His Comfort and Joy (The Moorehouse Legacy 2) - Page 27

“She married the wrong man. Gray.”


“That's your opinion.”


“At least I never would have screwed around on her.”


Gray shook his head, feeling himself go completely numb. “If you'll excuse me, I'm going to take off.”


Becks reached out. “Gray, he cheated on her in col?lege. He doesn't deserve her. He never did.”


“And you do? You set me up to do your dirty work. I don't find a lot of integrity in that, but maybe I'm miss?ing something.”


Gray strode across the room.


Becks's voice was hard when he spoke. “We're not going to have any trouble between us, are we? Because that would be most unfortunate. I would hate to see you cut out of the profession you love so much.”


Gray glanced over his shoulder.


The first rule of war was simple, he thought. When at?tacked, strike back mortally. A half-dead opponent is still perfectly capable of taking you out.


He turned around and pegged the other man with a flat stare.


“Do you really want to go there, Becks? Because I have enough information on you to sink you like a stone and I'm not at all sentimental. Just because you clerked for my father a million years ago doesn't mean I won't slaughter you where you stand.” He took out his cell phone, casually tossing it up into the air and catching it. Over and over again. 'To keep my job, I don't need thou?sands of voters to think I'm a nice, trustworthy guy, but you sure as hell do. Iran-Contra. The Senate check-writing scandal. Working the back channels on budget discussions. I know every dirty deed you've ever done and you want to know what should scare you even more? I have a file on you. Stuffed up good and thick with doc?uments you've signed, memos you've written, pictures, too. One call to a newspaper and a couple of faxes and I can shatter that image you've spent a lifetime building. Oh, and did I mention, I have the Washington Post on speed dial? New York Times, too."


Becks went dead still, his pallor changing to a pearly gray. But he rallied soon enough, that famous engaging smile coming out. “Listen to us, we're not enemies. What are we carrying on about? I'm sorry that I put you in such a terrible position.”


“So am I. But we're past apologies, Beckin. You've pissed me off so badly, I just might make those calls anyway. Someone with your standards shouldn't be at the head of the Senate and I suddenly despise myself for let?ting your conniving ass sully that seat for so long.”


He opened the door and marched out of the room.


“Gray!”


With Becks on his heels, Gray strode out of the town house, signaled for his car and walked into the street. He was physically ill. Sick with himself. With Beckin. With Washington.


“Gray!” Becks grabbed his arm. “I can't let you go like this. We need toÑ”


“Think about retiring, Beckin, and do it soon. It'll be better than getting thrown out in the street by your peers.”


“You wouldn't dare.”


“You know my reputation. I don't aim unless I'm pre?pared to pull the trigger. Do yourself a favor and retire.” He got into the limousine and told the driver to hit the gas.


“We going back to your place, boss?” his driver asked.


“No. Take me by the White House.”


“Whatever you say, boss.”


Two blocks before 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, the Lincoln Town Car slowed at a stoplight.


“We going in the side entrance?” the chauffeur asked.


“No, just drive by it.”


“Okay.”


Up ahead, Gray could see the spot-lit black iron fence and the green stretch of lawn. And then the White House rose like a beacon.


“Slow down,” he said. “Actually, stop.”


The driver brought the Lincoln to a halt.


Gray opened the door, stepped out and leaned back against the car. He stared at the building, remembering the first time he'd seen it. He'd been five years old and utterly convinced that something magical was happen?ing inside.


There was still magic going on, he supposed. He just couldn't see it anymore. His intimate knowledge of Cap?itol Hill clouded his vision too much.


Joy froze in the process of packing her suitcase. The phone was ringing out in the hall. She held her breath, hoping that Libby's voice would carry up the stairs and tell her Gray was on the phone.


She'd missed each time he'd called in the last two days. Twice because she was helping clean up at White Caps. Once when she was having dinner with Frankie and Nate. And the last because she'd gone for a long walk to clear her mind.


She was due in New York this afternoon and wanted to see if he was going to be in town. After having done some research on hotels in Manhattan, the idea of sav?ing hundreds of dollars by taking advantage of his hos?pitality was attractive. But she wanted to confirm that he'd be in Washington before she made her decision. Staying in close quarters with him seemed like torture.


She waited to hear Libby call out. There was nothing.


She closed her eyes and then resumed packing.


“Joy! It's Gray for you.”


She walked quickly to the hall phone. “Gray?”


“Hi.”


“I'm coming to town.”


“When?” His voice was distant, but it could have just been because he was on his cell phone.


“Today. This afternoon.”


“Well, my offer still stands. I'm in Washington, but you're welcome to stay at the suite.”


“Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “I appreciate it. God, everything in New York is so expensive.”


“And don't be shy about ordering room service. Just put everything on my bill.”


Yeah, not bloody likely. She wasn't about to mooch off him for food. “That's generous, but I can pay for my own meals.”


“I'm busy down here, but I'll try to get away.”


“Don't worry if you can't. I understand. So the elec?tions are getting close, aren't they?”


