Chapter 15 #3
“A rule change only requires two-thirds of campaigns to adopt,” Carolyn said. “So I’m afraid it’s already done. Shall we start the walk-through? We’re four minutes behind schedule.”
The group started moving as Carolyn kept talking, and Gabe fell into line near the back of the pack, next to Anya.
“You orchestrated this?” he muttered.
“Come on, Gabe.” Her voice was silky. “Don’t tell me you have so little faith in your candidate you think his chances at the presidency hinge on his podium placement at a debate.”
Gabe was looking at Anya like he wanted to kill her, or like he wanted to shove her in a broom closet and have his way with her, or possibly both.
The DNC woman was still droning on about microphone reception or some such nonsense, as if none of these candidates had ever been on television before, as if Anya and her boss weren’t flying to New York directly after the debate so Jo could appear on a special live edition of The Tonight Show.
Anya wanted to keep talking with Gabe—or to kiss him, or do anything at all with him—but he refused even to look at her until the walk-through was over, when he took her by the elbow.
“Come with me,” he said gruffly. He steered them into a backstage hallway that was mostly empty, save for some people from the TV crew shuffling by with equipment.
“Are you angry?” she asked. Her back was against a wall, and he was leaning over her. He looked so good in his dark suit and white shirt; she wanted to rip them off of him.
“How’d you get the other campaigns to agree to this stunt?” Gabe gritted.
“The power of short-term thinking.” Anya shrugged. “Governor Liddy and Congressman Nathan are running second and third, and they were only too happy to be in the center of the stage tonight with your guy off to the side.”
“And you?” Gabe asked. “What’s in this for Sessego?”
“You don’t see it?” Anya gave him a proud little smile. “We’ll always be next to you. Every camera shot of Wheeler, Jo is right there reacting, showing contrast, setting her up as his natural opponent.”
Anya stretched her neck to look up at Gabe—and to get her lips as close to his as possible. Stop being angry and kiss me already.
“I hate how good you are at your job.” He took the edge of her sweater’s belt and wound it around his fingers. “Almost as much as I hate this sweater.”
“Oh, this?” Anya gave him a faux innocent look, big wide eyes and pouty lips. “You don’t like this?”
“I don’t like anything that gets between my hands and your skin.” He leaned closer to her. She could feel his breath on her neck.
“That’s too bad, because this is your birthday present.”
“The sweater?” He frowned in confusion.
“Not exactly. I guess you could say it’s the gift wrap.”
His eyes locked on hers. There was no question what he wanted now.
She took his hand and moved it under the sweater so he could feel the fabric beneath—the gray silk, the black beading, the corsetry that had been digging into her sides for hours, but it was beyond worth it to see the way he looked at her when he realized what she had on.
“Anya,” he growled, “did you wear that fucking bustier to a presidential debate?”
“I did.” She tugged on his shirt and brought him closer. “Do you want to see it?”
Somehow, they found an empty dressing room in under a minute. Gabe locked the door and pushed Anya against a wall, pulling off her sweater and throwing it on a chair, breathing heavily as he stared at her, his pupils dilating.
“Do you like your present?” She reached for him and kissed him, and it felt like he was devouring her.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about you wearing this?” His hands were gripping her hips. “Turn around, I want to see the back.”
She did, pressing her palms against the wall, biting her lip as he ran his fingers down the laces on her back, the exposed skin beneath them.
“Hold on,” he said. “Face this way.”
He turned her body away from the wall so they could see themselves in the huge vanity mirror on the other side of the room. He stood behind her and pulled her close—she could feel his erection against her lower back.
“You are so beautiful,” he groaned, and she wanted to turn and kiss him, but she was also mesmerized by the mirror, watching his hands move over the bustier, then down to the waistline of her slacks.
“Can I?” he asked, and she nodded, and then she was watching him undo the button and unzip her fly.
He moved one hand inside her underwear as he held her waist in place with the other, grinding his hips against her.
She’d been fantasizing about this night for weeks, ever since she’d had the idea to wear the bustier, but somehow this was even hotter, feeling his fingers as she watched his face in the mirror, leaning her head back into his chest and trying not to make any noise in case someone in the hall could hear them, knowing half the nation’s political press and several of its most important leaders were somewhere in this building, and then someone was rattling the doorknob—
“Is this the right room?” came a woman’s muffled voice. “It’s locked.”
“Oh shit, shit,” Anya breathed. She zipped her pants as Gabe grabbed her sweater and helped her pull it on.
She’d barely gotten the belt done and was fixing her hair when the door swung open and there was Ruth Minkow, CNN anchor and one of the moderators of tonight’s debate.
Ruth was tall and gorgeous with short black hair and a trim charcoal pantsuit; she looked surprised to see them, and more than a little amused.
“Gabe?” She gave him a wry smile. “Fancy meeting you in my dressing room.”
“Didn’t know it was, or I would have sent roses,” Gabe cracked. “Do you know Anya Katz? Senior advisor on the Sessego campaign.”
“I don’t, it’s a pleasure.” Ruth extended her hand and Anya shook it. Gabe pointedly kept his arms folded. “That’s a great sweater.”
“Thank you. It’s terrific to meet you.” Anya smiled politely, wondering if this moment could get any weirder. “Well, I should— The senator’s waiting on me, so.”
Anya practically darted into the hallway, and Gabe followed, exchanging some pleasantry with Ruth as he shut the door behind them. The hallway was mercifully empty as Anya collapsed into silent laughter, and Gabe beamed at her like she hung the sun.
“You’re leaving right after the debate?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Straight to New York. We’re not even spinning here.”
He pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back. “I wish I could be with you tomorrow.”
“It’ll be okay.” Anya’s voice was small. “We have a rally in Manchester, and then I think the road team has something planned for me, dinner or a bar or something.”
“Beats spending your birthday in a hospital?”
Anya took a shaky breath. “At least in the hospital I got to be with her.”
“I know.” Gabe hugged her tighter. “It’ll be good to see your dad next weekend.”
“And you.” She hugged him back. “I’m so glad you’re coming. I know it isn’t easy to get away.”
“Please, wild horses couldn’t stop me.”
“Okay, Mick Jagger. You forgive me for the podiums?”
“Depends.” Gabe gave her a cheeky smile. “Can we make a deal that anytime you think you might make me mad, you wear that bustier just in case?”
“Absolutely,” she said with a grin. “Happy almost birthday.”
“Happy almost birthday to you,” he echoed.
They kissed once more, and then once more after that. It was miserable saying goodbye, but she’d see him in Chicago in ten days, and Anya really did need to get back to Jo and the rest of the team. They only had an hour left before the debate.