Disclaimers

Copyright: These characters originated in the deep dark recesses of Blayne and TN’s overworked brains. This is a work of original fiction. Any likeness to anything or anyone real is all in your imagination. We promise. Copyright © 2003 by Blayne Cooper and T. Novan. All Rights Reserved.

Sexual Content: It’s in there and it involves two women. If you’re under 18 or this type of fiction is illegal in your neck of the woods, please move on. This story is intended for an adult audience only. Please note that we’re not disclaiming love. If we didn’t truly believe it was what made the world go ‘round, we couldn’t spout the next three hundred plus pages of drivel and still live with ourselves. Please don’t prove us wrong and allow our F’s in earth science to be in vain.

Violence: None.

Language: Mild profanity.

Acknowledgements: We had a small army of beta readers giving us a hand with this. We are truly in their debt. Alison Carpenter, Barbara Davies, Medora MacD, Judith Kuwatch – your assistance was invaluable! They dedicated countless hours toward making First Lady a better story. If you’d seen the drafts that they saw, you’d know how wonderfully they succeeded and would fall on your knees to thank them. As it is, we proudly take this opportunity to say once again, and from the bottom of our hearts, thank you. To the many friends who offered encouragement, suggestions, and good advice — you continue to be appreciated. Finally, we would be remiss if we didn’t mention the many readers who stalked us relentlessly after reading Madam President. This story is for you.

Dedication: We’d like to offer an enormous "thank you" and even bigger "I love you" to our respective spouses. If it weren’t for their unyielding patience and support, most of our free time for the past year couldn’t have been shared with you through this project. We both know how very lucky we are.

The Book: Will there be or won’t there be? We hope there will. And yes, if we go that route, you will get new material not seen here. But don’t worry. This story is complete.

Comments/Feedback to: advocate8704@yahoo.com and Tnovan@aol.com . We’d love to hear what you thought.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the inordinately loud ticking of the wall-mounted clock.

Dr. Rothschild turned to the President, his mouth set in a grim line. "I’m afraid… well, there’s nothing more I can do, Madam President." He exhaled wearily. "I’m sorry."

Devlyn Marlowe crossed sweater-clad arms over her chest and lifted a single dark eyebrow at the sheepish, but still defiant, patient. "Are you happy now?"

A blonde head shook.

Dev’s gaze softened. "Honey, it won’t hurt." Her lips twitched a little but, with effort, she held her smile at bay. "Be my big girl and let the doctor do his job."

"Nuh huh."

Dev sighed. This was not the way she wanted to spend her Sunday morning, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "He’s the best in the business!"

"No." This said between clenched teeth, which was hard to do considering how woozy the patient was. "NONONONONONONONONO."

"When you’re finished you can have…" the doctor cast a desperate glance at his nurse, who was straightening the tray of instruments that hadn’t been touched yet.

She blinked a few times, realizing that he was actually addressing her. "Ummm… A balloon?"

There were three children in the room, but none of their eyes lit up like Aaron Marlowe’s.

"Not for you," his brother said, jabbing an elbow into Aaron’s mid-section.

As any self-respecting 5-year-old would do, Aaron kicked Christopher’s foot in retaliation.

"Ouch!"

"Boys." The warning in Dev’s voice was clear.

Ashley Marlowe, the oldest of the children, stepped forward and put a small hand on Lauren’s arm. "It’s only a filling." She didn’t have any of those. She didn’t even know anyone who did. But her mother had assured her it was common in the "olden days" and no big deal. "You can be brave. I know it."

Lauren Strayer, the President’s biographer and fiancée, smiled warmly at the dark-haired girl who so closely resembled her mother. Of course, the action caused a long string of drool to drip from the corner of her mouth. She couldn’t feel lips, gums, or most of her tongue, but that didn’t matter. Jesus Christ himself could step down from the mount, but if he held a dental drill in one hand Lauren was going to run in the opposite direction. That’s just the way it was. And no fancy dentist, with his high-tech laser equipment, was going to change that. Inwardly, she cursed her own fear, knowing that it had been more than a year since her last appointment and that she had probably made things worse for herself.

"Eww!" Christopher and Aaron chorused when they caught sight of the drool. Then they laughed and pointed.

Lauren shot Devlyn a look of pure ice for bringing the children along to her appointment.

Devlyn shrugged one shoulder, correctly interpreting the die-die-die look Lauren was giving her. "Sorry, I had to play dirty." Of course, she wasn’t sorry at all, but it sounded good. This was for Lauren’s own good, no matter how much her lover fought it. "I love you too much to let you become a toothless old hag." A beat. "Before your time."

"Why you—" Lauren began to sit up, intent on killing Devlyn then and there and thus delaying the replacement of an old filling for 20 to life, but Ashley blocked her way. The sudden movement caused Lauren’s small, wire-rimmed glasses to end up hanging crookedly from her face.

The nurse deftly plucked them off and set them on the tray alongside the instruments so they wouldn’t get broken, giving Lauren a reproachful look for being so much trouble.

Chuckling at Lauren, Devlyn jumped back a step, just in case she got a second wind.

Lauren closed her eyes in the hope that the room would stop spinning. She was allergic to the super-strength topical numbing agent applied for most dental work. That left her two choices: an old fashioned shot of novocaine or gas. She’d passed out cold the last time someone came close to her with a needle — so gas it was. "If I wasn’t so stoned, you’d be in deep trouble," she murmured.

"Fine. Fine." Devlyn lifted her hands in supplication. "I’m giving up."

The dentist, his nurse, Lauren, and the Secret Service agent standing unobtrusively in front of the window all gaped at Dev and said in unison, "You are?"

Dev nodded. Sorry, sweetheart. "I sure am. Go to it, kids."

Like von Trapp family clones, the children lined up by age and size and stood before Lauren, who broke into a rousing, drooling chorus of "Edelweiss" before they could even say a word.

Dev covered her mouth with her hand, but her shoulders still shook with silent laughter.

Realizing that nobody was singing but her and that the gas she’d been gulping down only moments before like there was no tomorrow was just a teensy bit more potent than the last stuff they’d had to special order her back home in Tennessee, Lauren quieted. Fair brows drew together. "Party poopers."

Ashley, the children’s spokesperson, looked at her future stepmother with serious brown eyes. "If you won’t go to the dentist and let him to his job, then how can you expect us to?"

Aaron and Christopher nodded their agreement.

Lauren gasped and pointed a shaking finger at Devlyn. "That’s… why that’s horrible! You trained them to say that," she accused, more drool leaking onto the blue paper bib around her neck.

"Did it work?" Dev asked.

Lauren looked back at the three little conspiring monsters before her, whom she loved with all her heart. Crap. She sighed and grumbled, "Yes, it worked."

The children cheered.

"But I need more gas." Lauren turned pleading eyes on Devlyn and the tall woman’s demeanor changed instantly, all traces of teasing vanishing before her next heartbeat. Lauren wasn’t joking; she was truly afraid.

Dev took a step closer to Dr. Rothschild and pinned him with a serious stare. "Can she have more and still be okay?"

"Define okay."

"Alive."

"She can have more."

This time it was Lauren who cheered, scaring the nurse so badly that she backed into the tray of instruments and sent them clattering to the floor. The woman mumbled something to Lauren, who mumbled something back, only twice as loudly.

Christopher looked at his mother in confusion. "Mom, what’s a Nazi?"

Dev shook her head. It was going to be a long morning.

***

Lauren sat in a pair of worn jeans and a sweatshirt in front of her computer. She stared intently at the wide, crystal clear screen. Finally, she sighed. "File close." She tapped her finger on the desk as she thought. "Open file name: Marlowe 2010-2015."

The sound was turned off, so, silently and dutifully, the small machine obeyed her voice commands.

Lauren found her place at the bottom of a plain text document and began to type, her fingers moving in a steady blur. But after only a few moments, her fingers paused over the keyboard. She frowned and took off her glasses to rub tired gray eyes. "Close file. Open story notes file: Marlowe." The screen before her flashed and changed. "Deactivate keyboard."

Gremlin, her chubby pug, recognized the command as his opportunity for some attention, since his own canine partner, Princess, was sleeping at the other end of the bed and paying him no mind whatsoever. He jumped down from his spot squarely in the center of Lauren’s tall bed and lazily walked to his mistress.

Lauren looked down at the animal with a small smile. She could see the gears in Gremlin’s head turning.

He looked up at her lap and the jump he’d have to make and then promptly dropped down on top of Lauren’s feet. "Slug," she said affectionately, reaching down to scratch Gremlin’s short, coarse fur. "Let’s see if I can remember how to use this fancy new machine Devlyn bought me for Christmas." She’d been resisting it over the past few weeks but knew if she put it off much longer it would hurt Dev’s feelings.

Gremlin let out a low growl at the mention of the President’s name.

Lauren snorted. "That’s what I love about you, Gremlin, consistency." She reached for a thick manual on her desk and quickly found the voice command she wanted. "Activate dictation."

Ready when you are… appeared at the top of her screen for several seconds, then disappeared.

Lauren nodded a little, obnoxiously pleased with herself for getting this far. She tossed the manual back on her desk and steepled her fingers. Then she began to pour her thoughts out into space and into her computer’s memory.

The hardest part of this story is not telling who Devlyn is. I know who she is. Or at least I know her better than anyone else on earth doing this job would. I’ve given up hope of really capturing her in a single book. But she’s easy to know and easier to love, and what I’ll be able to share will be enough for the outside world. But I can’t approach this story the way I have my other biographies. I’m not disinterested. I’m way over the top in love interested.

I’ve already deleted five times as much text as I’ve kept, especially when it comes to the "Marlowe For President: A Voice for the People" campaign. I feel like my being out of the country for most of her campaign is really hurting my ability to chronicle that part of her story. Sure, I can read the papers, interview people, and talk to Devlyn herself — but I didn’t "live" those last few years with the rest of America. I didn’t "feel" it like the rest of America did. Up to that point, and after that point, I’m fine. I think. Though putting her term or, God help me, two terms in office into some sort of historical perspective is going to be a challenge. Too many people are still walking around with their mouths hanging open, not believing that it happened at all… much less understanding how or why.

The first female president… that makes Devlyn the most powerful, and probably most famous, woman in American history. Sorry, Jackie and Marilyn. And I haven’t even touched on her being the first open lesbian to take a stand squarely in the center of the world political stage. Sure, there’ve been a lot of actresses and singers, but never a woman politician at anywhere near her level of success. Though I think of Canadian Prime Minister Martin Allaire coming out of the closet after his male lover died… what, eight or nine years ago? It wasn’t quite the same because he was already in office when he made the announcement, but it still paved the way.

Lauren sighed deeply.

A gentle knock on Lauren’s door interrupted her. She looked at the screen and nervously licked her lips, unsure of how to preserve her work. "Save file," she said, and SAVED flashed at the top before disappearing. She silently uttered a little prayer of thanks. "Close file. Activate screensaver."

"Coming," she called, hearing another knock at her door. She extracted her socked feet from beneath Gremlin’s warm belly, missing his warmth instantly as she jogged across the floor. Lauren opened the door to find a Secret Service agent standing there with a thick envelope in his hand.

"Ms. Strayer," he greeted her cordially.

Lauren smiled at him. His short, nearly military haircut, clean-shaven face and dark suit would have given away his job had the writer not known exactly who he was. "Hello, Jeff."

"I have something that came for you special delivery and something from the President as well."

Lauren took the large envelope, a little startled by its weight. The label read Starlight Publishing. Her brow creased. She wasn’t expecting a manuscript back.

"And these are from the President." The young man couldn’t suppress his grin when he reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out two Hershey Bars.

Lauren laughed but happily took the chocolate. "And was there a message with this important presidential delivery?"

"There was." Jeff blushed a little.

Lauren’s eyebrows jumped. "Well?"

"Umm… she umm… She said to tell you she was sorry for playing dirty." He peered down uncertainly at Lauren. "And that you’d know what she meant."

Lauren’s eyes narrowed as she remembered. "I most certainly do know what she meant. I was supposed to have an appointment to get my hair trimmed and somehow the driver, who I didn’t want in the first place, I might add, ended up taking me to the dentist! And then—"

"Ma’am?"

"Uh… yes."

"That’s more information than I really needed."

Lauren’s mouth clicked shut. She winced. "Oh. Sorry, Jeff." She squeezed his arm and her gaze softened. "I know I keep telling you and you keep ignoring me, but you can call me Lauren, you know. I’ve known you for nearly a year already."

"I know, Ms. Strayer. Thank you."

Lauren rolled her eyes. Why did she bother? "Thanks for the goodies."

Jeff bit his lower lip in a gesture that Lauren found oddly adolescent for a man with a fully loaded Glock .40 strapped to his side. "I’m supposed to report back to the President and tell her if she and the children are forgiven."

Lauren sucked in a surprised breath. "What is she talking about? The children never needed to be forgiven. Could you ask them if they’d like to come over to my room and…, I dunno, do kid things?"

"Yes, ma’am." He rocked back on his heels and decided to be bold. "And the President? Can she come over and play?"

Lauren laughed, thinking that his choice of words was perfect. "Of course, Jeff."

He looked relieved.

Lauren lifted her chin a little. "As soon as she comes and apologizes on her own."

The man couldn’t stop the wide grin that split his face.

Lauren blinked for a few seconds, surprised by his reaction, until realization dawned. "What time did you pick?"

Uh oh. "Pick? I’m not sure I understand, Ms. Strayer," he lied, glancing down at his wristwatch uncertainly.

"Uh huh." Lauren pursed her lips. "In the pool," she prodded, gesturing with one hand. "What time are Devlyn and I supposed to make up today and how much will you win if you’re right?"

Jeff’s face turned bright red. "Umm…"

"Don’t bullshit me, Jeff. I’ve had a recent dental experience. After the way Devlyn tricked me, killing you would be anticlimactic."

"I have 3:30 and I’ll win $75," he admitted sheepishly.

"Cheapsters," Lauren snorted. She’d made $240 the week before when she correctly selected the exact moment during Devlyn’s meeting with the Secretary of Defense when that little vein in the President’s forehead would pop out, signaling doom for whomever the tall woman was talking to.

Lauren checked her watch, then looked back up at Jeff. She wasn’t exactly mad at Dev, she decided, more like supremely annoyed. It was 2:45 p.m. "Give the children their message now, please. And you can tell Devlyn to stop by in about," she grinned and slapped Jeff on the back, "oh, 45 minutes or so. Dinner’s on me."

***

Dev tossed for the thousandth time; sleep, apparently, was not on her agenda for tonight. She rolled over to face Lauren’s side of the bed. It was cold and empty. A little sheepishly, she grabbed the pillow Lauren normally used and tried to connect with her absent partner. But her linens had been freshly changed and all she could detect was the faint scent of the fabric softener, which smelled good certainly, but not like her longed-for companion.

She sat up and then swung her feet over the edge of the bed, pushing them into her slippers as she reached for her robe. Sighing, she padded to the window and gazed out at the moon that hung low and full in the sky. "You’re pitiful, Marlowe." She closed her eyes and let her forehead rest gently against the cold glass, feeling foolish and lonely. "She’s only been gone for 10 days." And that meant four more until she’d be home.

Devlyn opened tired eyes and looked out at the gently falling snow. A thick blanket covered the ground, looking clean and pristine, and she smiled, thinking that her kids and Lauren would love to go out and make a snowman.

Dev wondered if she would go insane before the writer returned home from her business trip. She knew that Lauren couldn’t spend all her time in Washington. The younger woman needed to conduct interviews in Ohio and several other states before flying to New York to deal with her publisher. Still, Dev had hated to see her go and had felt a little unsettled since she’d been gone.

To need someone this much was as discomfiting as it was wonderful. Even when she and Samantha were married, the irresistible first Mrs. Marlowe could go on a trip, which she frequently did, and Dev had always managed just fine. Maybe it’s just because I’m older now. I get all sentimental. But somehow Devlyn knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

With Samantha, so much of Dev’s focus was on herself, her career, what she wanted, how she felt, the bright future that Sam and the children would share in. On many levels Dev realized that she’d been much more selfish with Samantha and that Lauren didn’t let her get away with any of that. This time they each had their own ambitions and expectations, and somehow Dev found herself much more comfortable with that. Despite her role as the most powerful person on the planet, she didn’t feel that she eclipsed Lauren. She had met her match and it was a relief.

That didn’t mean, however, that she liked being separated from her.

"Shit," Dev mumbled, pushing off from the window and returning to the bed. She yanked up her pillow and left her room, wandering down the hall to Lauren’s room in her pajamas. The Secret Service agents at each end of the hall pretended not to notice as a disheveled Dev quietly walked past the portraits of previous presidents and an antique settee.

Trying the knob on Lauren’s apartment, she found it unlocked. No matter how much she’d prodded, Lauren had insisted on keeping her own separate quarters. It had been controversial when Lauren moved into the White House to observe the President for her work on Dev’s biography. Now, however, the press was having a field day over the two women living in the same house — a house owned by the taxpayers — while being engaged. Lauren had insisted on not adding fuel to the fire by officially moving into the Presidential living quarters, though Devlyn suspected that Lauren’s motives for wanting her own space were far simpler than that. Life with a boisterous family, for someone who was generally a quiet, independent person, was still a lot to take; even after a year at the White House, Lauren needed her privacy.

Devlyn stepped inside the large room. It was mostly dark, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bluish light streaming through the window. She took a deep, comforting breath. The room held traces of Lauren’s perfume. Her gaze flicked under the bed. She waited to hear a familiar growl before she remembered that Gremlin and his lady love, Princess, a prize Pomeranian that Devlyn inherited from her mother when the show dog was knocked up by the randy Gremlin, were sleeping with the children while Lauren was away.

Dev ambled across the floor and pushed off her slippers as she crawled into bed, snuggling up to Lauren’s pillow and tossing her own to the side. "Yup. Pitiful," she murmured, letting the familiar scents wash over her. "Ahhh… Much better." She closed her eyes to give her exhausted brain some much-needed rest.

It was bad enough that Lauren was out of town and Dev felt like a spoiled child denied her favorite toy, but the State of the Union address was only a few days away, and the President was, as her father would say, "As nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs." Because there was no way to deliver a realistic address only a few weeks after taking office, she had dispensed with the State of the Union address in her inaugural year, as many presidents before her had done.

But this year the address was not only expected, it had been in the planning stages since late November. In just a few days she would take that walk into the Capitol, where both houses and the nation would wait to hear what she had to say. She almost wished that President Wilson hadn’t revived the practice of the president actually delivering the speech and that she could use Thomas Jefferson’s method of having clerks read it to both houses independently. Then she wished she had back the time that she had wasted learning tidbits of information that were better suited for Trivial Pursuit than real life. A wry smile curled her lips. At least I usually win.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done this sort of thing before. Every year she had delivered the State of the State address to the citizens of Ohio. But as Governor she wasn’t standing before the entire world when she spoke. And she’d never, ever, had a year like she’d just had.

There had been a bombing of civilian targets by a violent anti-government militia. Dev’s move to quash the group had been bold and decisive, but not without loss of life. And, in her mind at least, it had not been one of her shining moments.

There had been an assassination attempt that had very nearly claimed her life and was still the source of sporadic nightmares and physical pain. If it weren’t for the support of her closest friend and political ally, her chief of staff David McMillian, and Lauren, Dev wasn’t sure she would have made it through the months of rehabilitation, both mental and physical.

Then there was the on-again-off-again turmoil that surrounded Lauren’s presence in her life. Her own party had nearly deserted her when her business relationship with Lauren had deepened and turned decidedly romantic. Lauren, however, wasn’t ready to quit as Dev’s biographer and Starlight Publishing had saved the day by buying out the party’s contract for Lauren’s services. Now, she was trying to juggle a new relationship and three children, while running a nation. God, no wonder I’m tired.

Dev’s first year in office had been a roller coaster, and there were days when she felt like she was going to be thrown from her seat. President Truman had said, "Being president is like riding a tiger," and Dev couldn’t agree more. She made sure to count her fingers every night to see that none had been bitten off.

It was no wonder that the dream started the way it did…

Dev was in her office pouring over the speech she was about to give. David was pacing nervously around her office, while various aides made sure she knew exactly what points needed to be stressed and which should be glossed over.

"Would you sit down?" Dev growled in David’s direction. "You’re making me a nervous wreck."

The tall, red-haired man grumbled and took a seat. He began chewing at his thick mustache in a way that Devlyn usually found endearing. At the moment, however, it was just plain annoying. When Dev looked closer, she realized he was also wearing a feather boa and a ridiculous hat. "I don’t care if they are in style, David. Get rid of it; you look hideous."

The scene shifted; suddenly she was standing in the Capitol, outside the massive doors, waiting for the Sergeant at Arms to make the formal announcement of her arrival. Dev twitched at her skirt, wishing she’d selected a pair of trousers instead. As she stared at the doors, a small panel slid open and a very mischievous set of green eyes stared at her before asking, "Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"

"What?" Dev felt the panic rising in her chest.

The voice was impatient. "Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"

"Umm…" Dev stood dumbstruck, trying to figure out how to answer this question. "Depends on what day it is and if I’m PMSing," she finally said, taking a step forward. She was late; she didn’t have time for this nonsense. "Now, let me in."

"Bad witch," the voice squeaked as the panel slammed shut and the eyes disappeared.

Dev looked around the hallway where she was waiting; it was empty, except for small wind-up monkeys, which skittered around the polished marble floor as they played their cymbals and drums. She tried to shake the vision, but they only got bigger as they came at her. Just as she felt she was about to be attacked by the mechanical monsters, the doors flew open and she stumbled into a room full of laughing people. People laughing at her.

"Aw, shit," she muttered as she fought to maintain her balance. "This is my worst nightmare."

Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that indeed this was a nightmare, and she watched with fascination as face after face in her dream shifted and changed, morphing into an entirely new person each time. They were all there — everyone who had ever meant anything to her. Her parents, her children, Lauren, her staff, everyone. Very soon they all became a blur and the room felt like it was spinning out of control. Colors flashed as the spinning got worse and voices blurred into a single white noise that nearly drove Dev to her knees.

Suddenly, the spinning stopped and there was but a single, hauntingly familiar voice. "Dev?"

The tall woman spun around to find Samantha standing a few feet away wearing a beautiful, flowing gown made of white silk. She was an angel, and the sight of her brought tears to Dev’s eyes.

Her throat felt dry and her tongue heavy. "Samantha?" She took a hesitant step forward.

"Why, Dev?" Samantha’s eyes held the bewilderment of a child, but her warm voice was all woman.

"Why what?" Dev tried to step closer to the radiant vision of her deceased wife, but her feet felt as though they were encased in cement.

"Why are you leaving me?"

A sudden stabbing pain in Dev’s chest made it hard to breathe. "I’m not leaving you. I love you."

"Then why are you marrying her?" Samantha pointed and Dev looked over her own shoulder to find Lauren standing behind her.

Lauren was wearing a pair of faded jeans, no shoes or socks, and a soft white cotton shirt. Her wavy, shoulder-length hair was slightly mussed from running her fingers through it, and she had a pencil tucked above her ear — the way she did when she was working. She smiled gently at Dev, the action creasing the skin around her eyes and making Dev’s heart feel as though it might burst.

"Dev?" Samantha’s smooth voice prodded.

"I- I- I…" Dev sputtered and shook her head, trying to clear it. She didn’t know what to say. She told herself this was just a dream, then watched with a slightly open mouth as Samantha floated over to Lauren and hovered next to her. The two loves of her life stood very close to each other, but not touching. Dev looked for it, but couldn’t see any animosity between them.

"It’s all right, Devlyn," Lauren drawled gently. Her eyes shone with understanding and love. "No matter what, you can tell us the truth."

Dev nodded and shifted her attention to Samantha. "No matter how much I love you… loved you… you’re gone, Sam." Her smile was bittersweet. "I’m marrying Lauren because I need to get on with my life and because I love her. She’s my future."

The words were still hanging in the air when Lauren vanished into thin air and Samantha began to morph into Louis Henry, the teenage boy who had tried to assassinate her. Dev watched in horror as he raised his gun and pointed it at her head. Her heart leapt into her throat. She tried to move, but her feet were still rooted firmly to the ground. The sounds of gunshots exploded in her head, so loudly they hurt. Her hand flew to her ears, and then the scene changed again.

Dev was now standing before the joint session of Congress. The expectant, somewhat impatient look on everyone’s face made it clear she had been saying something, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what. She glanced around the huge gallery and felt a cold sweat across her upper lip. Her pulse began to thump wildly in her ears as the moment stretched on endlessly. Finally, in a near panic, she shouted, "I quit!"

Dev shot up in bed. She was twisted in the sweaty covers and breathing hard. She knew instantly that she’d been dreaming. "Jesus Christ on a crutch." After a moment of carefully sorting through the mental jumble, she was able to sigh in relief and even smile a little ruefully. "I’m cracking up."

She started to settle back into Lauren’s bed when she realized she wasn’t alone. Glancing behind her, she found that Aaron had found his way there, too. She smiled and lay back next to her son, who curled up against his mother without ever waking. Guess I’m not the only one missing Lauren.

It was close to 4 a.m. when Lauren opened the door to her room, carrying her computer case and a small travel bag. Closing the door behind her, she was just about to flip on the light when she saw several lumps in her bed. She nearly screamed, but one lump in particular looked familiar. Setting down her luggage, she carefully crossed the room.

Devlyn, Christopher, and Aaron were practically lying in a pile on her bed, with Dev on the bottom. Ashley was resting crossways along the headboard with one leg on Christopher’s head and her arm on Aaron’s head. The 8-year-old was in her pink footie-pajamas and snoring nearly as loudly as Devlyn.

The Marlowes’ sleeping arrangements reminded Lauren of the puglies, Gremlin’s half-pugs, all of them such ugly puppies that Dev had cleverly given them away as "gifts" to her ex-friends and staff. But instead of a pile of canines, they were a pile of people, their limbs braided together and contorted bodies twisted around each other. Lauren questioned briefly how Chris could breathe with his sister’s leg draped over his face.

A smile worked its way across her face as she took in the scene. She marveled for the millionth time how she had lucked across an entire family who loved her. A little guiltily she realized that it had been two days since she’d called Devlyn, but far longer than that since she’d talked to any of the kids. Before the Marlowe children she’d never given parenthood a second thought. Then, without her knowing quite how, they’d wormed their way into her heart to stay. Only she wasn’t as good at showing that yet as she wanted to be. She would work to change that, she promised herself. They deserved that. No more trips this long, not alone at least. My publisher and everyone else can just go to hell.

Lauren stripped off her coat and clothes, slipping into a pair of thick sweat pants and a well-worn University of Tennessee T-shirt. She yawned and looked longingly at her bed. It was king-sized, but everyone was lying at such odd angles she didn’t see a spot where she could fit in. Suddenly, she caught a glint of light as it reflected off Dev’s eyes. Damn, she’s beautiful, Lauren’s mind whispered, everything else forgotten for a moment.

"You’re home early." Dev’s voice was rough with sleep.

Lauren walked around to where her lover was lying and pushed back a shock of dark hair to kiss her on the forehead, then she moved down and brushed her lips against Devlyn’s, humming into the sweet but brief contact. "I was missing you guys like crazy," she whispered. "After the first few days I realized I was a hopeless case so I worked extra long so I could finish early. I didn’t want to say anything in case I couldn’t pull it off." She gazed down fondly at Dev and quietly said, "I’m sorry."

"S’okay…" Dev replied. She rolled over and pushed Christopher, and before Lauren’s eyes the pile of children shifted dramatically, but no one woke up. Dev opened her arms and Lauren eagerly fitted herself into the space that had been created just for her.

When their bodies touched, both women sighed.

"I’m so happy to be home," Lauren said quietly, her eyes already closing. "I missed you all."

"Not me," Dev answered, feeling Lauren’s lips curl into a smile against the sensitive skin of her neck. "I didn’t miss you at all. Same with the kids. We hardly knew you were gone."

"I can see that," Lauren chuckled weakly, Dev’s words barely penetrating her tired brain.

"Welcome home, sweetheart."

But a warm puff of air and Lauren’s gentle snore were Dev’s only answer.

***

Dev sat behind her desk in the Oval Office while Lauren was perched on one of the room’s two couches. The television news, with the sound so low it could barely be made out, was playing in the background, and the three-dimensional image of an anchorman hovered near the door. They had already had their first two meetings, and now the women were enjoying a quiet breakfast together. Almost. The food had been delivered a half-hour ago and was still sitting untouched on the table while both women worked in their respective spots, Lauren compiling notes on what she’d observed and Devlyn reviewing several documents from the Secretary of Homeland Defense.

The smell of bacon was finally too much for Lauren to ignore. She set down the hand-held computer as she contemplated what she could safely eat considering she’d stopped working out with Devlyn in the mornings several weeks ago. The answer was nothing, so she promptly disregarded that conclusion and thought about something else. "Devlyn, your mother is going to kill us for foisting the wedding plans on her."

"My mother will love it." Dev signed her name again, wishing she had taken David up on his offer to get her a stamp for the less important documents. But no, she had to be a "President of the People" who signed every scrap of paper that came across her desk. I think David only listens to me on things like this to torture me. He knows he knows best! "By the way, after we get married you get to sign off on all the kids’ report cards."

Lauren stared at Dev. "What?"

"Never mind." She signed her name for the last time and stood up, taking a deep breath. "Come on, sweetheart, let’s eat. I’m starved and I’ve got another meeting in less than a half hour."

Lauren joined Devlyn at the serving table. Once the coffee was poured and they were both back on one of the sofas, Dev gave the voice command to increase the volume of the newscast. "Ooo, look who’s getting a spot on the news." She gestured as Lauren’s face appeared above the coat rack.

"Terrific," Lauren mumbled around a mouthful of eggs. "I saw them when I ran into Geoffrey yesterday." Her expression darkened. "Assholes." Her short relationship with the media had already been a stormy one. "I should have figured a camera was on me."

"You can never safely pick your nose again."

"I would never!" She laughed, and then she winked. "At least in public. But the Republican Party Chairman doesn’t let the cameras stop him."

"Why do you think I avoid shaking his hand?"

The television picture shifted to a shot of Lauren walking alongside the Vice President.

"You need to get him out more, Devlyn. Half of America doesn’t even believe that Vice President Geoffrey Vincent actually exists. Late night television is saying he’s really just a good looking blowup doll."

Dev burst out laughing. "Brenda must love that one. Rubber-hubby."

Lauren chuckled, but sobered quickly, thinking of why exactly Geoff had to move around so much. The thought of the assassination attempt on Devlyn usually made her physically ill.

Dev patted her hand but didn’t say anything.

A still shot of Lauren appeared over the anchorman’s right shoulder.

"Presidential fiancée Lauren Strayer’s decision to primarily take public rather than government transportation has been called ‘insane’ by security specialists and ‘incredible’ by the public.

"White House pollsters are smiling over Ms. Strayer’s recent jump in popularity. It seems her refusal to strictly adhere to White House protocol has endeared her to working-class America as well as young voters."

"Television off." The image disappeared. "Well, well," Dev teased Lauren, nudging her with her elbow. "They didn’t mention you living here in sin with me. Will wonders never cease? Keep it up and they’ll give you my job."

"As if I’d want your job. Trailing around after you all day is exhausting enough. Being you would kill me. Besides, then I’d technically be sleeping with myself and doing things to myself that would make me go blind or grow hair on my palms. And I’m just not up for that. I’ll keep my job, thanks."

Dev hastily swallowed her mouthful of coffee so she wouldn’t lose it laughing. "Chicken."

Lauren waved her fork at Dev. "Where do you think these eggs came from?"

Dev smiled just as she heard a single knock on her inner office door, and David entered. His gaze stopped on Lauren and his feet ground to a halt. "Oh, I’m sorry, Lauren. I didn’t know you’d be here. I thought you were out of town."

"Got back early." She gestured to the couch across from where she and Dev were sitting. "Come have some coffee with us. How’s Beth?"

He made a face and loosened his tie. "Mad at me for something, and I can’t figure out what." He handed Devlyn a stack of papers before pouring a cup of steaming coffee and sitting down with a groan. "Did you know I’m as dumb as a bag of dirt?"

"I’ve always suspected," Dev answered as she looked at the papers. "What’s this?"

"Your speech for the Steel Workers of America. You’re going to Detroit today."

She looked at Lauren and shrugged. "I am?"

"You are."

"And when was this decided?"

"Last week."

"Shit." She tossed the papers onto the coffee table. "I tell ya, if Liza doesn’t get off vacation soon I’m going to lose my mind. That temp who is taking her place is worthless."

David frowned. "Why didn’t you say anything? Do you want me to get you another one?"

Lauren gave Dev a knowing look as she spoke to David. "Don’t bother. If it’s not Liza she still won’t be happy."

"Gotcha." David nodded. "Sorry, Chief, but Detroit it is. You leave at 11:30, but should be home before your munchkins are in bed."

"Great." Dev looked at Lauren with round, innocent eyes. "I guess you get to call Mom by yourself."

Lauren’s jaw dropped. "Devlyn!"

Dev lifted her hand. "Honey, what can I do? She’s insisting on this call and I’m going to be in Detroit. I asked the temp to clear my schedule for the call, but clearly she missed it somehow." Dark eyebrows drew together in consternation. "You know, I don’t think my mom likes talking about the wedding with Michael Oaks." More than once Devlyn had considered firing her personal aide, turned social secretary, because of his poor people skills. But he was good at what he did and had proven himself time and again, earning her trust, if not her friendship.

"Can you blame her?" Lauren glared at David. "You did this just to get her out of this phone call, didn’t you?"

David blinked slowly. "Would I do something like that?"

Lauren tapped her coffee mug with her fingernail impatiently. "Yes."

"Okay, I would. But this time, I didn’t. It’s been on her tentative schedule for a couple of weeks."

Lauren shot them both looks that sent shivers down their spines. "I hate you both."

"Then solve the problem by telling Mom we’re eloping." Dev chuckled as she buttered her toast.

"I’d elope with you in a heartbeat, Devlyn," Lauren shot back. "But there is no way on God’s green earth that I am telling Janet Marlowe that. You’ve heard the Princess Diana speech, haven’t you?"

Dev rolled her eyes. Had she?

"How she watched it on television in the wee hours of the morning, entranced. The dress, the pageantry… blah… blah… blah."

David grunted in a gesture that Devlyn figured was as close to sympathy as she was going to get from her dear friend. Beth’s mother had talked Beth into powder blue tuxedos for his wedding. The memory of those ruffled sleeves still made him slightly ill. "Thanks for the coffee." He stood up. "I’ll see you later."

"Thanks so much, buddy." Dev threw a wadded-up napkin at her friend as he fled her office. Then she took Lauren’s hand. "I’m sorry you have to do this alone. Mom’s probably peeved that we haven’t talked to her about any of the details yet." There was no "probably" about it. Dev’s father had warned her a few days ago.

"We don’t know any!"

"I know that," Dev replied reasonably. "And you know that. Now you just have to tell my mother that. What can I do to make it up to you?"

Lauren sighed as she looked into guilt-ridden eyes. "I’m sorry. I guess your job makes it impossible to make this small and simple, huh?" It was a rhetorical question, but Dev nodded anyway.

Lauren melted under Dev’s gaze. "You’re lucky I’m so in love with you."

Dev smiled, recognizing Lauren’s surrender. "I know."

"I’ll try to be more understanding. And I’ll call your mom this afternoon as planned, don’t worry."

