The Power and the Glory Read online

  Since no one could see her, Aspyn didn’t worry about the foolish grin that stretched her cheeks. It didn’t matter what Lauren said. Actually it did matter, because now that she knew not to read too much into anything, she was perfectly safe to enjoy this moment.

  “Okay, then. I’ll go. I’ve been looking over everything Lauren gave me Friday, so I should be mostly up to speed on the likely questions or issues they might bring up.”

  “Good. We can also use the drive to be sure you’re prepped well. I’ll pick you up at five.”

  “In the morning?” Ugh.

  “Breakfast meetings are normally held in the mornings.” That look Brady gave her when she prodded him obviously had a tonal equivalent. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew what it would look like.

  Still … “Brunch seems like it would be far more civilized.”

  “Welcome to the real world.”

  What did he mean by that? “I was kidding.” Sort of, but he didn’t know that.

  “I’ll see you at five. Good night.”

  It wasn’t until later that night, as she was eyeballing her wardrobe critically in search of something suitable for a breakfast meeting, that the full force of what she’d agreed to hit her.

  First, she was actually going out as a face for the Marshall campaign. Wow. That wasn’t part of her job description. And though he had said her presence was requested by the organizer, surely Brady wouldn’t let her represent the campaign if he didn’t trust her to represent it well. She’d only just started this job, but she knew this was a big deal—and not something that newbies normally did. She should be pleased—proud, even—that Brady wanted her to go to Richmond with him.

  With him. Belated realization nearly forced her to sit down. Richmond was a two-hour drive from here. That equaled four hours in a car with Brady. Four hours of close confines with a man who made her heart beat dangerously fast. Four hours with a man she was majorly attracted to who never got involved with his staff.

  Especially, as Lauren had stressed, someone like her.

  Oh, she could handle it. She was perfectly capable of knowing where lines had to be drawn and then staying on the right side of those lines. It wasn’t like she couldn’t be trusted not to throw herself in the man’s lap in some kind of lustful frenzy.

  But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t spend four hours wanting to.

  The limo pulled to a stop in front of the bookstore where Aspyn waited out front in the predawn gloom hugging something to her chest. The driver opened the door and assisted Aspyn in before passing her the largest coffee mug Brady had ever seen. As she took it with a grateful smile, Brady realized that was what she’d been hugging. It was practically a coffee urn.

  “Morning,” she mumbled as she got settled. Her curls were still slightly damp from the shower, and she drank from her enormous cup almost desperately. Aspyn obviously wasn’t a morning person.

  When she leaned back, eyes closed, he chuckled. “Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine?”

  Her brows drew together like she was in pain, but her eyes didn’t open. “It’s five o’clock in the morning. There are no rays of sunshine anywhere.” She sighed and kicked her shoes off as the limo eased away from the curb. “God doesn’t even get up this early.”

  Aspyn’s grumblings would be amusing—maybe even cute—except that she turned sideways in the other seat and lifted her feet as she got comfortable. As she did, her skirt twisted and slid up, giving him a clear view of shapely calves and lean thighs. With her sleepy features and half smile, Aspyn looked like she belonged in a bed, tangled in warm covers and tempting a lover back for an early morning kiss. Or more.

  He reached for his own coffee, glad Aspyn’s eyes were still closed. He doubted she was even aware of the erotic picture she created—much less creating it intentionally—but that didn’t damp the zing of electricity that hit him like he’d been Tasered.

  Maybe taking Aspyn to Richmond wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Although she wasn’t currently giving him that “tasty treat” look, the earthy, artless sensuality of her drew him like a magnet. That was new for him. He’d always been with women who were polished and sophisticated, but in comparison to Aspyn, that polish now seemed plastic and fake.

  Aspyn seemed comfortable in her own skin, sure and unapologetic about who she was. That lack of artifice was more alluring than Brady expected. He’d been in the political machine so long that he was far more used to games, hidden agendas, power plays and the assumption everyone wanted something. Aspyn was just Aspyn. What you saw was what you got.

