Part 41 (2/2)

If there was any getting it on to be done yet this morning, they were going to have to improvise. Unless Joan had some...

When he got to the bathroom, the shower had gone off, but he knocked on the door anyway, trying the k.n.o.b.

Unlocked. He pushed the door open.

Joan was drying herself with one of those oversized hotel towels, and when she saw him looking in, she quickly wrapped it around herself. ”You're awake.”

Modesty. In the time-tested language of the typical b.u.mmer morning after, rediscovered modesty was never a positive sign.

Still, Joan had spent one night with Muldoon, and thirty years' worth of nights thinking that she was a whole lot less than perfect. It made sense that it might take her some time to adjust to his more accurate reality.

He pointed to the toilet. ”Mind if I... ?”

”Oh,” she said. ”No. Not at all.” She took her hairbrush and, still wrapped in her towel, left him alone in the bathroom.

Also not a good sign. Nor was the fact that she completely failed to comment on his body's rather obvious good morning message.

He flushed the toilet.

To shower or not to shower?

If he showered, she might expect him to put his clothes on and shuffle on out the door. As long as he had bed head and was buck naked, she couldn't kick him out so easily.

Could she?

Oh, screw this trying to second-guess every little last thing Joan was thinking. Muldoon went out into the bedroom where she'd turned on the TV to Fox's cable news. He turned it off.

”Hey, I was listening to that.” She was wearing her robe and was putting a pair of panty hose on her killer legs.

”Am I going to get to see you again tonight?” he asked, point-blank.

She sighed. Oh, d.a.m.n. Sighs were definitely bad signs.

But then she laughed, thank G.o.d. At least he hoped it was the right kind of laughter. Sure enough, though, she finally seemed to be looking directly at him, and even noting his physical condition, which although having waned significantly was still pretty obviously revved up.

”You can see me all day if you want to come along to this meeting that starts in thirty minutes,” she said. ”But somehow I think, from rather obvious clues, that see is a euphemism for something that involves body parts other than eyeb.a.l.l.s.”

”I want to see you tonight,” he said. ”And yes, not only do I want to see you with my eyes, I want to taste you and touch you and make you come at least three different ways.”

That caught her attention. And so much for his waning physical condition.

”You're making this really hard for me.” Joan didn't look happy. ”Mike, I already decided...”

Oh, s.h.i.+t. Decisions had been made. ”You decided what?”

Another sigh. ”That we cool it until after the President's visit. I mean, come on. I'm sleeping with the President's daughter's boyfriend,” she said ”This is not a smart career move.”

”I'm not anyone's boyfriend,” he said, aware that his words were pathetically true. He'd hoped, after last night, that he and Joan...

But no. What was wrong with him? This was old news. He'd seen it plenty of times before. He was drawn to women like Joan. Strong women. Career women. Women who saw him as a temporary diversion, a short-term plaything instead of a legitimate boyfriend.

Legitimate boyfriends were corporate CEOs or the attorney general or a vice president at Microsoft. Legitimate boyfriends were not Navy SEALs.

Not once in his life had he ever been taken home to meet his lover's parents. Not once.

So, yeah. Cooling it for the next week for the sake of Joan's career was nothing new. In fact, any shrink worth his fee would tell Muldoon that he sought out this type of women. He was only attracted to the kind of women who would beat the c.r.a.p out of him emotionally, if he were dumb enough to wait around for it.

”Today the entire world is going to watch that video clip of you and Brooke from last night,” she told him. ”They're already showing it. I'm really lucky they don't have additional footage of you and me in the Ladybug Lounge. Sweet G.o.d above, what was I thinking? Not that I'm regretting last night,” she hastily added. ”But making out in a bar isn't appropriate behavior for a member of the President's staffa” never mind the fact that you'rea””

”Okay,” he interrupted. ”Okay. Say we cool it for a week. Then what?”

”Then I'm on vacation,” she said, as if that answered everything.

”For two weeks,” he clarified.

”That's right.”

He shook his head. ”There's no guarantee I'll be around for those two weeks.” In fact, he knew Operation Black Lagoon would be happening shortly after the President's visit. He could very well be gone for most of that time. But he couldn't tell Joan that. He couldn't mention the op at all. ”If I do have to leave town, I probably won't have time to call you to tell you about it. So if I suddenly disappear, you need to know that I'm not just blowing you off, okay?”

Her eyes had widened. ”Are you telling me that you're going to Afghanistan?”

”No. Joan. G.o.d. I'm not telling you anything. I can't tell you anything. I'm ... Look, what if we see each other this week, but we're really discreet? You know, careful that no one sees us together anda””

”That's a given,” she said. ”No matter if it's now or a week from now. I have to think about what it looks like, and it's going to look like I'm sleeping with the President's daughter's boyfriend.”

”Who cares what it looks like? It's not the trutha””

”I care,” Joan told him. ”I would care what it looks like even if Brooke weren't in the picture. Even if her senator friend announced he wasn't going to be Bryant's running mate, that he wasn't running for reelection, that he was divorcing his b.i.t.c.hy wife and marrying Brooke. Even then, I'd be extremely careful about our relations.h.i.+p. Have you looked into a mirror lately, Michael? If we showed up in public with our hands all over each other, people are going to wonder what the h.e.l.l a beautiful young man like you is doing with me.”

He shook his head. ”That's ridiculousa””

”No, it's not. To be frank and to the point, I don't want them thinking about me like thata”wondering if I'm that good in bed, or if I pay you, or if there's some other kind of favor that I'ma””

”Maybe they'll think that you're fun to be with,” he said. ”Maybe they'll thinka”a”

”Look, Michael, I'm sorry about this, but I honestly don't know what to do about us. It's freaking me out. Yes, I want to see you again. I really do. But I don't think it can be untila””

”Next week,” he finished for her. ”Okay. Yeah. I hear you. I don't like it, but I'll respect your decision. You know, call me if you change your mind and all that, but...”

”Please don't be angry. Last night wasa”

”Great. I know. I thought so, too.” He started pulling on his clothes, bed head be d.a.m.ned. He didn't want to hear this. He'd heard this kind of speech before. Next week would come, and she wouldn't call him. Or, shoot, maybe she would. And maybe he'd be in town for a few days during her vacation and he'd get laid again. But eventually she'd have to go back to Was.h.i.+ngton, and that would be that.

End of story.

He should have left at 0200.

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