"Thank you," she said sincerely, knowing that Janet loved Lauren completely and that the younger woman would be subject to far less grief than she herself would.

"But if you want to bring me back a present from Detroit, I won’t complain."

"Sure. I can probably get a Chevy in my suitcase." Devlyn leaned forward and kissed Lauren.

"Devlyn?" she muttered against soft lips.

"Mmm?" Dev kissed her again.

"Make it a red ‘Vette."

***

Lauren looked at the phone on her desk, contemplating the device as she held her head between her hands. Finally she sighed, "Call Janet Marlowe."

The phone rang three times and then Janet’s hologram appeared. "Hello, sweetheart." She smiled fondly, the motion creasing the skin around her mouth and eyes. "How is my favorite daughter-in-law-to-be today?"

Lauren’s smile was wan. "Well, I’m here." She paused, not wanting to deliver the news, but seeing no way around it. "Which is more than I can say for that good for nothing Devlyn."

Janet glanced around with narrowed eyes. "Lord help me. That girl will be the death of me yet! What has Devil done now? Do I need to come over there?"

Lauren laughed. The image of the President’s mother storming into the White House with a wooden spoon in her hand, ready to strike, was an image she wouldn’t soon forget. If there were one person in the world that could do it, it would be Janet Marlowe. "No, you don’t need to come over. Devlyn had to go to Detroit today. That’s why she’s not here."

Janet frowned at the look on Lauren’s face. "We’ll manage without her, dear. How much help do you think she was really going to be anyway? And when she ends up wearing a light pink ‘poofy’ dress she won’t be able to say a single word about it. Not one."

Janet grinned and Lauren’s eyes widened a little. It was an evil little grin that reminded her very much of someone she loved. Oh, boy.

"I’m assuming we have a date to work with." It wasn’t really a question, but Janet’s tone was more gently prodding than angry.

"That’s the good news."

Janet waited, but Lauren just looked at her, not saying another word. After a few oddly silent moments Janet said, "Um, dear, usually when someone says there’s good news, that means there’s bad news to go along with it."

"That is the way it usually goes, isn’t it?" Lauren chewed on her lower lip and girded her mental loins. "The bad news is that we only have six months to put the wedding together. But with Devlyn’s schedule it’s the only good time. I swear," she blurted out. Six months sounded like plenty of time to her, but Michael Oaks had nearly had a stroke when she told him the date they’d selected. She chuckled inwardly, admitting that that part had been sort of fun.

Janet snorted. "Don’t worry about that. I’ve already gotten calls from every wedding planner on the planet. All we need to do is decide which one to use. Then I’ll have a little more help," her blue eyes twinkled, "and I won’t have to hurt you and Devlyn, who I just know are going to try and leave all the details to me."

She’s not angry. Thank God. Lauren felt relief course through her body. "I love you," she heard herself say. It was as though the words were coming from someone else’s mouth, but as soon as she heard them, she knew they were true. Wow.

Dev’s mother laughed softly and smiled. "I know, honey. I love you, too. Don’t you worry about a thing; these things have a way of working out." Or not. "Are you going to be home next week so I can come visit and get the ball rolling?"

Lauren’s eyes brightened. "Absolutely. Devlyn will be in and out, but we might be able to corner her for 10 or 15 minutes."

Janet nodded smartly, the motion bouncing her thick salt and pepper-colored hair. "I’ll make all the arrangements and see you next week." She gazed intently at the younger woman. "Lauren, I mean it when I say you shouldn’t worry. I know people are making a terrible fuss, and I’m one of them. But things will be all right. You’ll see."

Lauren felt a lump develop in her throat. "Thanks, Janet. "I wonder if Devlyn knows how lucky she truly is."

"Of course not!" Janet scoffed. "But don’t worry, honey." She winked at Lauren. "I’m not above reminding her."

***

Dev sat in the padded lounge chair, watching indulgently as David and Christopher did their best to fend off the splashing of Beth, Ashley, and Aaron. It was a losing battle, but they were having a great time so that’s all that mattered. She glanced over at Lauren, who was sitting near the back wall of the pool area, on the videophone with Wayne, her New York publishing agent. Dev could tell by Lauren’s jerky hand motions and her frequent frowns that something was going on with one of her books. She hoped it wasn’t the biography.

She’s been under too much stress lately, Dev worried silently. Ever since they announced their engagement, the press had been unrelenting, hounding her for interviews, stalking her for photos. This is supposed to be her home, not a trussed-up prison. Tiny lines of tension around Dev’s eyes eased a little when Lauren laughed heartily at something Wayne said, the sweet sound carrying over the children’s squeals of delight.

On Dev’s swimsuit-covered belly sat a stack of papers Liza had given her to review before tomorrow’s 7:30 a.m. meetings with 11 Emancipation Party Governors, who were in Washington for several rounds of party meetings that would last the entire weekend. Today was also David’s birthday. They hadn’t had time to celebrate last year, when the haze of confusion that surrounded her taking office put every other part of their lives on hold for a while. This year, however, she was bound and determined to do something to mark the occasion. And a family swim was just what the doctor ordered.

Gremlin was sitting in his own lounge chair, watching the pool festivities and wearing a pair of sunglasses that Ashley had slipped onto his face. The ugly, white dog with black face and ears was as happy as could be, occasionally turning to Devlyn and giving her a short growl, before turning back to people he apparently preferred. The President found the sight as ridiculous as she did disconcerting. She half-expected the disobedient beast to demand a margarita to go with the bowl of doggy biscuits Christopher had placed within handy reach of the mutt.

A BBQ in the dead of winter, consisting of burgers, hot dogs and grilled chicken breasts, and salads with all the fixings, had been served up buffet style and Lauren, the Marlowes and the McMillians all had slightly bloated bellies as a testament to their appreciation of the feast. The children were running and splashing and screaming. Dev herself felt like rolling over and taking a nap, and she wondered for the hundredth time what it was about food that revved her children up as if they were on speed.

She used the pen in her hand to scratch her temple as she forced herself to at least try and scan the papers in her hands. Only a year ago you were a governor yourself, Dev. Take this seriously. Then, Ashley executed a perfect cannonball into the pool and Dev sighed. Or else get up two hours early and do it then. Decision made, she tucked her papers under her lounge chair and leaned forward, intent on trying her own cannon ball. She was sure she’d be a little rusty, but either way, she was bound to make a helluva splash.

As she passed by the far door, she heard a knock. Dev pulled open the door to see Emma standing there, a stack of towels in hand. "What took you so long, Emma? David and Lauren nearly cleared out all the hot dogs."

"I’m crushed," Emma said flatly, though her hazel eyes twinkled.

"I knew you would be." Dev’s gaze strayed down to the stout woman’s dress. "Where’s your suit?"

Emma smacked Dev’s arm. "You know good and well this body is not going to be seen in a bathing suit."

"Aww… Emma." She lowered her voice. "Beth hardly has a perfect figure and she’s in the pool right now."

Emma glanced at Beth, who had Ashley riding on her shoulders. The George Washington University professor was big-boned and wide-hipped to begin with and on top of that enjoyed good food and better beer. She waded through the water, oblivious to the 35 pounds she needed to lose to look truly good in a swimsuit. Emma crossed her arms over her ample chest. "That’s all well and good. But I’m not a young woman, Devlyn Marlowe."

Dev’s eyebrows jumped. She turned her head and cupped her hands around her mouth to yell, "Hey, Beth. Emma says you’re a young woman."

Beth stopped her path through the shallow end and gave Emma a beaming smile. "Thanks!" she exclaimed happily. "Seems I’m the only one of the women here who could be torn away from work long enough to play. Are you going to fix that, Emma?"

"Not in this lifetime," Emma answered easily, taking a seat in Dev’s chair. Emma gestured to the children, who were laughing and carrying on with David and Beth in the pool.

Beth shook her head, nearly sending Ashley toppling into the water. "Go get your woman off that darn phone, Dev. It’s Friday night, for God’s sake."

"Yeah, yeah. I’m going," Dev muttered absently as she indicated that Emma should take her chair. "She gets another five minutes." This said loud enough so that Lauren could hear her. The younger woman nodded and winked at Dev, telling her silently that she was nearly finished.

Emma plopped down with a groan and gave serious thought to taking her shoes off and showing her feet off to the world. "Everyone will be properly worn out tonight."

Christopher and Aaron jumped out of the pool and grabbed a pair of super-soaker squirt guns. Then they jumped back in right next to David, drenching him from both sides.

Dev smiled fondly at her boys. "No doubt. They’ve been romping for the last hour."

"I was talking about David and Beth," Emma clarified with a grin.

"Oh. Them too."

David climbed out of the pool and haphazardly ran a towel over his body before dripping his way over to Dev and Emma. He was panting, and his ruddy skin had taken on a reddish glow. "Do those kids ever quit?" He scrubbed his thick rusty-colored hair with the end of his towel.

"No." Dev shook her head in wonder. "They’ve got more energy than all of us combined." She reached out and patted her friend’s arm, waiting for him to make eye contact before saying, "Happy birthday, David."

David gave her a genuine smile, then a hug, as much to get her wet as to show his affection. "Thanks, Devil. It’s nice to spend it with you guys. Beth is taking me out later, but this… well, this is great." He shook his head at the sparkling water. "I can’t believe we haven’t done this before."

"No kidding," Dev agreed wistfully. Living in the White House was a lot like living in Disney World, but never having time go on all the really cool rides. The children enjoyed the magnificent living quarters far more than she did.

David used the towel on his ears. "Are you sure the office won’t explode without us?"

"No, but when it explodes they’ll just rebuild and there’ll be twice as much work on Monday."

David groaned. "No kidding. Have I—?" Then he paused, distracted by Lauren’s frustrated voice.

"I don’t care!" Lauren said, clearly back in the middle of something with Wayne. "They can’t do that, can they?"

David gestured to Lauren with his chin, a crease forming on his forehead. "What’s up with her?"

Dev kicked off her shoes and adjusted the straps of her suit. "I’m not sure. But whatever it is, it’s not good."

"If the papers would give the poor girl a break, she’d be all right," Emma sympathized with a sigh. "She hasn’t been out of the house all week."

"Excuse me for a second," Dev gave David a parting pat. "I’m going to go make sure she’s okay."

Dev could hear Wayne promising that "He’d try" and then Lauren ended the call. The smaller woman met Dev half way and, without warning, flung herself into Dev’s waiting arms.

"Whoa," Dev squeaked, glad that she was standing on one of the few dry spots left.

"Stop the world." Lauren buried her face in Devlyn’s neck. "I want to get off." Long arms tightened around her and she let out a sigh of pure relief, sinking into Devlyn’s warm body.

"Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart." Dev pressed her lips to Lauren’s hair, breathing in the light scent of her shampoo.

Lauren whimpered. "The very first book I wrote was when I was young and incredibly stupid."

Dev drew in a breath to speak.

"Not a word," Lauren warned, giving Dev’s throat a playful bite and feeling the body pressed tightly to hers shake with silent laughter. "I was still in college and I signed a rotten contract with a small publisher and I pretty much forgot all about it after the book didn’t sell well."

Dev frowned. "You’re unhappy about poor book sales 10 years after the fact?"

"Nuh uh." Lauren shook her head. "My old publisher contacted Wayne, looking for an address for Lauren Gallagher." It was the pen name Lauren used for her fiction and, thus far, Wayne had been successful in hiding the link between Lauren Gallagher, reclusive, moderately successful fiction writer, and Lauren Strayer, respected biographer. "Seems my old publisher has sold my story to a movie studio."

"That’s great!" Dev grabbed Lauren by the shoulders and took a step backward to examine her face. She winced at the dour expression that met her. "Or not."

"It’s… well…" Lauren’s face turned bright red and suddenly she couldn’t meet Dev’s gaze.

Dev blinked. "C’mon, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad," she lied.

Lauren closed her eyes and exhaled. "The movie company that bought the book is known for its… well… for producing," she lowered her voice, "adult films."

Dev’s eyes widened. "Porn?" she blurted out loudly.

"Shhh! Jesus." Lauren looked around self-consciously as Dev burst out laughing.

"Oh, God. You’re kidding?"

Lauren’s eyes flew open, then turned to dangerous slits. "Do I look like I'm kidding, Madam President?" And with a stiff push, she sent Devlyn careening backwards into the pool.

Dev shot up out of the water sputtering and coughing. "Puh. Bah." She spat out a mouthful of water.

"Do it again! Do it again!" Aaron cried gleefully, thinking he’d never seen anything so wonderful as his mother soaking wet and her hair hanging over her eyes.

Dev thrust her chin into the air and arched a slender black eyebrow at Lauren, who returned the challenging gesture, placing her hands on her hips for good measure. She stuck her hand out to Christopher. "Weapon." The boy dutifully handed his mother his squirt gun.

Ashley sloshed over to the edge, plucked Aaron’s gun from his hands, and tossed it up to Lauren. "I’m on your team!" she yelled.

"Hey!" Aaron, complained, shooting his big sister an evil glare.

"Me too," Beth chorused, scurrying to put herself as far away from Devlyn as possible.

Aaron pulled his chubby body out of the pool and ran over to the bucket containing their arsenal to hunt for another weapon. "I’m with Mom!" The boy pulled out an enormous squirt gun with an empty tank nearly the size of his head. He fumbled with the big gun, his wet hands slipping on the plastic handle. "Will you help me fill it, Lauren?"

Lauren looked at Dev and smiled lovingly, her eyes glittering with happiness. Then she turned her attention back to Aaron. "Sure, honey." She called time, took off her glasses and set them on a stack of fluffy, turquoise beach towels, then scooted over to fill her and Aaron’s guns, while those who weren’t packing heat scrambled to the bucket to remedy that problem. Even Emma joined in. She knew better than to be caught empty-handed when battle lust took over the Marlowes and company.

In the age of biological, chemical, and nuclear weapons, a war to the death raged inside the White House. Only this one was filled with laughter, the occasional sloppy kiss when someone was captured by the opposing team, and chlorinated water.

Beth McMillian shifted from one foot to the other as she peered around Lauren to see what she was looking at. "Dev would go bananas if she knew we were doing this," she murmured as she waved away a sales clerk.

Lauren nodded absently as she lifted a silk robe from the rack and examined it with a discerning eye. She was ignoring the cloying, nearly overpowering scent of perfume from the counter nearby, determined not to let the budding headache she was developing from the combinations of odors ruin her time.

She and ex-husband Judd had stopped exchanging Valentine’s Day gifts after they’d married. Judd had informed her seriously that he didn’t need a made-up holiday to tell her he loved her or to buy her a gift. He wouldn’t have married her if he didn’t love her. So why should Hallmark put him on a schedule? And she’d readily agreed, mostly because she found herself with little interest in picking anything out for him.

The mixture of butterflies and anticipation that was brewing in Lauren’s belly for Valentine’s Day made it crystal clear to her that she and Judd had been full of shit.

What color? The holiday calls for red, I think. But…

"Ooo… Nice." Lauren spied another robe pulled it off the hanger, fingering the cool silk with her fingers. With those gorgeous eyes, how can I pass up blue?

"Lauren?"

"Hmm…" Black is nice too. This robe will be short on her and that color against her skin would look so… She swallowed. Oh, my.

Beth put her hands on her ample hips. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes." Lauren nodded, but her attention remained on the rack. "You’re getting ready to moan and complain about the lack of agents following my every move as I try to shop in peace."

"Well, you have to admit you are—"

Lauren draped the blue robe over her arm and tossed the black one over the rack as she turned to face her friend. The look on her face caused Beth to blink and shuffle her and Lauren’s jackets, which she had obligingly held so Lauren could dig through the lacy unmentionables in the store. The movement caused her brown curls to bob wildly.

"Just what exactly do I have to admit?"

Beth’s brown eyes widened a touch. Uh oh. "Umm… well—"

"That I’m here without security?" A pale brow arched.

"Now, Lauren—"

"Don’t you ‘now Lauren’ me." Her voice was low and edged with irritation. "Just what am I to believe he is? Hmm?" Lauren shot her arm out sideways and she pointed to a Secret Service man who was standing about 15 feet away and trying quite unsuccessfully to blend into the background. "Or her." Lauren’s arm shifted to a woman in a dark suit who visibly cringed when she realized what had just happened.

"Lauren!" Beth grabbed Lauren’s arm and forced it down. "Are you crazy or something? Don’t point them out! They’re supposed to be…"

"Hiding from me?"

Beth opened her mouth and then abruptly closed it. She had the good grace to blush when she realized that Lauren not only knew about the protection that shadowed her when she thought she was sneaking out of the White House, but she also knew that Beth knew. "Protecting you."

"I don’t need protecting."

"Yes, you do," Beth shot back just as stubbornly. There was a long moment of silence that was finally broken by Beth saying, "You don’t want it, but you need it, Lauren. You do. It’s a dangerous world."

Lauren held her breath for a moment before exhaling raggedly. She knew Beth was making a veiled reference to the assassination attempt on Dev. "You’re fighting dirty, Beth."

"You’re too important to lose to, Lauren. I’ll fight dirty if I have to, at least on this. Besides, I’m rarely if ever wrong. Just ask David."

Both women exchanged weak smiles, then Beth sighed. "Don’t kill Dev for this. She’s just worried for you. It’s not as though you left her much choice."

"It’s not as though she left me any choice either." Lauren turned around and began to replace the black robe on its hanger, her eyebrows drawn together as she thought. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I can’t be under lock and key every second, Beth. I’ll go crazy."

"I know." Beth put her hand on Lauren’s shoulder, feeling the warm fleece of her sweater beneath her palm. "Look, I know you and Dev have gone round and round on this, but since announcing your engagement certain things stopped being optional. Security for you is one of them. I’m sorry. This comes with the territory. You know that."

Lauren made a face. "Knowing it and accepting it are two different things." She squared her shoulders. "I understand that I’m more recognizable than I was a few months ago."

Beth’s lips quirked. "No, really?" She lifted her hand and flicked her finger at the bill of the baseball cap Lauren was wearing in an effort to disguise herself.

Lauren blew out a breath and knocked away Beth’s teasing fingers. "You’re not helping."

"Sure I am. I’m telling you the truth." Beth, however, didn’t think it was necessary to mention the agent lurking at the entrance to the shop as well as the one hovering near her car to make sure it wasn’t tampered with that Lauren had apparently missed. She firmly believed there was such a thing as too much honesty.

"No one’s even noticed me," Lauren asserted lamely. Like she’s gonna buy that.

Beth snorted. "Sell it to someone who’s buying, Lauren."

"We’ve been in the store for 30 minutes. Big Burly," she gestured to the male agent, who more closely resembled a mountain than a man, "and Bad Ass," this time she gestured to the female agent, who had a predatory expression permanently plastered on her face, "have discreetly kept at least 10 people from coming up to you. I think the poor saleswoman has nearly been shot three times without knowing it."

"Is that really their names, ‘Burly’ and ‘Bad Ass’? They sound like characters in a buddy novel." Her tone became speculative. "I could write that."

"Lauren," Beth said impatiently. "Do not make me stamp my foot. My mother stamped her foot and I refuse to go there."

Lauren smiled. "All right. All right." She waved a hand in surrender. "But I do understand more than you realize." They both began walking toward the cash register, with the agents trailing discreetly. "Especially after…" she licked her lips and swallowed hard as she usually did when mentioning it, "Devlyn’s shooting."

Beth’s gaze softened as she regarded her friend. Lauren really was trying. She’d been through an almost unimaginable life change over the past year, and Beth reluctantly gave her credit for always doing the most prudent thing when the children or Dev were involved. Her track record when it came to decisions involving herself, however, wasn’t nearly as good. And, Beth admitted, it wasn’t like she could truly relate. She didn’t know what it was like not to be able to run over to a convenience store without turning it into a major production. Or how a simple baseball game or theater tickets now took weeks of planning.

Lauren wanted to make Beth understand. "I knew we wouldn’t be alone today." Her eyes pleaded with her friend, who she knew damn well wouldn’t give her quarter. "This was sort of private, Beth." Her cheeks flushed pink. "It’s our first Valentine’s since… well, you know."

Beth grinned cheekily. She most certainly did know, along with everyone else on the planet. "And you didn’t want to be watched as you bought your girlfriend sexy undies?" She gestured to the robe in Lauren’s hands. "That’s really nice, by the way."

Lauren scowled as her temper flared. Sometimes she felt as though she was smack dab in the center of a pressure cooker. "This trip wasn’t the Secret Service’s business!"

"Do you really believe that?"

Lauren crossed her arms over her chest. "Would I have said it if I didn’t?"

Beth rolled her eyes. "Does your need for privacy overrule everyone else’s needs? Devlyn loves you and you will have protection one way or the other." She paused and turned towards the perfume counter. "Does it have to smell like they wax the floor with cougar piss and ox musk? Yuck!" She turned back, but despite the non sequitur her face was very serious. "When those agents are forced to sneak around to protect you, they aren’t doing their job the way they are trained to. They aren’t private security, Lauren. Or even CIA or Office of Homeland Security agents, trained to fight in the shadows. They’re Secret Service, who will literally put their body between yours and a bullet if they’re able. Their lives are put in greater danger by protecting you on your terms," she said flatly. "Stop fighting the inevitable."

Lauren blinked. In a few short sentences Beth had distilled the issue into something she couldn’t… wouldn’t ignore and put her in her place to boot. The very thought of one of those men or women risking their lives for hers made her sick to her stomach as it was. Why isn’t she on Devlyn’s staff? "Shit."

Beth’s expression was a little smug, knowing that she’d won this round. With Lauren, victory was rare. "Exactly."

"Be my chief of staff," Lauren said suddenly.

Beth stopped walking and stared. "Huh?"

"Be my chief of staff," Lauren repeated. "Michael Oaks and Devlyn both insist that as First Lady I’ll need one. I didn’t know there was such a thing. I guess it’s the equivalent of David’s job only for the President’s other half."

Beth blinked a few times, wondering if she could really do that.

"You’re not only my best friend, well, besides Devlyn, of course. But you’re smart and know the ropes, Beth. I’m going to need help and I trust you. That’s more than I can say for 99% of Washington." Politics, Lauren had learned long ago, could be a very nasty business. "I could use your wisdom on a permanent basis."

"Is that an age crack?" Beth asked with faux annoyance. At 41 she had a solid decade on her friend.

"Basically." Lauren laughed.

Beth’s mind was racing, and she was fast warming up to the possibility of really doing this.

Lauren recognized the gleam in the shorter woman’s eyes. It wasn’t that long ago that she herself had been offered the opportunity of a lifetime and everything had changed.

"What about my teaching position?"

Lauren chewed her lip. Beth was a respected professor of history at Georgetown and as much as she wanted her for this, believed that she’d be perfect for the position, she would never ask her to permanently give up something she loved so much.

"How about a sabbatical? Or a leave of absence? The university would have to be stupid to let you go completely if they could stop it." She winked and offered wryly, "I could have Devlyn sic the IRS on them until they comply?"

Beth burst out laughing. "No need for that. I… well… maybe I could lighten my load to just one course a semester and still do this?"

Lauren nodded quickly. She’d take Beth on any terms she could get. "Anything."

Now Beth was getting excited, and it was starting to bubble over. Her dark eyes twinkled, and Lauren knew she had her. "I’ll have to talk to David about it."

"Of course." Yes! Lauren grinned wildly. She set her purchase onto the countertop, and, after a moment’s deliberation, snagged a gold gift bag covered in tiny red hearts from the display near the register. She sucked at wrapping things. The card, however, was something she wanted to make herself. She began rooting around in her leather purse for her wallet, but Beth beat her to the punch, shoving a MasterCard at the ebony-skinned sales associate. Lauren could pay her back later.

The woman gasped as she took in Lauren. "Aren’t you—?"

"No," Beth blurted, cutting off Lauren before she could even open her mouth. "She’s not. I know she looks like it. But look closer, you’ll see what I mean."

The woman surveyed Lauren critically as she took Beth’s credit card. "Sorry, you’re right."

"She is?" Lauren asked, bewildered.

"Oh, yeah. Lauren Strayer is way skinnier. No offense, ma’am," she added quickly, not wanting to lose the sale.

Lauren’s gray eyes turned to slits as she glared at Beth, who looked like she was about ready to sink into the linoleum. "Oh, Beth?" she drawled in a singsong voice.

Beth gulped. "Yes?"

"You’re fired."

***

Dev rolled her shoulders, humming in pleasure when she felt her spine and neck crack and move back into proper alignment. It was 8:30 p.m. She was bone-tired and all she really wanted to do was call it a night and go to bed early, but she knew she still had something very important to take care of. It had been on her mind all day and, much to her private embarrassment, Dev felt a little like a high schooler with her first crush. God, I hope she likes it. What if she doesn’t like it?

With slightly trembling hands, she took the two boxes from her desk drawer and headed out of the office. She laughed a little, realizing she was making herself crazy for nothing. Glancing at the clock, she frowned, knowing she’d missed dinner with the family and that the kids would already be in bed.

That meant Lauren would be in her room working or in the kitchen playing cards with whichever agents or staff members had drifted there over the course of the evening. Dev smiled a little and shook her head as she exited the Oval Office. That discovery had been a bit of a surprise. Devlyn had overheard Amy, one of the agents who was permanently assigned to the Marlowe children, complaining about the $75 she’d lost to Lauren that week and the six pounds she’d put on since they started playing cards in the kitchen near all that food.

Dev stopped at Liza’s office and rapped on the doorframe. Two agents, who shadowed the President’s movement through the White House, stopped as well, staying well back to remain as unobtrusive as possible. Her personal assistant worked nearly as late as she did. "Liza?"

The reed-thin young woman glanced up quickly from her computer. "Oh, Madam President, I’m sorry I didn’t hear—"

"No worries." Dev was quick to correct her. "Everything’s fine. Go home and have some fun tonight." Dev winked. "That’s an order."

"Are you knocking off early yourself, Madam President?" That didn’t happen very often and Liza knew it. But today was special. She bit back a grin.

"I’m going back to the residence for the evening. It’s umm," she blushed slightly, "Valentine’s Day, you know."

"I know. I have a late date."

Dev let out a relieved breath; glad it wasn’t just her. Liza looked excited, too. "And I have a couple of surprises for Lauren." She absently fingered the small boxes in her hand. "I want to give them to her before it gets too much later."

She nodded at her boss. "Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you in the morning."

"I’ll be here."

Devlyn walked down the hallway with increased speed. As tired as she was, the thought of spending the rest of the night with Lauren was giving her renewed energy. She entered the Executive Quarters and quickly checked the children, finding them sound asleep. They looked so peaceful and quiet. Life, she decided at that moment, was very, very good.

Her next stop was her own room, where she changed from her skirt, blouse, and proper shoes into something far more comfortable. Donning a pair of jeans and a heavy-weight, tan-colored polo shirt that Lauren had given her for Christmas, she ran a brush through her dark hair, the dry air causing it to crackle as she brought it to order. She remained in socked feet, retrieved the gifts that she’d tossed on her bed as she dressed, and began padding down the hall.

Knocking softly on the door, she suddenly worried that Lauren might have given up on her for the evening. But when the door opened her face broke into a radiant smile. Worries forgotten. "Hiya, beautiful."

Lauren wore an answering smile of her own. She was beginning to wonder if Devlyn had forgotten about the holiday completely. "Sweet talker." Casually, she leaned against the doorway. "Care to come in?" Lauren stepped back.

"Love to." Dev entered the room and waited for the sound of the door clicking shut before she turned to face her fiancée. She drew in a deep breath. "I’m sorry it’s so late."

"It is late," Lauren allowed softly. "But I love you anyway." She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Dev’s neck. "I was really hoping to see you tonight." She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her partner’s throat, smiling when she felt Dev shiver at the contact.

Dev swallowed, a little amazed at how undone she could become over a simple kiss. "How could I not come see you?" she finally muttered. "It’s Valentine’s Day."

"I—" Lauren’s words were cut off when Devlyn ducked her head and captured her lips in an insistent but tender kiss that quickly became passionate.

Dev’s assault continued until she was treated to a throaty moan by Lauren and felt her companion melt into her arms. "I love you," she told her, punctuating each word with a nearly chaste kiss to Lauren’s cheeks and nose.

Lauren blinked slowly. Her heart was beating double time and her libido was enthusiastically doing a happy dance. "I believe you."

Chuckling, Dev brushed her thumb over Lauren’s lips. "I can’t wait to be married to you."

"Me too." Married to a woman. To the President of the United States. To Devlyn. God, who would have thought? Blonde brows contracted slightly as she considered their current position. "But it will be different how exactly?"

"I won’t have to come to an entirely different room to see you."

Lauren laughed softly as she held Dev close. "I like my room. But you know darn well that I spend most nights in your bed as it is." She shook her head at Dev’s pout. "It won’t be forever, Devlyn. But this arrangement keeps the press from shredding you."

"No, it doesn’t."

"Devlyn," Lauren warned playfully. She was not going to get into this discussion again.

"Sorry." Dev stepped back and reached into her pocket. She pulled out two carefully wrapped jewelry cases and offered them both to Lauren with a hopeful look on her face. "Happy Valentine’s Day."

The writer shook her head, correctly guessing that the boxes contained gifts that were far more extravagant than those she could give Devlyn in return. "You’re going to spoil me."

"I hope so." Dev followed Lauren to one of the two sofas that flanked a cherrywood coffee table. Proudly displayed on the table were the two dozen fragrant, very fresh, blood-red roses the President had ordered that morning. Dev grunted her approval. "The White House florist does a hell of a job."

"They’re beautiful as always." Lauren leaned over and inhaled a deep nose-full of their spicy, gentle scent. "Mmm…" She sat next to Dev and shook the smaller of the two boxes next to her ear.

Dev rolled her eyes and grinned. "Just open them already."

"Don’t rush me. I like the anticipation." She slipped her nail under the tape and lifted the flap, going at a snail’s pace just to tease Devlyn. It was a method of playful torture each employed with the other in a variety of scenarios that often included the bedroom.

"You’re making me crazy!"

"Well, duh." Lauren winked. "Good crazy or bad crazy?"

"Yes." Dev watched as Lauren opened the small box to reveal a pair of solitaire diamond earrings.

Lauren’s eyes widened a little as the stones glittered elegantly in the soft light of her room. Jesus. "Oh, Devlyn, they’re beautiful."

Devlyn was glad she was sitting because her knees went watery with relief. "I’m glad you like them." She gestured with her chin towards the other package. "This one is just a little something to go with them."

The second box revealed a diamond tennis bracelet. Lauren looked to her fiancé. "You shouldn’t have."

"Sure I should have. I love you. You deserve beautiful things."

"I love you, too." Lauren removed the bracelet and wrapped it around her wrist. "It’s beautiful, Devlyn." She held it up and the light caught the precious stones, causing them to sparkle happily and both women to smile in frank appreciation. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

She carefully put on the bracelet and placed the other piece of jewelry back in the box, setting it on the table. "I have something for you too. It’s not quite as grand as this, but—"

"I love it already," Dev told her sincerely.

Inexplicably, Lauren felt her throat close at the simple words. She nodded a few times, then pushed to her feet. She pointed at Dev. "Can you stay here for a moment? I’ll call you when I’m ready."

"But—"

"Hush and wait for me to call you. No peeking."

Dev huffed. "Fine. Waiting right here."

Lauren headed for the bathroom and Dev sighed. Her sitting still on the sofa lasted all of one minute before she was on her feet pacing around the room. She stopped her restless roaming when she spotted two new photographs on Lauren’s desk. Photography was a hobby Lauren took seriously, many of her photographs ending up in the biographies she penned. And she was just as likely to follow Dev around with an old-fashioned 35mm camera as she was with a pen or recorder.

Dev lifted one of the new, silver-framed photos, the metal feeling cool against her hand. It was a close-up black-and-white shot of her sitting at her desk in the Oval Office as she gazed down at a stack of papers. One hand was pushing her obsidian hair from her face while the other was tightly clenching a fountain pen. Her expression was that of a serious, very intense woman puzzling something out. Dev wasn’t sure if she liked the photo or not. It was almost disconcerting the way the lens and Lauren had captured her completely, the picture easily conveying emotion she was aware ran close to the surface.

The second picture was completely different and Dev recognized the scene instantly. It had been shot right after she and Lauren had announced their engagement to her children. After dinner they’d all adjourned to the family room to watch a movie together, and what began as a tickle from Ashley devolved into a free-for-all. She hadn’t remembered Lauren taking the photograph, but the wonderful feeling that pulsed happily through her veins that day was still very fresh in her mind.

She brushed the tips of her fingers over the frame and smiled. The mutual, if sometimes awkward, love affair Lauren and her children shared warmed her heart.

"Devlyn?"

Dev’s head snapped up at the sound of her name. She saw a naked arm snake out behind the bedroom door and set a gold gift bag on the floor. Then the arm disappeared.

Devlyn quickly crossed the room and, with a smile on her face, she pulled her gift from the bag. The silk robe was a deep, midnight blue and the fabric slid against her fingers. Hoping this was what Lauren had in mind, she quickly shed her clothes and slipped into the robe, groaning a little under her breath as the cool silk caressed warm, naked skin and sensitive nipples that already ached in anticipation of what was behind the bathroom door. "Ohhh." The robe’s billowing sleeves were very full and three-quarter length, and the hem stopped well above mid-thigh.

"Devlyn?"

That soft southern drawl from behind the door caused Dev to lick her lips nervously. "Yes?" she croaked, rolling her eyes at herself. She could hear the smile in Lauren’s voice as she spoke.

"Are you going to stand out there all night?"

"Uh… No. Of course not." Dev kicked her discarded clothes out of the way and reached for the door handle. She stopped with her hand still in the air and wiped her damp palms on her robe.

The sight on the other side of the door took her breath away.

The room was illuminated with soft candlelight, and a steaming bubble bath half-filled a large tub. Champagne was chilling in a bucket and, best of all, Lauren was sitting on the edge of the tub, dressed in a black negligee with matching sheer black robe. Dev’s mouth dropped open, but somehow she still had to fight to keep from swallowing her own tongue.

Lauren’s eyes twinkled happily at her lover’s reaction. She resisted the urge to run over to Devlyn and run her hands across that smooth silky… skin. Breathe, Lauren.

"Aren’t you cold?" Dev managed to croak out as she took a slightly wobbly step forward. Dressed like that, her mind finished.

"You decide." Lauren crooked her finger at Devlyn, then stood, giving Dev a full view of her outfit, or more precisely, her lack of outfit.

Oh, my God. Devlyn was sure her heart, or possibly her head, was going to explode before she made it across the large bathroom. Lauren Strayer was undeniably the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Her heart began to race.

"You’re beautiful," Dev whispered as she ran her eyes all over Lauren’s body like a hot bath.

The beauty of Lauren’s choice of attire was, in actuality, that it didn’t reveal much at all. It merely hinted at the treasures that lay beneath. The younger woman knew that she had just put a match to what promised to be a short, but explosive, fuse.

"I’m glad you like it, Devlyn. I thought you would," Lauren said quietly, a hint of a smile playing around the edges of her lips. Moving away from Dev just as the President reached her, she began to pour a glass of very cold champagne. The room was hazy with steam from the bath and cool droplets developed on the champagne flute, falling to the ground silently. "Here, I think you might need this." With the grace of a cat on the hunt, she moved back to Devlyn and offered her a drink.

"Most definitely." Dev took the glass and drained it, never taking her eyes off Lauren. She licked her lips lightly when she was finished. "Thanks." Eyes still locked with Lauren’s, she set down the flute on a small wooden table next to the bath. "I want you."

