Campaigning for Christopher Read Free Page B

have made him look like a player, which he wasn’t . . . anymore. He had purposely decided to defer his personal life during his campaign, consoling himself that once he won and his political career was well established, he’d have the time and latitude to meet the woman of his dreams, marry her, and start a family.
    For now, whether he liked it or not, whether he missed feminine company or not, he was married—lock, stock, and barrel—to his political ambitions.
    “Marrying Alex makes today best day of my life,” said Jessie with a beaming smile. She looked around the circle at each of her siblings in turn. “But you will always be the most amazing brothers a girl could ask for, and I love each one of you more than words can say.”
    Various mumbles of “Love you, too, Jess” were accompanied by more than one manly sniffle as the brothers stole glances at their little sister, the beautiful bride.
    “I’m so happy for Brooks and Pres, and . . .” She twisted her neck to look at Cameron beside her. “. . . and although I have to get used to you and Margaret being engaged, Flash Gordon, you look good together. Really good, Cam. Really happy.”
    “I am happy,” Cameron said softly, his eyes looking down, his voice infused with tenderness and wonder.
    And there it was again, in Christopher’s gut: that sharp knife that told him he wanted what his siblings had recently found—that he was impatient for it, that he hoped he could find it in tandem with his dreams sooner rather than later.
    “Which leads me to . . .” Jessica raised her eyes to Christopher as if she could read his mind, and he recoiled a little, leaving his arms around his brothers’ shoulders, but leaning back appreciably. He knew that look. Goddamn it, he knew that look. She wanted to meddle. “Chris. Lonely, lonely Chris.”
    Three shit-eating grins of pure delight focused on his face as Jessica narrowed her eyes, setting her sights on her next project.
    “I’m not in the market for forever right now, Jess.”
    “Right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Your campaign.”
    “I can’t afford to be seen with a woman— any woman—until after the election. There’d be too much speculation unless it was serious.”
    “And God forbid it be serious,” she quipped.
    This irritated him. “It’s not that I don’t want to find someone . . . eventually. The timing just isn’t right, well, right now.”
    “Fine. But the minute you win, I’m going to find you a . . .”
    Christopher released his brothers’ shoulders, held up his hands, and backed away from the circle of impending doom.
    But sometimes the universe laughs at our sensible intentions. And as he raised his head, Christopher Winslow, who’d met many gorgeous girls in his day, locked eyes with the hottest, sexiest, most stunning woman he’d ever seen.
    Christopher’s mother, Olivia, was fond of the word lovely . This woman wasn’t lovely. This woman blew pasty and placid lovely out of the water. With every step she took, she practically oozed sex. She was the full fucking package: tall and voluptuous, with skin the color of honey, eyes as black as her straight, long hair, and legs that were so long they should have been impossible. She had curves that would stop traffic, and she moved with this deliberate, unhurried sensuality, like she might just take all day if she wanted to, because, hell, she knew he’d still be waiting when she finally reached him.
    She didn’t look back to see the crowd part in her wake, or the way the men she passed adjusted themselves, their eyes popping out of their skulls as they scanned her delectable curves in dazed wonder. Her eyes stayed locked on Christopher’s with a cool intensity until she was standing before him in a black dress and white apron, holding out a tray with a single drink. His glance darted to it. Whiskey. Neat. His drink of choice.
    Stopping before him, her undulating hips finally still, she licked her lips and reached into