President Daddy (Dark Daddies 4)

“Nah, just messing with you. But now I know you’re thinking about him.”

I glare at her. “Cut it out.”

“No, you cut it out. Get out there and mingle like the rest of us.”

I sigh, but I get my butt into gear. I shake hands, talk about the polling projects Roger’s interested in, the whole thing. I can’t help but keep one eye on the President, though.

I still have his spit between my legs, and my panties are absolutely ruined, thanks to him.

I get home late that night. I don’t speak to Adam again, but I can’t stop thinking about him. I manage to take my dress off and get into the bathtub around midnight.

I ease myself into the water, sighing, just as my phone starts to ring.

“Of course,” I grumble, but it’s within reach. I sit up and stare at the private number again before answering.

“Hello, Maggie.”

I bite my lip. It’s him. Of course it’s him. “Hello yourself.”

“Long time, no see.”

“I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Well, I had to come right home and take a bath.”

He snorts. “Bath?”

“Right. Since you left me dirty.”

“Hardly. I cleaned you right up.”

“Not exactly.”

“Please. And baths don’t clean anything, anyway.”

“Sure they do.”

“Not at all. You just sit in it.”

“Well, I shower after.”

“So what’s the point of the bath?”

“Relaxation.” I sigh. “Did you just call to annoy me about my bath habit?”

“No,” he admits. “I just called to hear your voice.”

“How did you do tonight?”

“Good,” he admits. “Hated every second of it. You?”

“Same, except I did awful. I’m not great at that.”

“You’re lucky then. Roger might leave you behind next time.”

“I hope so.”

He laughs and I can’t help but smile. It’s so strange to be on the phone with the President right now, just talking like normal people.

“Listen, I meant to see you sooner,” he says softly. “But I’ve been busy.”

“I know. I read.”

He hesitates. The Pakistan thing’s been all over the news. People are praising his daring rescue mission, particularly since it went well.

Although some people are saying it was a dangerous gamble. I don’t know all the details, so I’m trying not to judge.

“That’s not my favorite part about being President,” he admits.

“Do you have a favorite part?”

I can practically hear his grin. “Just teasing young female staffers.”

“Oh, yeah? Teasing many?”

“Just one’s enough for me.”

“I doubt it. You’re a pig.”

“What can I say. I’m the President.”

I groan. “Don’t be gross.”

“Don’t be jealous.”

I sigh and sink deeper into the water. There are bubbles floating on the surface from a bath bomb I dropped in just before turning on the water.

We talk for another twenty minutes, mostly about nothing. He asks about how the job’s going, he vents a little about his stress. It’s surprisingly normal, surprisingly comfortable.

“I should go,” he says finally. “Lots of important presidential work to do tomorrow.”

“I’m sure.”

“I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up the phone.

I drop mine onto the floor and dunk my head under the water, trying to come to grips with this strange relationship that I’ve found myself in.* * *Almost exactly twelve hours later, I find myself standing in front of the President, a binder in my hands.

The last time I spoke with him, I was dripping wet and naked. Now I’m wearing a black business outfit, my hair pulled back into a tight bun.

Oh, and we’re surrounded by almost his entire inner staff.

There are probably twenty people in the room, and all their eyes are on me as I read out our latest polling data. We did a quick dive into the Pakistan incident, and found that mostly people think it was handled well.

I can see the relief on Adam’s face. “Most respondents believe the President did what he had to do,” I tell the gathered crowd. “If you look at your binder, you’ll see the exact breakdown by gender, age, and location. The heartland always supposed military action, so that’s pretty normal, but the coasts are behind this as well.”

I glance at Adam, but I don’t linger. I try not to watch him too closely.

I want to talk to him. I want to touch him. I want to feel what I felt last night, in the tub, on the table. Both normal and excited.

This affair, or whatever we’re having, is dangerous. But it feels so freaking good.

As I finish the Pakistan numbers, Adam raises his hand. I stop speaking.

“Healthcare?” he asks, face serious.

I nod, flipping a few pages. “This is just preliminary, but so far…” I take a breath. “It’s tight, Mr. President. The country is split.”

He nods, looking concerned. “Split how?”

“I believe many people don’t fully understand Medicare For All. They think it would be more expensive, lead to worse care, long lines, all the usual excuses.”

He grunts. “How do we educate them?”

One of his staffers speakers up. I stand by while they spitball for a few minutes, but slowly the President gets them under control.