Lauren’s eyes fluttered closed as she gathered her wits. "You do?" she managed, her pulse visible on the pale skin at her throat.

Dev’s eyes darkened. "I do." She reached out and barely touched Lauren’s shoulder, her fingers grazing Lauren’s skin through the sheer material. "You’re driving me crazy."

"You said that before," Lauren answered amused, her stomach muscles contracting from her own desire. "Good crazy or bad crazy?"

"You said that before, too," Dev breathed, leaning in and kissing a wet trail from Lauren’s cheek to her shoulder. She uncovered the skin with a simple brush of her hand while she distracted Lauren with gentle kisses.

"Devlyn…" Lauren moaned, her eyes closing as fire erupted deep in her guts and spread lower.

"Mmm?" Her lips never left Lauren’s skin.

"I, I." Lauren swallowed hard as she tried to focus on what she wanted to say. "I drew you a bath."

"What bath?" Dev hummed at the taste of Lauren’s skin.

"I don’t know," Lauren said fuzzily, her hands sinking into soft hair as she pulled Dev closer, giving up the idea of rational thought completely.

Devlyn dropped to her knees, hitting the slick tiles with a loud thump. Long fingers traveled up Lauren’s belly, skimming her breast on the way to the strap of her negligee. She lowered it slowly, reverently, a kiss finding its way to every new inch of exposed skin. The delicate material and Dev’s hot tongue slid down Lauren’s skin like warm butter, causing her to shiver and gasp as her arousal built to a nearly painful pitch.

"I’m keeping you. You are so perfect," Dev muttered against the soft skin of Lauren’s breast. "Thank you, this is exactly what I needed."

Lauren’s knees threatened to give way as Dev began to suckle in earnest. "God!" If it weren’t for Dev’s hands, which moved to the small of Lauren’s back, holding her steady, she would have melted into a puddle on the floor.

"Bed," Dev whispered hotly. "Or I’m having you right here, right now."

Lauren wasn’t aware of much more than Dev’s teasing tongue and ardent lips until she felt the coolness of the bedspread against her back and the wet heat of Dev’s skin as she climbed on top of her. Lauren’s own hands had been mostly idle, but the temptation was too great not to reach out and take what was being so freely offered. She ran her palms over Dev’s back, then used them to guide Dev’s mouth to hers for another devastating, probing kiss.

Tongues collided as groans filled the quiet room. They both lost track of the time, kissing and touching well into the night.

While her lover was distracted with a particularly intense exchange, Lauren reached between them, her hand sliding down along smooth skin and soft flesh. She moaned her approval when she reached her goal.

Dev had been a wonderfully patient lover with her, allowing her time and space to work through her inexperience when it came to loving another woman. Sometimes, to Lauren’s frustration, Devlyn could be too patient. But once Lauren understood that was just Dev’s natural state of being, that she was truly free to experiment, or much to Dev’s delight take the lead, her imagination grew wings. Tonight, for example, Lauren Strayer’s patience had come to an end. She wanted Devlyn and she wanted her now.

And she was going to have her.

Devlyn was panting now, her skin slick with perspiration and condensation from the steamy bathroom and her own arousal. "Oh, Lauren…" she gritted out, the power of their lovemaking washing over her like a tidal wave, leaving her shaking in its wake, her body convulsing powerfully as she buried her face against Lauren’s salty-tasting neck.

Lauren’s hands slipped from between their bodies, and she began a gentle massage as she waited for Devlyn to recover. She knew she wouldn’t have to wait long.

The taller woman groaned loudly when strong fingers dug into tired shoulder muscles. "God, I am so keeping you."

Lauren laughed. "Were you thinking of getting rid of me?" Dev’s quick movement onto all fours above her caused her to jump in surprise. "Yeow!" Transfixed, she watched the sensual sway of Devlyn’s breasts as she spoke.

"I am never getting rid of you," Dev growled, lowering her head and carefully taking a painfully sensitive nipple between white teeth and tugging gently.

Lauren nearly exploded off the bed. "Jesus Christ, Devlyn," she hissed, her head thrown back in rapture, hands flying to the bed and tangling themselves on the damp bedspread. "Yes!"

Dev’s mouth found swollen, sensitive flesh and Lauren came hard, her heart threatening to pound out of her chest as she moaned out her release in a steady stream of unintelligible words. Her own chest heaving, Dev crawled up Lauren’s body, kissing as she went and wrapping her arms tightly around Lauren’s torso as she pillowed her head on soft breasts.

"Any chance of sleeping in tomorrow?" Lauren asked quietly after a long time, a sleepy, sated smile curling her lips. She already knew the answer. She asked it almost every time they’d just finished making love, the desire to snuggle against Devlyn, savoring every blessed second for hours on end, nearly overwhelming.

"Actually, yes." Dev sighed and spared a thought for the candles that were probably gutted by now and were threatening to burn down the White House. But there was no chance she was moving from this spot, even if she could, which she wasn’t so sure about. She gave the voice-command to activate Lauren’s phone and asked housekeeping to come and extinguish the candles and drain the tub, making it clear they were to use the service entrance to the bathroom that would leave them undisturbed. She also took the time to order breakfast in bed.

When Dev disconnected the call, Lauren said, "Now I know I’m dreaming. Breakfast in bed on a weekday? And you said 8 a.m.? Sweet Mother of God, am I dying but I just don’t know it yet so I’m getting the royal treatment?"

Devlyn chuckled. "I’m taking the day off tomorrow, as much as I can, and I’m spending it with you and the kids."

"Now I know I’m dying." She tugged on a lock of dark hair. "You’re really taking a weekday off?"

"Really."

Lauren felt Dev nod.

"I’ve been really busting my butt these last couple of weeks. How many times in the last two or three weeks have I had dinner with you and the kids?"

"Twice."

"Exactly." Devlyn paused to place a kiss on the soft skin above Lauren’s breasts. "I have barely spent any time with you at all. An hour or so here and there just isn’t cutting it. Hell, I don’t even know how Ashley is doing in school."

"She’s doing just fine. We’re getting an A in English now."

"That’s my girls." She squawked when Lauren gave her a teasing pinch. Lauren was turning into a wonderful mother and it was happening so gradually that she wasn’t even aware of it. Devlyn, however, was loving every moment of it. "Happy Valentine’s Day. I love my robe."

"Mmm…you looked great it in, but even better out of it." Lauren cracked open an eye. "Where is it anyway?"

"I have no earthly idea." Dev lifted up a very disheveled head and peered at Lauren’s face. "Do you want me to go find it?"

Lauren snuggled deeper into the mattress, tugging Dev down with her. "Not on your life," she said seconds before they both tumbled into some very well-deserved sleep.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the inordinately loud ticking of the wall-mounted clock.

Dr. Rothschild turned to the President, his mouth set in a grim line. "I’m afraid… well, there’s nothing more I can do, Madam President." He exhaled wearily. "I’m sorry."

Devlyn Marlowe crossed sweater-clad arms over her chest and lifted a single dark eyebrow at the sheepish, but still defiant, patient. "Are you happy now?"

A blonde head shook.

Dev’s gaze softened. "Honey, it won’t hurt." Her lips twitched a little but, with effort, she held her smile at bay. "Be my big girl and let the doctor do his job."

"Nuh huh."

Dev sighed. This was not the way she wanted to spend her Sunday morning, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "He’s the best in the business!"

"No." This said between clenched teeth, which was hard to do considering how woozy the patient was. "NONONONONONONONONO."

"When you’re finished you can have…" the doctor cast a desperate glance at his nurse, who was straightening the tray of instruments that hadn’t been touched yet.

She blinked a few times, realizing that he was actually addressing her. "Ummm… A balloon?"

There were three children in the room, but none of their eyes lit up like Aaron Marlowe’s.

"Not for you," his brother said, jabbing an elbow into Aaron’s mid-section.

As any self-respecting 5-year-old would do, Aaron kicked Christopher’s foot in retaliation.

"Ouch!"

"Boys." The warning in Dev’s voice was clear.

Ashley Marlowe, the oldest of the children, stepped forward and put a small hand on Lauren’s arm. "It’s only a filling." She didn’t have any of those. She didn’t even know anyone who did. But her mother had assured her it was common in the "olden days" and no big deal. "You can be brave. I know it."

Lauren Strayer, the President’s biographer and fiancée, smiled warmly at the dark-haired girl who so closely resembled her mother. Of course, the action caused a long string of drool to drip from the corner of her mouth. She couldn’t feel lips, gums, or most of her tongue, but that didn’t matter. Jesus Christ himself could step down from the mount, but if he held a dental drill in one hand Lauren was going to run in the opposite direction. That’s just the way it was. And no fancy dentist, with his high-tech laser equipment, was going to change that. Inwardly, she cursed her own fear, knowing that it had been more than a year since her last appointment and that she had probably made things worse for herself.

"Eww!" Christopher and Aaron chorused when they caught sight of the drool. Then they laughed and pointed.

Lauren shot Devlyn a look of pure ice for bringing the children along to her appointment.

Devlyn shrugged one shoulder, correctly interpreting the die-die-die look Lauren was giving her. "Sorry, I had to play dirty." Of course, she wasn’t sorry at all, but it sounded good. This was for Lauren’s own good, no matter how much her lover fought it. "I love you too much to let you become a toothless old hag." A beat. "Before your time."

"Why you—" Lauren began to sit up, intent on killing Devlyn then and there and thus delaying the replacement of an old filling for 20 to life, but Ashley blocked her way. The sudden movement caused Lauren’s small, wire-rimmed glasses to end up hanging crookedly from her face.

The nurse deftly plucked them off and set them on the tray alongside the instruments so they wouldn’t get broken, giving Lauren a reproachful look for being so much trouble.

Chuckling at Lauren, Devlyn jumped back a step, just in case she got a second wind.

Lauren closed her eyes in the hope that the room would stop spinning. She was allergic to the super-strength topical numbing agent applied for most dental work. That left her two choices: an old fashioned shot of novocaine or gas. She’d passed out cold the last time someone came close to her with a needle — so gas it was. "If I wasn’t so stoned, you’d be in deep trouble," she murmured.

"Fine. Fine." Devlyn lifted her hands in supplication. "I’m giving up."

The dentist, his nurse, Lauren, and the Secret Service agent standing unobtrusively in front of the window all gaped at Dev and said in unison, "You are?"

Dev nodded. Sorry, sweetheart. "I sure am. Go to it, kids."

Like von Trapp family clones, the children lined up by age and size and stood before Lauren, who broke into a rousing, drooling chorus of "Edelweiss" before they could even say a word.

Dev covered her mouth with her hand, but her shoulders still shook with silent laughter.

Realizing that nobody was singing but her and that the gas she’d been gulping down only moments before like there was no tomorrow was just a teensy bit more potent than the last stuff they’d had to special order her back home in Tennessee, Lauren quieted. Fair brows drew together. "Party poopers."

Ashley, the children’s spokesperson, looked at her future stepmother with serious brown eyes. "If you won’t go to the dentist and let him to his job, then how can you expect us to?"

Aaron and Christopher nodded their agreement.

Lauren gasped and pointed a shaking finger at Devlyn. "That’s… why that’s horrible! You trained them to say that," she accused, more drool leaking onto the blue paper bib around her neck.

"Did it work?" Dev asked.

Lauren looked back at the three little conspiring monsters before her, whom she loved with all her heart. Crap. She sighed and grumbled, "Yes, it worked."

The children cheered.

"But I need more gas." Lauren turned pleading eyes on Devlyn and the tall woman’s demeanor changed instantly, all traces of teasing vanishing before her next heartbeat. Lauren wasn’t joking; she was truly afraid.

Dev took a step closer to Dr. Rothschild and pinned him with a serious stare. "Can she have more and still be okay?"

"Define okay."

"Alive."

"She can have more."

This time it was Lauren who cheered, scaring the nurse so badly that she backed into the tray of instruments and sent them clattering to the floor. The woman mumbled something to Lauren, who mumbled something back, only twice as loudly.

Christopher looked at his mother in confusion. "Mom, what’s a Nazi?"

Dev shook her head. It was going to be a long morning.

***

Lauren sat in a pair of worn jeans and a sweatshirt in front of her computer. She stared intently at the wide, crystal clear screen. Finally, she sighed. "File close." She tapped her finger on the desk as she thought. "Open file name: Marlowe 2010-2015."

The sound was turned off, so, silently and dutifully, the small machine obeyed her voice commands.

Lauren found her place at the bottom of a plain text document and began to type, her fingers moving in a steady blur. But after only a few moments, her fingers paused over the keyboard. She frowned and took off her glasses to rub tired gray eyes. "Close file. Open story notes file: Marlowe." The screen before her flashed and changed. "Deactivate keyboard."

Gremlin, her chubby pug, recognized the command as his opportunity for some attention, since his own canine partner, Princess, was sleeping at the other end of the bed and paying him no mind whatsoever. He jumped down from his spot squarely in the center of Lauren’s tall bed and lazily walked to his mistress.

Lauren looked down at the animal with a small smile. She could see the gears in Gremlin’s head turning.

He looked up at her lap and the jump he’d have to make and then promptly dropped down on top of Lauren’s feet. "Slug," she said affectionately, reaching down to scratch Gremlin’s short, coarse fur. "Let’s see if I can remember how to use this fancy new machine Devlyn bought me for Christmas." She’d been resisting it over the past few weeks but knew if she put it off much longer it would hurt Dev’s feelings.

Gremlin let out a low growl at the mention of the President’s name.

Lauren snorted. "That’s what I love about you, Gremlin, consistency." She reached for a thick manual on her desk and quickly found the voice command she wanted. "Activate dictation."

Ready when you are… appeared at the top of her screen for several seconds, then disappeared.

Lauren nodded a little, obnoxiously pleased with herself for getting this far. She tossed the manual back on her desk and steepled her fingers. Then she began to pour her thoughts out into space and into her computer’s memory.

The hardest part of this story is not telling who Devlyn is. I know who she is. Or at least I know her better than anyone else on earth doing this job would. I’ve given up hope of really capturing her in a single book. But she’s easy to know and easier to love, and what I’ll be able to share will be enough for the outside world. But I can’t approach this story the way I have my other biographies. I’m not disinterested. I’m way over the top in love interested.

I’ve already deleted five times as much text as I’ve kept, especially when it comes to the "Marlowe For President: A Voice for the People" campaign. I feel like my being out of the country for most of her campaign is really hurting my ability to chronicle that part of her story. Sure, I can read the papers, interview people, and talk to Devlyn herself — but I didn’t "live" those last few years with the rest of America. I didn’t "feel" it like the rest of America did. Up to that point, and after that point, I’m fine. I think. Though putting her term or, God help me, two terms in office into some sort of historical perspective is going to be a challenge. Too many people are still walking around with their mouths hanging open, not believing that it happened at all… much less understanding how or why.

The first female president… that makes Devlyn the most powerful, and probably most famous, woman in American history. Sorry, Jackie and Marilyn. And I haven’t even touched on her being the first open lesbian to take a stand squarely in the center of the world political stage. Sure, there’ve been a lot of actresses and singers, but never a woman politician at anywhere near her level of success. Though I think of Canadian Prime Minister Martin Allaire coming out of the closet after his male lover died… what, eight or nine years ago? It wasn’t quite the same because he was already in office when he made the announcement, but it still paved the way.

Lauren sighed deeply.

A gentle knock on Lauren’s door interrupted her. She looked at the screen and nervously licked her lips, unsure of how to preserve her work. "Save file," she said, and SAVED flashed at the top before disappearing. She silently uttered a little prayer of thanks. "Close file. Activate screensaver."

"Coming," she called, hearing another knock at her door. She extracted her socked feet from beneath Gremlin’s warm belly, missing his warmth instantly as she jogged across the floor. Lauren opened the door to find a Secret Service agent standing there with a thick envelope in his hand.

"Ms. Strayer," he greeted her cordially.

Lauren smiled at him. His short, nearly military haircut, clean-shaven face and dark suit would have given away his job had the writer not known exactly who he was. "Hello, Jeff."

"I have something that came for you special delivery and something from the President as well."

Lauren took the large envelope, a little startled by its weight. The label read Starlight Publishing. Her brow creased. She wasn’t expecting a manuscript back.

"And these are from the President." The young man couldn’t suppress his grin when he reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out two Hershey Bars.

Lauren laughed but happily took the chocolate. "And was there a message with this important presidential delivery?"

"There was." Jeff blushed a little.

Lauren’s eyebrows jumped. "Well?"

"Umm… she umm… She said to tell you she was sorry for playing dirty." He peered down uncertainly at Lauren. "And that you’d know what she meant."

Lauren’s eyes narrowed as she remembered. "I most certainly do know what she meant. I was supposed to have an appointment to get my hair trimmed and somehow the driver, who I didn’t want in the first place, I might add, ended up taking me to the dentist! And then—"

"Ma’am?"

"Uh… yes."

"That’s more information than I really needed."

Lauren’s mouth clicked shut. She winced. "Oh. Sorry, Jeff." She squeezed his arm and her gaze softened. "I know I keep telling you and you keep ignoring me, but you can call me Lauren, you know. I’ve known you for nearly a year already."

"I know, Ms. Strayer. Thank you."

Lauren rolled her eyes. Why did she bother? "Thanks for the goodies."

Jeff bit his lower lip in a gesture that Lauren found oddly adolescent for a man with a fully loaded Glock .40 strapped to his side. "I’m supposed to report back to the President and tell her if she and the children are forgiven."

Lauren sucked in a surprised breath. "What is she talking about? The children never needed to be forgiven. Could you ask them if they’d like to come over to my room and…, I dunno, do kid things?"

"Yes, ma’am." He rocked back on his heels and decided to be bold. "And the President? Can she come over and play?"

Lauren laughed, thinking that his choice of words was perfect. "Of course, Jeff."

He looked relieved.

Lauren lifted her chin a little. "As soon as she comes and apologizes on her own."

The man couldn’t stop the wide grin that split his face.

Lauren blinked for a few seconds, surprised by his reaction, until realization dawned. "What time did you pick?"

Uh oh. "Pick? I’m not sure I understand, Ms. Strayer," he lied, glancing down at his wristwatch uncertainly.

"Uh huh." Lauren pursed her lips. "In the pool," she prodded, gesturing with one hand. "What time are Devlyn and I supposed to make up today and how much will you win if you’re right?"

Jeff’s face turned bright red. "Umm…"

"Don’t bullshit me, Jeff. I’ve had a recent dental experience. After the way Devlyn tricked me, killing you would be anticlimactic."

"I have 3:30 and I’ll win $75," he admitted sheepishly.

"Cheapsters," Lauren snorted. She’d made $240 the week before when she correctly selected the exact moment during Devlyn’s meeting with the Secretary of Defense when that little vein in the President’s forehead would pop out, signaling doom for whomever the tall woman was talking to.

Lauren checked her watch, then looked back up at Jeff. She wasn’t exactly mad at Dev, she decided, more like supremely annoyed. It was 2:45 p.m. "Give the children their message now, please. And you can tell Devlyn to stop by in about," she grinned and slapped Jeff on the back, "oh, 45 minutes or so. Dinner’s on me."

***

Dev tossed for the thousandth time; sleep, apparently, was not on her agenda for tonight. She rolled over to face Lauren’s side of the bed. It was cold and empty. A little sheepishly, she grabbed the pillow Lauren normally used and tried to connect with her absent partner. But her linens had been freshly changed and all she could detect was the faint scent of the fabric softener, which smelled good certainly, but not like her longed-for companion.

She sat up and then swung her feet over the edge of the bed, pushing them into her slippers as she reached for her robe. Sighing, she padded to the window and gazed out at the moon that hung low and full in the sky. "You’re pitiful, Marlowe." She closed her eyes and let her forehead rest gently against the cold glass, feeling foolish and lonely. "She’s only been gone for 10 days." And that meant four more until she’d be home.

Devlyn opened tired eyes and looked out at the gently falling snow. A thick blanket covered the ground, looking clean and pristine, and she smiled, thinking that her kids and Lauren would love to go out and make a snowman.

Dev wondered if she would go insane before the writer returned home from her business trip. She knew that Lauren couldn’t spend all her time in Washington. The younger woman needed to conduct interviews in Ohio and several other states before flying to New York to deal with her publisher. Still, Dev had hated to see her go and had felt a little unsettled since she’d been gone.

To need someone this much was as discomfiting as it was wonderful. Even when she and Samantha were married, the irresistible first Mrs. Marlowe could go on a trip, which she frequently did, and Dev had always managed just fine. Maybe it’s just because I’m older now. I get all sentimental. But somehow Devlyn knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

With Samantha, so much of Dev’s focus was on herself, her career, what she wanted, how she felt, the bright future that Sam and the children would share in. On many levels Dev realized that she’d been much more selfish with Samantha and that Lauren didn’t let her get away with any of that. This time they each had their own ambitions and expectations, and somehow Dev found herself much more comfortable with that. Despite her role as the most powerful person on the planet, she didn’t feel that she eclipsed Lauren. She had met her match and it was a relief.

That didn’t mean, however, that she liked being separated from her.

"Shit," Dev mumbled, pushing off from the window and returning to the bed. She yanked up her pillow and left her room, wandering down the hall to Lauren’s room in her pajamas. The Secret Service agents at each end of the hall pretended not to notice as a disheveled Dev quietly walked past the portraits of previous presidents and an antique settee.

Trying the knob on Lauren’s apartment, she found it unlocked. No matter how much she’d prodded, Lauren had insisted on keeping her own separate quarters. It had been controversial when Lauren moved into the White House to observe the President for her work on Dev’s biography. Now, however, the press was having a field day over the two women living in the same house — a house owned by the taxpayers — while being engaged. Lauren had insisted on not adding fuel to the fire by officially moving into the Presidential living quarters, though Devlyn suspected that Lauren’s motives for wanting her own space were far simpler than that. Life with a boisterous family, for someone who was generally a quiet, independent person, was still a lot to take; even after a year at the White House, Lauren needed her privacy.

Devlyn stepped inside the large room. It was mostly dark, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bluish light streaming through the window. She took a deep, comforting breath. The room held traces of Lauren’s perfume. Her gaze flicked under the bed. She waited to hear a familiar growl before she remembered that Gremlin and his lady love, Princess, a prize Pomeranian that Devlyn inherited from her mother when the show dog was knocked up by the randy Gremlin, were sleeping with the children while Lauren was away.

Dev ambled across the floor and pushed off her slippers as she crawled into bed, snuggling up to Lauren’s pillow and tossing her own to the side. "Yup. Pitiful," she murmured, letting the familiar scents wash over her. "Ahhh… Much better." She closed her eyes to give her exhausted brain some much-needed rest.

It was bad enough that Lauren was out of town and Dev felt like a spoiled child denied her favorite toy, but the State of the Union address was only a few days away, and the President was, as her father would say, "As nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs." Because there was no way to deliver a realistic address only a few weeks after taking office, she had dispensed with the State of the Union address in her inaugural year, as many presidents before her had done.

But this year the address was not only expected, it had been in the planning stages since late November. In just a few days she would take that walk into the Capitol, where both houses and the nation would wait to hear what she had to say. She almost wished that President Wilson hadn’t revived the practice of the president actually delivering the speech and that she could use Thomas Jefferson’s method of having clerks read it to both houses independently. Then she wished she had back the time that she had wasted learning tidbits of information that were better suited for Trivial Pursuit than real life. A wry smile curled her lips. At least I usually win.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done this sort of thing before. Every year she had delivered the State of the State address to the citizens of Ohio. But as Governor she wasn’t standing before the entire world when she spoke. And she’d never, ever, had a year like she’d just had.

There had been a bombing of civilian targets by a violent anti-government militia. Dev’s move to quash the group had been bold and decisive, but not without loss of life. And, in her mind at least, it had not been one of her shining moments.

There had been an assassination attempt that had very nearly claimed her life and was still the source of sporadic nightmares and physical pain. If it weren’t for the support of her closest friend and political ally, her chief of staff David McMillian, and Lauren, Dev wasn’t sure she would have made it through the months of rehabilitation, both mental and physical.

Then there was the on-again-off-again turmoil that surrounded Lauren’s presence in her life. Her own party had nearly deserted her when her business relationship with Lauren had deepened and turned decidedly romantic. Lauren, however, wasn’t ready to quit as Dev’s biographer and Starlight Publishing had saved the day by buying out the party’s contract for Lauren’s services. Now, she was trying to juggle a new relationship and three children, while running a nation. God, no wonder I’m tired.

Dev’s first year in office had been a roller coaster, and there were days when she felt like she was going to be thrown from her seat. President Truman had said, "Being president is like riding a tiger," and Dev couldn’t agree more. She made sure to count her fingers every night to see that none had been bitten off.

It was no wonder that the dream started the way it did…

Dev was in her office pouring over the speech she was about to give. David was pacing nervously around her office, while various aides made sure she knew exactly what points needed to be stressed and which should be glossed over.

"Would you sit down?" Dev growled in David’s direction. "You’re making me a nervous wreck."

The tall, red-haired man grumbled and took a seat. He began chewing at his thick mustache in a way that Devlyn usually found endearing. At the moment, however, it was just plain annoying. When Dev looked closer, she realized he was also wearing a feather boa and a ridiculous hat. "I don’t care if they are in style, David. Get rid of it; you look hideous."

The scene shifted; suddenly she was standing in the Capitol, outside the massive doors, waiting for the Sergeant at Arms to make the formal announcement of her arrival. Dev twitched at her skirt, wishing she’d selected a pair of trousers instead. As she stared at the doors, a small panel slid open and a very mischievous set of green eyes stared at her before asking, "Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"

"What?" Dev felt the panic rising in her chest.

The voice was impatient. "Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"

"Umm…" Dev stood dumbstruck, trying to figure out how to answer this question. "Depends on what day it is and if I’m PMSing," she finally said, taking a step forward. She was late; she didn’t have time for this nonsense. "Now, let me in."

"Bad witch," the voice squeaked as the panel slammed shut and the eyes disappeared.

Dev looked around the hallway where she was waiting; it was empty, except for small wind-up monkeys, which skittered around the polished marble floor as they played their cymbals and drums. She tried to shake the vision, but they only got bigger as they came at her. Just as she felt she was about to be attacked by the mechanical monsters, the doors flew open and she stumbled into a room full of laughing people. People laughing at her.

"Aw, shit," she muttered as she fought to maintain her balance. "This is my worst nightmare."

Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that indeed this was a nightmare, and she watched with fascination as face after face in her dream shifted and changed, morphing into an entirely new person each time. They were all there — everyone who had ever meant anything to her. Her parents, her children, Lauren, her staff, everyone. Very soon they all became a blur and the room felt like it was spinning out of control. Colors flashed as the spinning got worse and voices blurred into a single white noise that nearly drove Dev to her knees.

Suddenly, the spinning stopped and there was but a single, hauntingly familiar voice. "Dev?"

The tall woman spun around to find Samantha standing a few feet away wearing a beautiful, flowing gown made of white silk. She was an angel, and the sight of her brought tears to Dev’s eyes.

Her throat felt dry and her tongue heavy. "Samantha?" She took a hesitant step forward.

"Why, Dev?" Samantha’s eyes held the bewilderment of a child, but her warm voice was all woman.

"Why what?" Dev tried to step closer to the radiant vision of her deceased wife, but her feet felt as though they were encased in cement.

"Why are you leaving me?"

A sudden stabbing pain in Dev’s chest made it hard to breathe. "I’m not leaving you. I love you."

"Then why are you marrying her?" Samantha pointed and Dev looked over her own shoulder to find Lauren standing behind her.

Lauren was wearing a pair of faded jeans, no shoes or socks, and a soft white cotton shirt. Her wavy, shoulder-length hair was slightly mussed from running her fingers through it, and she had a pencil tucked above her ear — the way she did when she was working. She smiled gently at Dev, the action creasing the skin around her eyes and making Dev’s heart feel as though it might burst.

"Dev?" Samantha’s smooth voice prodded.

"I- I- I…" Dev sputtered and shook her head, trying to clear it. She didn’t know what to say. She told herself this was just a dream, then watched with a slightly open mouth as Samantha floated over to Lauren and hovered next to her. The two loves of her life stood very close to each other, but not touching. Dev looked for it, but couldn’t see any animosity between them.

"It’s all right, Devlyn," Lauren drawled gently. Her eyes shone with understanding and love. "No matter what, you can tell us the truth."

Dev nodded and shifted her attention to Samantha. "No matter how much I love you… loved you… you’re gone, Sam." Her smile was bittersweet. "I’m marrying Lauren because I need to get on with my life and because I love her. She’s my future."

The words were still hanging in the air when Lauren vanished into thin air and Samantha began to morph into Louis Henry, the teenage boy who had tried to assassinate her. Dev watched in horror as he raised his gun and pointed it at her head. Her heart leapt into her throat. She tried to move, but her feet were still rooted firmly to the ground. The sounds of gunshots exploded in her head, so loudly they hurt. Her hand flew to her ears, and then the scene changed again.

Dev was now standing before the joint session of Congress. The expectant, somewhat impatient look on everyone’s face made it clear she had been saying something, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what. She glanced around the huge gallery and felt a cold sweat across her upper lip. Her pulse began to thump wildly in her ears as the moment stretched on endlessly. Finally, in a near panic, she shouted, "I quit!"

Dev shot up in bed. She was twisted in the sweaty covers and breathing hard. She knew instantly that she’d been dreaming. "Jesus Christ on a crutch." After a moment of carefully sorting through the mental jumble, she was able to sigh in relief and even smile a little ruefully. "I’m cracking up."

She started to settle back into Lauren’s bed when she realized she wasn’t alone. Glancing behind her, she found that Aaron had found his way there, too. She smiled and lay back next to her son, who curled up against his mother without ever waking. Guess I’m not the only one missing Lauren.

It was close to 4 a.m. when Lauren opened the door to her room, carrying her computer case and a small travel bag. Closing the door behind her, she was just about to flip on the light when she saw several lumps in her bed. She nearly screamed, but one lump in particular looked familiar. Setting down her luggage, she carefully crossed the room.

Devlyn, Christopher, and Aaron were practically lying in a pile on her bed, with Dev on the bottom. Ashley was resting crossways along the headboard with one leg on Christopher’s head and her arm on Aaron’s head. The 8-year-old was in her pink footie-pajamas and snoring nearly as loudly as Devlyn.

The Marlowes’ sleeping arrangements reminded Lauren of the puglies, Gremlin’s half-pugs, all of them such ugly puppies that Dev had cleverly given them away as "gifts" to her ex-friends and staff. But instead of a pile of canines, they were a pile of people, their limbs braided together and contorted bodies twisted around each other. Lauren questioned briefly how Chris could breathe with his sister’s leg draped over his face.

A smile worked its way across her face as she took in the scene. She marveled for the millionth time how she had lucked across an entire family who loved her. A little guiltily she realized that it had been two days since she’d called Devlyn, but far longer than that since she’d talked to any of the kids. Before the Marlowe children she’d never given parenthood a second thought. Then, without her knowing quite how, they’d wormed their way into her heart to stay. Only she wasn’t as good at showing that yet as she wanted to be. She would work to change that, she promised herself. They deserved that. No more trips this long, not alone at least. My publisher and everyone else can just go to hell.

Lauren stripped off her coat and clothes, slipping into a pair of thick sweat pants and a well-worn University of Tennessee T-shirt. She yawned and looked longingly at her bed. It was king-sized, but everyone was lying at such odd angles she didn’t see a spot where she could fit in. Suddenly, she caught a glint of light as it reflected off Dev’s eyes. Damn, she’s beautiful, Lauren’s mind whispered, everything else forgotten for a moment.

"You’re home early." Dev’s voice was rough with sleep.

Lauren walked around to where her lover was lying and pushed back a shock of dark hair to kiss her on the forehead, then she moved down and brushed her lips against Devlyn’s, humming into the sweet but brief contact. "I was missing you guys like crazy," she whispered. "After the first few days I realized I was a hopeless case so I worked extra long so I could finish early. I didn’t want to say anything in case I couldn’t pull it off." She gazed down fondly at Dev and quietly said, "I’m sorry."

"S’okay…" Dev replied. She rolled over and pushed Christopher, and before Lauren’s eyes the pile of children shifted dramatically, but no one woke up. Dev opened her arms and Lauren eagerly fitted herself into the space that had been created just for her.

When their bodies touched, both women sighed.

"I’m so happy to be home," Lauren said quietly, her eyes already closing. "I missed you all."

"Not me," Dev answered, feeling Lauren’s lips curl into a smile against the sensitive skin of her neck. "I didn’t miss you at all. Same with the kids. We hardly knew you were gone."

"I can see that," Lauren chuckled weakly, Dev’s words barely penetrating her tired brain.

"Welcome home, sweetheart."

But a warm puff of air and Lauren’s gentle snore were Dev’s only answer.

***

Dev sat behind her desk in the Oval Office while Lauren was perched on one of the room’s two couches. The television news, with the sound so low it could barely be made out, was playing in the background, and the three-dimensional image of an anchorman hovered near the door. They had already had their first two meetings, and now the women were enjoying a quiet breakfast together. Almost. The food had been delivered a half-hour ago and was still sitting untouched on the table while both women worked in their respective spots, Lauren compiling notes on what she’d observed and Devlyn reviewing several documents from the Secretary of Homeland Defense.

The smell of bacon was finally too much for Lauren to ignore. She set down the hand-held computer as she contemplated what she could safely eat considering she’d stopped working out with Devlyn in the mornings several weeks ago. The answer was nothing, so she promptly disregarded that conclusion and thought about something else. "Devlyn, your mother is going to kill us for foisting the wedding plans on her."

"My mother will love it." Dev signed her name again, wishing she had taken David up on his offer to get her a stamp for the less important documents. But no, she had to be a "President of the People" who signed every scrap of paper that came across her desk. I think David only listens to me on things like this to torture me. He knows he knows best! "By the way, after we get married you get to sign off on all the kids’ report cards."

Lauren stared at Dev. "What?"

"Never mind." She signed her name for the last time and stood up, taking a deep breath. "Come on, sweetheart, let’s eat. I’m starved and I’ve got another meeting in less than a half hour."

Lauren joined Devlyn at the serving table. Once the coffee was poured and they were both back on one of the sofas, Dev gave the voice command to increase the volume of the newscast. "Ooo, look who’s getting a spot on the news." She gestured as Lauren’s face appeared above the coat rack.

"Terrific," Lauren mumbled around a mouthful of eggs. "I saw them when I ran into Geoffrey yesterday." Her expression darkened. "Assholes." Her short relationship with the media had already been a stormy one. "I should have figured a camera was on me."

"You can never safely pick your nose again."

"I would never!" She laughed, and then she winked. "At least in public. But the Republican Party Chairman doesn’t let the cameras stop him."

"Why do you think I avoid shaking his hand?"

The television picture shifted to a shot of Lauren walking alongside the Vice President.

"You need to get him out more, Devlyn. Half of America doesn’t even believe that Vice President Geoffrey Vincent actually exists. Late night television is saying he’s really just a good looking blowup doll."

Dev burst out laughing. "Brenda must love that one. Rubber-hubby."

Lauren chuckled, but sobered quickly, thinking of why exactly Geoff had to move around so much. The thought of the assassination attempt on Devlyn usually made her physically ill.

Dev patted her hand but didn’t say anything.

A still shot of Lauren appeared over the anchorman’s right shoulder.

