Page 24 of An Impossible Love
Chapter Twelve
Orin had returned to the Oval, his emotions in turmoil. He had to do something to distract him from how he felt about Emmy Sati. He asked Peyton Hunt, his serene VP, to come see him. His old college friend took one look at him and asked what was wrong.
“I think I need to date,” he said, somewhat awkwardly. “To feed the press’s greed, and for my own peace of mind. I just don’t know how.”
Peyton smiled at him. She had always played the big sister role to Orin, being a few years older, and right up until his election, Orin had always assumed their roles would be reversed, that Peyton was on track to be America’s first female president. It was only when Peyton came to him, recently widowed, and she told him she wouldn’t be running, that he’d realized she had never wanted the top job.
“But you, Orin, you must run.”
He’d told her he would—on condition that she be his vice president. Eventually, she agreed.
Now, she sat with her old friend and nodded. “I think it would be good for you, and yes, maybe it would ease the press’ fervor. I know you want to concentrate on the issues that are important, but I think that in order to represent the country the way they expect, you should have someone by your side.” She studied him. “Anyone in mind?”
Yes, yes, yes, the gorgeous Secret Service Agent less than a few yards away. “I was going to ask if you knew anyone… suitable. God,” he rolled his eyes. “What are we defining assuitable?”
“Well,” Peyton sat back and crossed her legs. “Someone who matches your intelligence, your compassion. Someone who makes you laugh and challenges you. For aesthetic reasons, a human rights lawyer or a lobbyist from a foundation. A charity maven.”
Orin sighed. “You know anyone?”
“Actually, I do. I’ve been thinking of someone in particular for a while now, but I hesitated. Mostly because she’s not long out of a relationship, but also because of the first one hundred days. But if you feel you’re ready?”
Orin was silent for a moment. He wanted to tell his old friend that he was falling for Emmy Sati, but he didn’t want to risk Emmy’s career. He trusted Peyton, but this was bigger than friendship. No, this was right. He would take himself out of the situation. “So, who is she?”
“Nahla Delaney. She’s a human rights lawyer from England working here in Washington for Kushner, Flint and Harrison. Word is, she’ll make partner before the end of the year. Fierce in court, erudite, intellectual… and a lot of fun. Beautiful, too—just FYI.”
Peyton took out her phone and flicked to her photos. She handed the phone to Orin. Nahla Delaney was indeed beautiful: long dark hair, dark hazel eyes, and a charming smile.
“She’s a little younger than you, early thirties, but I think you two would hit it off.”
Orin handed her back the phone. “Can you set up a date?”
“I’ll ask her certainly.”
Orin smiled his thanks. “How does this work?”
“Well, you obviously can’t go out to dinner, so we arrange a dinner here. In the private residence, we’ll get in a guest chef from a four-star restaurant to cook for you.”
Orin looked vaguely alarmed. “Jeez… for a first date?”
Peyton relented. “Well, maybe not. But still, we don’t want Nahla being asked what she ate, and she tells them a pickle and a bag of potato chips.”
Orin laughed, a little uncomfortably.Potato chips.Emmy would be delighted if she were served that.God, stop it. You cannot have Emmy Sati. Get over it.
“Well, I’ll leave the details to you. What do I do? Send flowers? An invitation?”
“We’ll take care of all of that.”
“It all seems a little clinical.”
Peyton shrugged. “It’s the way it is in the major leagues, Orin.”
After Peyton had left, Orin went to the Lincoln Bedroom to read, but his mind was still on the way Emmy felt in his arms. As he fell asleep, he began to dream that she knocked on his door, right now, in the quiet of the early hours. He would watch from the bed as she slipped out of her clothes and moved towards him.
He held out his arms, and she went into them and finally her skin was against his, her breasts against his bare chest. Her arms curled around his neck, and her lips, her soft sweet lips, were against his as his own arms held her tightly. She was so tiny, so small against his big frame that he knew it was his turn to protect her as they began to make love. The moment his cock slid into her wet warmth, he knew it was right, hearing her moan, gasp his name as he thrust ever deeper into her.
Then she was gone, even before he could reach his peak, like a mist. The dream was over.
Emmy Sati was once again way, way out of reach.