  Why that was suddenly important to his libido defied explanation. But it was.

  He dragged his eyes away from the long line of her legs and back to the computer on his lap. Aspyn wasn’t a typical employee, but she was still off-limits for a laundry list of reasons. They came from different worlds, had different expectations. It was far safer to limit himself to women who understood his world and rules that governed it. He didn’t need drama—didn’t want drama—in his personal life, and certainly not the kind of drama that could come from his personal life becoming public fodder.

  Plus, the election was where he needed to focus. The last thing he needed right now was distractions. Especially Aspyn-like distractions.

  Opening her eyes, Aspyn extended her legs, ruining the view as she asked, “Are you naturally a morning person or are you just better at pretending?” She took a large sip of the coffee, then held the cup under her chin and breathed in the steam.

  “Probably not by the standard definition, but I can function in the mornings with only a minimum of caffeine.”

  “I’ll be fully functional in a few more minutes.” She tugged at her skirt. Sitting up a little more, she shrugged off the wrap covering her shoulders and spread her arms. “I tried for ‘conservative-but-less-funeral-like’ today. Hope this is acceptable for a breakfast meeting.”

  For Aspyn, the colorful and flowing skirt probably did qualify as “conservative.” Her jewelry was understated—nothing jangling this morning—and the shoes on the floor were simple black flats. It wasn’t what he’d normally expect from a campaign employee, but it worked for her. Probably only because it was Aspyn. He couldn’t picture her in a pantsuit. “It’s fine.”

  “Good.” She blew out her breath. “I didn’t even think about wardrobe when I took this job, and now it’s all happening so fast, I can’t quite keep up.”

  “That’s understandable. It has been a crazy few days. I’m impressed you’re doing as well as you are.”

  An eyebrow went up. “Actually you sound surprised, not impressed.”

  Aspyn didn’t play games. He liked that. “How about I’m surprised that I’m impressed. It takes a lot to do either.”

  “How very sad.” She settled back into the corner again and cuddled her coffee. She seemed serious.

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s a very bleak outlook to have. It’s a good thing you’re almost a morning person.”

  He shouldn’t ask—and really didn’t want to—but he couldn’t help himself. “Because?”

  “Because I don’t know how else you’d manage to drag yourself out of bed every day when you think there’s nothing waiting to surprise you. Where’s your optimism? Your joie de vivre?”

  He snorted without meaning to. The system had beaten both out of him years ago. “You seem to have enough for both of us.”

  “Joie de vivre?”

  “And optimism.”

  She cut her eyes at him over her coffee mug in challenge. “And again, you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Too much optimism makes it difficult to deal with reality. And I deal in reality.”

  She nodded. “True. But you’re not a true pessimist, either. If you were, you’d constantly be surprised when things went well.”

  Once again, she made him laugh. “You do have a point.”

  “I know.” She grinned. “And I’m glad you finally see it. I’m suppos
ed to help people become more aware, you know.”

  That was the oddest thing he’d ever heard. “What?”

  “For the Druids, aspen trees were believed to help facilitate awareness and transition.”

  Okay, that was a bit of a non sequitur. Even more confusing, she’d said it like it was supposed to mean something. “And you believe that has … what to do with you, exactly?”

  She sat up a little straighter. “My parents believe that people can make a difference. They named me Aspyn in the hopes that I would channel the power of the aspen tree and be a transformative force in the world.”

  No, that was the oddest thing he’d ever heard.

  She met his eyes. “My bigger purpose in this world is to somehow help bring awareness and focus and help find opportunities for positive change.”

  Aspyn’s voice lacked any humor or sarcasm. She actually seemed to believe what she was saying. “That’s a lot to put on a kid.”

  “Well, my parents are optimists, too. And, hey, what do you know, I’m kind of doing that. Granted, it’s probably not quite how my parents imagined it, but it’s still a chance to make a difference.”

