Chapter One 

“Excuse me. Aren’t you—” I fell silent at the diminutive woman’s abrupt scowl.

In loose gray sweats that hid most, but not all, of her impressive curves, I might’ve been mistaken. Add to that the dark brown hair glommed in a messy pile atop her head. Plus, there was no sign of the thick-rimmed glasses she’d begun to wear after being elected.

Even though it was an upscale apartment complex, she wasn’t a person I’d expected to see. Certainly not dressed as she was. Frankly, after spotting her the week before, while dashing past on my way to the airport, I’d done a double take.

But with that famous glare fixed on me, her identity became a little surer. Although I paid little attention to politics, Washington was my home. So, there we were.

Right as her pointed cheeks darkened, a flicker zipped behind those wide, warm brown eyes. Yep, my assumption was correct. But her mouth was set. So she was in hiding. Which made sense, considering her outspoken partisan views.

Pretty little thing, though.

And despite the scowl, she gave me a quick but thorough scan. That was an intriguing response. After a grueling workout, my sweat-soaked shorts and tank top weren’t the best look.

“Sorry.” I flashed her a grin before shoving open the entrance to my apartment. “Must’ve been mistaken. Good night.”

But, once inside, the temptation to peek had me looking through the peephole. While staring at the closed door, she wore the strangest expression. Perfect, sculpted eyebrow arched, she was tilting her head and sinking those famous pearly white teeth into a full lower lip.

Another reaction I hadn’t expected. Nope, not at all.

Not that it made any difference since I was off to Paris again early the next morning. Meanwhile, she’d be doing whatever Congresspeople did.

Yippee for me, I had a controversial political creature as a neighbor. Heck, it was Georgetown, and the building may have been full of them. It was that kind of place. Which meant, a week later, the entire episode had slipped from my mind.

Hence, no way I could’ve predicted what happened next.

While enjoying a quiet Saturday at home on the couch in shorts and a loose t-shirt, I was half-asleep. Their voices a delightful lullaby, college football announcers blabbered on the TV. But the soft rap of knuckles on the front door had me widening my droopy eyelids. And, with a groan, I rolled to my feet and padded to the peephole.

It was her again.

But she looked a lot more like that professional image she courted. Both glossy, wavy tresses brushed out and a conservative blue dress that hugged a curvaceous torso. Add in those non-prescription dark rims gracing her sharp, tanned face and she was back in that famous congresswoman guise.

At her nervous glances up and down the hallway, my brow knitted. Could I sense trouble? Yep. But for whatever reason, let’s call it curiosity, I undid the lock and eased the door open.

“Yes?” I said through the gap.

“Uh, sorry to, um, bother you, but”—again she scanned the corridor before smacking shiny red lips and meeting my eyes—“I could, uh, use your help.”

When I simply stared at her, she shifted from foot to foot. But after looking around once more, she returned to me with a forced grin. That well-documented one she often wore for television interviews.

“No.” I started closing the door.

“Please!” she whispered forcefully, with both hands clamped together before her. “You realize who I am, right?”

“Yep.” 

“Okay, okay. Look, uh?”

“Deacon. Deacon Hall.” No idea why I gave her my name; I wasn’t in her district. But even as I reeled from that, she splayed a hand against the door’s outer panel.

“Well, Mister Hall, I’d….” She gulped and color flooded those sharp cheeks. “I feel so stupid, but, um…. My waste-disposal. It’s, um, not working.”

At my chuckle, the glare from the other day reappeared on her face.

“What?” Her whispering grew louder. “Why are you laughing?”

“Ma’am, don’t know much about politics, but I do know a bit about you.” Another laugh escaped me, both at me calling her, ten years younger than me, “ma’am,” and the juicier bits I’d heard. “You worked in the oil fields. Met your husband there. Know your way around a lot of equipment and have raised kids. Four boys, I believe. So, I’m pretty damned sure you understand how to fix a disposal.”

Yep, my trouble meter was pinging. But when I started closing the door, she leaned on her hand. No way could she have stopped me from closing it, but that had me even more curious. With a sigh, I held her brown-eyed gaze. That close, they were quite beautiful.

