Part 5 (2/2)
”No, they wouldn't.” His eyes rove over my features. ”But whoever said Americans don't have exquisite taste was very, very wrong.” He raises both his brows meaningfully, and even that maddening smile he wears, just a little arrogant, is s.e.xy beyond belief.
There's so much intimacy in his gaze, I'm transported to our nights together-his kisses, his words.
I want him to touch me. I want to touch him. But something as simple as a touch would cause an uproar and a scandal-that's not what we want his first months in the White House to be about.
He leaves me with a smile and heads off, his chief of staff already listing a thousand things on his plate, and I sort of have trouble moving my eyes away from his retreating back-and how well he looks in that suit-to the woman before me.
”So if you'd like to review your duties as first lady,” she's saying as she leads me to my wing, ”it's really up to you how much you want to get involved, but if you'd like to be very active, there's always the menus to look at, the social events to plan and host . . .”
Waiting naked in the president's bedroom, I think to myself, aware of a warmth flooding my cheeks as I do. No. That can come later. We need to be sure about what we're doing first.
I don't want to fail this country, or my parents, or myself. Or Matt.
I sleep alone in the Queens' Bedroom. So aware of Matt-the president-just across the hall. I hear him walk into his room late at night. I tiptoe to my door, sort of listening as I decide whether I should go see him.
Touch him. Kiss him.
I'm pressing my ear to the door when I hear footsteps approach.
My breath catches, and I quickly hurry back to my bed and slip under the covers as the door opens. Matt looms in my doorway. I hear the door click shut and his figure walking in the shadows.
I prop myself up on my arms, alarmed. ”You can't spend the night-the staff will talk, and it's too soon to give the media the gossip-fest they'll get with this.”
He lowers himself into a chair by the window, feet away from the bed.
I frown. ”What are you doing?”
”Looking at you.”
6.
TODAY SHOW.
Charlotte ”Today we are honored to welcome the first lady on the Today Show, Miss Charlotte Wells!
”Miss Wells, you were surprised when President Hamilton asked you to act as first lady?”
”Very.”
”Why were you surprised?”
”I don't own a pretty pair of white gloves.”
Laughter.
”The country was feeling pretty disappointed when hopes of a romance between then candidate Hamilton and yourself seemed dispelled. Any dirty secrets between yourself and President Hamilton, breadcrumbs for the crowd?”
”Oh, I do have a few. Mainly I just like looking at him. In a very professional way.”
Laughter.
”You're very refres.h.i.+ng. And President Hamilton seems to enjoy looking back at you, Miss Wells. Here's for us to keep hoping.”
A hot little blush runs up my body as I think of last night. I slept like a baby, feeling him close. Though I woke up to find his chair empty, I could smell him on my pillow. And I wonder if he spooned me during the night.
”I'm fully committed to my role as first lady, as he is to being the president,” I force myself to say.
I go out of the filming studio to screams and placards raised.
I laugh and wave, biting back a smile as I'm led to the car by Stacey, one of the agents appointed to protect me.
She climbs into the back of the car with me and we head off in one of the presidential limos.
”What just happened?” I ask her.
”You're America's sweetheart. They love you, miss.”
”Charlotte,” I correct. I stare wide-eyed out the window, never having imagined the people would embrace me like this.
Matt ”The first lady on the Today Show,” Dale says.
I walk forward, lean on the couch, and watch her.
”She's the darling of the country,” Dale adds.
I watch the TV as she blows them away, every single person she walks by. ”Look at you,” I purr.
7.
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