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“A few years ago I heard through the press corps grapevine that he’d been forced to retire because of his emphysema. I felt duty-bound to pay him a courtesy call.” She gave a small Mona Lisa smile, and Gray asked what the secret was.
“Daily admitted that he’d been unusually hard on me because what I lacked wasn’t talent, but maturity and common sense. He was willing to help me if I’d shut up and listen. He’s been my best friend ever since.”
“Why do you keep your friendship a secret?”
“Mainly because it’s personal, and I’ve always been a stickler for keeping my personal and professional lives separate. Second, because…”
“Because if it got around that you’d kissed and made up with your former enemy, you’d lose the respect of your colleagues.”
“Very perceptive, Mr. Bondurant. When you burn a bridge in broadcasting, it’s usually a conflagration, and usually for keeps. If anyone knew I was friends with Daily now, I’d be regarded as a softie trying to hack it in a cutthroat career.”
Her smile was so ingenuous, he hated to be the one to ruin it. “Your secret’s out, Barrie. I’ve been following them following you. They know where you’re staying.” At her anguished groan, he added quickly, “I don’t think they’ll bother Daily. But we should advise him first thing tomorrow.”
“Why are they following me?”
“Most of the Secret Service agents assigned to David, Vanessa, and the White House are Spence’s men. They went through the recruitment program and met all the standards, but they’re his.”
“How can they flout the regulations?”
“That’s the beauty of it. They don’t flout them. They maneuver with the adaptability of quicksilver. If anyone questions them, they can say that you fall into the category of an emotionally disturbed person who merits watching.”
“To say the least,” she muttered.
“Try and get some sleep.”
He got up and turned off the lamp, then returned to the window and peeked through the blinds. For five minutes he watched the parking lot for any suspicious cars or movement.
Satisfied that they had eluded the surveillance, he glanced at the bed and was disconcerted to find Barrie watching him. “I thought you’d gone to sleep.”
Again, she was lying on her side, but now her hands were stacked palm to palm beneath her cheek. “Who are you, Gray Bondurant?”
“Me? I’m nobody.”
“Not true,” she said sleepily. “You’re somebody.”
“Go to sleep.”
“You need rest too. The bed is wide enough for both of us.”
No way in hell could he crawl in with her and not partake of that skin, that voice. “I’m going to sit up for a while.”
“What for?”
“So I can think.”
“About what?”
“Go to sleep, Barrie.”
“One more question?”
“Okay,” he sighed.
“That morning at your house, that was no-strings-attached sex, right?”
“Right.”
She lowered her eyes for several seconds, then looked up at him again. “Pretty terrific sex, though.”