"Presidential fiancée Lauren Strayer’s decision to primarily take public rather than government transportation has been called ‘insane’ by security specialists and ‘incredible’ by the public.

"White House pollsters are smiling over Ms. Strayer’s recent jump in popularity. It seems her refusal to strictly adhere to White House protocol has endeared her to working-class America as well as young voters."

"Television off." The image disappeared. "Well, well," Dev teased Lauren, nudging her with her elbow. "They didn’t mention you living here in sin with me. Will wonders never cease? Keep it up and they’ll give you my job."

"As if I’d want your job. Trailing around after you all day is exhausting enough. Being you would kill me. Besides, then I’d technically be sleeping with myself and doing things to myself that would make me go blind or grow hair on my palms. And I’m just not up for that. I’ll keep my job, thanks."

Dev hastily swallowed her mouthful of coffee so she wouldn’t lose it laughing. "Chicken."

Lauren waved her fork at Dev. "Where do you think these eggs came from?"

Dev smiled just as she heard a single knock on her inner office door, and David entered. His gaze stopped on Lauren and his feet ground to a halt. "Oh, I’m sorry, Lauren. I didn’t know you’d be here. I thought you were out of town."

"Got back early." She gestured to the couch across from where she and Dev were sitting. "Come have some coffee with us. How’s Beth?"

He made a face and loosened his tie. "Mad at me for something, and I can’t figure out what." He handed Devlyn a stack of papers before pouring a cup of steaming coffee and sitting down with a groan. "Did you know I’m as dumb as a bag of dirt?"

"I’ve always suspected," Dev answered as she looked at the papers. "What’s this?"

"Your speech for the Steel Workers of America. You’re going to Detroit today."

She looked at Lauren and shrugged. "I am?"

"You are."

"And when was this decided?"

"Last week."

"Shit." She tossed the papers onto the coffee table. "I tell ya, if Liza doesn’t get off vacation soon I’m going to lose my mind. That temp who is taking her place is worthless."

David frowned. "Why didn’t you say anything? Do you want me to get you another one?"

Lauren gave Dev a knowing look as she spoke to David. "Don’t bother. If it’s not Liza she still won’t be happy."

"Gotcha." David nodded. "Sorry, Chief, but Detroit it is. You leave at 11:30, but should be home before your munchkins are in bed."

"Great." Dev looked at Lauren with round, innocent eyes. "I guess you get to call Mom by yourself."

Lauren’s jaw dropped. "Devlyn!"

Dev lifted her hand. "Honey, what can I do? She’s insisting on this call and I’m going to be in Detroit. I asked the temp to clear my schedule for the call, but clearly she missed it somehow." Dark eyebrows drew together in consternation. "You know, I don’t think my mom likes talking about the wedding with Michael Oaks." More than once Devlyn had considered firing her personal aide, turned social secretary, because of his poor people skills. But he was good at what he did and had proven himself time and again, earning her trust, if not her friendship.

"Can you blame her?" Lauren glared at David. "You did this just to get her out of this phone call, didn’t you?"

David blinked slowly. "Would I do something like that?"

Lauren tapped her coffee mug with her fingernail impatiently. "Yes."

"Okay, I would. But this time, I didn’t. It’s been on her tentative schedule for a couple of weeks."

Lauren shot them both looks that sent shivers down their spines. "I hate you both."

"Then solve the problem by telling Mom we’re eloping." Dev chuckled as she buttered her toast.

"I’d elope with you in a heartbeat, Devlyn," Lauren shot back. "But there is no way on God’s green earth that I am telling Janet Marlowe that. You’ve heard the Princess Diana speech, haven’t you?"

Dev rolled her eyes. Had she?

"How she watched it on television in the wee hours of the morning, entranced. The dress, the pageantry… blah… blah… blah."

David grunted in a gesture that Devlyn figured was as close to sympathy as she was going to get from her dear friend. Beth’s mother had talked Beth into powder blue tuxedos for his wedding. The memory of those ruffled sleeves still made him slightly ill. "Thanks for the coffee." He stood up. "I’ll see you later."

"Thanks so much, buddy." Dev threw a wadded-up napkin at her friend as he fled her office. Then she took Lauren’s hand. "I’m sorry you have to do this alone. Mom’s probably peeved that we haven’t talked to her about any of the details yet." There was no "probably" about it. Dev’s father had warned her a few days ago.

"We don’t know any!"

"I know that," Dev replied reasonably. "And you know that. Now you just have to tell my mother that. What can I do to make it up to you?"

Lauren sighed as she looked into guilt-ridden eyes. "I’m sorry. I guess your job makes it impossible to make this small and simple, huh?" It was a rhetorical question, but Dev nodded anyway.

Lauren melted under Dev’s gaze. "You’re lucky I’m so in love with you."

Dev smiled, recognizing Lauren’s surrender. "I know."

"I’ll try to be more understanding. And I’ll call your mom this afternoon as planned, don’t worry."

"Thank you," she said sincerely, knowing that Janet loved Lauren completely and that the younger woman would be subject to far less grief than she herself would.

"But if you want to bring me back a present from Detroit, I won’t complain."

"Sure. I can probably get a Chevy in my suitcase." Devlyn leaned forward and kissed Lauren.

"Devlyn?" she muttered against soft lips.

"Mmm?" Dev kissed her again.

"Make it a red ‘Vette."

***

Lauren looked at the phone on her desk, contemplating the device as she held her head between her hands. Finally she sighed, "Call Janet Marlowe."

The phone rang three times and then Janet’s hologram appeared. "Hello, sweetheart." She smiled fondly, the motion creasing the skin around her mouth and eyes. "How is my favorite daughter-in-law-to-be today?"

Lauren’s smile was wan. "Well, I’m here." She paused, not wanting to deliver the news, but seeing no way around it. "Which is more than I can say for that good for nothing Devlyn."

Janet glanced around with narrowed eyes. "Lord help me. That girl will be the death of me yet! What has Devil done now? Do I need to come over there?"

Lauren laughed. The image of the President’s mother storming into the White House with a wooden spoon in her hand, ready to strike, was an image she wouldn’t soon forget. If there were one person in the world that could do it, it would be Janet Marlowe. "No, you don’t need to come over. Devlyn had to go to Detroit today. That’s why she’s not here."

Janet frowned at the look on Lauren’s face. "We’ll manage without her, dear. How much help do you think she was really going to be anyway? And when she ends up wearing a light pink ‘poofy’ dress she won’t be able to say a single word about it. Not one."

Janet grinned and Lauren’s eyes widened a little. It was an evil little grin that reminded her very much of someone she loved. Oh, boy.

"I’m assuming we have a date to work with." It wasn’t really a question, but Janet’s tone was more gently prodding than angry.

"That’s the good news."

Janet waited, but Lauren just looked at her, not saying another word. After a few oddly silent moments Janet said, "Um, dear, usually when someone says there’s good news, that means there’s bad news to go along with it."

"That is the way it usually goes, isn’t it?" Lauren chewed on her lower lip and girded her mental loins. "The bad news is that we only have six months to put the wedding together. But with Devlyn’s schedule it’s the only good time. I swear," she blurted out. Six months sounded like plenty of time to her, but Michael Oaks had nearly had a stroke when she told him the date they’d selected. She chuckled inwardly, admitting that that part had been sort of fun.

Janet snorted. "Don’t worry about that. I’ve already gotten calls from every wedding planner on the planet. All we need to do is decide which one to use. Then I’ll have a little more help," her blue eyes twinkled, "and I won’t have to hurt you and Devlyn, who I just know are going to try and leave all the details to me."

She’s not angry. Thank God. Lauren felt relief course through her body. "I love you," she heard herself say. It was as though the words were coming from someone else’s mouth, but as soon as she heard them, she knew they were true. Wow.

Dev’s mother laughed softly and smiled. "I know, honey. I love you, too. Don’t you worry about a thing; these things have a way of working out." Or not. "Are you going to be home next week so I can come visit and get the ball rolling?"

Lauren’s eyes brightened. "Absolutely. Devlyn will be in and out, but we might be able to corner her for 10 or 15 minutes."

Janet nodded smartly, the motion bouncing her thick salt and pepper-colored hair. "I’ll make all the arrangements and see you next week." She gazed intently at the younger woman. "Lauren, I mean it when I say you shouldn’t worry. I know people are making a terrible fuss, and I’m one of them. But things will be all right. You’ll see."

Lauren felt a lump develop in her throat. "Thanks, Janet. "I wonder if Devlyn knows how lucky she truly is."

"Of course not!" Janet scoffed. "But don’t worry, honey." She winked at Lauren. "I’m not above reminding her."

***

Dev sat in the padded lounge chair, watching indulgently as David and Christopher did their best to fend off the splashing of Beth, Ashley, and Aaron. It was a losing battle, but they were having a great time so that’s all that mattered. She glanced over at Lauren, who was sitting near the back wall of the pool area, on the videophone with Wayne, her New York publishing agent. Dev could tell by Lauren’s jerky hand motions and her frequent frowns that something was going on with one of her books. She hoped it wasn’t the biography.

She’s been under too much stress lately, Dev worried silently. Ever since they announced their engagement, the press had been unrelenting, hounding her for interviews, stalking her for photos. This is supposed to be her home, not a trussed-up prison. Tiny lines of tension around Dev’s eyes eased a little when Lauren laughed heartily at something Wayne said, the sweet sound carrying over the children’s squeals of delight.

On Dev’s swimsuit-covered belly sat a stack of papers Liza had given her to review before tomorrow’s 7:30 a.m. meetings with 11 Emancipation Party Governors, who were in Washington for several rounds of party meetings that would last the entire weekend. Today was also David’s birthday. They hadn’t had time to celebrate last year, when the haze of confusion that surrounded her taking office put every other part of their lives on hold for a while. This year, however, she was bound and determined to do something to mark the occasion. And a family swim was just what the doctor ordered.

Gremlin was sitting in his own lounge chair, watching the pool festivities and wearing a pair of sunglasses that Ashley had slipped onto his face. The ugly, white dog with black face and ears was as happy as could be, occasionally turning to Devlyn and giving her a short growl, before turning back to people he apparently preferred. The President found the sight as ridiculous as she did disconcerting. She half-expected the disobedient beast to demand a margarita to go with the bowl of doggy biscuits Christopher had placed within handy reach of the mutt.

A BBQ in the dead of winter, consisting of burgers, hot dogs and grilled chicken breasts, and salads with all the fixings, had been served up buffet style and Lauren, the Marlowes and the McMillians all had slightly bloated bellies as a testament to their appreciation of the feast. The children were running and splashing and screaming. Dev herself felt like rolling over and taking a nap, and she wondered for the hundredth time what it was about food that revved her children up as if they were on speed.

She used the pen in her hand to scratch her temple as she forced herself to at least try and scan the papers in her hands. Only a year ago you were a governor yourself, Dev. Take this seriously. Then, Ashley executed a perfect cannonball into the pool and Dev sighed. Or else get up two hours early and do it then. Decision made, she tucked her papers under her lounge chair and leaned forward, intent on trying her own cannon ball. She was sure she’d be a little rusty, but either way, she was bound to make a helluva splash.

As she passed by the far door, she heard a knock. Dev pulled open the door to see Emma standing there, a stack of towels in hand. "What took you so long, Emma? David and Lauren nearly cleared out all the hot dogs."

"I’m crushed," Emma said flatly, though her hazel eyes twinkled.

"I knew you would be." Dev’s gaze strayed down to the stout woman’s dress. "Where’s your suit?"

Emma smacked Dev’s arm. "You know good and well this body is not going to be seen in a bathing suit."

"Aww… Emma." She lowered her voice. "Beth hardly has a perfect figure and she’s in the pool right now."

Emma glanced at Beth, who had Ashley riding on her shoulders. The George Washington University professor was big-boned and wide-hipped to begin with and on top of that enjoyed good food and better beer. She waded through the water, oblivious to the 35 pounds she needed to lose to look truly good in a swimsuit. Emma crossed her arms over her ample chest. "That’s all well and good. But I’m not a young woman, Devlyn Marlowe."

Dev’s eyebrows jumped. She turned her head and cupped her hands around her mouth to yell, "Hey, Beth. Emma says you’re a young woman."

Beth stopped her path through the shallow end and gave Emma a beaming smile. "Thanks!" she exclaimed happily. "Seems I’m the only one of the women here who could be torn away from work long enough to play. Are you going to fix that, Emma?"

"Not in this lifetime," Emma answered easily, taking a seat in Dev’s chair. Emma gestured to the children, who were laughing and carrying on with David and Beth in the pool.

Beth shook her head, nearly sending Ashley toppling into the water. "Go get your woman off that darn phone, Dev. It’s Friday night, for God’s sake."

"Yeah, yeah. I’m going," Dev muttered absently as she indicated that Emma should take her chair. "She gets another five minutes." This said loud enough so that Lauren could hear her. The younger woman nodded and winked at Dev, telling her silently that she was nearly finished.

Emma plopped down with a groan and gave serious thought to taking her shoes off and showing her feet off to the world. "Everyone will be properly worn out tonight."

Christopher and Aaron jumped out of the pool and grabbed a pair of super-soaker squirt guns. Then they jumped back in right next to David, drenching him from both sides.

Dev smiled fondly at her boys. "No doubt. They’ve been romping for the last hour."

"I was talking about David and Beth," Emma clarified with a grin.

"Oh. Them too."

David climbed out of the pool and haphazardly ran a towel over his body before dripping his way over to Dev and Emma. He was panting, and his ruddy skin had taken on a reddish glow. "Do those kids ever quit?" He scrubbed his thick rusty-colored hair with the end of his towel.

"No." Dev shook her head in wonder. "They’ve got more energy than all of us combined." She reached out and patted her friend’s arm, waiting for him to make eye contact before saying, "Happy birthday, David."

David gave her a genuine smile, then a hug, as much to get her wet as to show his affection. "Thanks, Devil. It’s nice to spend it with you guys. Beth is taking me out later, but this… well, this is great." He shook his head at the sparkling water. "I can’t believe we haven’t done this before."

"No kidding," Dev agreed wistfully. Living in the White House was a lot like living in Disney World, but never having time go on all the really cool rides. The children enjoyed the magnificent living quarters far more than she did.

David used the towel on his ears. "Are you sure the office won’t explode without us?"

"No, but when it explodes they’ll just rebuild and there’ll be twice as much work on Monday."

David groaned. "No kidding. Have I—?" Then he paused, distracted by Lauren’s frustrated voice.

"I don’t care!" Lauren said, clearly back in the middle of something with Wayne. "They can’t do that, can they?"

David gestured to Lauren with his chin, a crease forming on his forehead. "What’s up with her?"

Dev kicked off her shoes and adjusted the straps of her suit. "I’m not sure. But whatever it is, it’s not good."

"If the papers would give the poor girl a break, she’d be all right," Emma sympathized with a sigh. "She hasn’t been out of the house all week."

"Excuse me for a second," Dev gave David a parting pat. "I’m going to go make sure she’s okay."

Dev could hear Wayne promising that "He’d try" and then Lauren ended the call. The smaller woman met Dev half way and, without warning, flung herself into Dev’s waiting arms.

"Whoa," Dev squeaked, glad that she was standing on one of the few dry spots left.

"Stop the world." Lauren buried her face in Devlyn’s neck. "I want to get off." Long arms tightened around her and she let out a sigh of pure relief, sinking into Devlyn’s warm body.

"Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart." Dev pressed her lips to Lauren’s hair, breathing in the light scent of her shampoo.

Lauren whimpered. "The very first book I wrote was when I was young and incredibly stupid."

Dev drew in a breath to speak.

"Not a word," Lauren warned, giving Dev’s throat a playful bite and feeling the body pressed tightly to hers shake with silent laughter. "I was still in college and I signed a rotten contract with a small publisher and I pretty much forgot all about it after the book didn’t sell well."

Dev frowned. "You’re unhappy about poor book sales 10 years after the fact?"

"Nuh uh." Lauren shook her head. "My old publisher contacted Wayne, looking for an address for Lauren Gallagher." It was the pen name Lauren used for her fiction and, thus far, Wayne had been successful in hiding the link between Lauren Gallagher, reclusive, moderately successful fiction writer, and Lauren Strayer, respected biographer. "Seems my old publisher has sold my story to a movie studio."

"That’s great!" Dev grabbed Lauren by the shoulders and took a step backward to examine her face. She winced at the dour expression that met her. "Or not."

"It’s… well…" Lauren’s face turned bright red and suddenly she couldn’t meet Dev’s gaze.

Dev blinked. "C’mon, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad," she lied.

Lauren closed her eyes and exhaled. "The movie company that bought the book is known for its… well… for producing," she lowered her voice, "adult films."

Dev’s eyes widened. "Porn?" she blurted out loudly.

"Shhh! Jesus." Lauren looked around self-consciously as Dev burst out laughing.

"Oh, God. You’re kidding?"

Lauren’s eyes flew open, then turned to dangerous slits. "Do I look like I'm kidding, Madam President?" And with a stiff push, she sent Devlyn careening backwards into the pool.

Dev shot up out of the water sputtering and coughing. "Puh. Bah." She spat out a mouthful of water.

"Do it again! Do it again!" Aaron cried gleefully, thinking he’d never seen anything so wonderful as his mother soaking wet and her hair hanging over her eyes.

Dev thrust her chin into the air and arched a slender black eyebrow at Lauren, who returned the challenging gesture, placing her hands on her hips for good measure. She stuck her hand out to Christopher. "Weapon." The boy dutifully handed his mother his squirt gun.

Ashley sloshed over to the edge, plucked Aaron’s gun from his hands, and tossed it up to Lauren. "I’m on your team!" she yelled.

"Hey!" Aaron, complained, shooting his big sister an evil glare.

"Me too," Beth chorused, scurrying to put herself as far away from Devlyn as possible.

Aaron pulled his chubby body out of the pool and ran over to the bucket containing their arsenal to hunt for another weapon. "I’m with Mom!" The boy pulled out an enormous squirt gun with an empty tank nearly the size of his head. He fumbled with the big gun, his wet hands slipping on the plastic handle. "Will you help me fill it, Lauren?"

Lauren looked at Dev and smiled lovingly, her eyes glittering with happiness. Then she turned her attention back to Aaron. "Sure, honey." She called time, took off her glasses and set them on a stack of fluffy, turquoise beach towels, then scooted over to fill her and Aaron’s guns, while those who weren’t packing heat scrambled to the bucket to remedy that problem. Even Emma joined in. She knew better than to be caught empty-handed when battle lust took over the Marlowes and company.

In the age of biological, chemical, and nuclear weapons, a war to the death raged inside the White House. Only this one was filled with laughter, the occasional sloppy kiss when someone was captured by the opposing team, and chlorinated water.

Beth McMillian shifted from one foot to the other as she peered around Lauren to see what she was looking at. "Dev would go bananas if she knew we were doing this," she murmured as she waved away a sales clerk.

Lauren nodded absently as she lifted a silk robe from the rack and examined it with a discerning eye. She was ignoring the cloying, nearly overpowering scent of perfume from the counter nearby, determined not to let the budding headache she was developing from the combinations of odors ruin her time.

She and ex-husband Judd had stopped exchanging Valentine’s Day gifts after they’d married. Judd had informed her seriously that he didn’t need a made-up holiday to tell her he loved her or to buy her a gift. He wouldn’t have married her if he didn’t love her. So why should Hallmark put him on a schedule? And she’d readily agreed, mostly because she found herself with little interest in picking anything out for him.

The mixture of butterflies and anticipation that was brewing in Lauren’s belly for Valentine’s Day made it crystal clear to her that she and Judd had been full of shit.

What color? The holiday calls for red, I think. But…

"Ooo… Nice." Lauren spied another robe pulled it off the hanger, fingering the cool silk with her fingers. With those gorgeous eyes, how can I pass up blue?

"Lauren?"

"Hmm…" Black is nice too. This robe will be short on her and that color against her skin would look so… She swallowed. Oh, my.

Beth put her hands on her ample hips. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes." Lauren nodded, but her attention remained on the rack. "You’re getting ready to moan and complain about the lack of agents following my every move as I try to shop in peace."

"Well, you have to admit you are—"

Lauren draped the blue robe over her arm and tossed the black one over the rack as she turned to face her friend. The look on her face caused Beth to blink and shuffle her and Lauren’s jackets, which she had obligingly held so Lauren could dig through the lacy unmentionables in the store. The movement caused her brown curls to bob wildly.

"Just what exactly do I have to admit?"

Beth’s brown eyes widened a touch. Uh oh. "Umm… well—"

"That I’m here without security?" A pale brow arched.

"Now, Lauren—"

"Don’t you ‘now Lauren’ me." Her voice was low and edged with irritation. "Just what am I to believe he is? Hmm?" Lauren shot her arm out sideways and she pointed to a Secret Service man who was standing about 15 feet away and trying quite unsuccessfully to blend into the background. "Or her." Lauren’s arm shifted to a woman in a dark suit who visibly cringed when she realized what had just happened.

"Lauren!" Beth grabbed Lauren’s arm and forced it down. "Are you crazy or something? Don’t point them out! They’re supposed to be…"

"Hiding from me?"

Beth opened her mouth and then abruptly closed it. She had the good grace to blush when she realized that Lauren not only knew about the protection that shadowed her when she thought she was sneaking out of the White House, but she also knew that Beth knew. "Protecting you."

"I don’t need protecting."

"Yes, you do," Beth shot back just as stubbornly. There was a long moment of silence that was finally broken by Beth saying, "You don’t want it, but you need it, Lauren. You do. It’s a dangerous world."

Lauren held her breath for a moment before exhaling raggedly. She knew Beth was making a veiled reference to the assassination attempt on Dev. "You’re fighting dirty, Beth."

"You’re too important to lose to, Lauren. I’ll fight dirty if I have to, at least on this. Besides, I’m rarely if ever wrong. Just ask David."

Both women exchanged weak smiles, then Beth sighed. "Don’t kill Dev for this. She’s just worried for you. It’s not as though you left her much choice."

"It’s not as though she left me any choice either." Lauren turned around and began to replace the black robe on its hanger, her eyebrows drawn together as she thought. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I can’t be under lock and key every second, Beth. I’ll go crazy."

"I know." Beth put her hand on Lauren’s shoulder, feeling the warm fleece of her sweater beneath her palm. "Look, I know you and Dev have gone round and round on this, but since announcing your engagement certain things stopped being optional. Security for you is one of them. I’m sorry. This comes with the territory. You know that."

Lauren made a face. "Knowing it and accepting it are two different things." She squared her shoulders. "I understand that I’m more recognizable than I was a few months ago."

Beth’s lips quirked. "No, really?" She lifted her hand and flicked her finger at the bill of the baseball cap Lauren was wearing in an effort to disguise herself.

Lauren blew out a breath and knocked away Beth’s teasing fingers. "You’re not helping."

"Sure I am. I’m telling you the truth." Beth, however, didn’t think it was necessary to mention the agent lurking at the entrance to the shop as well as the one hovering near her car to make sure it wasn’t tampered with that Lauren had apparently missed. She firmly believed there was such a thing as too much honesty.

"No one’s even noticed me," Lauren asserted lamely. Like she’s gonna buy that.

Beth snorted. "Sell it to someone who’s buying, Lauren."

"We’ve been in the store for 30 minutes. Big Burly," she gestured to the male agent, who more closely resembled a mountain than a man, "and Bad Ass," this time she gestured to the female agent, who had a predatory expression permanently plastered on her face, "have discreetly kept at least 10 people from coming up to you. I think the poor saleswoman has nearly been shot three times without knowing it."

"Is that really their names, ‘Burly’ and ‘Bad Ass’? They sound like characters in a buddy novel." Her tone became speculative. "I could write that."

"Lauren," Beth said impatiently. "Do not make me stamp my foot. My mother stamped her foot and I refuse to go there."

Lauren smiled. "All right. All right." She waved a hand in surrender. "But I do understand more than you realize." They both began walking toward the cash register, with the agents trailing discreetly. "Especially after…" she licked her lips and swallowed hard as she usually did when mentioning it, "Devlyn’s shooting."

Beth’s gaze softened as she regarded her friend. Lauren really was trying. She’d been through an almost unimaginable life change over the past year, and Beth reluctantly gave her credit for always doing the most prudent thing when the children or Dev were involved. Her track record when it came to decisions involving herself, however, wasn’t nearly as good. And, Beth admitted, it wasn’t like she could truly relate. She didn’t know what it was like not to be able to run over to a convenience store without turning it into a major production. Or how a simple baseball game or theater tickets now took weeks of planning.

Lauren wanted to make Beth understand. "I knew we wouldn’t be alone today." Her eyes pleaded with her friend, who she knew damn well wouldn’t give her quarter. "This was sort of private, Beth." Her cheeks flushed pink. "It’s our first Valentine’s since… well, you know."

Beth grinned cheekily. She most certainly did know, along with everyone else on the planet. "And you didn’t want to be watched as you bought your girlfriend sexy undies?" She gestured to the robe in Lauren’s hands. "That’s really nice, by the way."

Lauren scowled as her temper flared. Sometimes she felt as though she was smack dab in the center of a pressure cooker. "This trip wasn’t the Secret Service’s business!"

"Do you really believe that?"

Lauren crossed her arms over her chest. "Would I have said it if I didn’t?"

Beth rolled her eyes. "Does your need for privacy overrule everyone else’s needs? Devlyn loves you and you will have protection one way or the other." She paused and turned towards the perfume counter. "Does it have to smell like they wax the floor with cougar piss and ox musk? Yuck!" She turned back, but despite the non sequitur her face was very serious. "When those agents are forced to sneak around to protect you, they aren’t doing their job the way they are trained to. They aren’t private security, Lauren. Or even CIA or Office of Homeland Security agents, trained to fight in the shadows. They’re Secret Service, who will literally put their body between yours and a bullet if they’re able. Their lives are put in greater danger by protecting you on your terms," she said flatly. "Stop fighting the inevitable."

Lauren blinked. In a few short sentences Beth had distilled the issue into something she couldn’t… wouldn’t ignore and put her in her place to boot. The very thought of one of those men or women risking their lives for hers made her sick to her stomach as it was. Why isn’t she on Devlyn’s staff? "Shit."

Beth’s expression was a little smug, knowing that she’d won this round. With Lauren, victory was rare. "Exactly."

"Be my chief of staff," Lauren said suddenly.

Beth stopped walking and stared. "Huh?"

"Be my chief of staff," Lauren repeated. "Michael Oaks and Devlyn both insist that as First Lady I’ll need one. I didn’t know there was such a thing. I guess it’s the equivalent of David’s job only for the President’s other half."

Beth blinked a few times, wondering if she could really do that.

"You’re not only my best friend, well, besides Devlyn, of course. But you’re smart and know the ropes, Beth. I’m going to need help and I trust you. That’s more than I can say for 99% of Washington." Politics, Lauren had learned long ago, could be a very nasty business. "I could use your wisdom on a permanent basis."

"Is that an age crack?" Beth asked with faux annoyance. At 41 she had a solid decade on her friend.

"Basically." Lauren laughed.

Beth’s mind was racing, and she was fast warming up to the possibility of really doing this.

Lauren recognized the gleam in the shorter woman’s eyes. It wasn’t that long ago that she herself had been offered the opportunity of a lifetime and everything had changed.

"What about my teaching position?"

Lauren chewed her lip. Beth was a respected professor of history at Georgetown and as much as she wanted her for this, believed that she’d be perfect for the position, she would never ask her to permanently give up something she loved so much.

"How about a sabbatical? Or a leave of absence? The university would have to be stupid to let you go completely if they could stop it." She winked and offered wryly, "I could have Devlyn sic the IRS on them until they comply?"

Beth burst out laughing. "No need for that. I… well… maybe I could lighten my load to just one course a semester and still do this?"

Lauren nodded quickly. She’d take Beth on any terms she could get. "Anything."

Now Beth was getting excited, and it was starting to bubble over. Her dark eyes twinkled, and Lauren knew she had her. "I’ll have to talk to David about it."

"Of course." Yes! Lauren grinned wildly. She set her purchase onto the countertop, and, after a moment’s deliberation, snagged a gold gift bag covered in tiny red hearts from the display near the register. She sucked at wrapping things. The card, however, was something she wanted to make herself. She began rooting around in her leather purse for her wallet, but Beth beat her to the punch, shoving a MasterCard at the ebony-skinned sales associate. Lauren could pay her back later.

The woman gasped as she took in Lauren. "Aren’t you—?"

"No," Beth blurted, cutting off Lauren before she could even open her mouth. "She’s not. I know she looks like it. But look closer, you’ll see what I mean."

The woman surveyed Lauren critically as she took Beth’s credit card. "Sorry, you’re right."

"She is?" Lauren asked, bewildered.

"Oh, yeah. Lauren Strayer is way skinnier. No offense, ma’am," she added quickly, not wanting to lose the sale.

Lauren’s gray eyes turned to slits as she glared at Beth, who looked like she was about ready to sink into the linoleum. "Oh, Beth?" she drawled in a singsong voice.

Beth gulped. "Yes?"

"You’re fired."

***

Dev rolled her shoulders, humming in pleasure when she felt her spine and neck crack and move back into proper alignment. It was 8:30 p.m. She was bone-tired and all she really wanted to do was call it a night and go to bed early, but she knew she still had something very important to take care of. It had been on her mind all day and, much to her private embarrassment, Dev felt a little like a high schooler with her first crush. God, I hope she likes it. What if she doesn’t like it?

With slightly trembling hands, she took the two boxes from her desk drawer and headed out of the office. She laughed a little, realizing she was making herself crazy for nothing. Glancing at the clock, she frowned, knowing she’d missed dinner with the family and that the kids would already be in bed.

That meant Lauren would be in her room working or in the kitchen playing cards with whichever agents or staff members had drifted there over the course of the evening. Dev smiled a little and shook her head as she exited the Oval Office. That discovery had been a bit of a surprise. Devlyn had overheard Amy, one of the agents who was permanently assigned to the Marlowe children, complaining about the $75 she’d lost to Lauren that week and the six pounds she’d put on since they started playing cards in the kitchen near all that food.

Dev stopped at Liza’s office and rapped on the doorframe. Two agents, who shadowed the President’s movement through the White House, stopped as well, staying well back to remain as unobtrusive as possible. Her personal assistant worked nearly as late as she did. "Liza?"

The reed-thin young woman glanced up quickly from her computer. "Oh, Madam President, I’m sorry I didn’t hear—"

"No worries." Dev was quick to correct her. "Everything’s fine. Go home and have some fun tonight." Dev winked. "That’s an order."

"Are you knocking off early yourself, Madam President?" That didn’t happen very often and Liza knew it. But today was special. She bit back a grin.

"I’m going back to the residence for the evening. It’s umm," she blushed slightly, "Valentine’s Day, you know."

"I know. I have a late date."

Dev let out a relieved breath; glad it wasn’t just her. Liza looked excited, too. "And I have a couple of surprises for Lauren." She absently fingered the small boxes in her hand. "I want to give them to her before it gets too much later."

She nodded at her boss. "Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you in the morning."

"I’ll be here."

Devlyn walked down the hallway with increased speed. As tired as she was, the thought of spending the rest of the night with Lauren was giving her renewed energy. She entered the Executive Quarters and quickly checked the children, finding them sound asleep. They looked so peaceful and quiet. Life, she decided at that moment, was very, very good.

Her next stop was her own room, where she changed from her skirt, blouse, and proper shoes into something far more comfortable. Donning a pair of jeans and a heavy-weight, tan-colored polo shirt that Lauren had given her for Christmas, she ran a brush through her dark hair, the dry air causing it to crackle as she brought it to order. She remained in socked feet, retrieved the gifts that she’d tossed on her bed as she dressed, and began padding down the hall.

Knocking softly on the door, she suddenly worried that Lauren might have given up on her for the evening. But when the door opened her face broke into a radiant smile. Worries forgotten. "Hiya, beautiful."

Lauren wore an answering smile of her own. She was beginning to wonder if Devlyn had forgotten about the holiday completely. "Sweet talker." Casually, she leaned against the doorway. "Care to come in?" Lauren stepped back.

"Love to." Dev entered the room and waited for the sound of the door clicking shut before she turned to face her fiancée. She drew in a deep breath. "I’m sorry it’s so late."

"It is late," Lauren allowed softly. "But I love you anyway." She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Dev’s neck. "I was really hoping to see you tonight." She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her partner’s throat, smiling when she felt Dev shiver at the contact.

Dev swallowed, a little amazed at how undone she could become over a simple kiss. "How could I not come see you?" she finally muttered. "It’s Valentine’s Day."

"I—" Lauren’s words were cut off when Devlyn ducked her head and captured her lips in an insistent but tender kiss that quickly became passionate.

Dev’s assault continued until she was treated to a throaty moan by Lauren and felt her companion melt into her arms. "I love you," she told her, punctuating each word with a nearly chaste kiss to Lauren’s cheeks and nose.

Lauren blinked slowly. Her heart was beating double time and her libido was enthusiastically doing a happy dance. "I believe you."

Chuckling, Dev brushed her thumb over Lauren’s lips. "I can’t wait to be married to you."

"Me too." Married to a woman. To the President of the United States. To Devlyn. God, who would have thought? Blonde brows contracted slightly as she considered their current position. "But it will be different how exactly?"

"I won’t have to come to an entirely different room to see you."

Lauren laughed softly as she held Dev close. "I like my room. But you know darn well that I spend most nights in your bed as it is." She shook her head at Dev’s pout. "It won’t be forever, Devlyn. But this arrangement keeps the press from shredding you."

"No, it doesn’t."

"Devlyn," Lauren warned playfully. She was not going to get into this discussion again.

"Sorry." Dev stepped back and reached into her pocket. She pulled out two carefully wrapped jewelry cases and offered them both to Lauren with a hopeful look on her face. "Happy Valentine’s Day."

The writer shook her head, correctly guessing that the boxes contained gifts that were far more extravagant than those she could give Devlyn in return. "You’re going to spoil me."

"I hope so." Dev followed Lauren to one of the two sofas that flanked a cherrywood coffee table. Proudly displayed on the table were the two dozen fragrant, very fresh, blood-red roses the President had ordered that morning. Dev grunted her approval. "The White House florist does a hell of a job."

"They’re beautiful as always." Lauren leaned over and inhaled a deep nose-full of their spicy, gentle scent. "Mmm…" She sat next to Dev and shook the smaller of the two boxes next to her ear.

Dev rolled her eyes and grinned. "Just open them already."

"Don’t rush me. I like the anticipation." She slipped her nail under the tape and lifted the flap, going at a snail’s pace just to tease Devlyn. It was a method of playful torture each employed with the other in a variety of scenarios that often included the bedroom.

"You’re making me crazy!"

"Well, duh." Lauren winked. "Good crazy or bad crazy?"

"Yes." Dev watched as Lauren opened the small box to reveal a pair of solitaire diamond earrings.

Lauren’s eyes widened a little as the stones glittered elegantly in the soft light of her room. Jesus. "Oh, Devlyn, they’re beautiful."

Devlyn was glad she was sitting because her knees went watery with relief. "I’m glad you like them." She gestured with her chin towards the other package. "This one is just a little something to go with them."

The second box revealed a diamond tennis bracelet. Lauren looked to her fiancé. "You shouldn’t have."

"Sure I should have. I love you. You deserve beautiful things."

