“Fine!” Then her smile turned wicked. She tucked a hand in her father’s arm and started off. “Fourteen hundred hours in the White House commissary,” she called back over her shoulder, assuming that would shut him down.
He waited the beat so that she would think him stymied by White House security. Then he called after her, “I work here until then. Fourteen-thirty?”
She actually stumbled in surprise and barely resisted looking back toward him.
Her father’s laugh told him he’d won that round.
Without a further glance at her fine walk—which he’d observed was very fine when she’d first walked away from him—he returned to Julie who was now mincing foot to foot.
“You owe me, Beaumont.”
“I do, name your price.”
“Lunch!”
“Sorry, I’ve got a date.”
“Might have known,” then she rushed off, l
