The Night Stalkers White House - Books 4-6

Chapter 3-1

Chapter ThreeOf course they chose that picture.”

Anne was not going to give her brother the satisfaction of appearing put out by the newspaper he was waving around. His wife Alice was paying very careful attention to her bowl of fruit and yogurt.

They were sitting on stools in the Residence’s third floor kitchen around the large maple cutting block island. She’d always liked this kitchen, it was elegant but cozy—dark-stained oak cabinets with brass hardware. If she ever had a house of her own, it would have a kitchen like this one. Alice wore jeans, a turtleneck, and a knit sweater in Christmas red with a complex white snowflake worked into the back. Daniel wore his inevitable three-piece suit. This President was more informal than most, often found in no more than a shirt and tie with his suit pants, but not his Chief of Staff.

“I think it’s cute,” Anne just couldn’t leave it alone: Zachary’s face distorted like a circus clown’s, her own head back in the moment of the laugh she’d been unable to repress.

“VP Fools Around With…double-entendre intended…Unidentified Blond,” Daniel read the headline aloud for the fifth time, each time with the same notation. Her brother always was a little predictable.

Alice didn’t speak but pointed her spoon toward the small television on the counter tuned to CNN, but with the sound off. Anne’s own picture, not a bad one thank god, was on the screen. Large white letters on a red background read, White House Chief of Staff’s Sister.

“No longer unidentified. Don’t I even get my own name?”

“Not in this city,” Alice smiled at her. “Even if I hadn’t taken Daniel’s last name, it wouldn’t have mattered. At the CIA I’m typically referred to as the W-H-C-o-S wife. That’s pronounced whickos, like whackos. You learn to roll with it.”

“Why did you take my brother’s name anyway? I always meant to ask.”

“I just love him that much,” she smiled sweetly at Daniel.

Anne made a gagging sound.

“I also wanted to anchor firmly in his subconscious that this is permanent. I only give my heart once.”

“Don’t have to worry about that. My brother is more loyal than a herd of lemmings.”

“He is. So are you, which is a very sweet family trait. So, when are you going to tell your brother what kind of a kisser the Vice President is?”

“Why would I tell him about tha—” And Anne knew that she’d walked right into Alice’s trap. She had to remember that Alice Darlington III was a top analyst and nothing slipped by her despite the impression given by her casual attire and cheerfully unruly mop of russet-colored hair that often hid one or other eye from view.

“You…kissed…the…Vice…President?” Daniel finally slumped onto his stool, his power-smoothie still untouched before him.

“He kissed me.”

“Details, Sister,” Alice ignored her husband’s sputtering. “I want details.”

“Okay, maybe I kissed him. But he’s such a gentleman that sometimes the girl has to take the initiative.”

“Don’t I know it,” Alice sighed and spooned up some more yogurt. “Your brother has the same issue.”

“I kissed you first.”

“Yes!” Alice suddenly cried out. “I was exhausted. Out on my feet. He took wholly inappropriate advantage of me. Threw me onto this very counter and ravaged me senseless.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Regrettably true,” Alice’s voice returned to absolute normal. “And no matter how he remembers it, I had to kiss him first; though he did get with the program very quickly. Still—me, this counter, wild s*x—never happened.”

Anne only had to look in Alice’s eyes for a moment before they both turned to Daniel and said in unison, “Why not?”

They both turned away and left Daniel to sputter pointlessly on a new topic.

To save Alice repeating her question about the kiss, because there was no question she would, Anne continued, “What skills the Vice President might lack in maintaining proper decorum in public,” she tapped the newspaper Daniel had dropped onto the cutting block, “he more than compensates for in the back seat of a Secret Service SUV parked safely out of sight in the EEOB garage.”

“My own sister kissed the Vice President…” Daniel’s voice was soft and disbelieving.

“Drink your smoothie, dear,” Alice patted his hand.

Momentarily quelled, he did just that. Alice really was impressive in how she could handle her brother. He’d always been the polite sibling, but he’d also been stubborn to the edge of monomania whenever he was locked onto a topic.

Anne still didn’t quite believe that kiss herself.

Only one of the agents had actually left the vehicle, stepping out to open her door, when she’d done it. Harvey had remained in the SUV.

Still seated, she and Zachary had both stumbled over “pleasant evening” words and then relapsed into silence. It wasn’t that he’d been so kind to her that made her decide to kiss him; it was that he simply was so kind. What she wasn’t going to tell her sister-in-law, or her brother for that matter, was that the goodnight kiss had been intended as only a friendly peck of thanks on the cheek. Let them think it had been little more than that.

But it hadn’t happened that way. As if by some unspoken plan, he’d turned just as she leaned in and in seconds she was lost in a kiss that had her practically crawling into his lap for more. Perhaps she would have if either of them had thought to release their seat belts. Zachary Thomas’ kisses didn’t allow much room for thought; all she’d been able to do was feel. And the feeling had been glorious right down to her toes. Before they came up for air, Harvey also had exited the vehicle—without her even noticing.

Oh, there was something else she’d almost forgotten.

Anne winked at Alice, then she turned to face Daniel, “By the way, Brother, I have dinner plans tonight.”

The rap on his front door was in the rhythm that Zack recognized as Harvey’s.

He continued dictating instructions to Cornelia over his shoulder as he came out into the front foyer. Normally he would just shout that it was open—the ever present Secret Service a better guard than any deadbolt—but he had hopes on who he’d find there. He saw two images through the frosted glass: the tall, square-shouldered head of his Protection Detail and a shorter, lighter image that just had to be Anne. He opened the heavy door himself.