"I love you, too." Lauren removed the bracelet and wrapped it around her wrist. "It’s beautiful, Devlyn." She held it up and the light caught the precious stones, causing them to sparkle happily and both women to smile in frank appreciation. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

She carefully put on the bracelet and placed the other piece of jewelry back in the box, setting it on the table. "I have something for you too. It’s not quite as grand as this, but—"

"I love it already," Dev told her sincerely.

Inexplicably, Lauren felt her throat close at the simple words. She nodded a few times, then pushed to her feet. She pointed at Dev. "Can you stay here for a moment? I’ll call you when I’m ready."

"But—"

"Hush and wait for me to call you. No peeking."

Dev huffed. "Fine. Waiting right here."

Lauren headed for the bathroom and Dev sighed. Her sitting still on the sofa lasted all of one minute before she was on her feet pacing around the room. She stopped her restless roaming when she spotted two new photographs on Lauren’s desk. Photography was a hobby Lauren took seriously, many of her photographs ending up in the biographies she penned. And she was just as likely to follow Dev around with an old-fashioned 35mm camera as she was with a pen or recorder.

Dev lifted one of the new, silver-framed photos, the metal feeling cool against her hand. It was a close-up black-and-white shot of her sitting at her desk in the Oval Office as she gazed down at a stack of papers. One hand was pushing her obsidian hair from her face while the other was tightly clenching a fountain pen. Her expression was that of a serious, very intense woman puzzling something out. Dev wasn’t sure if she liked the photo or not. It was almost disconcerting the way the lens and Lauren had captured her completely, the picture easily conveying emotion she was aware ran close to the surface.

The second picture was completely different and Dev recognized the scene instantly. It had been shot right after she and Lauren had announced their engagement to her children. After dinner they’d all adjourned to the family room to watch a movie together, and what began as a tickle from Ashley devolved into a free-for-all. She hadn’t remembered Lauren taking the photograph, but the wonderful feeling that pulsed happily through her veins that day was still very fresh in her mind.

She brushed the tips of her fingers over the frame and smiled. The mutual, if sometimes awkward, love affair Lauren and her children shared warmed her heart.

"Devlyn?"

Dev’s head snapped up at the sound of her name. She saw a naked arm snake out behind the bedroom door and set a gold gift bag on the floor. Then the arm disappeared.

Devlyn quickly crossed the room and, with a smile on her face, she pulled her gift from the bag. The silk robe was a deep, midnight blue and the fabric slid against her fingers. Hoping this was what Lauren had in mind, she quickly shed her clothes and slipped into the robe, groaning a little under her breath as the cool silk caressed warm, naked skin and sensitive nipples that already ached in anticipation of what was behind the bathroom door. "Ohhh." The robe’s billowing sleeves were very full and three-quarter length, and the hem stopped well above mid-thigh.

"Devlyn?"

That soft southern drawl from behind the door caused Dev to lick her lips nervously. "Yes?" she croaked, rolling her eyes at herself. She could hear the smile in Lauren’s voice as she spoke.

"Are you going to stand out there all night?"

"Uh… No. Of course not." Dev kicked her discarded clothes out of the way and reached for the door handle. She stopped with her hand still in the air and wiped her damp palms on her robe.

The sight on the other side of the door took her breath away.

The room was illuminated with soft candlelight, and a steaming bubble bath half-filled a large tub. Champagne was chilling in a bucket and, best of all, Lauren was sitting on the edge of the tub, dressed in a black negligee with matching sheer black robe. Dev’s mouth dropped open, but somehow she still had to fight to keep from swallowing her own tongue.

Lauren’s eyes twinkled happily at her lover’s reaction. She resisted the urge to run over to Devlyn and run her hands across that smooth silky… skin. Breathe, Lauren.

"Aren’t you cold?" Dev managed to croak out as she took a slightly wobbly step forward. Dressed like that, her mind finished.

"You decide." Lauren crooked her finger at Devlyn, then stood, giving Dev a full view of her outfit, or more precisely, her lack of outfit.

Oh, my God. Devlyn was sure her heart, or possibly her head, was going to explode before she made it across the large bathroom. Lauren Strayer was undeniably the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Her heart began to race.

"You’re beautiful," Dev whispered as she ran her eyes all over Lauren’s body like a hot bath.

The beauty of Lauren’s choice of attire was, in actuality, that it didn’t reveal much at all. It merely hinted at the treasures that lay beneath. The younger woman knew that she had just put a match to what promised to be a short, but explosive, fuse.

"I’m glad you like it, Devlyn. I thought you would," Lauren said quietly, a hint of a smile playing around the edges of her lips. Moving away from Dev just as the President reached her, she began to pour a glass of very cold champagne. The room was hazy with steam from the bath and cool droplets developed on the champagne flute, falling to the ground silently. "Here, I think you might need this." With the grace of a cat on the hunt, she moved back to Devlyn and offered her a drink.

"Most definitely." Dev took the glass and drained it, never taking her eyes off Lauren. She licked her lips lightly when she was finished. "Thanks." Eyes still locked with Lauren’s, she set down the flute on a small wooden table next to the bath. "I want you."

Lauren’s eyes fluttered closed as she gathered her wits. "You do?" she managed, her pulse visible on the pale skin at her throat.

Dev’s eyes darkened. "I do." She reached out and barely touched Lauren’s shoulder, her fingers grazing Lauren’s skin through the sheer material. "You’re driving me crazy."

"You said that before," Lauren answered amused, her stomach muscles contracting from her own desire. "Good crazy or bad crazy?"

"You said that before, too," Dev breathed, leaning in and kissing a wet trail from Lauren’s cheek to her shoulder. She uncovered the skin with a simple brush of her hand while she distracted Lauren with gentle kisses.

"Devlyn…" Lauren moaned, her eyes closing as fire erupted deep in her guts and spread lower.

"Mmm?" Her lips never left Lauren’s skin.

"I, I." Lauren swallowed hard as she tried to focus on what she wanted to say. "I drew you a bath."

"What bath?" Dev hummed at the taste of Lauren’s skin.

"I don’t know," Lauren said fuzzily, her hands sinking into soft hair as she pulled Dev closer, giving up the idea of rational thought completely.

Devlyn dropped to her knees, hitting the slick tiles with a loud thump. Long fingers traveled up Lauren’s belly, skimming her breast on the way to the strap of her negligee. She lowered it slowly, reverently, a kiss finding its way to every new inch of exposed skin. The delicate material and Dev’s hot tongue slid down Lauren’s skin like warm butter, causing her to shiver and gasp as her arousal built to a nearly painful pitch.

"I’m keeping you. You are so perfect," Dev muttered against the soft skin of Lauren’s breast. "Thank you, this is exactly what I needed."

Lauren’s knees threatened to give way as Dev began to suckle in earnest. "God!" If it weren’t for Dev’s hands, which moved to the small of Lauren’s back, holding her steady, she would have melted into a puddle on the floor.

"Bed," Dev whispered hotly. "Or I’m having you right here, right now."

Lauren wasn’t aware of much more than Dev’s teasing tongue and ardent lips until she felt the coolness of the bedspread against her back and the wet heat of Dev’s skin as she climbed on top of her. Lauren’s own hands had been mostly idle, but the temptation was too great not to reach out and take what was being so freely offered. She ran her palms over Dev’s back, then used them to guide Dev’s mouth to hers for another devastating, probing kiss.

Tongues collided as groans filled the quiet room. They both lost track of the time, kissing and touching well into the night.

While her lover was distracted with a particularly intense exchange, Lauren reached between them, her hand sliding down along smooth skin and soft flesh. She moaned her approval when she reached her goal.

Dev had been a wonderfully patient lover with her, allowing her time and space to work through her inexperience when it came to loving another woman. Sometimes, to Lauren’s frustration, Devlyn could be too patient. But once Lauren understood that was just Dev’s natural state of being, that she was truly free to experiment, or much to Dev’s delight take the lead, her imagination grew wings. Tonight, for example, Lauren Strayer’s patience had come to an end. She wanted Devlyn and she wanted her now.

And she was going to have her.

Devlyn was panting now, her skin slick with perspiration and condensation from the steamy bathroom and her own arousal. "Oh, Lauren…" she gritted out, the power of their lovemaking washing over her like a tidal wave, leaving her shaking in its wake, her body convulsing powerfully as she buried her face against Lauren’s salty-tasting neck.

Lauren’s hands slipped from between their bodies, and she began a gentle massage as she waited for Devlyn to recover. She knew she wouldn’t have to wait long.

The taller woman groaned loudly when strong fingers dug into tired shoulder muscles. "God, I am so keeping you."

Lauren laughed. "Were you thinking of getting rid of me?" Dev’s quick movement onto all fours above her caused her to jump in surprise. "Yeow!" Transfixed, she watched the sensual sway of Devlyn’s breasts as she spoke.

"I am never getting rid of you," Dev growled, lowering her head and carefully taking a painfully sensitive nipple between white teeth and tugging gently.

Lauren nearly exploded off the bed. "Jesus Christ, Devlyn," she hissed, her head thrown back in rapture, hands flying to the bed and tangling themselves on the damp bedspread. "Yes!"

Dev’s mouth found swollen, sensitive flesh and Lauren came hard, her heart threatening to pound out of her chest as she moaned out her release in a steady stream of unintelligible words. Her own chest heaving, Dev crawled up Lauren’s body, kissing as she went and wrapping her arms tightly around Lauren’s torso as she pillowed her head on soft breasts.

"Any chance of sleeping in tomorrow?" Lauren asked quietly after a long time, a sleepy, sated smile curling her lips. She already knew the answer. She asked it almost every time they’d just finished making love, the desire to snuggle against Devlyn, savoring every blessed second for hours on end, nearly overwhelming.

"Actually, yes." Dev sighed and spared a thought for the candles that were probably gutted by now and were threatening to burn down the White House. But there was no chance she was moving from this spot, even if she could, which she wasn’t so sure about. She gave the voice-command to activate Lauren’s phone and asked housekeeping to come and extinguish the candles and drain the tub, making it clear they were to use the service entrance to the bathroom that would leave them undisturbed. She also took the time to order breakfast in bed.

When Dev disconnected the call, Lauren said, "Now I know I’m dreaming. Breakfast in bed on a weekday? And you said 8 a.m.? Sweet Mother of God, am I dying but I just don’t know it yet so I’m getting the royal treatment?"

Devlyn chuckled. "I’m taking the day off tomorrow, as much as I can, and I’m spending it with you and the kids."

"Now I know I’m dying." She tugged on a lock of dark hair. "You’re really taking a weekday off?"

"Really."

Lauren felt Dev nod.

"I’ve been really busting my butt these last couple of weeks. How many times in the last two or three weeks have I had dinner with you and the kids?"

"Twice."

"Exactly." Devlyn paused to place a kiss on the soft skin above Lauren’s breasts. "I have barely spent any time with you at all. An hour or so here and there just isn’t cutting it. Hell, I don’t even know how Ashley is doing in school."

"She’s doing just fine. We’re getting an A in English now."

"That’s my girls." She squawked when Lauren gave her a teasing pinch. Lauren was turning into a wonderful mother and it was happening so gradually that she wasn’t even aware of it. Devlyn, however, was loving every moment of it. "Happy Valentine’s Day. I love my robe."

"Mmm…you looked great it in, but even better out of it." Lauren cracked open an eye. "Where is it anyway?"

"I have no earthly idea." Dev lifted up a very disheveled head and peered at Lauren’s face. "Do you want me to go find it?"

Lauren snuggled deeper into the mattress, tugging Dev down with her. "Not on your life," she said seconds before they both tumbled into some very well-deserved sleep.

***

Dev sat in her private office, reading over some documents that David needed her opinion on by the end of the day. After hearing how enthusiastic about it the boys were, Lauren had agreed to endure the security and media circus and take the children to the Natural History Museum for the afternoon.

The boys had heard about the new dinosaur bones exhibit from their friends at school, and Dev was afraid that if they didn’t go soon they were going to combust. Ashley hadn’t been nearly so excited about going to look at "dumb old bones," but a promise by Lauren to take her to the Native American exhibit made the entire trip worthwhile in the little girl’s eyes.

Devlyn glanced at the clock. They were actually due back any moment.

A soft knock at the door brought her head up from her documents. "Come in."

Jane opened the door and gave Devlyn a huge grin. "You have a very special visitor."

Devlyn sighed and tossed the pen she’d been restlessly twirling between her fingers onto the papers in front of her. "Unless it’s the paperwork fairy…."

"No, but almost as good." Jane stepped to the side, and a woman with long blonde hair pulled back in a stylish braid stuck her head round the door.

"Hey, Stinky, you got a minute for an old sister-in-law?"

"Sarah!" Dev came out of her chair as if her pants had caught fire. "Damn, woman, where did you come from?" She bolted out from behind her desk, biting back a grimace at the pain that flared in her hip. After long hours at her desk she would still feel the effects of being shot. Dev pulled Sarah into a full body bear hug, lifting her off the ground despite the fact that she was nearly as tall as Devlyn.

The embrace lasted for several long emotional seconds before Dev gently cleared her throat.

Reluctantly, Sarah pulled away. "I’ve been in Argentina, actually." Sarah took a step back, giving Devlyn an appreciative look accompanied by a low whistle that caused the President’s cheeks to grow warm. "You look wonderful." There was a wistful note to her voice that the other woman missed completely. "Just as wonderful as I remember."

"So do you." Dev shook her head. "All grown up. Every time I see you I still can’t believe you’re not that skinny little kid with braces and skinned knees. When did you get into town? What are you doing here?"

Sarah chuckled and took a seat on a couch near the fireplace. "Easy, one at a time. My God." Her wide-eyed gaze flicked eagerly from one surface to the next. "I can’t believe I’m in the Oval Office and that you’re the President. The President! Jesus, Dev."

Devlyn plopped on the sofa next to her, leaning close and bumping shoulders with her. "No kidding. I haven’t stopped pinching myself yet."

"I’ll take over that task if you need someone." Sarah’s fingers shaped claw-pincers and Dev laughed.

"What are you doing now, Sarah? You’re not still in school?"

Sarah gaped. "That was years ago. God, has it been that long? I worked odd jobs for a few magazines before catching a break and accepting a position with World Traveler Digest two years ago." They were known for their photographic pictorials.

"Impressive. You know, Lauren has traveled extensively for her work. You two would have a lot in common," Dev said enthusiastically, beaming proudly for the both of them.

I wondered how long it would take her to mention her. Sarah ignored Dev’s comment. "I’m on assignment here in the city, and I thought I’d stop by and say hello and see the kids, if that’s all right." She laid her hand on Dev’s thigh.

Dev put her own hand on top of Sarah’s and squeezed gently. "All right? I’ve missed you, Pee Wee." Her gaze softened. Sarah had only been 10 years old when she and Samantha had wed. And for many years after, she was a constant fixture in the Marlowe household. To an only child, her young sister-in-law was the closest thing to a sibling Devlyn ever had. "Of course it’s all right. The kids have missed you in their lives. Pictures and recordings just aren’t the same."

Sarah looked away but left her hand where it was. "I know," she said softly.

Dev kicked her long legs out in front of her. "In fact, the kids and Lauren are due back soon. How about if we sneak back to the residence and rustle up some lunch before they get here?"

"Sounds great."

But neither woman moved.

Sarah continued to stare straight ahead, gazing into the embers in the fireplace while Dev openly observed her, struck again by how much Sarah Turner resembled Samantha. The nose was a little different, not quite as delicate in its slope, but the dark blonde hair and cornflower-blue eyes were so similar it was eerie. Even her voice made Dev shiver a little.

For the first time the silence between them was decidedly uncomfortable. It was Sarah who broke it first. She sighed. "I didn’t handle Sam’s death very well."

Dev suddenly felt as though a weight was pressing against her chest. Some types of pain would never completely go away. "None of us did."

Sarah sighed again. "But I should have tried to stick it out for you and the kids. Mom and Dad were already gone, and then Sam too." Her chin quivered a little. "I just—"

"Shh…" Devlyn pressed a tender kiss against Samantha’s cheek. "I know."

Sarah turned back to Dev and gently grasped a lock of hair. She couldn’t meet her eyes. "No grays yet?" Her attempt to move to safer ground was painfully obvious. "Or is Ms. Clairol on the payroll?" she joked weakly, running her fingers through Dev’s silky strands, not seeming to notice what she was doing.

"It really is okay, Sarah." The tightness in her chest was making it hard to speak. But this was something that needed to be said. "We all needed time. Some of us more than others. I love you. And I’d wait a hundred years if that’s what you needed."

Sarah gathered her courage and glanced up at Dev. Those soulful blue eyes had always been her undoing. She’d spent years envying the relationship Samantha had with Devlyn. And years more mourning the loss of someone irreplaceable in her life. But her sister wasn’t here anymore. And if Samantha’s death taught her anything, it was that life was short and that sometimes you didn’t get second chances.

Sarah lifted her palm and cupped Dev’s cheek. She could see tears shimmering there and watched compassionately as several finally spilled over. With her thumb, she brushed one away. Then, on impulse, she leaned in and removed the second with her lips. Before she could lose her nerve or think about what she was doing, she ducked her head and kissed Devlyn softly on the mouth.

It began as chaste, and for a second or two Devlyn was frozen. She didn’t return the kiss, she didn’t move at all, unsure how to interpret what was happening. This was Sarah, for God’s sake!

Then two things happened simultaneously. The door to the Oval Office opened, and Sarah moaned lightly as she leaned forward and tried to deepen the kiss.

Devlyn grasped Sarah’s hands firmly and pushed her away. "Sarah—" She looked up at Sarah’s face, but the younger woman’s attention was elsewhere.

Sarah’s eyes were riveted on the door and two very shocked women: Beth and Lauren.

Dev’s head snapped around. "Lauren." Uh oh. She jumped to her feet, nearly knocking Sarah off the couch. "I didn’t expect you and the kids for a while."

Lauren’s lips thinned and she was surprised that the words came out as evenly as they did, considering her mind was reeling. "I can see that." No. No. No. I did not just see that! Devlyn loves me! She’s not like Judd. But even the possibility that she’d been wrong about Devlyn’s feelings for her was suddenly too much to bear.

The pressure-cooker of emotion that Lauren had been living in bubbled dangerously close to the surface.

"I’m so sorry, Dev," Sarah told the President. "I know you wanted to sneak back to the residence before they got home."

Lauren and Dev’s eyebrows nearly popped off their foreheads.

"Sarah!" Devlyn screeched. "That’s not what I meant." She chanced a glance at Lauren. Oh, fuck.

Lauren looked at Devlyn as though seeing her for the first time. "You really said that, Devlyn?" she said, hearing the catch in her voice.

"Well… I…" She threw her hands in the air. "It’s not what it looks like." Christ! Dev was starting to panic and didn’t know what else to say. So like any savvy politician, she stayed quiet, carefully choosing and discarding words. In this instance, however, her silence spoke louder than her words ever could. The cold mask that dropped over Lauren’s face caused Dev’s heart to pound and she suddenly realized her error. "Lauren, please… It’s not what you think."

Lauren willed her hands to stop shaking. "I think I walked in here and caught you two kissing. Are you saying I saw differently?"

Devlyn swallowed hard. "Yes. No. I mean, sort of. Shit!"

The tension in the room skyrocketed.

Beth dropped her face into her hands. She could hear Devlyn’s mental mantra of ‘ohshitohshitohshit’ from where she was standing.

Sarah stood as gracefully as was possible considering her off kilter position on the sofa and waltzed across the room, offering her hand to Lauren.

Lauren’s heartbeat was thundering in her ears, with one thought chanted mercilessly in her head. She’s gorgeous and she looks exactly like Samantha!

When it appeared that Lauren was too stunned to acknowledge Sarah at all, Sarah addressed Beth. "Long time no see, Beth."

Beth ground her teeth together, giving Devlyn, who looked like a drunken deer caught in the headlights, a dirty look of her own. Then she focused on Sarah. What the hell have you done, Sarah? "It has been a while, Sarah. I see your acne cleared up."

Sarah? The girl from the family pictures? Acne? Lauren marveled. Sarah looked like a fashion model. And Lauren hated her with an intensity that would melt solid steel.

Sarah turned to Lauren. "And you are?" She knew damn well who she was.

"That’s my—" Dev began.

"Don’t!" Lauren interrupted, her face turning an angry red as her hurt and anger mixed. "I can speak for myself."

Dev’s mouth clicked closed.

Lauren took a calming breath. "I’m Lauren Strayer." Hard gray eyes trained themselves on Devlyn. "The President’s biographer."

Dev’s stomach dropped 12 stories.

Lauren’s hands were shaking. Humiliated and torn between dissolving into tears and murder, she quickly tucked them under her arms. This has to be wrong, but I saw it with my own eyes. My own eyes! That was no sisterly kiss. "I’m going to leave now," she ground out, feeling as though she was going to throw up.

Devlyn panicked. "For God’s sake, Lauren! It wasn’t—"

Lauren turned on her heels and marched out of the Oval Office on slightly wobbly legs, leaving the trio of stunned woman behind her.

For a second Dev wasn’t sure what to do, then she bolted for the door.

"Dev," Beth began softly, "I wouldn’t."

Devlyn looked at Beth with an expression so heartbroken it brought tears to Beth’s eyes. "But I have to go and fix things." Dev’s shout rattled the pictures on the wall, then it dropped to a whisper. "She doesn’t understand." This is not happening. She lifted her jaw a little, daring Beth not to believe her. "It wasn’t what it looked like. I would never do that to Lauren. I’d die first."

Sarah closed her eyes as Dev’s words pierced her heart. Damn.

Beth shook her head quickly. "Don’t do it, Dev. She needs to cool off or—"

Dev’s jaw worked silently. She had no choice. "I won’t risk losing her by doing nothing." She’ll understand once I talk to her. I know it. But memories of Lauren’s words about Judd’s infidelity haunted her. "I won’t live that way again. Ever."

Beth watched as Devlyn disappeared into the outer office and with a tremulous voice asked Jane which direction Lauren had headed. Then she was gone.

Beth whirled around and pinned Sarah with a withering glare. She marched up to the younger woman and grabbed her by the shirt, dragging her over to the sofa where she roughly pushed her down. "Talk," she demanded. "And don’t you lie, Sarah Turner. Devlyn might not have noticed the crush you’ve had on her since you were old enough to know what one was. But she’s the only one."

Sarah swallowed hard. "Devlyn didn’t do anything either." Her eyes conveyed a mixture of fear and anguish. "I think I really messed up, Beth."

Beth groaned. I knew it. Thank, God. "You’d better hope that Dev can convince Lauren of the same thing, Sarah. Or I wouldn’t want to be you," she said grimly, meaning every word.

Lauren sat on a bench in Rock Creek Park, soaking in the sounds of the night: the wind rattling dry branches, the faint but sharp cracking of sticks, and the rustling of old leaves and rocks as a small animal or two scurried through the woods around her. The morning sun was still several hours away and soft moonlight bathed her in a muted, ethereal glow as she tucked her chilled hands into the soft pockets of her leather coat. Small patches of snow still dotted the brown grass, though the temperature was well into the 40s.

Removing one hand from its warm haven, she gave Gremlin — who was lying next to her on the bench with his head resting on her thigh, sound asleep — a scratch behind the ears. While she wasn’t exactly at peace, she was far more centered than when she’d briskly walked into the park the evening before. She hadn’t cried, plotted anyone’s murder, or contemplated the devastating thought of life without Devlyn in several hours. This was, she decided, something she needed very much. To be alone.

Not the "alone" she’d experienced since becoming engaged to the most famous woman on the planet. But really, actually alone. Unless you counted Gremlin, which she didn’t. No paparazzi. No milling aides or secretaries. No agents with guns, grim faces, and annoying protocol. Just her. Funny thing was, despite wanting it so badly, she still felt a little lonely. Lauren dropped her face into her hands. "What is wrong with me?"

She let out a deep breath as her mind replayed her hasty retreat from the White House. She had known that Devlyn would come looking for her and had purposely hid in the kitchen for a few moments before going back to her quarters and packing an overnight bag. Talking to Devlyn just then would have been dangerous. Too dangerous. Because, in all likelihood, it would have been for the last time. She was that angry and hurt and that stressed.

But the last few hours of solitude had given her a little of the perspective that she’d lacked earlier. Lauren was honest enough with herself to admit that she hadn’t been fair to Devlyn when she refused her the opportunity to explain. But her blood had been boiling, and like a wounded animal she longed to lash out, to savagely inflict pain in a misguided attempt at self-defense.

She was glad now that she’d been able to escape. Glad that she’d seen David on the way out of the White House and told him in no uncertain terms that if she was followed she wouldn’t be coming back. Ever. She hadn’t meant that, not even then, when her heart felt so raw she could hardly breathe. She didn’t really believe Devlyn would cheat on her. But her heart had lied to her before, hadn’t it? "Damn."

Lauren sucked in a deep breath and tilted her head skyward, her cheeks long dry of the tears she’d shed earlier. The faint sound of crunching wood chips in the distance caused her to turn her head and peer intently through the darkness.

Instantly awake, Gremlin jumped down from the bench and began to growl into the night, baring his tiny crooked teeth in an impressive show of ferocity.

Lauren felt her pulse pick up a little as she belatedly realized that it wasn’t safe to be sitting in the middle of a very wooded, very secluded park at 3 a.m. Then she sprang to her feet, standing behind Gremlin as a single figure emerged from the shadows. Her fists clenched and unclenched as she glanced behind her, prepared to run if she needed to. Her heart began to pound and a rush of adrenaline sang through her blood. How stupid am I? she berated herself. I’m gonna get myself killed!

"Who is it?" Lauren asked, hearing her voice shake a little.

The figure moved closer. "Lauren?"

The blonde woman nearly collapsed in heap when the familiar voice washed over her. "Devlyn?" It can’t be.

Dev stepped closer, giving the still snarling Gremlin a disgusted glance. "You know who I am, dog. See?" Devlyn bent down in front of Gremlin so that he could see her face. Once he did, however, he continued to bark and growl even louder. "Stupid mutt," Dev grumbled, moving a step backwards when Gremlin’s snaggle-toothed mouth began snapping open and closed. A tiny part of her, however, was glad the worthless canine was so fiercely protecting Lauren. She’ll let him do that, Devlyn thought enviously, but not me.

"Gremlin…" Lauren warned in a soft, but firm, voice. Her gaze never strayed from Devlyn.

The small beast quieted instantly, but kept a wary eye on his mistress’ lover.

Dev sniggered inwardly, enjoying the tiny victory while she could.

"How did you find me?" Lauren asked, not masking her surprise and making no move to sit down or cross the 10 feet or so that separated her from the other woman.

Gremlin trotted over to Lauren and plopped down on her feet, already bored.

Dev sighed, her eyes showing her longing to embrace Lauren but also the fear that she would be turned away if she tried. At least she’s still talking to me. That’s something. She swallowed, knowing she had to tell the truth, but dreading saying the words. "I spoke to all of the agents assigned to you." She didn’t mention that she’d called half of them out of bed to come to the White House to be grilled by her when her initial searching couldn’t turn up Lauren. "And this was one of the places they told me you like to come sometimes." She was suddenly struck by the thought that they’d never been here together.

"Mmm…" Dejected, Lauren nodded. She gave Gremlin a gentle nudge and he moved off her feet, allowing her to pad back to the bench and sit down heavily. "Why are you here, Devlyn?"

Her voice was so quiet it was almost swept away by the breeze.

Devlyn’s stomach churned. She felt as if she was in some bad movie where someone else scripted the predictable lines and she was being swept away by the drama of the scene, scared and out of control. I’m here because I love you. I’m here to explain. I’m here because I’m afraid that this life will be too much for you and you’ll leave me bleeding and broken and desperately alone.

"You know why I’m here," she said, trying to keep her resentment and fear from her voice. "May I sit down?" She indicated the bench next to Lauren.

Lauren gave a quick nod, scooting over a little when Gremlin jumped up next to her and snuggled up to her thigh to stay warm.

"Is it safe?" Dev asked, not really caring what the answer was. She would have sat next to Lauren if a crocodile, instead of merely the ugliest dog on earth, had been resting his face in her lap. "You haven’t been holding my picture in front of him and training him to kill, have you?"

Lauren’s first instinct was to smile and she didn’t try to fight it, though the gesture was half-hearted at best. "No attack training. He won’t even fetch when I ask him, much less anything more strenuous." An image of Dev and Sarah kissing flashed through her mind and she felt a little sick. She turned away from Dev, unwilling to look at her as she released a heavy breath.

Dev’s heart clenched when Lauren looked away, and she felt tears fill her eyes. She blinked them back and sat down with a weary groan. With a single hand she rubbed her tired, stinging eyes, wishing she could start the entire day over again. Then she tucked her hand back into the pocket of her long woolen coat. It was the coldest part of the night and an oppressive dampness was overtaking the air.

She had combed the park looking for Lauren for nearly three hours and had run across four sleeping homeless people, two of whom were children. She made a mental note to do something about them. The wheels of government turned too slow for her taste, but she could help two specific kids in the cold, if she put her mind to it. There had been a pair of young lovers on a blanket, who were… well, she didn’t stay around long to see exactly what they were doing, but their moans and the steam rising off their barely-blanket-covered bodies left little to the imagination. There was a harmless jogger and then finally came a man who was singing "Some Enchanted Evening" at the top of his lungs to his unfortunate paramour, who also happened to be an oak tree. God, she missed Ohio.

Lauren’s head snapped sideways as she realized something. She looked over the tops of her glasses, behind Dev and into the woods around them. Seeing nothing, she squinted as she gazed down the narrow path from which Devlyn had emerged. "You’re alone," she whispered. "Or do I just not see them?"

Dev knew this wasn’t what they needed to talk about. But now that she was here she found herself in no hurry to tackle the tough stuff. That would be hard enough without diving right in. She shook her head, not needing to ask whom Lauren was referring to. "I told them to wait by the car." Though she’d checked in with the Secret Service every few minutes and moved the car no less than six times so they would never be more than a moment or two away.

Lauren’s eyes widened. She looked at Dev again, realizing that, except for a few days at Janet and Frank’s farm in Ohio, she’d never been outdoors and alone with Dev. It seemed odd and disconcertingly intimate after the events of the day. "David must be having a fit."

Dev studied her shoes. "Umm…"

Lauren cocked her head sideways, recognizing that tone. "What?"

"I don’t think he’s speaking to me right now," Dev admitted a little sheepishly, cringing.

"Why? If he should be angry with anyone, it’s me. God, what I said to him."

"He’s not mad at you."

Lauren gave Dev a look.

"Okay, he is mad at you. At us both. He didn’t want me looking for you, and when I told him I was doing it anyway, well, things got out of hand."

Lauren took off her glasses and stuffed them into her pocket — a light fog was settling over the park and they were steaming up. "And then?" she prodded.

"And then I fired him."

"What!" Lauren’s voice was so loud it nearly woke Gremlin. Nearly. "It’s not safe for you to be out alone. It’s not the same for me, Devlyn. The shooting—"

"He’s not the boss of me," Devlyn stated, hoping it didn’t sound as childish to Lauren’s ears as it did her own.

Lauren stretched out her feet and stared into the trees with unseeing eyes. "We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?"

"Are we?" Dev forced the words out. "A pair?"

The air between them crackled with tension.

Lauren took a shaky breath. "I’m not sure anymore, Devlyn." She turned her head and the women locked eyes. It didn’t hurt this badly with Judd, her mind cried. Not even close. "We need to talk about Sarah."

Dev ran a hand through her hair, praying she’d do a better job of explaining this now than she had earlier. She was well aware that this might be her only chance and, frankly, that thought pissed her off nearly as much as Lauren’s lack of faith in her. "We do." She drew in a deep breath. "Nothing happened between Sarah and me." There. The simple truth was always best.

The flashing of gray eyes was visible even in the moonlight.

Dev quickly held up her hand. "I know what you saw. But that was her kissing me, not the other way around."

"She forced you?" The incredulous tinge to Lauren’s voice let Dev know how unlikely she considered that prospect.

Dev looked horrified. "Of course not!" She lowered her voice. "She’s not like that. She’s a good person."

Lauren ground her teeth together. "You’re defending her, even now. There is no defense for that. You’re engaged to me!"

"Just because Samantha is gone, it doesn’t mean I don’t consider Sarah my sister."

"Sister!" Lauren’s face turned a deep shade of red, and the anger that had been simmering since she left the White House exploded to the forefront. "And here I thought I was from the South. Christ on a crutch! What the hell kind of sister kisses you like that?"

"I don’t know," Dev hissed, shifting around so she was fully facing Lauren. "It’s never happened before. And it will never happen again."

"She kissed you?"

Dev lifted her jaw a little. "Yes."

"That kiss didn’t look like too much of a hardship, Devlyn. I have eyes. She’s a beautiful woman and even if she started it, you weren’t trying to stop her."

Devlyn opened her mouth, then closed it. She felt her ire rise along with one of Lauren’s eyebrows. "Don’t you do that. Don’t you dare keep acting like I have something to hide! I am not the one who cheated on you and yet I already feel like shit and am so scared I can’t see straight. I. Didn’t. Do. Anything. Wrong!"

"I saw it." Lauren shook her head quickly, remembering all the times her genuine inquiries with Judd been met by lies. And how it was just easier to believe than to be bothered to dig for the truth. How she didn’t care enough to dig. She spent a long moment, letting the past rear its ugly head… and bite her. Then some of her rational mind kicked in. What she had with Dev was worlds away from what she’d known before. And this time, she decided, she did care enough to fight tooth and nail.

"You think I’m not scared and sick too?" Lauren informed her hotly. "I spent the first hour away from the White House hanging over a motel toilet. I want to believe you, but you’re making it so hard!" The words came out in a steady stream, like a dam that had finally burst. "You’re acting guilty. And she’s beautiful and looks exactly like your dead wife." Lauren’s throat closed. "The one you still love," she managed to get out, ashamed of her bitterness towards a dead woman.

"Lauren…"

Lauren shook her head. "Please don’t say it. I know Samantha is your past. But that woman in your office isn’t. I saw what I saw, Devlyn. Give me more so that I can convince my head of what my heart is screaming," she begged, soft gray eyes glistening in the moonlight.

"Ugh!" With a slightly shaky hand, Dev rubbed her forehead briskly. "When she kissed me, I didn’t know what to do. We had been talking about Sam and she touched my face and I wasn’t expecting it, and…" She lifted one hand and then let it fall helplessly. "I’ve never been kissed by her before. I wasn’t even sure it wasn’t totally innocent until she tried to—"

"Inspect your tonsils with her tongue?" Lauren snapped, closing her eyes and turning as she angrily swiped at her tears.

"Something like that," Dev grumbled, fighting back the desperate feeling that had been gnawing at her guts all afternoon. "As soon as I knew what was happening, I moved to stop it and you walked in."

Lauren swallowed hard, replaying the events in her mind and trying to focus on what’d she actually seen and not the wild surge of jealousy and betrayal she’d felt upon seeing. "Is… Is this the first time that’s happened?"

"How can you even ask me that!"

"How can I not!"

The park went silent, save for their slightly rough breathing, the breeze in the trees, and Gremlin’s gravelly snores.

"Do you love me?" Devlyn finally asked, her heart in her throat.

Lauren let out a shuddering breath, her own heart suddenly pounding. Do I love her? her mind gasped. God.

Dev reached out and brushed away Lauren’s hot tears, leaving her hand there to cup a chilled cheek. She brushed her thumb over soft skin.

"You know I do," Lauren finally whispered raggedly, eyes closed tight, "more than anything or anyone."

