Daniel's Christmas

Chapter 5

Chapter FiveAlice was positively weaving by the time they left the Situation Room and passed by the Marine guards.

Daniel offered his arm.

She slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow, as if they were a couple promenading through a formal garden rather than striding along the West Wing basement hallway. Alice took a deep breath, trying not to acknowledge how much she enjoyed the feeling.

“Set her up in one of the spare rooms.” The President nodded to her.

Stay in the White House? She stumbled on the carpeted steps, would have tumbled to the ground if not for Daniel’s support. Yet another proof to her mother that she lacked any of the grace that ten years of childhood ballet should have taught her.

“I’ll get her settled and be right back down, Mr. President.”

Not that she’d stay awake long enough to get back to her apartment. Once she’d handed off the information that had kept her awake for three days, she felt limp.

“No, we’re done. We needed to get Emily in motion. Next steps tomorrow. I’m just going to swing through the office for a minute and then go back to bed.”

At the head of the stairs, Daniel turned her to the right, resting his left hand over her own where it curled about his right forearm. The sudden warmth felt both startling and comforting as her fingers were freezing cold by contrast. She’d pushed through enough M-LOS projects, as she called the ones causing massive lack of sleep, to know her body would go through chills and dizziness until she had at least a half dozen hours under her belt.

The chill only deepened as they walked the West Colonnade, passing the Marines standing stock still in heavy winter coats, rifles at the ready.

“They do that all winter?”

“I know. Pretty wild, hunh?” He pretended a shiver that she could feel through his arm, even as one of the Marines opened the door for them to enter the Residence.

In moments they were inside the Palm Room, Daniel acting the genial tour guide. His words blurred beneath the grandeur of everything. The room, little more than a pass-through with a bench, a marble table, and some potted palms, was alive with lacy woodwork and watched over by clearly historic paintings of Lady Liberty. The double doors beyond led to a wide, red-carpeted hallway, marble archways, chandeliers.

“Where’s the Christmas decorations?” she’d never actually been to the White House before and was sad that she’d be missing them.

“Not here yet.”

She bit back her disappointment. Of course, for an analyst to sit in the Situation Room and watch the first piece in the next game move across the board, that was a pretty good treat as well.

“Now you’ve done it, Alice.”

“What was that?” Daniel turned to face her.

“Fallen down the rabbit hole.”

Daniel’s laugh was easy, comfortable, and helped bring the whole place back into a little perspective.

“I thought Alice had long blond curls on her trip to Wonderland.” He led her into a mahogany-lined elevator.

“Mama hoped, but I ended up with this.” Or maybe it was walnut.

Daniel was quiet long enough for her to look up at him as they rode smoothly upward to the number three he had punched.

He was looking down at her. She’d need serious heels to be eye-to-eye with him. She’d never been good at heels.

“No, blond isn’t you. Russet suits you perfectly.”

“Always thought of it more as mouse-brown.”

“No. Russet. A beautiful russet red.”

She glanced back up at him as he led her out of the elevator to see if he was making fun of her. He studied the top of her head with a look of intense concentration. As if he were ascertaining an initial assessment of a situation rather than the bit of a flirt she’d expected. He was the perfect straight man.

“Like a russet potato?” she was never able to resist prodding a straight man.

“No. I meant the color of roses at sunset.” She tried to catch her breath, but hadn’t succeeded by the time he led her to a spacious bedroom. Even if she’d wanted to continue the conversation, all her body saw was somewhere to stretch out.

“Kitchen over that way if you get hungry.”

Hungry? The word didn’t anchor to anything in particular. It was still consumed by bed and sleep.

“President lives on the Second Floor, so don’t be concerned about disturbing him.”

Some saving grace there.

“I’m the First Chief of Staff to live here in decades. It was a little strange at first, but I’m getting used to it.”

“Hungry.” Her lagging brain finally found a use for the word. Hungry for a beautiful man who said her hair was the color of roses at sunset.

“I’m just across the hall if you need anything.”

Needed anything.

She went up on her tiptoes, rested a hand on that nice, broad chest of his to steady herself, and kissed him.

He didn’t respond at first. She could feel the shock and surprise warring in him. All the propriety you’d expect from a gentleman.

Too much, Alice. Too forward. But the warmth of his lips, the strength of his muscles beneath her palm held her in place a moment longer.

A moment just long enough for Daniel to return the kiss.

A gentle, tentative gesture that in moments heated to melting. Specifically, her melting against him as his hands wrapped around and supported her. As his mouth explored hers.

Alice heard a small moan. She’d never in her twenty-seven years moaned when she kissed a man. But the sound was too high to come from Daniel, so it must have been hers.

She wallowed in being cradled in his arms, in being held as if she was someone desirable, even precious.

The change came suddenly. A freeze. A breath of space. A whispered, “sorry.”

“I’m not.” She opened her eyes, she didn’t recall closing them, and looked up at the summer-sky blue ones inspecting her.

Okay, this was awfully forward for her. She’d be more likely to go a half-dozen dates and barely hold hands, than to kiss a stranger.

But she wasn’t sorry. Especially not with a man who could kiss like that.

“You’re an amazing kisser.”

Daniel blinked at her. Sliding his hands down her arms until he held her hands. His were big, warm hands. Strong. Not what you’d expect from a paper-pusher.

“I’d best say goodnight.”

“Sure you don’t want to tuck me in?” She slapped her hand over her mouth. She’d never said such a Mae West line in her entire life. Next she’d be asking him if he knew how to whistle.

He slid a hand up to cradle her cheek.

“I’d love to, which is exactly why I’m not going to.” He kissed the back of her hand where it still covered her mouth.

“Now go.”

With gentle hands, he turned her to face the bedroom, and pushed lightly against her shoulders to send her forward.

A soft click indicated the door had closed behind her.

The hand that yet covered her mouth was no longer cold. Instead it was warm with the heat of the kiss she could still feel against the back of it.