The Boss and His Cowgirl (10 page)

She looked so thoroughly disheartened and sad he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and assure her everything would be okay. He grabbed a washcloth and wiped the shaving cream off his face so he could do just that. Joining her on the bed, he pulled the pen from her hair so it cascaded around her shoulders. He loved the silken fall of it, loved the way it played through his fingers when he kissed her, which he did at that moment.

“Love your hair down,” he murmured. Leaning in, he teased her bottom lip, nipping lightly before claiming her mouth. “What's wrong, sweet pea?”

“Nothing.”

“Georgie.”

She sighed and leaned against his shoulder. “I hate doctors.”

He furrowed his brow, trying to follow her non sequitur.

“My yearly checkup is this morning at ten,” she explained.

He zeroed in on her mouth again, this time using his tongue instead of his teeth. After a long moment he put enough space between them that he could see her face. “It's just a physical, honey.”

“Guys have it easy,” she groused.

Only then did he understand. This wasn't just a yearly physical, this was a yearly...exam. “Oh.”

Georgie nodded solemnly. “
Oh
is right.”

“Want me to go with you?”

Blushing furiously, she shoved at his shoulder and scrambled away. “Ewww. No! Nada. Nyet. Nope.” Then she laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I'm a big girl and the tabloids would have a field day if they caught us together at my ob-gyn's office.”

“Good point.”

“I get first dibs on the shower.”

“I have a better idea. Let's save water.” He waggled his brows, rolled off the bed and scooped her into his arms, losing his towel along the way.

The shower was hot and steamy, which had nothing to do with the water temperature and everything to do with tongues and hands. Afterward, Clay dried Georgie off and sent her to get dressed with a pat on her very sweet, heart-shaped behind while he finally finished shaving. He had a meeting with that blasted election team so he could get them out of his hair. He didn't need or want them and he'd counted on Georgie—and Boone—to be there, to show they were a team. Still, he couldn't begrudge her the time for this appointment. He needed to take a page from his younger brothers and put his foot down where his father was concerned. He didn't need backup for that. He could handle the old man. And he would. Or else.

Twelve

H
ad it only been a month? Georgie peeked out the curtains of Clay's townhouse, frowning at the throng of photographers swarming the sidewalk outside his gate. She texted Hunt with the situation and received a reply that a car would pick them up in the alley behind Clay's garage.

The story had snowballed after the blurry picture of them appeared in that tabloid after the state dinner, and Parker Grace had led the charge. Talk about the poster child for Women Scorned Anonymous. Even now, Parker was camped outside with a cameraman.

Clay jogged down the stairs and cocked his head. “Georgie?”

“We have to go out the back. Hunt's bringing a car.”

“I take it the herd is restless?”

She rolled her eyes. “That's an understatement.” Sighing, she peeked out again and turned back to face the man who'd become her everything—and needed to become her nothing ASAP. She rubbed her fisted hand across her chest over her heart, surprised at how much the decision she'd come to this morning—after a solid week of harassment—hurt.

Clay's expression sharpened and he stepped closer, arms reaching for her. “Sweet pea?”

Despair washed over her and Georgie threw up her hands to keep him from touching her. “Listen to me, Clay. I care for you, but I care even more
about
you. I'm still your communications director, which means I'm your employee. That dang reporter outed us and look what's happened. We can't go anywhere together without getting hounded. You're the front-runner for the nomination, even without a formal declaration. You will be the next President of the United States. We can't play at being...a...a thing any longer.”

“A
thing
?” Clay's voice dropped into the bass range, his displeasure evident in his tone and expression. “This is no game, Georgie, and our relationship is not a
thing.
”

Her heart fluttered at his intensity. Clay Barron had a reputation on the Hill—most eligible bachelor. She'd seen the women he dated. This...
thing
between them was only a fling. It had to be. Even if walking away broke her heart.

She wasn't the right woman for him. She wasn't a starlet, supermodel or debutante. She was plain ol' Georgie Dreyfus with drab brown hair, thick glasses and muddy green eyes.

Clay grabbed her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake, the careful action totally at odds with the stormy expression on his face. “I'm not going away, Georgie. This is something real. At least to me.”

