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“Believe it, pretty girl. And by the way, your credit check from last week came up with a real good score. You’ve been paying your bills on time. Very nice.”
I gasped again.
“Pink Flamingo ordered that credit check!” I sputtered. “They said they needed it for my employment records! And besides, isn’t that information private?”
But President Burke merely shrugged.
“I guess so,” he said in a conciliatory voice. “But honestly, everything’s on a spectrum. Citizens have a right to privacy, but that right can fall in the face of greater concerns, such as national security.”
Suddenly, I remembered that the president had a law degree from some fancy university. I was probably no match for this guy on an intellectual level. But still, I had to try.
“The national security in question being you,” I said slowly. “It was okay to look at my credit score because your staff had to ensure your safety and security.”
“Pretty much,” the big man agreed with a lazy grin, leaning back in his chair. “But you’re not alone sweetheart. Everyone who meets me has to go jump through a couple hoops. By the way, can I get you a drink?” he interrupted, standing immediately. “I’ve been missing my manners. They have everything here, from top shelf liquor to PBR.”
But I shook my head no. Alcohol wasn’t going to help me think straight in the midst of these startling circumstances. Actually, scratch that. I needed to relax, and a drink would be just the thing.
“Sure,” I said, nodding quickly. “Just a bourbon straight, please.”
He smiled, pouring the amber liquid with firm hands before passing the crystal lowball to me.
“My lady,” he growled.
And when our fingers touched, I felt it again. That spark. The electricity ran between our forms like a live wire, and I tipped my head up swiftly to be caught in those blue eyes.
Thomas smiled knowingly.
“That’s the girl I remember,” he rumbled. “So let’s get to know one another,” he said, sitting again and crossing his legs. “I realize this is a little strange, but trust me. Everything having to do with being president is a little bizarre.”
I merely paused, unsure where to start. What in the world was going on? I’d been ready to fend off some gross eighty-year old married dude, and instead, I was having drinks with the leader of the free world? What kind of dream was I living in?
Thomas could read my mind.
“Shoot,” he said with another lazy smile. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Ask away.”
I took a deep breath.
“Well, let’s start at the beginning then. What were you doing at the Pink Flamingo? Isn’t it kind of … um, downscale for a sitting American president? And shouldn’t you be in Washington?”
This time, Thomas didn’t laugh it off. The handsome man merely nodded thoughtfully.
“Well sure,” he said. “But like I said, I’m not in Washington most of the time. I travel like a motherfucker, what with the recent trade talks in Lausanne and meeting with constituents from Arizona to Maine. Serving the American people isn’t easy on any front. So I have to get out there and push our national agenda, all the while remaining accessible to citizens at home.”
That made sense actually, if I stopped to think about it.
“So you jet around all the time,” I said slowly, taking a sip of my drink, mind spinning furiously. “But even so, why were you at the Pink Flamingo? Aren’t there nicer places? I mean, I don’t mean to diss my employer but you know how the Flamingo is,” I said in a helpless voice. “It’s kind of … grungy.”
Thomas threw his head back and laughed again, exposing the strong column of his throat. Wow, the guy was really handsome, even better in real-life than when he was on TV. That bronzed skin glowed with health, and his blue eyes were magnetic, drawing me in. Plus, I’d heard that people on TV are small in real life. But for President Burke, that didn’t hold true. He had to be at least six foot three, with broad shoulders and strong, tree-trunk thick legs.
He winked at me.
“Well, let’s just say that I enjoy a lot of different activities,” came that smooth voice. “From white tie events with the Queen of England present to your local dive bar with different beers on tap. I’m a man of diverse tastes,” he said lightly. “What can I say?”
But still I was puzzled.
“But you could have gone to Scores or Elevated,” was my puzzled question. “Why the Flamingo? It’s so low brow.”
He merely shrugged again.