  Some things about Aspyn were starting to make sense, and guilt twinged him about the reality of the situation. He should probably reel her in before she got too excited. “Aspyn, you might want to temper your expectations a bit.”

  She waved a hand in response. “Don’t worry. I’m an optimist, but I know there are limitations and realities of what I can do. But that doesn’t mean I’m not always on the lookout for possibilities.”

  Time to change the subject before she started looking for specifics in those possibilities. “Caffeine really does make a difference for you, doesn’t it? Instant human.”

  “Yeah. It’s a weakness, I know, but I’m addicted.” She seemed to think for a moment, growing more serious, then she swung her legs around to face him and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. She had a tiny, forced smile that put him on guard for what was about to come. “That brings up something—”

  She stopped as the limo slowed, and looked out the window in confusion as they came to a stop. A moment later, the door opened and Lauren climbed in, taking the seat next to Aspyn.

  “Morning, Brady. Hi, Aspyn. I brought bagels.”

  Aspyn looked a little confused as she took the bag Lauren handed her.

  He might regret this, but he was discovering he was a glutton for punishment. “What were you saying, Aspyn?”

  “Nothing important. Thanks for the bagel, Lauren.”

  Lauren, with her usual unwavering focus, jumped right in to the schedule for the day. The friendly, comfortable atmosphere evaporated as Lauren’s crisp efficiency filled the air instead. For the first time, he rather resented that feeling.

  “Since we’ll be there anyway, I’ve set up a couple of meetings. I’ve set up a meet-and-greet for you, too, Aspyn.” A small snide smile crossed Lauren’s face. “A chance for you to do some listening in-person.”

  Aspyn stiffened slightly and nodded. He was aware of Lauren’s displeasure with the addition of Aspyn to the staff; he’d already had an earful about how she found it redundant and rather insulting as it implied the staffs of the senator’s office and campaign weren’t doing their jobs properly. While she claimed to understand the PR motives behind it, it still rubbed Lauren the wrong way. He hadn’t known Aspyn was aware of Lauren’s feelings. Great. The last thing he needed was turf-wars or catfights within the campaign.

  Aspyn stayed mostly quiet as they headed south, only asking the occasional question, but taking copious notes the entire time—about what, he wasn’t entirely sure. Lauren directed the entire conversation at him, anyway, as she jumped from topic to topic without any superfluous digressions to anything that wasn’t directly campaign-related. It was completely normal, but it bothered him today. And though he probably wouldn’t have liked the question, he never did get a chance to ask Aspyn what she’d wanted to say. And that bothered him, too.

  I am a world-class idiot. What other explanation did she have for her behavior? Of course Brady’s assistant would accompany him to Richmond. Duh. This was a business trip, not some kind of date. Although she’d been nervous about spending that much quality time with Brady, it wasn’t until Lauren got in the limo that she realized she’d been looking forward to it.

  Lauren’s warning replayed in her head. Maybe she should have paid a little more attention. She should definitely rethink her idea she could flirt around the edges of a Brady Marshall crush without flirting with disaster. She might not be setting herself up for the heartbreak Lauren mentioned, but she could definitely get her feelings hurt.

  It also didn’t help that Brady was practically Jekyll and Hyde. Dr.-Jekyll-Brady was fun, approachable, interesting, and devastating to her higher brain functions. Mr.-Hyde-Brady was aloof and untouchable, and every inch a stuffed-shirt, political bureaucrat who made her want to smack him if she weren’t still half-cowed by that part of him. And he could move between the two personalities in a blink. She’d been enjoying herself this morning with Dr.-Jekyll-Brady until Lauren showed up and changed him into Mr.-Hyde-Brady like an evil fairy godmother.

  But which one was he really? She normally trusted her instincts, but Brady had her so confused she didn’t know what to believe. She wanted to believe that the stuffed shirt was all a front, but she’d met enough snake oil salesmen to not trust charm and friendliness blindly.