His gaze searched her face, probing all the way into the place she hid her deepest secrets—especially her feelings for her boss. She swallowed and fought the urge to fall into his arms. “This won't work.
We
won't work.”

Clay stared at her, his expression smoothing to that of the polished politician. “Oh...?”

He pinned her with his gaze, waiting for a reply. She blinked several times and ignored the ding on her phone. Clay didn't. He lifted her hand and removed her phone. He read the text and replied.

“Hunt's two blocks away.”

“Oh. Right. Time to go.”

The corners of his mouth curled up but the smile wasn't friendly. “This conversation isn't over. And we are far from done.”

Before she could recoil, he had her wrapped in his arms and pressed against his chest. “I say when we're done. You got that?”

“But...why me? How can you be with someone like me?”

“Ah, sweet pea.” His voice mellowed as he stroked her back. “Why wouldn't I be? You're sweet and funny and warm. You're beautiful. And the best damn speechwriter on the Hill.” His eyes twinkled as he said that last bit. “So. Are we clear, sweet pea?”

She blinked up at him. “About what?”

“About us not being done. A real thing. Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Kiss me, darlin'.”

“I can do that.”

“So why aren't you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Clay laughed and cupped her face so he could kiss her deeply. He only released her mouth when her phone dinged again.

“Time to go.”

“Uh-huh.”

Clay helped her into the backseat of the SUV then urged her to scoot over so he could join her. She didn't stop blushing until the vehicle rolled to a stop in front of the Russell Senate Office Building. A gaggle of reporters surged forward. Glen was out of the SUV before Hunt put it in Park, but he didn't open the rear door.

“Slide over, Georgie. I go out first.” Clay tugged on her hand as he maneuvered in the tight space. She did as she was told without comment. “And I'll do the talking.” At that, her expression cleared and her mouth opened. He took advantage and kissed her, his tongue sweeping through her open lips. With reluctance, he broke off. “Yes, you're my communications director, but in this instance, I'm doing the talking. You with me?”

“I...yes. Of course.”

“Good. Now, big smile for the cameras.” He winked and nodded to Hunt, who opened the driver's door and stepped out. Seconds later Glen opened the back door and Clay emerged onto the sidewalk. He met the barrage of shouted questions and whir of cameras with a smile firmly fixed in place. Then he moved away just enough to give Georgie space to come out of the SUV. He offered his arm, with elbow crooked, and she accepted his offer after a moment's hesitation. Her slim fingers slipped between his arm and side, curling over his forearm.

“So you two
are
dating, Senator!”

It wasn't a question so Clay ignored it. Glen moved to Georgie's side, protecting her from the press of reporters.

“Senator Barron, is it true you're forming an exploratory committee with an eye on the presidency?”

He flashed his patented Barron smile with its hint of dimple toward the reporter. “No. I am not forming a committee.” He paused, waited two beats and his voice penetrated the shouted follow-up questions. “I've already formed it.”

That statement was like throwing a two-ton boulder into a small pond. Ripples ran out in concentric circles and the crowd was shocked silent—for about ten seconds. Ten seconds that were long enough for Clay, Georgie and Glen to make it into the building. The reporters would have to go through security checks to enter, giving them time to escape into the elevator and up to Clay's office.

In the elevator, Glen kept his expression neutral as he faced the doors, his back to Clay and Georgie. Clay could feel the waves of curiosity wafting from her, but she didn't say a word. Every staffer knew the elevators and stairwells contained security cameras. The trip to the second floor was quick and as the elevator doors slid open, Glen stepped out, on guard and alert. Only after he scanned both directions in the hallway did he motion them out.

Clay and Georgie were ensconced in his office, the door shut with Ev and the rest of his staff on the other side, before Georgie spoke.

“You've already formed an exploratory committee?”

Did she sound hurt? Clay reached for her and led her to his couch. He sat down but had to tug her hand to get her to join him. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, definitely hurt feelings. “Sweet pea? Look at me.” When she didn't, he cupped her cheek and pressed until her head turned. “And that committee has nothing to do with those idiots my father hired. You, Boone, Hunt and a few other people I trust, including my brothers, comprise the committee.”

“Me?” Her voice quivered slightly.

