The Good One (The Ones)

“I’ll be fine with whatever you want.”

Oh, the ideas I have for that.

“There’s a great deli down the way. I’ll have Trish order us some sandwiches before she leaves.” I call Trish on her extension and place our order with her. She leaves soon after, along with most of my staff. We’re leaving early in the morning for a few days and they all need to get home and rest up. We have a busy time ahead of us, with only a few breaks scheduled here and there.

We finish the interview with a bit more talk about how proud my parents are that I’ve gone into politics myself. She tells me that her friend Abigail, who she works with, did a piece on my mother for the life and style section of her paper.

“My mother eats those stories up. Anything to show off her home and gardens.”

“Well, the pictures that were in the article didn’t do it justice. I love that you had the press conference at your parents’ estate. Gave me a chance to see her beautiful home for myself.”

“I’ll have to tell her that. It’ll please her to know that it wasn’t all about me yesterday,” I joke. Our food arrives shortly after that. Everyone is gone now, and it’s just Kasey and me left.

“Thanks again for coming in today,” I tell her. “You’re really good at making people open up to you. I almost forgot this was an interview a time or two there.”

“Well, if you have anything else you want to add, I’m all ears. Any more stories of your unruly teenage years? Maybe a little sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll to throw in?” she says with a wide smile on her face.

I laugh at her little joke. If only she knew about the sex part.

“I’ll take that as a no then.” She smiles again. “And thank you for ordering dinner. I was out late last night and slept in, so I haven’t eaten since late this morning.” A blush covers her face and she has a small smile on her lips like she’s remembering what kept her up last night. Oh, I already know what that smile is for.

“Let’s take these to the table. The couch over there is a little more comfortable than these chairs.” I point to a long coffee table with chairs on either side and a leather couch in the middle. I realize this sounds like a casting couch sort of thing or like a setup for a bad porno, but she doesn’t seem to come to the same conclusion and gladly takes a seat on the couch with her sandwich. Maybe she just thinks I’m a nice guy who would have better sense than to hit on a reporter. Obviously, I’m not.

I sit next to her and unwrap my sandwich as she digs in. I have to stop and stare at her mouth working as she eats. She has a beautiful mouth, even eating. She is thoroughly enjoying herself. I appreciate a woman who has a healthy appetite. Salads and a few bites of food won’t give her the energy she’s going to need to keep up with me.

“You have something on your cheek,” I tell her, brushing my right cheek. She brushes her left and I laugh.

“Other one. Here, let me get it.” I wipe her cheek with my thumb and, on instinct, put my thumb in my mouth and suck the sauce off. Her eyes darken at the action and she lets out a breathy laugh.

“Thanks, I’m a mess on my best days,” she says. I’m not imagining the way she reacted to my touch. I see the desire in her eyes from just that simple contact.

“No worries. It tasted delicious.” I give her a smile. The one that says I want to taste other things from you.

We continue to eat and talk. Just talking to her has me turned on beyond belief. This woman is charming and funny. When she tells me childhood stories of the mischief she and her sister used to get into as kids, I can plainly see the love she has for her. I share some stories from when Jackson and I were growing up and what it was like having heads of state over for dinner, like it was a normal thing that every family did. I tell her my mother would have to chase us with a hairbrush and a washcloth five minutes before those dinners because chances were Jackson and I had made messes of ourselves just minutes after being dressed and ready for company.

With the empty sandwich wrappers left on the coffee table and the late hour, Kasey turns to me. “Thank you again for dinner. This was fun. I’d say let’s do it again, but…” She laughs and shrugs her shoulder.

“Actually, I would like to do this again. Not the interview part, but the dinner.”

She looks a bit taken aback and unsure at my suggestion. There’s no way I read her wrong.

“I don’t know, Donovan. Don’t you think it could be a little awkward with me writing a story on you? What if you don’t like what I write?” She laughs nervously.

“First of all, I’m going to love what you write. How could it be anything but good with me being the subject?”

She slaps my arm lightly and we both laugh.

“Secondly, and I’m going to go out on a limb here and be honest about something. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since yesterday, and unless I’m reading this whole thing wrong, you’ve had some similar thoughts about me.”

She looks down as she blushes. Shit. Maybe that was too honest. I watch as she mulls something over in her mind. Suddenly she looks me straight in the eye, as if she’s resolved herself to a decision.

“I would love to have dinner with you,” she tells me with a smile, happy about the decision she came to.

Fuck. Yes. “How about Saturday night? I won’t be home until late Friday evening.”

“That sounds great. It’s a date then. I really should go, though. Work in the morning and all that.” She stands to leave and I do the same, getting another look at her pert ass while she’s distracted cleaning up her sandwich wrapper. She gathers her things and I walk her through the deserted office to the front door, where I have a driver waiting.

“Please, take my car home. No use wasting money on a cab,” I tell her.

“You just want my address so you can stalk me.” She laughs.

“Who says I don’t already have it?” I ask, adding a lighthearted wink.

I brush her hair behind her ear, lean in, and lightly kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you Saturday,” I say softly before I pull away. I feel a shiver run through her and see her pupils dilate before she turns to get in the car.

My driver opens her door and just before she leans to get in, she turns to me. “I’m looking forward to it. See you Saturday.” She gets in the car and my driver closes her door. I watch them drive away, standing on the sidewalk with a triumphant feeling in my chest.

Saturday it is. How I’m going to get through the next few days with my head in order and my dick not exploding out of my pants with thoughts of what Saturday will bring is going to be anybody’s guess. I see some long nights ahead of me taking things into my own hands so I don’t look like a complete chump. No matter, it will all be worth it on Saturday.