  And if Brady wanted to sell snake oil, he’d be a master. The speculations that Brady would follow his father and grandfather into politics had a firm foundation. Watching him work the crowd after breakfast, she realized he could be both Jekyll and Hyde at the same time: uptight enough to make the people feel like he was competent and trustworthy, yet friendly enough that people liked him anyway. It was impressive yet off-putting at the same time.

  Plus, she was so far out of her league with this job it wasn’t even funny. She had two pages of notes just from listening to Brady and Lauren this morning. There was so much she didn’t understand that she’d need to do research just to be able to ask a sensible question. What little understanding she had of this whole political thing would rattle around inside a peanut shell. But it was all so fascinating, if a little disillusioning, and she really wanted to learn.

  And Brady? Well, he was certainly fascinating and confusing. Disillusioning? That was still to figure out. Sadly she doubted research would help her any with that problem.

  It was time to grow up, to look at the big picture and decide how to make the most of this. Brady was a hottie, but he was off-limits and any mooning at all over him would only distract her from what she could do with this opportunity. The thought she couldn’t handle a professional relationship with a man because she was attracted to him made her sound immature and foolish. She was better than that. She wasn’t going to squander this opportunity over something like sex.

  Last week, Brady had called her passionate and sincere. But passion and sincerity wouldn’t get her anywhere unless she could be professional as well. She needed to focus.

  On something other than Brady Marshall.

  Aspyn remained rather quiet the rest of the day, and Brady almost found himself missing her conversation. Aspyn had a way of drawing people—including him to his surprise—out by just talking to them until they had no choice but to talk back. And then she listened. Plus, Aspyn was pretty much the only person around—other than his brothers—who didn’t always want to talk about campaign strategies, poll numbers, or fund-raising. It was a nice distraction from the usual.

  Even worse, something had gone out of her eyes. The focus was still there, and she listened to all the conversations intensely, but with less excitement.

  To top it off, Aspyn no longer seemed to watch him with that purely physical appreciation he’d let stroke his ego. He didn’t know he was shallow enough to care about such a thing, so that was a new and disturbing revelation for him, but it bothered the hell out of
him nevertheless.

  His normal approach to problem solving was head-on, straight to the point, but this situation …? Brady wasn’t even sure what the point was, much less how to approach it. It didn’t help, either, that the problem kept niggling at him, distracting him from what he needed to be doing.

  And since it wasn’t something he could really bring up in front of Lauren, by the time they arrived back in Arlington, Brady wasn’t really fit company for anyone.

  Back at HQ, Aspyn tried to blend into the crowd—as much as she could blend anywhere. She stuck out, even when she wasn’t outlandishly dressed, simply by her personality. The ink was barely dry on her contract, and she was already giving several of the other staffers fits. Within an hour, his volunteer coordinator pulled him aside in wounded outrage after Aspyn provided her two cents on organizing the teams for the door-to-door canvass and was backed by the volunteers against the original plan.

  No sooner than he had that sorted out when his media director informed him that if Aspyn didn’t stop with her litany of complaints about the number of trees “murdered” for the production of campaign literature, real murder might occur. When the press secretary headed his way, steam coming out of his ears, Brady wondered if it were really possible for a campaign to implode due to one staff member.

  And Aspyn seemed unaware of the trouble she caused. She was currently in a huddle with three of the field agents, and Brady figured they’d be making their way to his office soon enough.

  Coupled with the fact Aspyn was doing an excellent job annoying him simply by pretending he didn’t exist now, Brady wasn’t getting a damn thing done. She’d undergone a huge attitude change since this morning and he didn’t know why. Why it annoyed him so much didn’t stand up to logic or reason, but that didn’t lessen the feeling any. That annoyed him even more.

  All in all, Aspyn was thoroughly messing with his head, derailing his attempts to get things done, and making him question—again—the wisdom of bringing her on staff.