Chapter SixLinda wasn’t quite sure how it had happened.
Clive had refused to stop apologizing until she’d agreed that he could take her out to dinner. It was one of the trigger phrases she’d learned long ago. In a guy’s mind, “dinner out” meant “hopefully with meaningless s*x for dessert.” Her standard answer of “thanks but no way in hell” didn’t appear with Clive.
Instead, she’d happily followed him to the kitchen beneath the Residence, which was apparently his idea of a dinner out.
It was late enough that the kitchen itself was quiet. A sour-faced man, introduced to her as Chef Klaus, offered her a scowl and Thor another before returning to his tiny office. An on-call chef puttered away in the pastry kitchen. The massive White House kitchen was theirs alone.
A stove with a dozen gas