"Then stop this before it goes any farther," she pleaded, knowing this went beyond a simple misunderstanding of a kiss. But to get to those issues, they had to successfully traverse this minefield. Dev didn’t know what she would do if they couldn’t. "Believe in me." She looked deeply in Lauren’s eyes, willing her to have faith in what they shared.

Lauren bit her lower lip. "Do you know what you’re asking?" she whispered, her voice tight with emotion. "To believe you more than my own eyes." But she found herself wanting to do just that. With devastating certainty, her heart knew why she was frightened beyond reason. Blindly trusting Dev wasn't difficult. It was, in fact, too, too easy.

"Trust me." Dev felt Lauren lean into her touch, hot tears rolling down the back of her hand. "You can always believe in me. I will never, ever, do to you what Judd did to you. You and the kids are my family, and I love you." Devlyn blinked a few times, clearing her eyes of her own tears. "Please," she whispered brokenly, desperation creeping back into her voice.

Lauren’s breathing hitched and Devlyn’s plea forced her to open her eyes and look at her. She couldn’t stop herself. That was all it took. She didn’t know how she ended up in the older woman’s arms, but there she was, Dev’s hands gently stroking her wavy pale hair, her body heat seeping into her cold skin, her heartbeat thundering wildly and visibly in the fair skin of her throat. "What am… what am I doing? I’m so sorry," Lauren mumbled, her lips against Dev’s chilled cheek.

Dev tightened her hold on Lauren, a single tear blazing a path down her cheek. "Me too." Thank you, God. She felt a little lightheaded and wasn’t sure if it was from relief or the death grip that Lauren had on her. Either way, she welcomed the sensation. "Me too," she repeated, pressing her lips against Lauren’s cheek. "I’ll talk to Sarah. I’ll work it all out, you’ll see. She knows I love you, Lauren. Everyone knows I love you. I’m not sure what she was thinking."

Lauren sniffed. "I love you, too. I’m sorry." Dazedly, she blinked a few times. "I’m not thinking straight. I—"

"I know." Devlyn felt Gremlin milling around at their feet. "I should have paid more attention to you, to Sarah, to Beth, who warned me that you were under too much pressure weeks ago."

Lauren felt warm puffs of air against her hair as Dev spoke.

"She told me that Sarah’s had a crush on me for years." A dark head shook in disbelief. "I never knew… I promise. Hell, I should have paid more attention to everybody."

"You’re busy," Lauren murmured quietly, nuzzling as close as humanly possible to Devlyn.

"Not too busy for that. I can’t be."

Lauren pulled back, and both women wiped gently at each other’s faces. "Devlyn, I think I need a vacation to regroup," she admitted tiredly. "Since we announced our engagement, I feel like things have been spinning out of control."

Dev nodded thoughtfully. "With us?"

"No," Lauren promised fiercely. "You and the kids and Beth and David, you’re what’s solid in my life. It’s everything else right now. The press. My mother’s death. My father’s rejection. The book. I haven’t written a thing in nearly a month. I need some time."

Dev sighed inwardly. She was afraid of this. "We can postpone the wedding." Please just don’t say cancel it.

Lauren smiled sadly, reading the worry on Dev’s face as easily as if it were her own. On impulse, she leaned in and kissed her soundly, feeling Dev’s surprised squawk more than hearing it. "Not on your life, Madam President," she whispered against soft, moist lips as she leaned back just a hair. "Nobody is taking that from us. I want to marry you. I just need to get used to the demands that go along with being your… your…" She looked at Devlyn in question. "Wife?" She didn’t much like the term when Judd had used it to introduce her. It had never felt right.

Dev grinned. Sometimes she forgot that Lauren’s relationships had been exclusively with men. "If you like. Or some people say spouse or partner?"

Lauren smiled, that last one ringing unfamiliar but pleasant chords deep within her. "I like that. But I don’t mind the other either. So long as you’re my wife, too."

Dev nodded enthusiastically. This was more like them. Talking things through. Working things out. Her stomach finally settled down and she felt mortally tired.

"I’m not willing to let other people take our happiness from us, Devlyn. I just need to get my head on straight to face the battles. I don’t know how you do it." There was genuine awe in her voice.

"Would a couple of weeks in Tennessee help?"

Lauren blinked. "God, no!" There was nothing for her there. She hadn’t been home since her mother’s funeral the year before, hadn’t called her father and invited him to the wedding, though she’d stood staring at the phone more times than she could count. She couldn’t face him cruelly dismissing her again by hanging up before she’d even said why she was calling. Her mother’s suicide and her relationship with Devlyn had, she admitted sadly, killed what little relationship she had with her father. She wondered briefly if anything so terribly broken could be repaired and how a parent’s love for his child could be so conditional.

"All right." Dev considered the possibilities, then gave voice to the most logical one. "My parents’ place? Mom was coming out here next week anyway. You could go there instead."

Lauren’s eyes lit up at the thought. It was so peaceful there. "God, that would be wonderful. Do you think they’d mind."

"Don’t be silly. They’ll be thrilled. They love you." Devlyn grasped her hand and threaded their fingers together. She took a deep breath, knowing what she had to do and already shuffling through mental contingency plans. There had to be another way. "Okay. I’ll make arrangements to cancel my trip and—"

"Don’t."

Startled and hurt, Dev scrambled for something to say. "I’ll still give you some time alone. I meant that," she clarified quickly, not wanting to Lauren to think she was smothering her. "I just thought—"

"I’m going to be fine," Lauren soothed, "and your trip is too important to miss." She smiled encouragingly. "Go, Devlyn. Save the world and all that. I’ll be here when you get back."

Dev pulled her into a rough embrace again, her eyes fluttering closed. Lauren did understand. "It’s not saving the world… but I do…" She exhaled slowly. "You’re sure?"

"I’m sure." Lauren reached up and tugged a lock of blowing hair behind Dev’s ear. She’d had enough of the difficult stuff for one evening. "Now, how long do we have before the army comes marching through this park?"

"Has it been 10 minutes yet?"

Lauren’s eyes went round. "Yes!"

"Then we’re fine because they gave me 20."

Lauren let out an explosive breath. "Funny."

"But," Dev leaned forward a little, taking Lauren with her, "we should be going."

They stood, each a little wobbly from the emotional strain of the day. The President wrapped a long arm around Lauren’s shoulders as they walked, Gremlin trailing lazily behind them.

"You need to apologize to David," Lauren reminded Devlyn gently. And so do I.

"I will."

Lauren glanced up at Dev as they walked, concern etched over her tired features. "Do you think you’ll get him back?"

"Huh?"

Blonde brows pulled together. "You said you fired him. Do you think you can get him back? I can talk to Beth and we can—"

Devlyn waved her off. "David isn’t going anywhere, Lauren. He knows I can’t run the damn country without him. He’s going to make me beg and plead and apologize, of course. All of which I owe him. But after that, he’ll be back." A wry smile touched her lips. "I fired him four times in the month after Samantha died and once when I didn’t make it to the hospital on time to see Chris be born."

"Was that his fault?" Lauren asked, guiding them down a small set of wooden steps. "About Chris?"

"Nah. We were both working on a last minute piece of legislation and had turned off our pagers so we wouldn’t be disturbed. Chris came two weeks early and Samantha’s labor was so short… I should have…" She shook her head a little. "Well, I just wasn’t thinking is all. David and I made up though, we always do. He’s a gracious man and I’m good at groveling." Dev smiled at Lauren’s muffled snort. "He’s quit a few times too over the years. So the situation has been reversed. We started in politics together about," she let out a low whistle, "about a million years ago. I… I don’t know that I’d want to do this without him."

"You’re lucky he’s your best friend."

Dev stopped walking and gently grasped Lauren’s chin, lifting it a little to force eye contact. "He’s my right hand and I love him, but you’re my best friend," she corrected, her eyes showing her devotion.

Lauren leaned her head against Dev’s shoulder. She sighed happily, her heart greedily absorbing the words. "You’re mine, too, Devlyn." And I need to trust you all the way. Or this will never work. And, God, how I want it to work.

"Then I guess I am lucky."

They walked for another moment or two until they came to a clearing that was dotted with picnic tables.

"‘Some enchanted evening!’" a man sang freely, his voice loud and proud. His clothes were in tatters but his sparse, black hair was slicked back neatly, befitting the importance of his courting. "‘When you find your true love.’"

"‘When you hear her call you, across a crowded room,’" Lauren crooned along, causing the man to turn and Devlyn to burst out laughing. "‘An' somehow you know, you know even then, that somewhere you'll see her again and again!’"

"Hey!" he protested indignantly, planting himself in front of the oak tree as if to shield his ladylove from the view of unwanted strangers. "There should be a law against interrupting a man’s love song."

"You’re right," Lauren called over her shoulder. "Let me see what I can do." She glanced over at Dev and winked. "I know people."

***

Dev looked at the itinerary that Liza had handed her before scooting out the door. She was seated in her office behind her massive antique desk, barefoot, her pumps hidden behind it. The President chewed her bottom lip as she read over the schedule of her trip to Scotland for the World Economic Summit. It would be held in Edinburgh this year. Still reading, she pushed to her feet and reluctantly wiggled into her shoes.

She poked her head out of her office and smiled at Liza, whose nose was buried in Dev’s calendar, and Jane, who was sorting through a stack of correspondence.

"Your next appointment is a video conference with Vice President Vincent in four minutes, Madam President." Liza bit off, "and 30 seconds." Dev had told her: when in doubt, round down. She disapproved of that plan. Then again, she wasn’t the President.

"Thank you, Liza. Where are my golf clubs?"

Liza’s eyebrows jumped as she scrambled for an answer. "Umm… I didn’t know you played golf, Madam President."

"She doesn’t," Jane mumbled. "What was your last game? Fifty-five over par for nine holes?" Dev scowled, but Jane continued undaunted. "You remember, the last game you played before you ordered me to donate your clubs to a charity auction."

"Oh. Right." Dev really did detest the sport and only played to placate her father, who was the most avid golfer on the planet. A wry smile curved her lips as she recalled the obscenely expensive golf "clinic" given by Tiger Woods that her father had enrolled her in during the summer of her senior year in college. Meeting Tiger had been a treat. But thousands of dollars later her golf game had still sucked. To this day, Tiger refused to acknowledge she’d been to one of his camps.

She sighed, knowing that her father would love a chance to play at St Andrews and that her attendance at the conference was more for show than substance. Her advisors would be doing the bulk of the work. "Liza, would you please find me a set of clubs? I’m taking my dad to Scotland with me and I’ll be humiliating myself on the golf course so we can spend some time together. If they stop taking my picture for more than five minutes, I’m sure we’ll find the time to play at some point."

Liza breezed through several screens on her handheld computer. "You won’t have to find time, Madam President. You’re already scheduled for a round of golf with the First Minister MacBheath and his wife on Sunday."

Wonderful. An audience. Dev scratched her forehead and sighed. "Who scheduled that?"

"Michael Oaks," Jane said. "He insisted, saying all politicians golfed at least well enough to have their picture taken at the club house. I tried to tell him…" Her voice trailed off.

Dev groaned. There was no way for him to know she couldn’t golf… at all. But still, he should have listened to Jane, the arrogant shit. "Make those a magic set of clubs, Liza. Please."

"One that can actually hit the ball," Jane murmured, still not looking up from her work.

"I heard that!" Dev blurted. "I can hit the ball!"

"Of course you can," Jane replied automatically, in her normal, placid voice. "I heard you did it once in 2003. Too bad no one took a photograph."

Dev narrowed her eyes at the older woman.

"I’ll order those clubs, Madam President," Liza said dutifully, trying hard not to laugh.

Dev took a step closer to her long-time secretary and friend. "Jane?"

"Yes, Tiger… err…." she gulped at the look on Dev’s face, "Madam President?"

Liza didn’t know what to think and her eyes widened a little as she glanced nervously between Jane and the President.

Stony-faced, Jane and Dev glared at each other for several long seconds before neither woman could hold the line and they both burst out laughing.

Liza exhaled in relief then blinked stupidly as she watched the barely veiled and undeniably rude gesture Dev made to Jane before returning to her office, but leaving the door open. "Buh…." Liza scrubbed her face. "Did she just…?"

"I can’t be sure, but I think she did!" Jane laughed. "I’m going to tell Janet on her," she said in a raised voice, smiling triumphantly when she heard Dev’s gasped "Uh oh."

***

Dev was just rising from her chair to head back to her quarters for the day when there was a gentle knock on the door that led from David’s office to her own. "Come in."

The tall man lifted his hands to forestall Dev before she could even get out a greeting.

Dev felt her heart rate pick up a little. That was always a bad sign. Very bad.

"Don’t kill me," he warned her seriously. "I had nothing to do with it."

She licked her lips and braced herself. The kids were in bed, right? Yes, she remembered, Chris and Aaron had phoned her to say goodnight. Ashley was already asleep. But what about Lauren? Where is she? They’d spoken on the phone only an hour ago. She looked fine, but… What if it’s raining or snowing in Ohio? What if…? A knot formed in her stomach. "What?"

"I just heard through the grapevine that your mom has hired Toby Yagasuki to design your wedding dress."

Dev closed her eyes and let out a ragged breath, a little amazed at how quickly she could get carried away.

"Hey." David looked concerned. "Are you all right?" He reached out and grabbed Dev’s hand, noticing a chill.

Dev gave him a quick nod and moved quickly to safer ground. "Would the grapevine happen to be named Beth?"

David gave her hand a squeeze, then dropped it. "I refuse to divulge my sources. Operation: Wed Dev is highly sensitive. You don’t have the security clearance," he teased.

"Why would I care about who Mom—? Oh, God!" Her jaw dropped. "Is Toby Yagasuki that little Japanese queen with big bouncy hair?"

David winced at the blunt, but apt, description.

"He does everything in mint and lime green; I saw him interviewed on television after the last Oscars." A panicked look crossed her face. "No way!"

"Sorry, Dev. The grapevine never lies, unless it’s about who used the end of the toilet paper last and didn’t put on the new roll." He loosened his tie as he took a seat in one of the armchairs in front of Dev’s desk, grunting in satisfaction at the comfortable furniture. "The ones in my office aren’t this comfortable."

"Who cares about chairs? I’m the one who is going to look like a piece of Key Lime pie! Things can be ‘all about you’ when I’m finished with things being ‘all about me.’"

David made a dismissive gesture. "Suck it up and be a man about it."

Playfully, Dev kicked at David’s shin. "I’m not a man!"

"I know." He shrugged. "But I couldn’t think of anything else to say."

Dev leaned against the front of her desk, a bewildered look on her face. First golf and now this? How many humiliations would come to pass in a single day?

David chuckled, not-so-secretly enjoying the nonplussed look on Dev’s face. "If the Secretary of Defense needs a new advisor on surgical strikes, I nominate your mother. She’s vicious."

Dev whimpered. "It’s going to be a huge circus, isn’t it?"

"Ringling Brothers, and everyone else in the entertainment industry, have already made an offer to provide… entertainment, I guess."

"My cousins will already be there. That’s my quota of freaks for the day."

David laughed. "No, no. Not freaks. It was a legitimate offer and one that we’re considering."

"What is it?" Dev’s voice was wary as she pushed off from the desk and plopped down in the chair next to David’s.

"Releasing 2,000 doves dressed in tiny tuxedos from a fake cake while the national anthem is blaring over the loudspeakers."

Dev’s eyes bugged out. "What!" David sniggered evilly and Dev realized she was being played. God, I knew I was going to pay for firing him. "Don’t do that to me, damn it. My heart can’t take it. I believed you."

"The part about the designer was true."

"Christ."

"Beth says you should see your mom, Devil. She’s having a ball."

Dev sighed. "I know. And because of that I’m going to bite my tongue and know someday that I’ll end up in daughter heaven. Samantha and I got married in front of a justice of the peace. I thought Mom was going to have a litter of kittens when we told her."

David shook his head and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees as he stretched out his tired back. "I remember. Oh, Lord, do I remember. Do you know she called me and chewed me out for letting you do that." He snorted. "Like I could have stopped you. I took hell for years over that." He relaxed back in the comfortable chair and considered stealing it for his office. "What about Lauren?"

"A civil service. Apparently, she didn’t feel comfortable in front of a minister, and Judd is just cheap."

David laughed.

"Mom is making up for missed opportunities now, isn’t she? You do realize that this would still be a circus, even if I wasn’t President."

"Just keep telling yourself that this will be your last wedding and you’ll make it through."

Dev’s jaw worked for a moment, her eyes dropping to the painfully clean carpet. "I want to. God, do I want to. But I can’t," she admitted quietly. "I said that when I married Sam."

David mentally kicked himself. "Oh, damn, Dev. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…"

"It’s okay. You know," she paused, wondering how much she wanted to say, even to David. "I’ve been thinking a lot about Sam lately."

"It’s only natural."

"Maybe it’s because I’m older," Dev speculated out loud. "Or maybe it’s because I never thought there would be someone after Samantha died." She shook her head slowly and then glanced up at her friend. "Is it wrong for me to feel like I love Lauren more than I loved Sam?"

"I don’t think so." He smiled reassuringly. "I don’t think you love Lauren more. I just think you love her differently." She’s more your equal, my friend. She challenges you in ways Samantha couldn’t.

"I do," Dev agreed, wanting to believe it as much as David apparently did. It’s just different, she told herself. Not more or less. Oh, Sam.

"So," Dev slapped her knees and forced the maudlin thoughts from her mind. She’d have enough time with them alone in bed tonight. "Do you think Beth and Lauren are having a good time with my mother? I think sending them both down there was a good idea."

"It was and she is. When did you talk to Lauren last?"

"Hour ago. I heard from her just about the time the little traitors were going to bed."

David laughed at Dev’s reference to the children who had chosen to accompany Lauren to Ohio rather than going to Scotland with her. They were on a weeklong break from their classes. "Be glad they love Lauren so much."

A bright smile split Dev’s face. "I am." She felt a happy warmth fill her belly. "You have no idea how good it makes me feel to see them with her. They adore her, and she’s so much better with them than she realizes." Dev shook her head in amusement. "You should have heard her the other day trying to explain the birds and the bees to Aaron. It was priceless."

David’s rusty-red eyebrows drew together; was he getting that big already? "Why was she doing that?"

"He asked," Dev said simply. She got up, kicked her shoes against the wall and trudged over to a table holding a carafe of strong coffee. "We were having dinner and out of the blue Aaron asks how many babies Lauren and I will be having after we’re married."

David’s eyes went a little round.

"Not if, but how many."

"Oh, boy." David joined Dev, filling his own cup of steaming brew. Then they both plopped down on the sofa and stretched their feet out in front of them. "And what did you say?" he finally asked, interestedly.

"I didn’t say anything, I was too busy laughing at the look on Lauren’s face. Lauren on the other hand, tried to explain to him that we didn’t know if we would." Dev took a sip of her coffee, lost in her thoughts for a moment as she wondered if perhaps Lauren had wanted to say no, but didn’t, only because they hadn’t really talked about having more children themselves. "Then Aaron asked why we wouldn’t and it went downhill from there."

David ran his finger over the rim of his cup, carefully considering his next question. He drew in a deep breath. "Dev?"

"Mmm?"

"Umm, I was wondering." He shifted uncomfortably, fully aware that this was something they’d consciously avoided talking about over the years. But since the assassination attempt on Dev and her engagement, a day hadn’t passed where he hasn’t thought of it. "When you and Lauren get married, what happens to custody of the kids?"

"Huh?" Dev looked at him as though he was crazy.

"No." He shook his head briskly, feeling incredibly awkward. "What I meant to say is, if something should happen to you… and I don’t think it’s going to, mind you. But on the horrible chance that it did, Beth and I were to get custody. Now…" He looked away, his teeth busily gnawing at his long mustache.

"I haven’t talked to Lauren about this yet. But she would be their mother just as I am." Dev’s tone had cooled considerably. "I would want her to have custody, of course. And you and Beth would be in line in the unlikely event that something happened to both Lauren and me."

David stared at the bright flag behind Dev’s desk. "I see."

Dev’s eyes softened, and she set her cup on the coffee table. "David—"

"It’s okay." He felt a little angry at himself for even asking. "I was just wondering."

"You know that I think you and Beth would be wonderful parents. I know you love the kids and are prepared to take them if necessary. But—"

"I know." He waved her off, not wanting to press it further. At least not today. But he couldn’t help but add, "I do have a special interest in the munchkins." His gaze strayed to the photo of Lauren and the kids displayed proudly on Dev’s desk, and a tendril of envy threatened him.

Dev’s chest began to tighten. What was happening here? "Do you want to tell the kids, David?"

"No!" David’s eyes widened and he nearly shot up off the sofa, before he realized he was right on the verge of overreacting. "No," he repeated again as he sat back. "We had an agreement, Devlyn. I intend to stick to it." His grip on his cup tightened. "Unless it’s a matter of medical necessity, we won’t tell the kids I’m their… father, donor, whatever. Being Uncle David is quite sufficient. Beth and I just don’t want to lose them from our lives."

Dev relaxed a little but still felt unsettled. She managed to give David a slightly scolding look. "You know better than that, David. I keep my promises, too. You’ll never be out of their lives. No matter what."

"What does Lauren have to say about this?" He finally turned to face Devlyn.

Dev blinked stupidly. "I… well… I don’t know."

"Huh?"

"She doesn’t know about you being the father."

"Shit, Dev!" David nearly spilled his coffee. "Are you insane?"

Dev wrinkled her face in dismay. "It hasn’t come up. And this was something we agreed to keep between ourselves." She was starting to get annoyed. "God, until you mentioned it just now, I hadn’t even thought of it in years, David. Besides, we did this long before I even met Lauren. She loves the children and she thinks you and Beth walk on water. I’m sure she’ll find the entire arrangement perfectly logical," Dev pronounced firmly, her voice exuding confidence.

"I’m sure she’ll think you didn’t trust her enough to tell her," David corrected. "Samantha put up with that crap, let you decide what was important enough to share and what wasn’t, make all the big decisions. I doubt that Lauren will."

"It wasn’t like that, and you know it, " Dev snapped, her eyes flashing a warning to David. He was going too far. But now a tiny part of Dev was beginning to worry about Lauren’s reaction. "We’ll talk about it eventually, and the rest is a private matter between us."

Wisely, David backed off. Neither one spoke for few moments as they intentionally allowed their tempers to cool. He tapped the rim of his mug as an old memory flashed behind his eyes. "Do you remember what Beth’s first question was?"

"You mean when Samantha and I told her we wanted you to be the donor?" She relaxed into her seat again.

David nodded. "That’s the one."

Dev tilted her head back and looked at the sculpted ceiling. She would have to explain this to Lauren, too, no doubt. "She wanted to know if we were going to sleep together."

Dev’s chief of staff smiled a bittersweet smile at the memory of that very intense, very emotion-filled late night talk. "And of course that was right on the heels of your so-called ‘rebellious period’ where you got a motorcycle just because."

"I was never very good at being rebellious," Dev conceded ruefully.

"No," David smiled in remembrance, "you weren’t. Except for the way you feel about women, you’ve always played by the rules, Devil."

"And those rules are changing." The pride in her voice was unmistakable. In a single generation so much had changed about the public’s attitudes towards homosexuals. And she knew it was largely due to people like her, who lived their lives the way their hearts told them was right and somehow achieved their dreams in spite of people’s petty prejudices.

"When you drove up on that motorcycle, Beth thought you had lost your mind. Then you come to her asking for a sperm donation."

"I’m surprised she didn’t try to have me committed. I was scared to death to ride the silly thing but too embarrassed to admit it to Samantha, so I did it anyway. I was young and stupid." She spared a wistful smile for her younger self. "But I knew I wanted a family sometime. And those little suckers hold up pretty well in the freezer." She gave him a nudge with his shoulder and he laughed quietly.

"I think she always felt a little odd about me having children with two other women." He took another sip of coffee, deciding Dev didn’t need to know that he and Beth had been trying unsuccessfully to have their own for the past several years. Some things were too private even for the closest of friends. "Then she was there when Chris was born and those doubts seemed to disappear. I mean, she loves Ashley and has since the day she was born, but when she actually got to be the first person to hold him… I could have fathered a dozen children for you and she wouldn’t have cared."

Dev fingered the slightly scratchy material of her navy, wool trousers. "I couldn’t be the first to hold him. I’m glad it was Beth. She was really there for me and Samantha that night."

A knock on the door interrupted their trip down memory lane. "Come in."

Liza took a step into the office, trying not to yawn. It was nearly 8 at night. "Michael Oaks to see you, Madam President."

Dev and David traded unhappy looks. "Thank you, Liza. Please tell him to come in."

"Yes, ma’am." Liza began to back out.

"And, Liza?"

She stopped dead in her tracks, her attention riveted on Dev. "Ma’am?"

"Go home."

For once, she didn’t argue. "Thank you, Madam President. Good night. And goodnight to you, Mr. McMillian."

"Night," David and Dev chorused.

Liza waved Michael Oaks in and he closed the door behind himself before issuing a polite greeting. Young, ambitious, and disgustingly good at his job, Social Secretary Michael Oaks was one of the least popular members of Devlyn’s staff.

"Madam President, David, good evening." He hesitated for a moment as he forced himself to say her name. "Strayer was supposed to fax me a copy of the guest list for the wedding and she hasn’t done it yet."

Dev bit her lips to keep from taking his head off over his attitude towards Lauren. To put it simply, her lover and Michael hated each other and not even the President could end the little, though continuous, war between them. He was, Dev decided, just annoyingly anal, persnickety, and pompous. All qualities that didn’t mix well with Lauren… or anyone else who would stand up to the arrogant man.

"Mike," Devlyn called him Mike because it annoyed him the same way his distaste for Lauren annoyed her, "she’s only been in Ohio for two days. This trip is mostly a vacation. Give her a break, will you? Besides, my mother hasn’t even gotten the first draft of the list done yet, and I’ll bet 50 bucks she’s still adding people to it."

Michael scratched the side of his neatly coifed Afro, a gesture both Dev and David recognized as one he made only when he was frustrated beyond words. They both suppressed grins.

He puffed out his slender chest. "Ma’am, I really need that report."

Dev rolled her eyes. "First, it’s not a report. It’s a guest list for our wedding. And who will be there for the most important day of my life is important to me. So I’m not rushing anybody when it comes to it. Second," she got up and walked slowly toward him, her posture and tone sending out a strong warning, "You will address the future First Lady as Ms. Strayer unless she gives you permission to do otherwise. Understand?"

"I don’t think Lauren would give it either, do you, Dev?" David asked blithely.

"No. I don’t think she would. You’ll get the list when you get it."

Michael squared his shoulders and replanted his feet, intending to stand his ground, even if it was just a little. When was the President going to realize he really did know what was best in these matters? Leaving important details to her flamboyant mother and bitchy fiancée was a recipe for disaster. "Ma’am, you don’t understand—"

Before another word could escape his lips, David sprang off the couch. "Excuse me, Michael. What part of ‘you’ll get it when you get it’ didn’t you understand?"

Michael fought the urge to take a step backwards. "Sir?"

"The President’s statement was crystal clear."

Michael sighed inwardly. He was a man who believed in picking his battles. And he’d just decided that he wasn’t going to pick this one. He knew his appointment more than three years ago to the then Governor of Ohio had been a political favor. But sometimes being a Republican in an Emancipation Party administration that was very Democrat friendly was more than he could bear. He felt like a noble among liberal peasants.

"I’m sorry, David," Michael began. "But we don’t have much time to put this wedding together, and the more time that’s frivolously—"

David grabbed Michael by the arm of his perfectly pressed, gray suit and escorted him to the door. Dev had managed to rush around them both to open the door. She was afraid that David might send Michael right through it without bothering with that small detail. What had gotten into him tonight? "Out. Get out!" He let go of Michael’s arm and gave him a little shove when it appeared his feet were glued to the ground.

David pointed at Michael as he spoke to Jane. "If he tries to get back in here, have security shoot him. The President is busy for the rest of the night."

Jane nodded and gave Michael a dirty look before making a shooing motion to send him on his way, watching as he gave his suit coat an indignant tug and stomped away.

That young man is trouble, Jane thought, as she rose and clicked off her desk lamp. The door to the President’s office slammed and she wondered what had riled the usually gentle David McMillian. "The Ides of March are upon us," she said ominously as she retrieved her coat and began to walk down the darkened hallway.

***

A single dark eyebrow jumped as Dev watched her father line up his putt. She looked to David with an evil expression that caused her friend to shake his head emphatically. Her grin grew wider and, in turn, David shook his head even more frantically. "No!" he mouthed silently.

Just as her father ended his abbreviated swing, she sighed loudly. The ball missed the cup by two inches, and Frank turned around to bestow a murderous glare on his only child. "Not nice, Devil."

"I did nothing," she protested, raising her hands in innocence.

"Right," her father grumbled as he stepped back and allowed David to prepare his shot.

"Sheesh, don’t blame me if you’re not good at golf." Dev plucked a bottle of water from the golf cart and took a healthy drink. "I was just standing here behaving myself."

"Uh huh." He sneered a little as she handed him the water. "You know, by my calculations, you’re about 30 over par."

"Hush." She looked aghast that he would bring up such a thing. "I don’t know why you drag me out for this. You know I’m not any good."

"You can’t be good at everything, sweetheart." He smiled as Dev scowled. "This keeps you honest."

"Hell, I’m not good at a lot of things," David chimed in as he plucked his ball from the cup. "Just ask Beth."

Dev moved over to her ball, which was just on this side of the green, and for several seconds regarded the putt she knew she would never make.

Just as her club made contact with the ball, Frank asked loudly, "So when are you and Lauren planning children?"

The ball rolled well off the putting green, then down a steep slope. "Shit." She glanced up at her father. "What? Have you been talking to Aaron?"

"Of course. He is my favorite grandson," Frank reminded her reproachfully. "Along with Christopher, my other favorite grandson."

Dev huffed as she retrieved her ball, sticking it into the pocket of her pants. "I am not shooting it again." She marched over to the cart and took a seat.

Frank chuckled as he sank the putt he had missed. "Watch it, Dev. The press will get a picture of you pouting."

"I don’t care," she answered as she crossed her arms over her chest, grateful that the First Minister had begged off today and wasn’t around to witness her humiliation first hand. Of course it would be in all the papers in the morning. She groaned inwardly.

David and Frank both burst out laughing as they climbed in the cart and headed to the next hole, with a small caravan of press and Secret Service following just out of earshot.

Dev glanced sideways at her father, who was driving. "Why did you ask that?"

"Seemed like a logical question, Devil. I know you always wanted lots of kids. And I wasn’t aware that that had changed."

Dev examined her putter with exaggerated interest. "Yeah, well, I’m not sure Lauren wants lots of kids. I think she thinks that the three we have are plenty."

David shifted uncomfortably, wishing he wasn’t here for this particular conversation.

"You haven’t talked about it?" Frank asked, his tone more surprised than scolding.

"No." She set down her putter and began picking at a clump of dirt attached to one of her cleats. "Why not, Devlyn?" comes next.

"Why not, Devlyn?"

She looked at him sharply, annoyance written clearly on her face. Then she glanced back at David, who pulled his golf cap down over his eyes.

"Dad, sometimes, when you love someone, you just go with what you’ve got."

"Bullshit." He looked at her sternly. "You never know until you ask. Your mother and I didn’t raise you to run away from things."

"Dad…" she warned.

"No, now listen to me, Devil. You’re not going to be President forever; you’re going to go back to at least a semi-private life eventually. Why should you give up on the things that you’ve wanted your entire life because you’re marrying Lauren?"

"Because that’s how equitable partnerships go, Dad."

"Don’t lecture me about partnerships, young lady. I’ve been married for over 42 years."

"Yes, sir." Devlyn was instantly contrite.

Frank sighed and patted Dev’s leg. "I don’t mean to push, honey. I just hate to see you abandon something that was important to you without even trying for it."

Dev resisted rolling her eyes. "We have three kids. I’m sure that is plenty for Lauren."

"Or are you just afraid of what her answer will be if you do ask?"

Dev groaned. "You’re like a dog with a bone."

Frank let out a low growl, and David chuckled despite himself.

"God," she dropped her face in her hands. "Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain?"

"Yes. Several times," he answered as he slowed the cart and then turned towards her and pinned her with intense eyes. "I nearly lost you last year. All I could do was sit back and watch you recover from being shot. I watched you. I watched Lauren. And I could see it then, the way you two were falling for each other. The way she worried about you. Then I looked at my grandchildren." He swallowed hard and took her hand. "Sam’s death was hard enough for all of us. Losing you would have…" He stopped and shook his head. "Just make sure you talk to Lauren. I want you and Lauren both to have everything you want in life, sweetheart."

She nodded, trying to understand what he was saying. "We’ll talk, Dad. I promise. But no guarantees."

"Of course not." He lifted his chin a little, pushing back the morbid thoughts. "Deciding to stop with the wonderful grandbabies I have now is one thing. But let it be a decision you both make. Give Lauren enough credit to at least include her in it." He pressed the gas pedal on the cart, and they began to buzz along again. The air smelled fresh and cool, tinged with the green scent of wet grass. "Besides, I think Lauren would make really cute babies."

"Hey, what about me?" Dev blurted. "I make pretty good looking kids too, ya know."

"Yeah," David sat up straight now, finally willing to wade into the conversation. "But you’re getting a little long in the tooth there, Dev. It won’t be long before you go through ‘the change.’"

She snatched the cap her father was wearing, which only served to complete his hideous golfing outfit of blue-and-green plaid pants and a pink shirt, and beat David with it, knowing that cameras behind them were probably clicking madly, but not caring a bit. "You are so fired."

David grabbed the hat and grinned. "So what’s new?" He gently placed the cap back on Frank’s head. "You’re going to have to do better than that before I get worried."

The cart stopped and they climbed out. As they picked their drivers, Frank placed his hand on Dev’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I know I sound like I’m butting in, a task I usually and very happily leave to your mother."

"It’s okay, Dad, truly." Devlyn knew her father had wanted more children but that her birth had been exceptionally difficult on her mother, who was warned that another childbirth would be life-threatening.

"Are you happy, Devil?" The answer was painfully obvious, but he felt like it was his fatherly duty to ask every once in a while anyway.

Dev beamed. "You have no idea."

"Can your old man make one more observation?"

"Could I stop you?"

"No."

"Didn’t think so."

"I do have an idea, because when I watch you with Lauren and I see the way you look at her," he paused, blushing slightly. "It’s the same way I still look at your mother, even after all these years."

"I’ve got it that bad, huh?" Dev’s eyes twinkled happily.

"You’ve got it in spades."

"Good."

Frank winked and gestured toward the green, where David was waiting patiently. "Shall we, Madam President?"

"Sure, I can handle another five holes of humiliation." Dev leaned up and kissed her father’s cheek. He smelled of Old Spice, and she smiled as the scent so familiar from childhood tickled her nose.

As they walked she looked up to the press following them and waved; the faint sound of cameras clicking made her shake her head. "I’m glad my ability to be President isn’t impaired by my inability to play golf." She leaned on the club, standing side-by-side with Frank, unintentionally creating a memorable photo op while David swung his club.

***

It was well after midnight and Lauren had had such a wonderful day of not doing much of anything at all that she was now wide awake and in search of a cup of coffee. After a year of living with a self-proclaimed coffee addict, she found herself craving the tasty brew nearly as much as Devlyn did.