“Wow! What a beautiful house. I love the three-story circular turret.” But she wasn’t looking at the interior, she was looking at him, which had his body reheating rapidly with the memory of her kiss last night. Just like Anne herself, there had been nothing tentative about it. No considerations of composure or propriety. She’d apparently wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss her, so she had. It had been amazing.

“Thanks,” was all he managed. Her long spill of blond hair was back in a ponytail. Not one of those high-tails that were so in fashion and looked more like a hair extension than it did like hair, but a normal tail that just gathered her hair back from her face. And though she was once again in her voluminous parka, he now knew something of what lay hidden beneath those folds. Still showing jeans and those scuffed high-end cowboy boots below; definitely his kind of girl. She looked—

“Planning to invite me in or do Harvey and I have to stay out here in the cold until you are through with your military inspection, Captain Vice President sir?” She offered a sloppy salute.

“If I let you in, I may not let you leave again.”

“Forewarned is disarmed. If you let me in, I may not want to leave again,” her smile was sassy though she spoke completely matter-of-factly. “Besides, it’s cold out here.”

“I’ll risk it,” he held the door wide. Anne walked in. Harvey began to turn away. “Come in, Harvey, get warm for a minute. Cornelia’s almost through for the day. Then if you could escort her back out through the gate, I’d appreciate it.”

“Yes, sir, thank you. As Ms. Darlington may have remarked in much more colorful terms on the way here, it’s cold enough to freeze a sled dog’s behind tonight.”

Zack shared a look with him.

Harvey stepped part way in then stopped. The head of his Protection Detail looked over Zack’s shoulder and whispered quietly, “Incoming, sir.” Taking a step backward, he closed the front door with himself on the outside and Zack inside.

He turned to see what had made a top Secret Service agent go into full retreat.

Anne stood in the center of the foyer with one arm out of her parka, not waiting for him to assist her. But she was frozen in place facing the Living Room archway in the awkward position of shoulder and elbow still raised even though the coat had slid free on that side.

Just stepping into the far side of the hall, Cornelia came out to see who the new arrival might be. There couldn’t be a greater contrast in two women.

Anne as five-six of healthy and vigorous Tennessean. From the back he could see Anne’s ponytail was held by a black rubber band. And she’d opted for no more than a well-tailored black denim shirt that matched her designer jeans. She looked modern and ready to join one of Mom’s Olympic swimming teams.

“Hello, I’ve read so much about you,” Cornelia, of course, smoothing the way with her perfect manners.

Anne thought about trying out a crushing-guy-grip thing, but it would fracture the woman’s perfect manicure. Cornelia’s cool gaze assessed and discarded Anne as a hick from the wilderness. This was exactly the sort of woman she’d expect the Vice President to be with—long, cool, and elegant. And he was with her, clearly Anne’s arrival had interrupted something. So what was she doing here if he already had—

“She’s my assistant. My right hand,” the Vice President stepped forward. “Anne this is Cornelia Day. This is Dr. Darlington’s sister, Anne Darlington.”

“A pleasure,” Cornelia spoke with all the warmth of the December evening, dark and bitter on the other side of the door. Assistant or not, she was dancing along the thin edge of rude. Anne had obviously trampled on f*******n territory.

Cornelia was six-one of DC elegant—not a hair out of place and her silk blouse perfectly complemented both her complexion and the Merino wool slacks that reached down to her two-inch heels: so five-foot-eleven of Cornelia and two inches of Kate Spades. She looked ready to take on a shark—either the aquatic or the legal kind—and there would be no doubting the victor in any contest. In the elegant reception hall of the Vice Presidential residence, Cornelia looked the perfect hostess. And before her, Anne felt as if she’d been beamed down from another world onto the center of the immaculate white Persian carpet to be glared at by Kennedy and the two Roosevelts.

One Observatory Circle was an elegant 1800s mansion built on the grounds of the National Observatory. She’d been captivated by the wide verandah that wrapped around the house. She’d gathered a few facts about it from the Secret Service agent who Daniel had insisted on sending rather than letting her take a cab. She’d been in dozens of the finest homes across the South. Many had far more pretention than this home, but few had such perfection and such artifacts.

“It’s Dr. Melanie Anne Darlington, actually,” a fact Anne typically played down. And in these elegant surroundings, she sounded pretentious but she couldn’t stop herself.

Cornelia faced her directly, her shoulders squared beneath her Armani jacket. “Dr. Darlington. Bachelors in English Literature. MBA. Doctorate in Plant Sciences. All at University of Tennessee.” She’d obviously done her homework.

“Yes,” Anne acknowledged. “Valedictorian in all cases, you might add.”

“I’m just a USAF captain—retired,” Zachary chimed as if oblivious to the battle forming up in his front foyer. “That leaves me out of the running in this high-powered room.”

Anne reached for a sense of humor in the situation, but had trouble finding it at first. Then she did, “Well, one of the three of us is also Vice President of the United States. I’m not sure that actually counts for much, but it must be worth something. Perhaps you can barter it for a free ice cream at the Lincoln Memorial.”

Zachary nodded, “I hadn’t thought of trying that. I’ll give it a go next time I’m there.”

But Cornelia Tight-a*s scowled at Anne’s light tone. Apparently even making fun of the Vice Presidential office was f*******n.

Then the Vice President changed topics as if nothing was going on. “Cornelia, in the briefing package for the climate meeting, I need a breakdown of each of the G-20’s actual conservation efforts in the last decade. Hard numbers, not guesses from some analyst who doesn’t give a damn.”

She produced a tablet computer in an expensive red leather case that was as elegant as she was and made a notation.