Natalie Sheehan was physically striking, much more so than Di, actually The much-admired TV newswoman was blond, about five eight in heels. She wore a simple, classic, black silk dress. She oozed charm, but especially class. First class. Natalie Sheehan had been aptly described as “American royalty, an American princess.”
Jack started to move at a little past nine-thirty Guests were already dancing to an eight-piece band. The breezy chitchat was flowing freely: Marion Gingrich's business dealings, trade problems with China, John Major's problems du jour, planned ski trips to Aspen, Whistler, or Alta.
She had downed three margaritas -- straight up, with salt around the rim. He had watched her. She didn't show it but she had to be feeling something, had to be a little high.
She was an extremely good actor, Jack was thinking as he came up beside her at one of the complimentary bars. She a master of the one-night stand and the one-weekend affair. Jill had researched the hell out of her. I know everything about you, Natalie.
He took two sidelong steps, and suddenly they were face to face. They nearly collided, actually He could smell her perfume.
Flowers and spices. Very nice. He even knew the delightful fragrance's name- ESCADA acre 2. He'd read that it was Natalie's favorite.
“I'm sorry. Excuse me,” he said, feeling his cheeks redden.
“No, no. I wasn't looking where I was going. Clumsy me,” Natalie said and smiled. It was her killer TV close- up smile.
Really something to experience firsthand.
Jack smiled back, and suddenly his eyes communicated recognition.
He knew her. “You never forgot a name, or a face, not in eleven years of broadcasting,” he said to Natalie Sheehan. “That's an accurate quote, I believe.”
Natalie didn't miss a beat. 'You're Scott Cookson. We met at the Meridian. It was in early September. You're a lawyer with...
a prestigious D.C. law firm. Of course.'
She laughed at her small joke. Nice laugh. Beautiful lips and perfectly capped teeth. The Natalie Sheehan. His target for the evening.
“We did meet at the Meridian?” she said, checking her facts like the good reporter she was. “You are Scott Cookson?”
“We did, and I am. You had another affair to attend after that, at the British embassy.”
“You seem never to forget a face or factoid, either,” she said.
The smile remained fixed. Perfect, glowing, almost effervescent.
The TV star in real life, if this was real life.
Jack shrugged, and acted shy, which wasn't so hard to do with Natalie. “Some faces, some factoids,” he said.
She was classically beautiful, extremely attractive at any rate, he couldn't help thinking. The warm heartland smile was her trademark, and it worked very well for her. He had studied it for hours before tonight. He wasn't completely immune to her charms -- not even under the circumstances.
“Well,” Natalie said to him. 'I don't have another party after this one. Actually, I'm cutting back on parties. Believe it or not.
This is a good cause, though.'
“I agree. I believe in good causes.”
“Oh, and what's your favorite cause, Scott?”
“Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,” he said.
“That's my pet cause.”
He tried to look pleasantly surprised that she would remain talking with him. He could play parlor games as well as anyone -- when he had to, when he wanted to.
“If I might be just a little bold,” he said, “would you consider the two of us cutting back together?” His very natural and unassuming smile undercut the forward-sounding line. It was a come-on just the same. There was no disguising that. Natalie Sheehan's answer was tremendously important, to both of them.
She stared at him, slightly taken aback. He'd completely blown it, he thought. Or maybe she was acting now.
Then Natalie Sheehan laughed. It was a hearty laugh, almost raucous. He was sure that no one in America had ever heard it in her prim and proper role as a network television reporter.
Poor Natalie, Jack thought. Number two.
NATALIE TOOK another margarita for the trip home. “A roadie,” she told him and laughed that deep, wonderful laugh of hers again.
“I learned how to party a little bit at St. Catherine's Academy in Cleveland. Then at Ohio State,” she confided as they walked to the garage under the Pension Building. She was trying to show him that she was different from her television persona. Looser, more fun. He got that much, got the message. He even liked her for it. He was noticing that her usually crisp and exact enunciation was just a little off now. She probably thought it was sexy, and she was right. She was actually very nice, very down-to-earth, which surprised him a little.
They took her' car, as Jill had accurately predicted. Natalie drove the silverblue Dodge Stealth a little too fast. All the while she talked rapid-fire, too, but kept it interesting: GATT, Boris Yeltsin's drinking problems, D.C. real