“Okay, you caught me.” She exhaled, then sucked on her lips. “Sorry. It’s just that—” 

“Lonely? World got you down?” When she only nodded, a heavy breath left me. That I understood. Could say it was a type of well-honed professional precognition. But I relaxed and let her push the door wide once more. “You wanna come in?” When she gnawed on her lips while scanning the hall, I laughed. “Oh, it’s better if a strange man enters your place?”

“No, I guess you’re right; it doesn’t matter.” At my gesture, she stepped inside, and I pushed the door closed behind her. “Thank you, Mister Hall.”

“No prob, Mrs. Bendix.”

At me using that name, she jolted. But that was her only immediate reaction. Well, other than a quick flick of a pointed tongue around those glossy lips as she scanned my apartment.

“I’m, uh, divorced,” she murmured, breaking the silence at last.

“Oh, right. Sorry. Heard something about that.” While heading for a small sidebar, I shot her a smile. “What’s your poison?”

“Whiskey. Neat,” she replied while focusing on the crumpled pillow atop the couch and the still-blabbering TV. “Um, sorry to disturb you.”

“Pfft, college ball bores me. It’s great for nap time.” I walked towards her with one of the full tumblers held out. “Have a seat. What’s on your mind?”

“I, uh…. I shouldn’t be here.” Her voice was low and shaky as she took the glass from me. She remained standing.

“Yeah, duh.” I chortled. “But here you are.”

“Look, since you know….. I mean, that I’m—”

“—controversial?” I laughed again before taking a sip. “Yep. So why is a God-fearing, former oil-working, bar-owning part-time escort and serving congresswoman here?”

Even as the words tumbled from me, she started to respond. With each tremor in her lips, strands of lipstick pulled apart at the corners of her opening mouth. In those narrowing eyes, the retorts were building ever higher, but I held up a palm.

“Don’t care what you did or didn’t do. I fuck for a living.” A snort left me. “So I ain’t judging anybody.”

“Wait.” She jolted, and the drink shook in her fingers. “You what?”

“Fuck. You dabbled. I do it full-time. Those rich people you played with? Well, a fair few of ‘em are familiar to me. Or at least their wives.” Again, I chuckled before taking a quick sip. “Small world, huh?”

“I never—”

At my scowl, those shiny lips pursed. When she lifted the glass, it shook even more in her hand. After a lengthy series of gulps that drained a good portion of its contents, she remained quiet. So, I said nothing more and glanced at the TV.

However, her reflection on the screen held my attention. Would she be worth my time? Or worth anything at all, for that matter? Besides, what was a woman like her after? Impromptu meet-and-greets were the absolute worst. Then again, they could be the most rewarding. The oldest rule: risk versus reward.

“I should go,” she murmured.

Welp. Never mind. But something in her eyes gave me pause. Need? Yeah, my curiosity again was piqued.

“You should.” When my free hand rose, her eyes widened. She tracked it as I moved it towards her. At first, only her mouth quivered, but as soon as my fingertip landed on a very soft lower lip, her entire body vibrated. “But you won’t, will you, um, Laura?”

When she shook her head, I smiled. But also removed my fingertip. That had been an enormous gamble. Except somebody like her doesn’t walk into a strange man’s apartment on a whim. So, I was right. Genuine need lurked behind those softening brown pools.

“Have a seat.” My tumbler gestured to the couch. “Make yourself at home. Why are you really here, Laura.”

After settling in silence, she crossed shapely legs. Although she hid it well, a flash of disappointment flared when my frame lowered into a plush armchair across from her. 

“Suppose you expect me to whine about all the people who hate me? Who misunderstand me?” Eyes ablaze, she took a healthy gulp of whiskey. “But I got elected. And have a mandate to—”

“Nope. Don’t give a shit about any of that,” I cut her off over the rim of my tumbler. Her reaction? You know, the strident Congress member. Cheeks reddening, she dropped her gaze to my chest. Okay, at that I was even more curious. “You said you’re lonely. Why? Gorgeous woman, back on the market and here in DC, you’d be in high demand.”

“You knew who I was and weren’t interested.” Her brows tightened as she managed a slow sip.

Yeah, she’d avoided answering. Also, no reaction at all to being called gorgeous. Nothing like a confused and overwhelmed narcissist. However, she continued holding my interest. But what reward would be worth such a risk? Nevertheless, no way was I showing my cards that early.

