

“What’s yours other than being a manipulative bitch and a—”

She raised a hand palm out. “This is probably not the moment to say something that you might regret later, Senator Ramson.”

He could think of a lot of things to say, but she was right, none of them were nice.

“I’m in a position to help you with a problem and I’m hoping that in exchange, you can help me with a problem of my own.” Reese made a show of re-crossing her legs.

Rose had long since taught him most of the little tricks that women used to grab a man’s attention. Subliminal until you learned to see them, then they became laughably blatant.

The bikini girls at the beach who had learned to throw one shoulder back to emphasize their chest.

Bar babes crossing their legs at the ankles before leaning their elbows on the bar to emphasize their asses.

A woman who began speaking normally, but gradually spoke softer and softer to drag you in until you were practically nuzzling her neck to hear her.

Reese’s obvious move had no power over him.

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