She’d spent five days in the cabin on the Marlowes’ property all alone, enjoying the peace and solitude and trying to work her way back to a healthy state of mind. She didn’t work on Dev’s biography or even on the installment in her Adrienne Nash fiction series that she and Devlyn were supposed to do together, but never seemed to have enough time for. Instead, she wrote bad poetry that caused her to burst out laughing when she read it out loud, read trashy paperback romances, ate popcorn for breakfast, and daydreamed to her heart’s content. It was a much needed respite in a life that had somehow spun out of her control, and she was, at last, able to spend a good long while remembering the good things in her life and being thankful for them.

In her pajamas and a robe, Lauren padded slowly down the stairs of the main house that led into the Marlowe kitchen. The lights were off, but the soft moonlight streaming through the windows allowed her to see where she was going. The wooden floors were cold on her bare feet, and she spared a brief, wistful thought for the pair of toasty sweat socks that she knew she had stashed in the dresser upstairs. The house was large and well appointed by any standards, but held a warmth of character that the White House couldn’t match in her eyes. She was glad that Devlyn had grown up here, where love flowed like a river, filling things up. Things here were so bright and hopeful.

When she closed her eyes and thought of the small, working class house where she grew up in Nashville and where her father still lived, one word came to mind… dark. In every way. Her mother had suffered from migraines and debilitating bouts of depression, and the shades at the Strayer house were always drawn tightly together, blocking out the light. And everything else.

"Oh, Mama," she sighed. "Please let it be that you finally found the peace you craved." She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar ache in her stomach that accompanied thoughts of her mother. Anna Strayer’s suicide had been on her mind a lot lately as she fought with her own seeming inability to get a handle on the media and political frenzy that accompanied her engagement to Devlyn. After spending her entire adult life as a professional observer, she found being under such maddening, intense scrutiny more than she could bear at times.

Lauren fiddled with the coffee maker on the kitchen counter, letting out a small, satisfied grunt when she found that the aromatic grounds were already neatly in place, waiting to be brewed. She pushed the "on" button, her mind still on her mother. "Maybe I need to go to the doctor?"

"Are you not feeling well, dear?"

Lauren whirled around at the unexpected voice, inadvertently startling the speaker as much as herself.

"Oh," Janet gasped, then smiled in apology. She was wearing a thin, red plaid robe and brown suede slippers. She also didn’t look like she’d been to bed yet. "I didn’t mean to frighten you."

Lauren let out a slow breath, her heart pounding so furiously that she was a little dizzy. "No," she chuckled a little sheepishly. "It’s all right. I just wasn’t expecting anyone."

"I heard footsteps."

Lauren moved away from the counter, the motion bringing the scent of coffee to Janet. She smiled fondly. "You have been spending too much time with my daughter, I see." She made a face. "I never could drink the stuff. Too bitter. I prefer tea with milk and sugar, I’m afraid."

A shy smiled twitched at Lauren’s lips. "Even though she’s turned me into a hopeless addict, my time with Devlyn is well spent."

Janet grinned broadly. Love was such a beautiful thing it made her want to cry. "I imagine it is." She wove her arm through Lauren’s and led her to a small breakfast table. "Here." From the deep front pocket of her robe she pulled out a pair of heavy gray socks. "I thought you might need these. The floors are cold at night."

Lauren’s face lit up. "Oooo… yes, please. You always seem to know. Are you a witch or something?" Happily, she took the socks and sat down. Tugging them on, she sighed as her toes instantly warmed.

"Depends on who you ask, dear." Janet sat down across from Lauren. Her blue eyes twinkled and unerringly reminded Lauren very much of a shorter, older, salt-and-peppered hair version of Devlyn. "I have my moments."

Lauren reached across the small table and took her hand, absorbing the warmth and strength of Janet’s grasp. She briefly focused her attention on Janet’s hands, thinking that, despite the fact that Janet Marlowe was a very attractive woman, it was true what people said. The face might lie, but the hands always reveal a woman’s real age.

The older woman’s gaze softened. She remembered looking at her own mother and grandmother’s hands with just the same expression. God, where have the years gone? "How was the cabin?"

"Mmm…" Lauren looked up from their linked hands. "Good, I think," she said a little hesitantly. "I’m… I’m not sure what Devlyn told you."

Janet’s eyebrows lifted. "She told me that you needed a place to relax."

Lauren swallowed, ashamed. "That’s all?"

Janet sighed. "That’s all, honey. Although I did have an interesting talk with Sarah Turner, who called me last week and told me that she wouldn’t be coming to the wedding."

Janet’s expression turned slightly sour and Lauren wondered why. She didn’t have to wonder long. "That girl has always been a handful, and it hasn’t helped that Devlyn is such a babe in the woods."

Lauren snorted. "Babe in the woods? The woman who I’ve personally seen stare down the most powerful men and women in the world and either win them over or scare the crap out of them, depending on what she was trying to do? That woman?"

"That would be the one." Janet patted Lauren’s hand and stood, making her way back to the coffeepot. "Surely you know that you’re far more experienced in matters of the heart than Devlyn," she chided gently. "Dev married her first love with nothing more than a few random dates under her belt for experience." She pulled two mugs out of the cabinet and set a kettle of water to boil, spooning some sugar into her mug and reaching into the refrigerator for the milk. The bright refrigerator light illuminated her profile, causing the silver streaks in her hair to nearly glow.

"I was…" Lauren shrugged. "I was a little surprised when she told me she didn’t have much experience." An understatement and she knew it. "But she was with Samantha for years." And it’s not like I’ve ever had a successful relationship for nearly that long.

"Yes," Janet allowed, "she was. But she learned how to handle Samantha in that time. And that’s about all. When it comes to other women, including you… well, as I said, she’s a babe in the woods. When it comes to politics, she’s as savvy as a fox. When it comes to love…"

"She believes that everyone else is as honest and straightforward as she is."

Janet nodded. "Exactly. Which is why Sarah threw her for such a loop."

Lauren glanced up, surprised.

"Sarah told me what happened," Janet confirmed, pouring a splash of milk into her cup and then putting the milk back into the fridge.

"I… Janet." Lauren tugged on her lower lip with her teeth for a moment, gathering her courage. "After seeing Sarah and Devlyn… It was hard for me to believe nothing was going on," she admitted, chagrined. "I should have trusted her more."

"Mmm…" Janet was noncommittal. "I don’t know. You’re being pretty hard on yourself. Only a fool doesn’t look before she leaps."

"But I already leaped when I proposed to Devlyn. Isn’t it a little late to be looking now?"

"Isn’t it a little late for Devlyn to be being kissed by other women?" Janet answered reasonably, pulling a bag of lemon herbal tea from a box and placing it into her cup. She poured the steaming water over it, mingling the scent of citrus with the aroma of coffee.

"You both made it through this, Lauren." She turned to face the blonde woman. "And in the end that’s what counts. Not the arguments or compromises that happened along the way." She laughed softly, the melodic sound making her seem much younger. "I can’t tell you how many times Frank and I have wrestled through things over the years. But we’re still together and still in love."

Lauren shifted in her chair and regarded Janet curiously as she filled both their mugs. "You and Dr. Marlowe," she backtracked at Janet’s stern look, "you and Frank are very different people." She imagined there were many times when the mild Frank and fiery Janet clashed.

"Like you and Devlyn," Janet pointed out, retaking her seat at the table and passing over Lauren’s steaming mug.

Lauren smiled her thanks. They sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying each other’s company and the fragrant liquids that slid down their throats and warmed their bellies. A gust of wind rattled the kitchen window and both women turned towards the sound.

Janet gently cleared her throat, treading very carefully into unknown waters. "You mentioned a doctor before. Are you ill?"

Lauren wasn’t expecting that, thinking that she’d successfully dodged that bullet earlier. Before she could stop them, tears filled her eyes. "I don’t know," she whispered.

"Oh, honey." Janet leaned forward a little, searching Lauren’s down-turned face. "What is it?"

Lauren swallowed a few times before speaking. "I haven’t been handling stress very well lately." There. Starting was always the hard part. "I’ve been getting frustrated or upset far more than I should and… and it’s made me think of Mama."

Janet was still terribly at sea, but sensed this was something very important to the younger woman. "Devlyn explained that your mother passed away last year. I was truly sorry to hear that."

Lauren nodded mutely.

"There are still times that I miss my mother." Janet lifted her tea bag and watched it drain into her mug before dunking it again. "When something good or bad happens, I still find myself anxious to tell her, and it’s been nearly 10 years since she died."

Pale brows furrowed deeply as Lauren thought. "That hasn’t happened to me once, I’m ashamed to say. We," she sighed, "we didn’t have a very good relationship. We never did really." How could she capture a lifetime of disappointment and hurt in a few words? A contemplative look crossed her face. "She loved me the best she knew how, but she was always so remote, just out of reach, I don’t feel like I ever knew her at all."

Suddenly, Janet’s choice of words replayed themselves in her mind. Passed away… "Janet, didn’t Devlyn tell you what happened with my mother?"

"Well…" she paused as she thought back. "She said that your mother had been ill and had passed away. Other than that—"

"She hung herself," Lauren said softly. There was a resigned, flat quality to her voice that caused a shiver to race down Janet’s spine.

"Oh, God." For a moment Janet was shocked into silence as the unexpected words soaked in. "I’m so sorry. You and your poor father," she uttered quietly. "How horrible." Then her eyes widened briefly, but she firmly clamped down on herself, not wanting her reaction to cause Lauren to withdraw. Oh, no. "You haven’t been thinking of—"

"No," Lauren interrupted instantly, still managing to read Janet’s alarm. "I would never do anything like that. I haven’t even considered it. I swear."

Janet let out a shaky breath. "Thank goodness." She slumped back in her chair. "You had me concerned there for a moment." She set down her cup and took Lauren’s hand again. "Then what’s this about doctors and things reminding you of your mother?"

A pained look crossed Lauren’s face. "Mama couldn’t handle stress. Obviously. She never could, even when I was a child. If I caught a cold or twisted an ankle, she’d look at me with such a helpless expression that it would break my heart. Even when intellectually she knew what to do, emotionally she couldn’t handle it. She would just go into her bedroom, lock the door, and stay there." Sometimes for days. Lauren drew in a breath, memories clouding normally bright eyes. "I would hear her crying and Daddy would insist that I leave her be, that she was dealing with things in her own way."

Janet’s heart ached for Lauren, and she felt a wave of anger for the child who had to grow up under such impossible circumstances and the woman who would always carry the scars.

"But she wasn’t dealing with anything," Lauren continued bravely. It was easier to talk to Janet than she thought it would be. On some level, easier than Devlyn, who sometimes couldn’t repress her own anger and outrage over Lauren’s long-dead past. In those situations Lauren found herself wanting to comfort Devlyn more than to continue their conversation. She hadn’t consciously planned it, Lauren admitted to herself, but she and Janet had some time alone together now and she needed to talk. Especially after the solitude of the cabin had allowed her to put some things into perspective.

"Mama was hiding from the world." Lauren braced herself for the hardest part. "And lately… umm… I’ve been wanting to do the same thing." She glanced at Janet’s face, worried, half-expecting to see pity or disgust, but finding only empathy and love. She let out the breath she’d been holding.

"I see," Janet said slowly. She thought for a moment before saying anything else, but when she did speak, it was with a quiet certainty. "Did your maternal grandmother or father commit suicide as well?"

Lauren blinked. "I… uh… No." She shook her head. "Grandma had a heart attack when I was four and Grandpa was killed in Vietnam."

Janet absorbed that information. "Was your mother hounded day and night by reporters?"

Lauren’s eyes widened a touch. "Of course not."

"And was her every move regulated, scheduled, and guarded with men and women with guns?"

Lauren shook her head, a tiny smile twitching at her lips. It was impossibly easy to love Janet. "No. But—"

"And in the span of less than a year did she go from being someone who could walk down the street in peace to someone whose face was plastered on half the magazines at the newsstand?"

Lauren’s eyes softened as she looked at Janet. Devlyn’s mother would champion her, just as the younger Marlowe would. "No." She gave Janet a watery smile full of affection. "I guess she didn’t."

"And I’m assuming she didn’t have three rambunctious children pop into her life all at once, needing from her every bit of the love and attention they could get from a second parent. Or…" Janet gave her a curious look, "and forgive me if I’m out of line here, but I do know that you were married to a man and then divorced. Is Devlyn the first woman you’ve had a relationship with?"

Mutely, Lauren nodded, squirming a little in her chair. "First and last, I hope."

Janet smiled sagely. "And was this a revelation for you last year? Your interest in women?" she inquired gently.

"Not completely new, no." Lauren fiddled with her mug, feeling her face heat and hoping this wasn’t going to lead to a discussion about sex. "But it wasn’t something I let myself think about much either. And certainly nothing I’d ever acted on."

"Mmm… Hmm…" Janet tapped the tabletop with her index finger. "So on top of everything else, last year you acknowledged another facet of your sexual orientation for the first time when you fell in love my daughter?"

Lauren’s mouth worked for a few seconds, but no sound came out. She watched as Janet lifted her chin in silent triumph. "I guess I did. God, it’s a wonder I’m not in the booby hatch, isn’t it?" she muttered in awe. Had all that happened in only a year?

Janet chuckled. "Basically." Then her expression grew more serious. "Please don’t think that I don’t believe your mother had real problems, dear. It’s clear that she must have been fighting horrible demons. But I don’t think, because there are times you need to regroup or you want to push the world away for a while, that you’re anything but normal and healthy." Her voice strengthened. "You’ve earned the right to pull back and take a deep breath when you need to." She stared directly into Lauren’s eyes. "Don’t deny yourself, honey, or think you’re crazy for needing it." She patted Lauren’s hand before releasing it. "Had I been in your shoes, I would have snapped weeks ago. And outright killed that annoying man, Michael Oaks."

A small laugh forced its way from Lauren’s throat. "No, you wouldn’t," she told her with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, you’d be surprised." A feral look flickered over Janet’s face before being replaced by her usual, pleasantly neutral expression. She glanced at Lauren’s nearly empty mug. "A refill?"

Lauren shook her head and sighed, feeling a good portion of the unbearable weight that had been crushing her shoulders begin to ease.

Janet took a long swallow of tea.

"Janet," she held her tongue until Devlyn’s mother had her eyes fastened on her before speaking, "I don’t want you to think that Devlyn or the children have been a hardship. They haven’t," Lauren promised emphatically. "I love them all with all my heart. They aren’t what I ever thought I’d have in my life, and still, they’re the best things in it."

"I know that, honey," Janet answered kindly, understanding more than the younger woman would have ever suspected. Maybe it will help… "Have I ever told you how I met Frank?"

Lauren started a little at the change in subject. "No." She cocked her head eagerly and a slow smile spread over her face. "But I’d love to hear."

"I was working the late shift at an ice cream parlor when he walked in."

"Ooo, my fantasy job," Lauren said dreamily. "But only if I could quit after I got full."

They both laughed softly.

"Trust me, it wasn’t that glamorous." She gave her a conspiratorial wink. "Though I did gain seven pounds before I had the sense to quit. Anyway, I was set to run away from college the next day."

Lauren’s forehead wrinkled. "With Frank?"

Janet flashed Lauren a wicked smile. "With Brian Webber."

Ooo… Lauren’s interest was piqued. "Oh, my."

Janet grinned nostalgically. "I haven’t said that name in years." She sighed. "He was a wild and handsome boy, with long, untamed blonde hair and a guitar always strapped to his back. He had a peace symbol tattooed on his shoulder and wore nothing but those floppy leather sandals all year long. Even in the snow, the goof."

Lauren stifled a giggle.

But Janet giggled a little herself, something Lauren had never seen her do before. She was charmed.

"He was a songwriter who was going to change the world with his music." Janet lowered her voice a little, as though Brian might actually hear her. She wrinkled her nose. "Though he wasn’t that good." Her voice returned to normal. "We met on campus at Ohio State after he’d given a free concert on the grass in front of the student union."

"Were you in love with him?"

Janet considered the question thoughtfully, thinking that Brian deserved at least that much. "I was in ‘lust’ with him," she finally confided. "But it wasn’t the same as what I came to feel for Frank. Brian fascinated me beyond reason, igniting my imagination. And God was he good in bed." She fanned herself. "He made love to me as though the world was ending." She winked at Lauren, who was now sporting a blush so pronounced that it was visible, even in the dim light. "Don’t worry, dear. I’ll spare you the gory details so your head doesn’t explode."

"Thanks," Lauren croaked, swallowing hard.

Janet waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing as pedestrian as marriage and children would do for us. We had a different, daring life planned. One that didn’t even remotely resemble the ordinary middle class family I’d been raised in or the upper middle-class existence I was supposed to aspire to. I wasn’t just going to break away from that tired old mold. I was going to explode from it."

Enthralled, Lauren waited for her to continue as Janet gathered her thoughts. A far off look crossed the older woman’s face and then she smiled.

"I was just about to close the shop for the evening and was thinking about what I would pack and how I would explain to my poor parents what I was about to do, when a tall, slim, good-looking man strode into the shop. His pants — not jeans, as we all wore in those days, but cotton trousers — were neatly pressed and his shoes were so shiny I could see the reflection of the ice cream case in them when I peered down at them."

"Frank?" The description, except for the dark hair, which had turned a snowy-white with the passage of time, was still a very apt one.

Janet nearly swooned as she said, "He had the most beautiful blue-green eyes I had ever seen, and when I looked up from what I was doing I actually gasped."

Delighted, Lauren laughed. "And you fell instantly in love?"

"Hardly!" Janet contradicted, excitement lighting her eyes. "After I managed to peel myself away from those beautiful eyes, I asked him, rather rudely, I might add, what kind of ice cream he wanted. I was anxious to leave and meet Brian, you see." Janet crossed her arms over her chest. "You’ll never guess what kind of ice cream he ordered."

An enormous grin split Lauren’s face. "Sure I can. The same kind that Devlyn prefers. Vanilla."

"Vanilla," Janet confirmed, wrinkling her nose. "We had 101 flavors in that store and that’s what he ordered. I looked at his wholesome clothes and neat haircut and considered his dull choice of ice cream and actually smirked."

"Uh oh."

"Uh oh is right," Janet informed her blithely. "He spent the next 10 minutes explaining to me why vanilla was the perfect choice and one that would never be subject to fads or go out of style. It was, he told me in that that deep voice of his, a timeless classic."

"And what did you say?"

Mischievously, Janet chuckled. "I said so was my granny’s girdle, but that didn’t mean I wanted one."

Lauren shook her head, easily picturing the words coming from a young, polite, yet feisty Janet Peabody. If Janet had mellowed over time, what she must have been like in her youth.

"But I was lying," the smaller woman said ruefully, "because by the time Frank had finished his dissertation on ice cream, darn it if I didn’t actually believe him. He helped me close up that night and offered to drive me back to my dorm so I wouldn’t have to take the bus. In the car, I told him about Brian and our plans and how I would write my parents and tell them after we’d gone."

"Had Brian met your parents?" Lauren pulled her feet up into her chair and wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them to her as she listened intently.

"Of course not," Janet scoffed. "Simply the thought of doing so terrified him. I also knew they would hate him, so I didn’t press it, though it did make me more uncomfortable than I wanted to admit at the time. Frank sneered at that, saying that any man worth his salt would want to be a part of my family and would spend his entire life, if need be, convincing them that he loved their daughter and was right for her." Janet got up and pulled a tin of cookies from the cabinet. She popped the lid and took out one, passing the tin to Lauren before easing back into her chair.

Lauren reached inside, plucked out a cookie, and took a bite; and all the while her eyes were riveted on Janet.

"Then I dared him to put his money where his mouth was." Janet crunched the cookie, catching the crumbs in her cupped hand.

Lauren’s eyes went round. "You what?"

"I told him if he was so keen on meeting people’s parents that he could drive me to Cincinnati that night and meet mine."

Lauren’s nose wrinkled as a genuine smile curved her lips. "And he did."

"And he did." Janet put the lid back on the cookie tin. Her expression turned wry. "Of course, my parents adored Frank and in no time, when I looked into those beautiful eyes of his, I felt the same way."

Lauren sighed happily.

"I called Brian and told him I wasn’t going anywhere." Janet looked at Lauren and smiled gently. "I was never going to marry or have a child, you see. So Frank and Devlyn… well, they aren’t what I ever thought I’d have in my life, and still, they’re the best things in it."

Lauren’s own words echoed back at her, and she sucked in a surprised breath as the story came full circle.

"Sometimes the best things in life aren’t what you expect them to be, Lauren. But that doesn’t mean they can’t work out." Janet stood and bent to place a delicate kiss on Lauren’s forehead. She rested her warm palm on Lauren’s cheek. "I know you’re under enormous pressure right now. But being part of this family means you’re never alone unless you want to be. We love you and are here whenever you need us." She allowed her hand to drop from Lauren’s face after a loving pat. "Now, dear, I’m off to bed. I promised to take Ashley horseback riding in the morning."

Janet took a few steps toward the stairs, hearing Lauren sniff a few times.

"Janet?"

The older woman turned around and cocked her head towards Lauren. "Yes?"

"Can…" Lauren licked her lips as her stomach did a nervous flip. "Can I…" She swallowed. "Can I call you Mom? I mean, it can be after the wedding, if you want," she finished in a rush, surprised to see tears shining in Janet’s eyes and a tremulous smile shaping her lips.

She crossed the room again and pulled Lauren’s head to her chest, giving her a strong hug that Lauren sank into with almost shameful relief. "I would love that, honey. And you can call me that right now. No ceremony will change how I feel about you."

Lauren smiled against Janet’s robe. "Thanks, Mom," she said softly. It felt strange and thrilling and she spared her own mother a melancholy thought, hoping that she would be happy that a long absent piece of her life had finally found its way home.

Janet sniffed and wiped at her eyes, then reached down and gave Lauren’s side a playful pinch.

Lauren squeaked, eyes round with mock outrage.

"It’s bedtime," Janet directed in her most motherly voice.

Lauren nodded and wiped at her own eyes as she stood.

Janet took her hand as they made their way to the stairs.

"Jan…Mom?"

"Mmm?"

Lauren suddenly felt exhausted, as though she’d climbed an enormous hill and was standing at the top, looking down the other side. "Thanks."

It was late, the lights were dimmed, and Devlyn and Lauren were reclining comfortably on Dev’s bed. A light spring rain pelted the White House, its uneven pitter-patter joining the muted clicking of Lauren’s typing. The writer was diligently working on her laptop, the light from the screen reflecting off the small lenses of her silver, wire-framed glasses, while Devlyn was re-reading one of Lauren’s Adrian Nash books, trying to unwind from an impossibly long day of meetings.

"You know," Dev said, closing the book with a satisfied sigh, "this is my favorite of yours."

Lauren smiled but kept typing. She was clad in a pair of lightweight silk pajamas and slippers and was very comfortable. The fire in the fireplace was nothing more than a uneven pile of glowing orange embers, but the room still held the faint scent of hickory, which Lauren found oddly relaxing. "You say that about whichever book you’re reading."

Dev’s forehead creased, and she looked at the book as though seeing it for the first time. "I do?"

"Uh huh."

"Oh." Dev set the book on the nightstand, fluffed her pillow, and began to fiddle with the bedspread.

Lauren looked up from the screen, her fingers pausing over the keys. She tried not to sound exasperated. "Why don’t you try some television?"

"Do I have a television in here?" Curious, Dev glanced around her room.

"You’d think you’d know what’s in your own bedroom, you workaholic." The light from the computer reflected off white teeth as she smiled.

"You’re in my bedroom." Dev pinched her, causing her to laugh and squirm. "And you should talk." Her laughter was even louder than Lauren’s as the younger woman nearly wiggled off the bed. "Who’s working at nearly midnight?"

Lauren didn’t bother answering the rhetorical question. She smiled fondly at Dev and gave long dark hair an affectionate tug before extending her arm and pointing. "The TV is in that case, honey. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be finished." A slow, sexy smile crept across her face and her voice dropped an octave. "And then we can do something else to occupy you until you’re ready to sleep."

Dev felt the words all the way to her toes. She grinned wildly, not noticing that Lauren had begun to type again. "Now you’re talking." Eagerly, Dev began to work the buttons on her pajamas, nearly tearing one of the more stubborn ones off in her haste. "Stupid, pain in the—"

Lauren glanced sideways and her fingers froze on the keyboard, her mouth suddenly going dry. Her eyes traced the gentle swell of Devlyn’s naked breast. Sweet Jesus. She swallowed hard, very aware of her body’s instant, pulsing response. She groaned, but reluctantly, she reached out and stilled Dev’s hands.

Dev looked up with an innocent, slightly harried expression that nearly caused Lauren to burst out laughing. "What? I’m going as fast I can."

Unexpectedly, Lauren leaned over and kissed Devlyn on the mouth with brief but sincere passion.

Dev moaned at the feeling of warm, silken lips against hers. "Mmm… Hey, why are you stopping?"

Lauren eyed Dev dreamily. Good question. She barely resisted the urge to toss her computer on the floor and attack Dev’s pajama top herself. With her teeth. "I need a few more minutes to finish, honey." Quite without her permission, one of her hands wandered over to Dev and began to softly stroke the silky skin of her collarbone. "It has to go to Wayne in the morning. I promised him." She sighed wistfully. "And if you get naked in this bed with me, I am done for the night." Gray eyes twinkled. "At least with work."

Dev’s expression turned smug. "Well," she tried to look modest, but didn’t quite manage it, "in that case…"

"You’ll watch TV for a little while." It was more a statement than a question. Not waiting for an answer, she gave the voice command for the television and the cabinet across the room opened to expose an older model 52-inch screen. "Just 15 more minutes, okay?" She patted Dev’s leg.

"Where’s the remote? I hate the voice command."

"Top drawer of the nightstand," Lauren informed her absently, her eyes already back on the computer screen, a tiny crease in her forehead letting Dev know she was trying to concentrate on something.

Dev retrieved the remote and climbed back into bed. At a speed faster than Lauren knew the television would work, she began changing the channels, pausing occasionally when something caught her eye. She listened to an infomercial for a moment, then pursed her mouth and touched her upper lip with a fingertip.

"Hey, Lauren?"

"Mm?"

"Do I have unwanted facial hair that I was unaware I even had?" Dev asked seriously.

Lauren turned to Dev and pulled her glasses off. She stared at her as though she were an alien. Then she heard the announcer selling a miracle cream. "Yes. Lots."

Dev scowled. "Ha. Ha." She changed the channel.

"Welcome to this very special live version of the Gary Kramer show. And I’m your host, Garreeeeeee Kramer! Tonight’s topic: Is She or Isn’t She?"

Dev snickered. "God, I can’t believe this show is still on. You’d think he would have run out of nutcases and hillbillies to pay to come on the show."

The studio audience went wild, hooting and hollering and chanting Gary’s name over and over

"Gary Kramer is a freak," Lauren muttered. "And his trashy talk show guests are bigger freaks." She began searching her computer directory for a particular file.

A curtain went up showing the darkened outline of men on bar stools. Their backs were to the camera.

"I’d like to introduce Billy Ward, former student at Nashville’s John Overton High School."

"Hey," Lauren’s eyes lifted, "I went to John Overton." Pale brows furrowed. "And I knew Billy. Damn, don’t tell me he’s dating his sister or something. He was a sweet guy."

A light came on over the first man’s head. He was in his early 30s with sandy-brown hair and soulful brown eyes. The audience cheered, and he gave them a nervous wave.

"Billy, let’s get right to tonight’s sizzling hot topic. You know the question on all of America’s minds. Lauren Strayer, lesbian? Is she or isn’t she?"

Once again the audience burst into applause, some shouting yes and some shouting no, a few going as far as to boo, giving her wild thumbs down.

Lauren’s jaw dropped. "Oh, my God!"

The phone rang and Devlyn snatched it up as the lights above Lauren’s former lovers, including ex-husband Judd, lit up the sound stage. "If this is anyone other than David, go away."

"Are you watching—?" David heard a loud crash, and string of obscenities that would have made the Seventh Fleet collectively blush. "Never mind."

Lauren flew out of bed, sending her computer clattering to the floor. She marched up to the television and poked her finger right into Man No. 3’s chest. "I never slept with you, you sorry son of a bitch!" she roared. "I wouldn’t even kiss you!"

Dev heard Beth shout from somewhere behind David, "Tell Lauren that if she slept with No. 3, I quit."

Dev winced at the lurid shade of purple coloring Lauren’s face. "You guys had better get over here. And David?"

"Yeah?"

"Bring Valium."

"For you or Lauren."

"Yes."

Twenty minutes later David, Beth and Dev were all on the President’s bed, watching the broadcast. Billy had just finished pronouncing — in a deep Southern accent and with a good dose of indignation — that if Lauren Strayer was a homo, then so was he.

Lauren paced the room like a caged beast, her hands a blur of agitated movement. The words: prom night, Budweiser, pickup truck, and cherry were still viciously whizzing around in her head. She wasn’t close to her family. But she couldn’t help but think, Jesus H. Christ, Daddy is going to see this!

"Sweetheart, if you don't calm down something important is going to burst. It's not," Dev glanced helplessly at Beth and David, "that bad."

"It is, Devlyn," Lauren vowed in all seriousness. "It’s that bad."

Beth eyed Billy speculatively. "That first guy is cute for a high school boyfriend. And he really seems to like you. At least he doesn’t look like he was on the chess team or anything."

"Hey!" David glared at his wife. "I was on the chess team."

Beth smiled placidly at David. "Yes, dear, you were." She turned back to Lauren. "Where'd you park the pickup when you did it?"

Lauren sneered at her chief of staff, who was enjoying this way too much. "None of your God da—"

"Beth, behave," Dev growled as she got off the bed and caught up to Lauren. She put a calming hand on her arm. "Relax." She wrinkled her nose. "Budweiser?"

Gray eyes narrowed. "My house didn’t have a wine cellar."

"Next up is Carter Simpson, University of Tennessee graduate and part owner of Rocky’s Tools in Memphis. How can you shed some light on the subject, Carter?"

Carter was beefy and tall and looked uncomfortable in his navy blue sport coat and tie. "Huh? I thought you paid me to come talk about sex." He scratched his square jaw, and several women in the audience began to swoon. When he smiled, deep dimples dotted his ruddy cheeks.

Beth burst out laughing. "He's beautiful, Lauren. Too bad, the lights are on but nobody's home."

Dev looked at him with a discerning eye. "He's not so great," she said unconvincingly. "Did you really sleep with him?" Part of Dev hoped that all these men were fakes. Even Judd. That wasn’t realistic, of course. But if she was going to delude herself, why not go all the way?

"Ugh," Lauren groaned and nodded miserably. She rubbed her face. Could this get any worse?

Dev glanced back at Carter and rolled her eyes. "So what if he’s good looking? It’s not like he’s… oh, I don’t know... the President!"

David and Beth laughed. Sometimes Dev was so touchy.

"He was really sweet, Devlyn," Lauren scolded. "We just didn’t have anything in common except for—"

"Fantastic, tongue-wagging, sweat-sliding, hips grinding, sweet-mother-of-God-if-I-died now-I’d-die-happy, all-American sex!" Carter finished proudly. He looked a little overheated and had to wrestle loose the tie that circled his thick neck.

All the other men looked at Carter with wide eyes just as they cut to a commercial break.

Lauren shrugged one shoulder and admitted weakly, "I came out of my shell in college with Carter."

"Wow," David mumbled from the bed as he reached over for a glass of water on the nightstand. After drinking it down, he pressed the glass to his forehead. "Sometimes the First Amendment just sucks. Can I sleep with you, Lauren?" he blurted, unable to resist.

Beth choked on her drink, then smacked David in the back of the head. Of course that didn’t stop her from asking, "Me too?" Which earned her a playful slap from her husband in return. "Ouch," Beth laughed, rubbing her head.

"If I can’t, you can’t," David insisted, leaning in and kissing his wife soundly. "Besides, I couldn’t stand the competition."

"Me neither," Beth agreed happily, kissing him back.

"All right, that's enough," Dev bit back a laugh, then masked the command with a smile, though it was clear she was serious. "Don’t make me separate you two troublemakers."

"Killjoy," David mumbled. "First we don’t get to see Lauren’s tattoo, now this."

"Yeah," Beth echoed solemnly. "What he said."

Dev focused on Lauren, who was staring at the television images, still in shock. "Lauren, are you okay?"

Lauren stuck out her tongue at Beth and David, then addressed Devlyn. "No, I’m not okay," she whined, praying Carter wouldn’t remember that time they did it under the bleachers at half time. "Can’t we assassinate them or something?"

"Your old boyfriends?" Dev looked surprised, then slightly pleased by the notion.

"No," Lauren corrected with an arch look thrown in the general direction of Dev’s bed, "David and Beth."

Dev sighed and opened her arms, an invitation for Lauren to take refuge. "’Fraid not. But don’t think I haven’t considered it."

Lauren was too agitated to stop moving, and a flash of hurt flickered across Dev’s face when her lover didn’t come over to the bed. The sight stopped Lauren’s pacing cold, and she walked over to the bed and took Dev’s hand and gently kissed her knuckles.

The commercial ended and Carter began talking again. At the words "tied up" Dev’s bedroom went absolutely silent.

Lauren whimpered. This actually rivaled her mother walking into her bedroom when she was 14 at the exact same moment that she’d finally gotten up the nerve to try masturbation for the first time. Only now the room was more crowded. Kill me now, God. Please.

Tied up. Well, well, well. Dev looked from the TV to Lauren and back again three times before squeaking, "Really?"

"Even then he worked at a hardware store part-time," Lauren said, as if that explained everything.

Beth was now laughing so hard she was in danger of falling off the bed. "I’m gonna wet my pants," she howled. "I know it."

"At least we know what to get them for Christmas," David said seriously. He looked at Beth and they both said, "duct tape," at the same time before dissolving into twin fits of laughter.

Carter proclaimed Lauren as hetero as… Well, he couldn’t come up with an actual analogy. But he swore the sex was great and that while they were under the bleachers her eyes hadn’t roamed over to the cheerleaders even once.

Dev started to say something and then her mouth clicked shut and she took a seat in a chair. "Tied up?" She looked at David and Beth, who were finally starting to calm down. "I tell ya, Lauren, you may be too wild for my white bread tastes." She gave Lauren a very serious look. "Are we talking tape or rope or chains?"

Lauren was well aware that she was being tweaked. She tilted her chin upward with an indignant grunt and crossed her arms over her chest, petulantly refusing to answer.

"There's still more men to go," Beth reminded Dev helpfully. "Let's wait and see."

It was now Man No. 3's turn.

As soon as the camera panned sideways, Lauren crowed, "I did not sleep with him!" Beseeching eyes begged her friends to believe her. "He was a freshman when I was a senior for God’s sake. He helped me on a chemistry final and I went on one," she held up her index finger, "single, pity date with him. That's it!"

"Did you pass the exam?" David snorted from the bed where he was reclining as though he owned the joint, his back against the headboard.

"Yes," Lauren snapped, as she mentally eviscerated the man on television. "You're in deep trouble, nerd boy," she shouted to the image. "I know people with guns and bombs, who aren’t afraid to use them."

Nerd boy, better known to some as Wendell Fleshman, spent most of his 15 minutes of fame bragging about his and Lauren’s torrid love affair.

Beth asked Lauren, "Did you ever get poked with that pocket protector while you were doing it? That could have been messy. Of course, he probably carried sanitary wipes around in his back pocket."

"Doesn’t everyone?" David said, winking at Beth.