“Of course, you. You're my communications director.” He leaned closer and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. “And more. I trust you, Georgie. And I value your opinion. I did even before we...” He trailed off without finishing. After another gentle kiss, he added, “Before we became involved.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I'm not doing anything without consulting the people I trust, and you're right there at the top, Georgeanne. Okay?”

When she smiled, her eyes lit up and Clay realized he liked being the one to put that expression on her face. Off balance at the idea, he shelved it. Things were happening too fast to stop and consider why. Later. He'd deal with his emotions later.

Thirteen

G
eorgie couldn't breathe and her vision was fuzzy around the edges. Pushing through the heavy glass doors of her doctor's office, she walked blindly down the street. No. No, no, no. This wasn't happening. When the nurse had called two days ago to say she needed to come in to discuss the results of one of her tests, Georgie figured it had to do with her blood sugar—her dad was diabetic—or her blood pressure. A lump in her breast had been what she least expected. Today the doctor had performed a biopsy and was sending the tissue off for further tests. She kept walking, head down, fighting tears.

“Ms. Dreyfus? Ms. Dreyfus!”

She ignored the urgent voice calling to her. She didn't know where she was going, what she was doing. This. Could. Not. Be. Happening.

“Ms. Dreyfus. Georgie!” Glen grabbed her arm and tugged her to a gentle stop. “Georgie, the car's back this way.”

She looked at him and wondered for a moment who he was. Then she remembered. She nodded, numb and barely breathing. “Glen. I-I'm sorry. I-I got distracted.”

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I... Yeah. I'm fine. I'm...fine.”

Her bodyguard was still holding her arm as he led her back to the SUV parked at the curb. He settled her into the front passenger seat and buckled her seat belt when she made no move to do so. She watched him pass in front of the vehicle, his phone to his ear.

As they pulled up in front of the Russell Building, Hunt was waiting on the sidewalk. He opened her door and helped her out.

“Georgie? What happened?”

Finally emerging from her fog, she focused on him. “I'm fine. Really. Just. Fine.”

“You don't look fine, hon. I'm gonna have Glen take you home.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “No. I...no, Hunt. Please. I'm fine. Really. I have too much to do today. I... Clay's speech for this weekend. And...stuff. Yes. I have stuff to do. Okay?”

“Okay, hon. C'mon. Let's go up to the office.”

Ten minutes later Ev stood in the door of Georgie's office, arms folded across her chest, her expression one of concern. She stepped inside, closed the door and leaned against it. “Talk to me, Georgie. Whatever this is, we can fix it. You don't have to go through it alone.”

Only then did Georgie manage to figure out why everyone was so freaked out. “No! Oh, spittin' sunflower seeds, no. I'm not pregnant!” She blurted out the denial.

Ev's arms relaxed and she let out an audible sigh as she crossed the patterned rug to sink into one of the chairs arranged before the desk.

Georgie soldiered on. “I...there were some...anomalies on one of my yearly tests.”

Ev leaned forward, her concern evident. “Which one?”

She swallowed hard, her gaze skittering across Ev's face. “My doctor...did a biopsy today.”

“Oh, honey.” Ev scooted closer to the desk and reached over to clasp Georgie's hands. “It's scary, especially as young as you are. Is there a history in your family?”

Shaking her head, Georgie worked to control the tears swimming in her eyes. “No. It's so crazy. My dad's diabetic, but that's it. That's the only skeleton in my health closet.”

“There's a good chance the biopsy will be benign, Georgie.”

“I know. The doctor kept saying he was doing this out of an abundance of caution. It'll be fine. Women my age...it's rare. That's what he said. And it's just a lump. That's all.”

Ev squeezed her fisted hands again. “Have you told Clay?”

Panic surged through her. “No. Oh, good gravy, no. I can't tell him.” Georgie twisted her hands to clasp Ev's. “You can't tell him, either. You...you know about his mother, right? About what happened to her?”

The older woman nodded. “Yes, hon. I've known Clay and the family for ages. She waited too late to get treatment for her breast cancer. His old man was a bastard about it. Clay nursed her until the end, and then raised his brothers.”