“Still not.” I sighed. “I mean, you’re pretty and all. Seem a bit outspoken. But you’ve made connections, just as I have.”

“I wasn’t an escort!” Her eyes flashed.

“Yes, you were, Mrs. Bendix. Oh, you can lie to yourself all you want. And your enemies. But there’s no point in lying to me. Like I said, I’m not judging. Besides, I happen to know the Kirk family well. More money than they know what to do with. So, congrats. You got what you wanted.”

Whatever rebuttal she’d planned died in a muttered curse. When her gaze found mine, I nodded. Yeah, she’d played for pay. Which meant she’d earned herself the keys to the kingdom.

“Laura. I told you. Divorced.” Her voice dropped. “Not an escort. Sugar baby only.”

“Still fucked for money.”

With even more color in her cheeks, she had no reply. Until after a much slower sip, she nodded. So, that was a good first step.

“Right. So, hot, lonely divorcee in my apartment. No broken disposal. Drinking whiskey. What do you actually want?”

“Just…. I don’t know, Deacon.” After a swift glance at the TV, she rolled her lips and returned to me with a quiet sigh. “Company? You seemed…. Uh, nice.”

“Nice?” I chuckled. “You practically stripped me naked with your gaze a week ago.” Yeah, I’d remembered that part. At her face suddenly a deeper red, a louder laugh escaped me. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. My looks earn me a lot of money, but”—I let a heavy sigh slip from me—“I’m also fairly perceptive. So, there’s more going on, isn’t there?”

“Yes. My husband…. Um, ex-husband, James.” After a nervous swallow, she scanned the room again before finding me. “He’s a bit nuts. Didn’t take the divorce well at all. Uh, I think he’s in town.”

“So?” After a languid sip, I made a point of taking my time swallowing. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“He, uh….” She took a quick but hefty swig before pinning me with those big brown pools. “If we were, um—”

“Wow! You move fast, Laura. Damn. What if I’d been gay? Or married?” Her eyes flicked to my bare ring finger. “Did you even think I might have a girlfriend?”

“Do you?”

At my laughter, she tilted her head. Yeah, the world revolved around her. She needed me, and that was the end of it. On the other hand, my interest in seeing what she’d do was growing fast. And, controversial or not, she remained a hottie. One with a past not unlike my own. When I stood, gulped the last of the whiskey and headed for the bar, she tracked me in silence. 

“No.” After refilling my glass, I walked to the couch and topped off her shaking tumbler. “But your plan sucks.”

“Huh?” Her eyebrow arched as she moved the fresh whiskey to her lips. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for starters. What do you expect us to do?” After replacing the bottle on the bar, I headed back towards her. “The second we’re seen together, everyone will assume you hired me.” With a grunt, I dropped to the chair. “So, we won’t be dating, at least not in public. Which means your ex isn’t gonna be deterred.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” After a slow sip, I smacked my lips. A much louder sigh escaped me. “I’m, uh, flattered, Laura. Really, I am. But let’s face it, you’ve got a lot of targets on your back”—I gave her crossed legs a quick scan—“and you’re no longer wearing six-shooters on those amazing thighs.”

How her cheeks became a darker red, I’ve no idea. The tumbler shook as she tried to lift it again to her trembling lips. At last, she succeeded and, while gulping, stared at me. Such alluring eyes. Full of crazy, maybe, but promise as well. Plus, when I shifted, they flicked to my shorts.

Okay, so, despite the lousy excuse and insane plan, her need was valid. Oh, the unrepentant flashing in those glimmering irises when they met mine? She knew damned well that I’d noticed her little scan.

Yeah, except she was also a self-centered sociopath, which meant only so much fun. And only for as long as she needed me. Then again, things were much simpler. It was clear what I’d get and wouldn’t get from her.

So, it was “go for broke” time.

“Are you a good fuck, Laura?” I flashed her my toothiest smile, the one I used with reticent potential clients. It either snapped them back to reality, sending them running. Or paid off in many ways. “I mean, just between us pros.”

