“There you are.”
Senator Hunter Ramson leapt out of his chair before he recognized Rose’s voice. For once, he wished she hadn’t tracked him to his office in the Capitol Building. She came here so rarely.
He glanced at the clock. Six a.m. The sky outside his office window was already fading from black to palest blue.
“You’re up early.”
“You’re up late,” she countered as she slid into the chair across his desk. Thirty-one years together. Thirty-two if he counted from bedding her shortly before she won the Miss Utah pageant he’d been judging. And she still looked incredible. She wore a dress right out of the Kennedy era, but Jackie would never have looked so good in it. Rose had resurrected the sleeveless, knee-length summer dress as a fashion statement practically on her own.
Looking at