“Then you understand why we can't tell him. Oh, please, Ev. He can't know. It's just a precaution. The results will come back negative and everything will be back to normal. His focus is the campaign. Not me.” Her words tumbled over each other. “Okay? Promise me.”

“I won't tell him. I suppose there's no need to worry him if this is a false alarm.”

“Right. Exactly. You know him. He will worry. There's no need. I'm fine. Really.”

The woman studied her for a long moment. “But I think you're wrong. I think he'd want to know so he can help you through this. That's the kind of man he is, Georgie.”

She swallowed the saliva filling her mouth and hugged her arms around her stomach. “He's perfect, Ev. Too perfect for me. I...won't make him worry.”

* * *

The day dragged interminably. Clay was on the Hill all day for a series of committee meetings and a session in the Senate chambers. By the time he arrived at her apartment to pick her up for dinner, Georgie had settled her nerves and had an unshakable poker face in place. She forced gaiety into her voice and plastered on a smile. Luckily, two other couples—supporters from home—accompanied them to dinner, and Georgie kept the focus on them and Clay. She was good at her job and she worked their guests hard to divert Clay's attention. Yet she caught his concerned looks. He knew her. Knew something was off.

After dinner and a long visit over coffee and dessert, the other couples said good-night on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Clay snagged her hand and tugged her along with him. “Let's walk for a bit.”

She did not want to walk. She did not want to talk. Georgie had every intention of getting Clay home and in bed where she could keep him so distracted he forgot to ask her what was going on. The man was far too astute for her own good, especially now. With reluctance, she followed his lead.

“You going to talk to me?”

“'Bout what?” She feigned innocence, hoping her poker face hadn't cracked.

“Sweet pea, Hunt is family. You're family. We look after each other. What happened with the doctor today?” His voice held a hint of sharpness.

She answered quickly, without looking at him. “Nothing.”

“Georgie...”

“Nothing, Clay. Just follow-ups on some tests he ran.”

“Which tests?”

He was
not
going to let it go. She scrambled for an answer. “You know my dad is diabetic, right?”

“Yes.”

“The doctor just wanted to confirm my results.” There. Not exactly a lie, just a misdirection.

“You sure that's all?”

She controlled her expression and smiled up at him. “You know how I feel about sweets and pastry, Clay.”

That brought out a deep chuckle and he squeezed her hand. “Point taken.”

They walked a few blocks in companionable silence, enjoying the balmy spring night. Georgie recognized Glen leaning against the black SUV parked at the curb ahead of them.

Clay stopped and pulled her around to face him, his arms sliding around her waist. “Look at me, sweet pea.” She tilted her head up. “You'd tell me if something was wrong, yeah?”

The expression on his face tugged at her heart. He was so protective and he was a “fixer.” She didn't want to worry him. Ever. But especially now. “Yeah, Clay. If something was wrong, I would.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “Good. Let's go home, sweet pea. I want to make love to my woman.”

* * *

Georgie's cell phone slipped from her numb fingers and she stared toward the door. For a week she'd been pretending everything was fine—convinced it would be—and she'd finally relaxed. They were gearing up for the big presentation when Clay would officially announce he was running for president. It would be a huge multimedia deal with appearances by his cousin, country music star Deacon Tate, a video presentation and the announcement speech.

But the call she'd just received slammed her world to a screeching halt. Her doctor wanted to see her ASAP. He wanted to refer her to an oncologist. And she'd asked for one in Oklahoma.

She had to go home. The ranch. Her dad. Home. She needed her roots, needed the red dirt of western Oklahoma caking her boots, the smell of hay and horses.

She called her dad. He wanted to know if Clay was coming with her. Clay. Oh, God, she couldn't tell him. She wouldn't put him through this.

“No, Daddy. It's just me comin',” she whispered and ended the call.

She typed out her resignation letter, remembered she'd have to buy a plane ticket. She so rarely flew commercial. She stayed in her office, the door closed and locked, informing her staff and Ev that she was working on Clay's speech and didn't want to be disturbed. Going online, she made a reservation to fly home. She reread her resignation, tore it up and wrote the letter ten more times before she gave up and handwrote a simple message.

