“Every intuition you had about her is true. That woman is a serious piece of work. Ha! Imagine running into that in a dark bar.” Mark paced back and forth across Emily’s tiny White House apartment, four steps to the antique side table with its small bouquet of chrysanthemums, through the bathroom door, to the shower stall, and back.
“Keep your voice down.” She stopped his excited strides with a hand on his chest. “Not here.” Emily placed her palm over Mark’s mouth and he kissed the center of it.
For a moment, just a moment, she let herself drift in the engulfing sensuality of Mark’s lips against her palm. Of their own volition, her fingers wrapped around to cup his cheek. To have him so close, so present every day. Knowing he’d watched over her darkest hours. Knowing his body better from
