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“Tell her you gave birth during the night, then sold the baby to a band of gypsies because it reminded you of her.”
“I will not.”
“Then tell her the truth. She can handle it.”
She shrugged, something he could interpret any way he chose.
Silence fell between them. She heard a door thud across the hall, the clatter of a room service cart, and she suddenly felt awkward.
He smiled. “At least now I don’t feel like such a pervert.”
“What do you mean?”
“For getting turned on by a pregnant lady.”
Her skin prickled. “Really?”
“Don’t act like you’re surprised.”
“I don’t think men usually get . . . turned on by me.” A lot of men liked her, and even more were attracted to her power. But they weren’t attracted to her sexually. She was too powerful. Her position, her dignity, had leached the sexuality out of her. “I really turn you on?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“Want a demonstration?” The husky note in his voice felt like a caress.
“I— Oh, no . . . No, I don’t think—”
He smiled and came toward her. His jeans brushed her nightgown, and as she gazed up at him, she had the unfamiliar sensation of feeling petite. And very female.
His big hands settled at her waist, and he drew her close. He was smiling a little bit, as if he knew a secret that she didn’t. She realized he was going to kiss her, and she was going to let him.
Would she remember how? Surely it was one of those things a person wouldn’t forget, like riding a—
Their mouths met. Her eyelids drifted shut, and she felt herself melt against him. Then she stopped thinking and simply gave in to the sensations.
Those big hands moved along her spine, around her sides. His lips parted. Demanded. She felt as if she were drowning.
And then panic set in because he didn’t know he was kissing a national institution. He didn’t understand he was kissing someone who knew all about how to be First Lady . . . but very little about what it took to be a woman.
9
NEALY TOOK A deep breath as she broke the kiss.
Mat let her go, then gave her a slow smile. “You kiss like a little girl.”
His smile took the sting out of his words, but they still hurt. Without knowing it, he’d touched on her most painful insecurity. Still, she managed to respond with the perfect composure of a woman who’d been born to rule. “How many little girls have you kissed?”
“More than you can imagine.”
“Really? How bizarre.”
“Not too bizarre. I have seven younger sisters.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Believe me, it’s not something I kid about.” He walked over to the mini bar. “Would you like a drink?”