“Yes. Listen, everything's set for your party.”


Good Lord, how could she have forgotten about that? It was.. .five days away. At the end of this week.


“Joy? You still there?”


“Yes. Yes, I am.”


“My assistant in New York will leave details at the suite for you and you'll be happy to know that Cassan?dra can't stand not being a part of it so she's cutting her vacation short to get back. I took the liberty of drafting some talking points for you. My assistant will get them to you. And you should wear something of your own de?sign, something bright. You need to stand out in the crowd so people can find you. Also, I've had a trunk line in?stalled in my office in the city. My assistant will handle any calls for you there and business cards have been printed with the number on it.”


A chill went through her. “You have everything ar?ranged, don't you?”


“I know how important this is going to be for your ca?reer.” There was a pause and then she heard a commo?tion in the background, as if people were arguing. “Sorry, I've got to run. Take care, Joy, and have a safe trip.”


The phone went dead.


She hung up the receiver and thought about what his friend the investment banker had said. That Gray was a makeup artist. That he turned people into whoever they had to be to get elected.


Looks as if she was just one more quick fix in a long line of them.


When she resumed packing, her hands were shaky. She told herself she was getting just what she wanted. A free place to stay in New York. A party to help launch her career. Him in Washington.


It was all good.


Except she did want to see him. Even if it was stupid. Even if they were going nowhere.


She thought back to that one night they'd spent to?gether. Of that one moment when they'd been joined. Heat pooled in her belly.


Her heart wanted him. So did her body. Her mind was the only holdout, the only part of her that was making any sense.


So thank God for higher reasoning.


Chapter Fifteen


New York City in the rain was a nightmare, Joy thought as she slipped the card into the suite's lock. When the lit?tle green light flashed and she heard a metallic shift, she turned the brass handle.


The moment she was inside, she stepped out of her high heels and curled her damp, chilly feet into the thick carpet. She didn't turn on any lights. Anxious, irritated and wired, she needed to avoid stimulation as much as she could. Calming herself down so she'd be able to fall asleep was going to take some doing.


Picking up her shoes, she walked into her bedroom using the city's glow to find her way around. She peeled off her drenched raincoat and had to hang it up in the shower it was so soaked.


The weather had been gruesome and enduring, a cold, wet and windy rush since the moment she'd left the Wal?dorf that morning. And courtesy of the storm, she had yet another thing to add to her collection of New York City knowledge: getting a taxi in Manhattan when it was cold, wet and windy was like winning the lottery. She figured it would be sometime next summer before she thawed out.


What a day. She'd met with Cassandra's friends, sep?arately. Had lunched with two more potential clients. And then, with what little time there had been left dur?ing business hours, she'd haggled over silk and taffeta in the Garment District. The marathon had ended on a din?ner with Cass. With the reception only two days away, they'd talked about who was coming and decided which of the sketches should be displayed.


Now, it was close to ten o'clock at night.


Not that she would have known it without a watch. She couldn't decide whether she thought it was actually four in the morning or high noon. Her internal engine was racing so out of control, she felt as if her body was two feet behind her brain.


What she needed was a bath. A long, hot bath.


She stuck her head out into the living room and eyed the open door to the bedroom Gray used. In his bath, she knew there was a Jacuzzi the size of a small pond.


For the past three days, she'd avoided his private space, but now she walked over to it. As soon as she stepped through the door, she didn't know why she'd bothered to keep out of the room. There was nothing of him in it. No personal effects, no papers. Just some clothes in the closet.


Her feet stopped in front of the bed of their own ac?cord and she stared at the precisely arranged pillows. The fancy satin duvet. The matching padded headboard.


She couldn't imagine them ever getting back in the thing. Or any other bed.


Had they actually lain on it together in the first place?


Joy forced herself to go into the bathroom. The tub was located in a walled-off marble alcove, and as she measured its wide belly, she thought it could easily ac?commodate three people. Filling up the Jacuzzi was going to take some time so she cranked on the faucets and went back to her room where she changed and pulled on a robe.


Twenty minutes later she was in heaven. Settling into the water was like being hugged and her body sagged in the comfort. She reached out for a bath towel, folded it up into a thick square and put it behind her head as a cushion. Then she hit the jets.


That ruined the moment. The noise of rushing water and the currents against her skin were agitating. Silenc?ing the Jacuzzi, she waited for the hot water to still and then closed her eyes.


Gray stood outside the door to the suite, frozen in place. He didn't know what he was going to find when he went inside.


In his mind, he saw his teenage self hesitating at his mother's bedroom. There was a piece of paper in his hand. On it, in big letters, was a message he'd written. His father had called and was coming home early. ETA was twenty minutes.


Through the closed door, he'd been able to hear the sound of a bed creaking softly.


That time, as with so many others, he'd knocked once and slipped the note inside. It was a code they'd devel?oped and he hadn't waited for a response. Watching the men leave, all red-faced and disheveled, had always dis?gusted him.

Tags: Jessica Bird The Moorehouse Legacy Billionaire Romance
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