He pulled her close and kissed her.
“Last night was fun,” she said.
“We’re going to have a lot more nights like last night.”
“I can’t wait to go to Miami,” she said.
“Neither can I. I’ve never been there. Hell, I’ve never been anywhere.”
“Oh, you’ll love it, especially this time of year,” she said, snuggling close. “Have you talked to Jack? It’s only nine days before Christmas now.”
“Yeah. I got a text while you were down whipping up our little breakfast. He’s got the trip scheduled four days from now. Think you can be ready?”
“My bags have been packed. I’ll coordinate with Bedelia. I’ll go out with her.”
“Sounds good.”
“Did Jack ask about Sue?”
“No.”
“Won’t he think it odd if she doesn’t come along?”
“Her mother’s sick, remember?”
“Oh, of course she can’t come.”
Matt clearly recalled asking Jack at the Thanksgiving party not to mention the Miami trip to Sue—that he wanted to “surprise her” with it, when really he had no intention of even telling Sue about it so he could make the trip with Patricia, who had the cover of Bedelia traveling with her since her gay husband wouldn’t be there.
“I’ll tell Jack tomorrow. We’re supposed to have lunch.”
“He’s a nice guy, Jack.”
“I know. We’ve become pretty good friends.”
“Then why can’t you vote for his dad?”
Matt let out with a heavy sigh.
“We’ve had this talk before, more than once,” he said, exasperated. “It’s my vote and I don’t agree with his dad’s policies on China and Russia.”
“OK, already, Mr. Grump.”
Patricia leaned over and kissed him, reveling in the scratchiness of his morning beard and the complete and glorious “maleness” of her new lover. Feeling Matt in her arms, she wondered what had ever possessed her to fall into an affair with the pallid and by comparison lifeless Neil Scott. Loneliness, she guessed. Having a gay husband in Jonathan Vaughan might have had something to do with it as well.
“It’ll work out fine. I’ll be with Bedelia and you’ll be with Jack. It’s only natural for him to want to get close to you to help his dad get your vote.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re not going to give it to him, though, are you?”
“No.”
“You feel that strong for Thurston?”
“Yes.”
“And the Chinese?”
“It’s not so much the Chinese,” said Matt as he took a tentative sip of the scalding coffee. “It’s just Thurston’s approach toward the Chinese and the way I think he’d handle the Russians.”
“How’s the ceasefire holding up? I haven’t read the paper or even seen the news in days.”
“General Yin has pushed forward his position in the Xinjiang Desert and this is causing General Tulevgin to move units down from the Mongolian front.”
“But no shots?”
“No shots—yet.”
“I voted for St. Clair.”
“I know you did. But you told me you just voted for him because he had business with Jonathan’s dad.”
“That’s true. I met the St. Clairs through Jonathan. I had a crush on Jack when I first met him. What woman wouldn’t? And his younger brother, Rafael, wow! What a hot man.”
“Right, the one in the Coast Guard.”
“Yeah—he’s a dreamboat, too, but in a different way. Jack’s all-American, rugged and solid. Rafael’s got that smoldering dark Latin lover look.”
“Come hither and take off all your clothes.”
“That’s the look he has, yes,” she laughed, tossing her tangled hair over her shoulder.
Matt lifted the breakfast tray from his lap and placed it beside him, rolling over on top of Patricia. He kissed her passionately, looking into her eyes and smiling.
“Let me tell you what you can do with the St. Clairs, my little sweetheart.”
“What?”
“As long as I’m around, you can forget all about them.”
She could feel Matt getting aroused.
“St. Clair who? I said éclairs? I’d love éclairs for dessert.”
* * *
Over in Tampa, Secret Service Agent Carlos Rodriguez had just helped ex-First Lady Lydia Pearson get settled in the back seat of her limo when he felt his phone vibrate.
“Thank you, Carlos,” said Mrs. Pearson. “You’re such a doll.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Pearson.”
He closed the door and went to the back-up Suburban where he waited by the front passenger seat door for the detail chief to give the all-clear to move out. They were taking Mrs. Pearson to Busch Gardens where she was to receive a philanthropic reward later that morning. He grabbed his cellphone and looked at it. Jack had returned his call. He had a couple of minutes before they moved out, so he called him back.
“Jack, my man!”
“Carlos. How’s everything?”
“Cool, Jack. I got a few days off over Christmas, so I’ll be heading over to Miami.”
“Then I’ll count on spending some time with you.”
“OK, great. Listen, Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“I thought I’d tell my mom I was coming in the day before Christmas instead of three days before. That way I could hang out with you guys up on St. Clair Island.”
Jack laughed.
“Now I know why they call it the ‘Secret’ Service. Sure thing. You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you like.”
Jack was sitting in the Game Room of his house when he hung up. His housekeeper Emilia Acevedo waddled in from the kitchen with a café con leche, her huge frame draped with a burgundy muumuu that did a pretty good job of covering up most of what Gargrave jokingly called “her substantialness.”
“Here’s is your café, Señor Jack.”
“Thanks, Emilia. Where’s Gargrave?”
“Right here, sir,” said Gargrave, coming in from the hall with a cup of his own coffee.
Jack waited until Emilia returned to the kitchen.
“That was Carlos. Wants to stay with us a couple of days before Christmas. Has some time off and wants to be up here rather than with his family.”
“Understandable. We know how jealous his mother
