Chapter Twenty
Alice stretched comfortably back to consciousness.
No surprise revelation of where they’d landed. Daniel’s bedroom. Daniel’s bed. A sturdy four-poster that had belonged to an 1800s President. He’d said he liked the bed. So had she. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, and if she’d had a couple of bathrobe belts handy, she might have tied him to it. She’d have blushed at the thought, if he hadn’t suggested doing the same to her.
In Daniel’s office, with no protection handy, they’d still done more on his office carpet than two kids ever did in any backseat. At some point they’d dressed, traversed the corridors, and used the elevator to the third floor so that they wouldn’t disturb the President on the second floor.
Alice did her best to not look at the Secret Service age