Clay, we have to stop things now. We both know deep down we won't work. You deserve so much more than I can ever be. You deserve a beautiful woman by your side who will be the perfect first lady when you win. I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I'll only hurt you worse if I stay. Please don't try to contact me.

She couldn't write the last three words her heart screamed she add. If she admitted how much she loved him, he'd never let her go. She didn't bother blotting the tears that smeared the ink. She sealed the letter in an envelope and wrote Clay's name on its face.

Her letter to Boone was infinitely easier.

Dear Boone,

I'm sorry. I'm quitting. Someday I'll explain. Forgive me for leaving you in the lurch.

Georgie

Georgie waited until Ev was on her break. She slipped into Clay's office and left both envelopes in the center of his desk. Back in her office, she boxed up a few of the most personal mementos. Boone would pack and ship the rest to her later if she asked. And she would. Eventually. First, she had to get out of the building, to her apartment, pack and head to the airport before 10:00 p.m. She was acutely aware of the passage of time. She had to get gone ASAP. Ev left early on Thursdays. Clay and Boone were on the Hill. She had to go now to have any chance of escaping.

Georgie closed the door to her office, but her fingers froze on the aged brass knob. She leaned her forehead against the solid wood. This place had been a huge part of her life. Her hopes. Dreams. But not anymore. Sounds of the senator's office hummed behind her. Phones rang. People chattered. Everything was so normal. Clay's office would run just fine without her. Clay would be just fine without her. In fact, he'd be better off.

“What's with the box, Georgie?”

She stiffened, heart pounding. Boone wasn't supposed to be in the office. If he was here, Clay couldn't be far behind. She had to get away. She'd fall apart if she saw Clay. Her goodbye letter, left in the center of his desk, would explain what she couldn't speak out loud to the man she loved.

“Just taking some personal effects home, Boone.”

Warm fingers turned her around. “Sugar, you never could play poker with me. What's goin' on?”

Boone wasn't only her boss, he was also a friend. “I'm resigning. Going home to Oklahoma.”

“You can't.”

“Please don't make this harder. Clay's going to be the next president. I can't stand in his way.”

“What the hell are you talkin' about?”

“My letter. It explains. He'll understand.” Georgie turned to flee.

Boone stopped her. “No, he won't, Georgie. He loves you, even if he's too stubborn to admit it.”

“That's impossible. We're impossible.”

“You'll never know if it would work if you don't stay and fight for it.”

“I can't. I'm dying.”

Her words shocked him and he dropped his hand. She ran, tears streaming, heart breaking. It had to be this way.

Reaching the elevators, she stabbed the button repeatedly. Nothing. Fearing Boone would chase her down, she pivoted toward the stairwell. She managed four strides before Boone caught her arm.

“Whoa there, Georgie. You don't drop a word like
dying
into the conversation and then take off.” His grip on her biceps remained gentle but firm, and he marched her toward an empty conference room. Once they were alone, he still didn't release her. “Now, what the hell is going on with you?”

“I told you. I quit.”

“Because you're dying? You look pretty damn healthy to me, girl.”

Her anger leached away and her shoulders drooped. “I have breast cancer, Boone. I'm going home for treatment.”

Boone released her arm and slumped against the wall. “Ah, hell, sugar. How long have you known?”

“I...”

“Your appointment last week. The one Hunt said upset you.”

She nodded. “I had a biopsy. The doctor called this morning to confirm.”

“Does Clay know?”

She couldn't meet Boone's eyes. She was taking the coward's way out, but she couldn't face Clay, couldn't face the pity in his gaze, wouldn't survive his inevitable rejection. “No.”

“You can't quit, sugar. You need the insurance.”

“I...” She hadn't thought of that. Her only thought had been getting away from Clay before he told her to go away.

“And no offense, Georgie, but you're selling Clay short. You're important to him.”

The door eased open behind them and the man himself stuck his head in. “Something you two want to tell me?” He wore a wry smile, but the humor did not reach his eyes.

“That's my cue to skedaddle.” Boone gave her shoulder a squeeze, took the box away from her and as he passed Clay, murmured, “Just listen, then do the right thing.” He slipped through the door, closing it behind him.

“Georgie?”

She forced air into her lungs but couldn't meet his eye. “I...I quit.”