When she kept quiet with her widening brown pools locked on me, I sighed. At any second, those fake glasses would fog with anger. She’d huff. Fly from the couch. Dash across the hall. Boom, done. Well, it’d been worth a shot. She wasn’t the only lonely resident along that hallway. Or in Georgetown, for that matter.

“It’s okay, Laura.” After a slow nod, I drained my whiskey and pushed on the armrests to rise. “A gal like you with a guy like me, it’d never—”

“Yes,” left her as a hissing whisper.

“Yes, what?” I said, while standing.

“I’m a good fuck, Deacon.” After a curt exhale, she swallowed the last of her drink. “At least…. Um, I was.”

“How long’s it been?” I took the empty glass from her quivering fingers.

“Uh, I, um….”

At my chuckle as I walked to the kitchen sink, she fell silent. If she couldn’t remember, that said it all.  

While rinsing the tumblers, I kept glancing her way. Not gonna lie, I was weighing the risks. But also the benefits. We were neighbors. Besides, it would be nice to come home to somebody every once in a while. Controversial or not, she was enticing. Plus, screw it, crazy or not, an aura flowed from her. One that had my pulse hammering much faster than normal.

Once I’d returned to the main room, she stared up at me. But also remained seated. Okay, no flight, which was good news. However, my heartbeat slowed. No need to rush. Besides, she had a lot more to consider. And, hey, it’d been better than napping the afternoon away.

“I think you should leave now, Laura.”

“What?” She gulped and, at her heavy sigh, that impressive chest caught my attention. Yes, she noted my lifting eyebrow. “Um, why? I thought—”

“Can you cook?” At the question, all my muscles tensed. Why the fuck had those words left me? Don’t push her. But my brain doubled down. “‘Cause I could sure use a home-cooked meal.”

Did I really think we’d hit it off? A gun-toting lunatic and a cock-for-hire. But with the clock ticking away, those words had left me. Furthermore, whatever part of my brain thought it was a good idea tripled down. When she nodded, I gave that well-tanned frame a slow scan.

“Pick a night. I’m in town until Tuesday.” Heartbeat climbing again, I flashed another of my million-dollar smiles at her crimson face. “And, um, wear something…. Hmm, sexier.”

“S-Sexier?” Her breathing hitched.

“Yep.” My pulse was wobbling as I struggled to untangle the batshit quasi-plan sloshing in my mind. “You want me? You’re gonna have to earn me.”

That at least sounded familiar; people didn’t hire me to be nice. She gulped loud enough to echo through the apartment. Or it seemed that way.

“Earn you?”

“Use your imagination, Laura.” After gripping her wrist, I lifted her from the couch. For a brief second, she swayed further as if to press against me, but I stepped away.

“Imagination? Really, Deacon? I could”—she glanced towards my bedroom’s open doorway—“uh, stay.”

“Yeah, you could. But like I said, I think you need to decide if you actually wanna go through with this.” For the first time, things solidified. And I gave her a softer grin. “Because it wasn’t anything to do with your ex that brought you here, right?”

“No.”

“No, it wasn’t.” After opening the door, I gestured for her to leave. “So, let’s cut to the chase. We’re both adults and attracted to each other. Except I’ve got nothing to lose while you’re risking everything.”

“Tonight?” With those soul-bending brown pools locked on me, her voice was shaky. “Um, I could cook for you tonight.”

“And?” I wasn’t shy about running my gaze over her compact frame.

“Sexy.” Her eyes did a slow wander of their own. At that point, discretion be damned. With the tension between us so high, we could’ve fucked in the hallway. “I’ll, uh, dress sexier, um, for you, Deacon.”

“Deke. Call me Deke.”

“Okay, uh, Deke. Can you come over, say, um, six-ish?”

“Yes, I can.” I flicked on that million-dollar smile once more just for her. Yeah, damned if she didn’t grin back at me. “See you then.” 

As the door shut, her gaze remained on me until the very last second. However, once it thumped closed, I collapsed with my back to the chilly wood and stared through the open patio sliders. 

“The fuck you doing, Deke, you idiot?” I mumbled.

Because, although I’d no clue of the shitstorm heading my way, I was nobody’s fool. She was trouble. All kinds of trouble. 

Except, God help me, I didn’t care. That should’ve bothered me. But for some reason, it didn’t. Oh, that should’ve troubled me even more.