Lauren ground her teeth together.

Gary Kramer thrust his microphone in Wendell’s face, "Did you ever once see a sign that Lauren was attracted to women?" He leaned closer to Wendell. "Anything. Anything at all that was a hint of what was to come? The public has a right to know."

Wendell thought for a moment and then nodded his head. "Yes. Yes, I did."

David, Beth, and Dev all leaned forward in anticipation.

Even Lauren took a step closer to the TV.

"One night after studying, we went out for a Coke."

Three sets of eyes swung towards Lauren.

The blonde woman nodded reluctantly. "It wasn't a date, though," she corrected carefully. "My apartment didn't have air-conditioning and it was a million degrees outside. We were boiling and needed a break."

Wendell let out a contemplative breath. "When we got to the convenience store, there was another girl there; she was in our chemistry class, too."

"Shirley," Wendell announced, with Lauren whispering the name right along with him as the past came rushing back to her.

"Shirley was 25 cents short for the Coke she wanted to buy and Lauren ran up to the counter and offered Shirley a quarter." Wendell paused, well aware that the studio audience was hanging on his every word. "And then they both smiled at each other." He shrugged and adjusted his heavy-framed glasses. "And I knew."

"Knew what?" the host prompted breathlessly.

The camera zoomed in on Wendell. "Knew there was something there."

"That’s it?" Gary asked, doing his best to hide his disappointment. His show hadn’t paid all this money to hear about lingering smiles.

"That’s it."

The audience groaned, let down by the pedestrian encounter. But Lauren blinked stupidly. "I can't believe it," she said quietly. "He's right."

Beth blinked at her friend. "He is?"

Lauren nodded. "I wasn't thinking about kissing her or anything romantic. The thought never entered… well, it never entered my conscious mind at least. But she was really interesting and pretty and had the greatest laugh. And I remember thinking that wouldn't it be wonderful if we ran into each other again sometime before school let out."

This time the pang of jealousy nailed Devlyn right in her heart. "And did you?" she finally got out, surprised that this would affect her so. She wasn’t a jealous person, but perhaps when it came to Lauren, all bets were off. "Run into each other?"

Lauren smiled wistfully, completely unaware of the look on her own face. "Nope. I graduated a month later. And I was already dating Judd by that time. Unlike Wendell, however, Judd sucked at chemistry."

The President sighed and murmured, "He sucked at a lot of things."

Judd looked as though he wanted to blend into the background. Billy, Carter, and Wendell all looked relaxed and happy. He couldn’t understand how they could be enjoying this.

Billy made a comment about Lauren’s talent for a particular sexual act, much to the dismay of the other men, and Dev’s face turned to stone. "I feel an audit coming on for you, big mouth. Hope you know a good tax lawyer."

Gary Kramer got his note cards mixed up and decided to wing it as he spoke to Judd. "Ah, the illustrious Mr. Strayer."

Everyone in the President's bedroom winced, including Lauren. Judd had always hated that with a passion.

"That's Radison," Judd ground out, his hands shaping into white-knuckled fists.

"Sorry," Gary continued blithely. "You, more than anyone, would know the answer to our question. After all, you were married to the woman. Is Lauren truly a lesbian? Or is she simply using President Marlowe for the power and prestige?"

"Yeah, this is really prestigious," Lauren said, her face twisting into a sour expression. "Especially at this very moment."

"Maybe she likes men and women. Why don't you just ask Lauren?" Judd suggested reasonably, his self-disgust leaking into his words. With every passing second he looked more and more like he wanted to bolt from the studio.

The President of the United States’ eyes burned holes into her television.

Judd threw a loathing-filled glance at Wendell. "For the record, there is no way she slept with you, Wendell. So just give it up."

"Thank you!" Lauren shouted, throwing her hands in the air. "Finally."

Gary tried to get a few more details out of Judd and grew angry when the architect refused to give up anything juicy. "Did Lauren like to be on top or on the bottom?" he tried to toss in casually and catch Judd off guard.

The audience went wild, hooting and screaming.

Judd just glared.

"Don’t you do it, Judd," Lauren warned as she bit the inside of her cheek. "Not a word."

"Top or bottom?" Gary persisted. "Top or bottom?" He motioned the camera closer. "Top or bottom?" Closer still the camera came and Judd began to sweat. "Top or bottom?"

"Top!" Judd screamed, unable to take the pressure for another second. "There. Are you happy?"

"You spineless shit." Lauren sighed.

Carter’s thick eyebrows pulled together. "Not with me."

"I would have thought she’d be afraid that a Paul-fucking-Bunyon-ape like you would crush her," Judd shouted, any semblance of calm flying out the window.

Carter jumped out of his seat and several large staff hands had to restrain him.

Gary smiled happily. "After this break, we have a final, surprise guest and a vote from our panelists."

"All good things must eventually come to an end." Beth sat up and padded across the room to Lauren, who was looking out the window. "It really isn’t so bad, Lauren," she whispered.

"And if it were your sex life up for public discussion?"

"I wouldn’t be handling it as well as you are," Beth said cheerfully. "But it’s not me. Thank God."

Lauren ran a nervous hand through wavy blonde hair. "It’s almost over," she said as much to herself as Beth. "I can take it."

"Of course you can." Beth glanced over her shoulder and then back at Lauren, lowering her voice further. "Who is the special guest? Any idea?"

Lauren nodded. "Oh, yeah. They’ve done a pretty good job at hunting down people. So I’m expecting they didn’t miss Man No. 5 from my past."

"Oooo, is this man worth all the mystery?"

Lauren shrugged, hearing the music for the Gary Kramer Show begin again. "You tell me. C’mon." They moved over to the bed and sat next to their respective mates. Lauren, burrowed into Dev’s embrace, letting out a deep breath. It’s almost over, she told herself.

"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen." Over the host’s shoulder Judd, with a stark white bandage taped over his nose, was clearly visible. "Before our last guest, we’ve asked the men on stage to rate their sexual experiences with the future First Lady on a scale from 1 to 5."

"Jesus Christ!" Lauren exploded. "That’s not fair!"

Billy held up a card that proudly proclaimed a 4.

Carter flipped up his card and showed an 11. Again, everyone gaped at him, causing him to exclaim, "What?" a little defensively.

David looked back over at Lauren. "Are you sure I can’t—"

"David…" Dev warned in a low voice.

Wendell held up a 3, and Billy hit Wendell over the head with his card.

Lauren rolled her eyes.

Judd turned his card over very slowly, looking as though he wanted to die. His read a 3.

"Don’t worry about him, Lauren." Beth snorted. "You weren’t getting any higher if he wanted to go home to his current wife tonight."

"Smart man," David pronounced knowingly.

The audience cheered and Gary Kramer eased back into the scene. "And now for our final guest. A man from the lovely country of Ireland."

Lauren shook her head. How in the world did they find you, Alex?

A devastatingly handsome man in tight jeans, boots, and a faded denim shirt swaggered on stage. "This is a live television program, right?" he asked in a thick brogue.

"Yes."

"Good. Because I just have two things to say. First off, Lauren, love, I hope you’re sending me a weddin’ invitation." He blew a kiss into the camera and Lauren’s face broke into a huge smile. "Second… Ireland forever!" And with that, Alex began ranting about the English and hostile occupations and a host of other things until he was bodily dragged off stage.

The show ended in chaos and Lauren took the remote from Dev’s lifeless hand. She turned off the television, casting the room into the muted light from a single lamp.

Dev licked her lips before speaking. "You never told me that one of your lovers was a black man."

"I didn’t think it was important," Lauren said honestly, though she knew her father would go into cardiac arrest if he heard. "Is it?"

David and Dev shared a look. "David—?"

David lifted a hand. "I’ll talk to press secretary Allen in the morning so we can head off any hillbilly fallout."

***

Dev slept peacefully, her arms wrapped tightly around Lauren, who had her face buried in her pillow and was snoring gently. When the alarm sounded, Dev was up like a shot with Lauren close behind.

Lauren’s heart instantly leaped into her throat. She hated that damn thing; it only signaled horrible things.

Dev slipped quickly into the sweats that had been tossed at the side of the bed and hastily pulled her sleep-wrinkled T-shirt out of the waistband, cinching the drawstrings.

Lauren, still partly in a daze, stumbled a little as she moved for her robe. She grabbed it and brought it back with her to bed so she could slip it over her pajamas if need be.

Dev retrieved a pair of socks from the dresser, plopped down on the floor and put them on while giving a voice command. "Videophone, cue on my location." The lens of the videophone dutifully shifted to where Dev was sitting, putting the bed containing Lauren well out of sight. "Marlowe, access code delta six, omega three, six, five, seven, gamma…." She rattled off a long list of numbers and letters before ordering the alarm to cease.

Lauren watched as a video feed, which was still a lifeless blue square, appeared above the small desk in the corner of the room. She reached for the nightstand and, out of habit, sleepily slipped on her glasses, amazed that Dev could remember all those priority codes when it seemed the world was about to crash down around them.

Dev stood and moved to the chair, the camera following her as the feed from the Situation Room flared to life. "What’s going on?"

"Madam President," a young Air Force officer, who looked exceptionally pale, addressed her, "Freedom Six is down."

Freedom Six…Freedom Six… Mini-spy sub, her brain reminded her. Full of hardware. Dev’s eyes widened as the news sank in. "Fuck!" Dev exploded as she pulled a large black box from a hidden compartment in her desk. She lifted the box and allowed its sensor to scan her retina for identification purposes. The lock opened with a quiet snap. "How long?"

"Five minutes, ma’am. Advisors are on their way here now and—"

"So am I." She pulled two files from the case and reset the lock before tucking it away. "I’ll be there in three." She considered several calls she needed to make. "Scratch that. Make it 15. End call."

The link went dead, and Dev ran a hand through her disheveled hair as she padded quickly for the door. She paused, backtracked, and gave Lauren a kiss on the cheek. "Go back to bed." She cupped her chin with a gentle hand. "You have to sit this one out. It’s highly classified."

Lauren opened her mouth, then closed it. She knew she shouldn’t be asking, but, with a gulp, she did it anyway. "Are we okay here? Should we get ready to—?"

"No." Dev cringed inwardly. Stupid. She sighed and let her hand drop from Lauren’s warm skin. "I should have said that before so you wouldn’t be frightened." Her gaze softened. "You and the children are fine, I promise."

Lauren let out a relieved breath.

"I’ll be back when I can," the taller woman whispered softly, smoothing the comforter over Lauren’s thighs.

Lauren nodded, watching in wonder as Devlyn transformed herself from President of the United States to lover and back again, all in the blink of an eye.

Dev dashed out the door. Lauren waited until it closed, before sitting down at the desk and opening her computer. She suddenly had the urge to work on Devlyn’s biography.

***

Dev entered the Situation Room, alert eyes scanning an interior filled with men and women pulling up various maps and information and speaking in hushed, grave tones. "Where are they?" she asked, bringing all eyes to her and a host of military personnel scrambling to their feet, their chairs scraping loudly against the floor.

"Attennnntion!" someone called out, briskly.

"At ease," she responded automatically. "Where?"

The Secretary of the Navy crossed the room, his puffy eyes still holding traces of sleep at their corners. "They are currently in the Gulf of Oman, off the coast of Iran, Madam President."

"And exactly how in the hell did they end up there? Their—?"

Before Dev could finish, the door opened. More staff members entered, including the Joint Chiefs, all five of them looking ragged. They obviously didn’t respond any better than Dev to being yanked out of bed at 2 in the morning. Behind them came the directors of the CIA, Homeland Defense, and the National Security Agency, with David bringing up the rear.

"In my office, ladies and gentleman," Dev ordered and watched as they all filed in ahead of her. She took David by the arm and whispered in his ear. "We’ve got big problems here, David. Freedom Six is apparently trapped in the Gulf of Oman."

"Oh, my God." David’s shoulders sagged. There was a long pause. "Do you want me to call him?"

Dev’s stomach was in knots as she considered his question. "Let’s wait and see exactly what we’re dealing with first."

David discreetly patted her arm, very aware of the deep lines of tension on her face. "I’ll be ready if you need me."

"I know you will, David." She reached out and squeezed his hand, then let go, her posture straightening and her voice taking on its normal volume and timbre. "Is everyone else on their way in?"

David tapped a small computer in his hand. "Two still haven’t checked in. Their E.T.A. is six and five minutes respectively."

Dev nodded grimly and gestured for David to go into the office ahead of her, then followed, the thick wooden door closing and locking behind them.

***

The light in the room was dim as, 20 minutes later, the Secretary of the Navy was pointing to a location on a holomap. "This is where Freedom Six is trapped, Madam President. For reasons still unknown, their navigation system malfunctioned as they were leaving the Arabian Sea sometime last night. By the time the system went back on line, they found themselves in the Gulf of Oman."

"Once they were able, why didn’t they get the hell out of there?" She threw her hands in the air. "They’ve got half a billion dollars of spy equipment on board."

"They tried, Madam President, but the Gulf of Oman is prone to eddies. They got caught in one and have run aground."

Dev rubbed her forehead and leaned against a table. "So they’re stuck like a tractor in the mud?"

The man ground his teeth together, not liking the comparison of one of the Navy’s finest, multi-million dollar vessels with a John Deere. "Unfortunately, ma’am, yes. They’re stuck."

"Christ." Dev glanced around at a room of somber faces. "So tell me, is there any way to get them out of there?"

"Not without serious risk to any vessel we send in. As you’re well aware, we currently have hostile relations with nearly every country in that region. If we send in a rescue team, we risk making ourselves known to our enemies."

Dev pushed off the desk and moved toe to toe with the older man. He was tall, slim, distinguished-looking, with a head of short silver hair and a small, neatly trimmed mustache. He reminded her vaguely of her father. "I’ll need a full briefing on those risks, Secretary Krenshaw."

"Yes, ma’am."

"And Jerry?"

He glanced at her in question.

"I want as many specifics as we’ve got time for. Educate me."

Unconsciously, he squared his shoulders. "Yes, Madam President."

Dev began to pace, thinking out loud. "Freedom Six has six crew members aboard, correct?"

Several men and women were nodding, but it was the director of the CIA who spoke. "Yes, ma’am. Four members of the Navy and two of our own people." Her expression grew even more sober. "Including the Vice President’s nephew."

"I know," Dev acknowledged quietly.

"M... M... Madam President?" A short, muscular airman handed Devlyn a piece of paper. His face was bright red and Devlyn realized that he was new to his assignment and this was the first time he’d spoken to her.

"Relax," she said under her breath, allowing a very small smile to cross her face. Normally, she would have taken a moment to speak with the man and introduce herself as a person and not just a title. At the moment, however, she only had time to say, "Good job."

Such a tiny thing made such a big difference. The airman’s color improved before her eyes. "Thank you, ma’am." Beaming, he stepped away, disappearing into the crowd of milling people that filled the room as Dev read the note.

And her stomach dropped.

"Shit!" Groaning loud enough to garner everyone’s attention, Devlyn crushed the paper in her hand, her knuckles white.

David was instantly at her side. "Madam President?"

"Freedom Six has been detected." She handed the wadded up paper to David, her chest feeling tight.

David smoothed the paper against his thigh and passed it along silently, as the appropriate personnel glanced at its contents. There was a flickering of light as new maps and charts materialized in the air around the room’s walls, circling them in neon.

A low murmur washed over the room, and the tension increased ten-fold.

"Ma’am?" The Secretary of the Navy laid a gentle hand on her arm. "We can’t risk that technology being captured."

Dev turned her eyes to David. "Call Geoff and get him over here."

David drew in a ragged breath. "Right away." His voice broke.

While she waited for the Vice President to arrive, Devlyn went into her office and shut the door, closing out the sounds of computer keystrokes and the low rumble of voices. She clicked on the light over her desk, which cast her face in an eerie glow. She pored over the reports, several of them having just been received from Freedom Six’s own crew over secure communication channels. She read them as many times as it took, until she felt she had as firm a grasp as time allowed on the dilemma at hand.

The boat was trapped on a rocky ledge and was without sufficient power to move, the propulsion system damaged beyond immediate repair.

God, give me strength. She scribbled a quick note and opened her office door. A communications officer was waiting there. "Send that and let me know as soon as you have a response.

"Understood, ma’am." The young woman looked at the note. Understand situation. All options being considered. Hold tight. D. Marlowe. "Right away, Madam President."

David moved around the young woman and gazed at Dev compassionately. "Geoff’s here."

Dev swallowed hard. "Bring him to the Oval Office to wait. I’ll be right in."

David’s eyes cast downward. It was times like these that he was very glad he maintained a behind-the-scenes role, forsaking the visible power for something more suited to his personality. And at least one level higher on the rungs of Hell. "Yes, ma’am."

Dev called the Secretary of the Navy into her Situation Room office and shut the door behind her. When she emerged two minutes later, she looked pale.

She strode through the Situation Room and out into the hallway on her way to the Oval Office, hating every single step she was taking. And dreading what was to come. No option, her mind whispered. It has to be done. She stood outside the door for a long second. Then she sighed and entered.

Geoff was standing, looking out the window over the Ellipse and out to Constitution Avenue. He had one hand resting on the back of Dev’s chair. When he heard the door close, he turned to her. "It must be serious for you to have called me over here in the middle of the night." He was dressed casually, and Devlyn could see a garment bag containing a suit draped over one of the sofas.

"It is serious, Geoff." She gestured to the couch. "Come on, have a seat."

Geoff deserved the direct approach, not that there was time for much else. She drew in a deep breath, her ribs expanding fully. "Freedom Six is trapped in the Gulf of Oman. There is no way to do a rescue. Hostile vessels are in the area and closing in on Freedom Six as we speak."

The blood drained from his face. "Oh, my God. My nephew is an equipment ensign on Freedom Six."

Dev’s hands shaped into fists, but her voice remained calm. "I know, Geoff. That’s why I called you." She hesitated and looked deeply into her old friend’s eyes, wondering briefly if she might throw up. "We have to destroy that boat. We can’t risk it being captured. If the equipment on board were captured, it would change the balance of power in the Middle East."

Geoff blinked at her, staring in disbelief. "He’s only 25 years old."

Dev closed her eyes. "I know. I hate this, Geoff. I can’t tell you how much I hate this. But we don’t have a choice."

"Don’t," he stood and looked down at her. "There has to be another way. Have we even tried a rescue?"

Dev shook her head. "Our nearest vessel is over two hours away. The next closest is one of Britain’s and that’s three hours out. We don’t have that kind of time."

"Damn it, Dev!" He scrubbed his face wildly. "What about intercepting the enemy vessel to keep it from reaching Freedom Six?"

"Geoff," she said gently. "In 15 minutes that submarine will be in enemy hands. We can’t intercept. There’s no time and it would be an unprovoked attack. Freedom Six isn’t in International Waters, Geoff."

Geoff fell back onto the sofa next to Dev. "Christ." He looked to her with watery eyes. "An escape pod or hatch or something for the crew?"

Dev gave a quick shake of her head.

"There’s no other way?"

Her expression softened. "I swear there’s not."

He nodded, resigned to the facts as tears began rolling down his cheeks.

Dev moved off the sofa and knelt in front of him. He was close to breaking apart. "Geoff, they’ve been maintaining radio silence, but I think they deserve the right to hear this from me directly, so I’m going to order a link established. We’ll do our best to scramble it. Would you like a chance to talk to your nephew?"

"Yeah." He pulled himself from his chair and rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking far older than his years. "Let’s go."

Back in the Situation Room, everyone watched as they entered and took seats at the head of the table. Dev hit the button on the communications console at her fingers. "Open a visual link with Freedom Six."

There were murmurs among the collected staff, but within seconds the link flared to life and the captain nodded to the President. "Madam President." He looked haggard, his skin a ghostly gray in the sub’s emergency lights.

"Captain, I am afraid I don’t have good news."

He nodded, swallowing hard. "We have been preparing for that, ma’am."

Dev gritted her teeth, forcing back the tears she could feel coming. "We have no choice," she whispered harshly, hearing several discreet sniffs from somewhere behind her.

The captain looked away, remaining silent for several long seconds. When he turned back to her, his cheeks were wet. "We would like to send a transmission for you to give to our families."

"I’ll deliver them personally," Dev swore fervently, her emotions threatening to surface. "The bravery of you and your crew in the face of the impossible is astounding, Captain."

The captain sighed heavily. "We’ve transmitted as much data as possible to help in determining what went wrong."

Dev nodded. "Is Ensign McQuire present? The Vice President would like to speak with him."

"Of course."

The image shifted to a young man who could have been Geoff’s son. "Mr. Vice President," he greeted weakly, doing his best to smile bravely, though his chin was noticeably quivering.

"Jack," the man’s voice cracked, and Devlyn stood and rubbed his back gently, not giving a damn what it looked like. "I wanted… wanted to tell you, I love you."

For a moment it didn’t look like the ensign was going to hold it together long enough to respond. Finally, he whispered, "I love you too, Uncle Geoff. Please ta… take care of Mom for me."

"You know I will, son." A pained pause. "If there was any other way—"

"I know," he answered bleakly.

An aide stepped close to her and let her know that all information had been received from the boat and they were prepared to take the next, inevitable step.

"Ensign McQuire, Jack, I need to speak to the captain." I’m sorry.

"Yes, ma’am."

Dev firmed her jaw. "Captain, I can do this remotely from here, or you and I can enter the codes together."

"This boat and her crew are my responsibility. I’ll set the codes from my end."

David handed a black envelope to Dev, and she cracked the seal. A trickle of sweat rolled down her back, causing an involuntary shiver to wash over her. As she slid the key card and the destruct codes from it, the captain was doing the same thing aboard the submarine. "I’m ready when you are, ma’am." She could hear the Lord’s Prayer being recited somewhere behind the captain, and several people in the Situation Room joined in the barest of whispered voices.

Dev glanced sideways at Geoff with watery eyes. "Do you want to leave?"

He shook his head curtly. "No. I’m staying."

"All right," she whispered, laying everything out in front of her and reading the card. Through force of will alone, she managed to keep her hand from shaking as she picked up the key card and swiped it through the console in front of her. "Enter six, three, seven, three, five, seven, six."

The image of the captain could be seen punching in the numbers as directed. "Destruct protocol in place," he told her dutifully.

Dev stared at the man in something close to awe. "I don’t know what to say to you or your crew."

He sniffed once. "There’s nothing to say, Madam President."

"Thank you, Captain." Dev’s jaw silently worked for a few seconds. It felt as though 10 men were standing on her chest. "God bless."

A computer-generated voice began a count down. "Destruct sequence initiated."

"In five," Dev’s voice cracked as she laid her hand on the button that she herself was required to push. She quickly made a fist, trying to wipe the sweat from her fingers. "Four, three, two..." As she said "One" she pressed the red button and the link went dead.

Dev closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. She felt a little light headed, but appeared the very picture of calm, contemplative leadership.

The entire room was silent for more than two minutes, each person’s breathing sounding unusually loud in the quiet room. Finally the Secretary of the Navy handed her a piece of paper. "The boat is destroyed, ma’am."

***

It was two hours before dawn by the time Devlyn made her way back to her quarters. She’d cleared her calendar for the following morning and left word with David that she wanted to visit the houses of each of the now-deceased servicemen as soon as possible and that the press was not to be informed about the trips.

She slowly pushed open her bedroom door, glad to see Lauren had decided to stay. The younger woman was lying in an uncomfortable position, her glasses still on, her small computer perched on her chest as she slumbered.

Dev used her feet to push off her shoes, then sat down heavily in a red wingback chair near the bed, staring at Lauren with dull eyes as she watched her partner’s chest rise and fall with each peaceful breath. She tried to focus on the woman in front of her, but the night’s events were still too raw to be pushed from the forefront of her mind, no matter how much she tried.

"Destruct sequence initiated." Stop it! "Please ta… take care of Mom for me." Her eyes began to burn. "In five, four, three…" STOP IT! She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees and brought her palms to her eyes, feeling her breathing hitch. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.

"Devlyn," came the sleep-husky voice. Lauren struggled to sit up in bed, temporarily confused at waking up alone but in the President’s room. She pushed her small laptop onto the floor. "Darlin’?"

Dev glanced up at Lauren in agony.

Lauren scrambled out of bed and dropped to her knees in front of other woman, gently brushing her knuckles against Dev’s cheek as she worriedly searched her face. "What’s wrong?" The bolt of worry that lanced through her was nearly enough to make her dizzy. She’d never seen Dev look quite so undone.

The softly spoken words so full of concern did it. The tears that had been brutally pushed back all night rushed forward with a vengeance. Dev’s breathing hitched again and then she began to cry.

"C’mere." Shoving down her own panic, Lauren stood and led Dev back to the bed by one hand. She quickly adjusted a pillow and then climbed in, silently asking her lover to join her with a pat on the bed next to her.

Dev eagerly complied, lying down with her head on Lauren’s chest and feeling strong arms wrap themselves around her in silent support. "I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—"

"Shh…" Lauren admonished gently, her heart aching for her friend. "You don’t have to apologize for this." She kissed the top of Dev’s head.

It took a long time for the tears to slow, then stop, as the exhaustion that always follows a good cry began to take over. Lauren whispered words of reassurance and comfort the entire time, one hand gently tracing Dev’s back in a calming motion. Finally, the sky began to take on the faintest hint of pale purple and she knew, without looking at the clock, that it would be dawn in a few moments. "Do you want to talk about it?" Lauren asked in a low voice, punctuating her question with a soft kiss near Dev’s ear.

Did she? Dev was surprised to find that she did. And so, leaving out many of the classified details, Devlyn told Lauren the entire story. Ending with a ragged, "Geoff’s… Oh, Jesus, Geoff’s nephew was… was on board. I’m sorry. I’m…" the words trailed off into a mournful sigh.

Lauren’s eyes shimmered with tears, and it took a moment to speak around the lump that had grown in her throat. "Was he there? Geoff, I mean." She felt Devlyn nod against her, moving her T-shirt, which was now damp with tears. "Oh, God," she whispered, tightening her hold on Dev. "I can’t believe you had to do that. How horrible."

Dev shifted a little, her body stiff from lying in the same position for so long. "Don’t feel sorry for me," she said flatly. "I wasn’t blown to bits."

"Stop that," Lauren responded gently but firmly. "Of course I hurt for you, Devlyn," she murmured emotionally. "I hurt for you most of all." God, she didn’t just order it done. She did it herself. Lauren shivered inwardly, horrified. Half of her was angry that Dev couldn’t have delegated this soul-numbing task to a soldier whose job it was to kill. But the other half of Lauren was fully aware of how selfish that was. And that Devlyn would never expect someone to do something that was her responsibility. Problem was, sometimes it seemed like the entire world was her responsibility.

Dev’s eyes began to burn again, and she sucked in a quick breath, fearing she was going to start crying all over again. "I- I’m not supposed to be doing this," she said helplessly, suddenly seeming very lost.

With the hand on her back, Lauren could feel Dev’s heart rate pick up.

"I’m supposed to be strong."

"You don’t have to be strong all the time, Devlyn," Lauren said with a sad smile. "Not like this, here with me." She sighed "After what’s happened, I’d be worried if you were doing anything else, honey. This is exactly right." She kissed Dev’s head again. "Exactly."

Lauren’s voice sounded so sure that Devlyn had no choice but to believe. She couldn’t help herself. In a moment of crystalline clarity, Dev knew that this was something she’d needed for a long time. Some burdens couldn’t be carried alone. Some secrets, she realized, needed to be shared if she was going to keep her sanity.

The blonde woman felt Devlyn begin to relax and her breathing slow and grow steady. "I love you," Dev burred, her voice the barest of whispers.

That’s it, darlin’. Relax. Sleep. "I love you, too." She stayed sitting up in bed, awake, thinking, with Dev pressed tightly against her chest sleeping, as the sun rose over the White House and another day began.

Lauren pulled shut the door to her White House quarters and adjusted the strap to her laptop as she juggled her briefcase.

"Lauren," Ashley called from the other end of the hall, just as she began to dash towards her. "Wait."

Lauren glanced at her watch and schooled herself in patience. She was already late for an interview with the Secretary of Health and Human Services, who had known Devlyn since graduate school. "Hi, Ashley."

The girl came to a sliding stop in front of Lauren. "You can’t go," she said a little desperately, a panicky look chasing its way across her face.

Lauren’s eyebrows jumped. "I have an appointment. I—"

Ashley grabbed hold of Lauren’s arm and dug her heels into the thick carpet. "Please!"

"Ashley, I don’t understand. I—"

"Mom just called. Today’s parent/teacher conference day."

"Uh huh." She gazed at Ashley expectantly.

"And she’s stuck at some fund raising speech in Chicago."

Lauren’s eyes widened a touch. "Still? She was supposed to be back hours ago." Sometimes she just didn’t know where the time went.

"She said I could ask you if you’d go in her place."

Lauren’s gaze was soft and questioning. "Ashley, Devlyn should really be the one to go to that sort of thing, shouldn’t she?"

"Please, Lauren?"

Pale brows drew together. Ashley looked especially desperate. Something wasn’t right. "Are you sure, honey? I’m not—"

"Puhleeeeeeeeez!"

A deep sigh. "It’s not that I don’t think I should go." Mostly. "It’s that I know your mom hates to miss this sort of thing. Can’t you reschedule?"

Ashley shook her head wildly. "Nuh uh. The teacher gets mad when that happens. She’s mean to kids whose parents make her wait and wait."

Lauren’s eyes sparked. "Did she do that to you last semester?" She remembered Devlyn having to reschedule three times before she could attend the conference that took place just before Thanksgiving.

"Well, not exactly," Ashley admitted reluctantly, digging her toe into the navy blue carpet. "But Cathy Simpson told me when her dad missed his appointment that—"

Lauren held up her hand and let out a deep breath, then she looked down into those pleading brown eyes and began to melt. Crap. Any other arguments simply died on her lips. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "What time?"

A relieved grin lit Ashley’s face. "Fifteen minutes."

"Ashley!" Lauren’s eyes widened in alarm, and she yanked open her bedroom door. "You could have given me a little time," she complained, tossing her computer and brief case on her bed. She ran nervous hands through her hair. "What should I wear?"

Ashley blinked. "Huh?"

"Clothes, Ashley," she said as she dialed Beth’s number. She quickly explained the situation and asked Beth to reschedule her appointment. She scowled when Beth chuckled and wished her luck. What was that all about? She tossed the phone alongside her briefcase and refocused on the 8-year-old. "Can I wear this or do I need to change?" Never mind that what she was wearing was good enough for her business meeting. This was something… well, parental and she wanted to be prepared.

Two sets of eyes fixed on Lauren’s tailored, russet-colored pants suit. Lauren held open her unbuttoned trench coat to give Ashley a better look.

Ashley shrugged. "You look fine to me."

Lauren sighed. "What does your mom wear?"

"I dunno." Ashley sat down on the bed. "What did your parents wear?"

Lauren thought about that for a moment. "I doubt they ever went to one." That would have required Mama getting out of bed and Daddy coming home before 8. She felt an instant pang of guilt for the unkind thought and mentally chastised herself.

"Oh, I get it," Ashley explained in a very grown up way. "They didn’t have teacher conferences in the olden days when you were a kid."

Lauren gaped. "Olden days? I’m not that old." She grabbed Ashley’s hand. "C’mon. I don’t want to be late. Your teacher gets me in a business suit."

"It’s pretty," Ashley assured her as Lauren dragged her down the hall.

Lauren stopped dead in her tracks and pulled the girl into an unexpected, enthusiastic hug. "Thanks."

"Lauren?"

The writer continued to squeeze her. "Yeah?"

"Yo… you’re squishing me," Ashley croaked, her words muffled against Lauren’s chest.

Lauren released her instantly. "Sorry." She winced.

Ashley thought about how Lauren was acting. "Don’t be nervous. It’s just a conference."

"You’re pretty smart, you know that?" Lauren patted her cheek.

Ashley beamed. "Thanks."

Two minutes later they, along with Amy, the Secret Service Agent assigned to Ashley, were in a car being driven to Brightwood Elementary. President Marlowe believed that public schools were the backbone of the US education system and that they needed her support. So despite the logistical nightmare caused by security concerns, all her children attended public institutions. Dev also understood that private schools offered subjects and smaller class environments that public schools simply couldn’t. Towards that end, for an hour everyday after school, a tutor came to the White House, alternately instructing Ashley in art history and French.

It was a compromise that let Devlyn do what she thought was best for her children, while still allowing her to put her money where her mouth was when it came to support of public education.

Lauren turned away from the window. It was starting to rain. "So, are you ready?" She smiled at the little girl, who was wearing her trench coat over her jeans and sweatshirt.

"Ready for what?"

"The conference, of course."

"This is a parent/teacher conference." There was a long pause until Ashley finally gave Lauren a significant look. "I’m the kid. There is no ‘kid’ in parent/teacher."

Lauren scowled. "I knew that." Shit. Duh. "So why are you here then?"

"Because you dragged me along." Ashley giggled. "I tried to tell you but you just kept saying we’re gonna be late. We’re gonna be late."

Lauren smiled guiltily. "I did, didn’t I?" She reached over and tickled Ashley’s mid-section, causing the girl to gasp and squeal with delight. "You won’t rat me out to your mom, will you?"

Ashley finally fended off Lauren’s hands and raised a single dark eyebrow in a move so reminiscent of Devlyn that Lauren’s heart actually clenched. "Depends on whether you rat me out," Ashley told her. "I think we can reach a compromise."

Lauren’s eyebrows crawled up her forehead. "You do, do you?" She pinned Ashley with a look of her own. "What have you done, you little troublemaker?"

Ashley bit her lip, her bravado evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. "Nothing."

Lauren waited.

"Much."

The writer groaned as the sedan pulled up in front of the school. "Oh, boy."

"I’ll wait here," Ashley offered innocently, her face coloring as she thought of what Lauren was going to find out.

Lauren took Ashley’s hands and squeezed them gently. "It’s nothing that’s going to give me a heart attack, is it?" God, she’s only 8, how bad can it be? She glanced hopefully at Amy when Ashley wouldn’t meet her gaze.

Amy smiled encouragingly. "You’re going to be late," she reminded.

Lauren sighed and exited the car, along with an agent from the front passenger seat. Together, they entered the school.

"When did they shrink everything, Brendan?" Lauren asked, increasing her pace and eyeing the numbered classrooms as she walked briskly down the hall.

The stout agent laughed. "I think you just grew, Ms. Strayer."

Lauren wrinkled her nose. "At least it smells the same."

Brendan’s alert eyes scanned the hallway. "I went to Catholic school," he said absently.

"It didn’t smell like dust, kid sweat, and stinky feet?"

They both laughed.

"No," he admitted, "it did. And sometimes incense."

Lauren stopped outside room 36B and stepped aside as a young couple hurried out of the room. They looked stricken and were mumbling something about killing little Jimmy. The blonde swallowed hard, feeling a bit like she was about to face a firing squad herself. Hey, I didn’t do anything wrong. But a million guilty memories of all the horrible things she’d done in school assailed her. This must be one of those "I hope it happens to you someday" moments Daddy warned me about.

Brendan stuck his head into the room, seeing no one but Ashley’s teacher waiting impatiently at her desk. He also caught sight of another agent’s head through one of the small windows. A voice from a tiny transmitter in his ear gave the all clear signal. "I’ll wait out here if you like, ma’am." He gave Lauren his best wishing look.

"Coward," she mumbled, but Lauren drew in a deep breath and marched into the classroom. I’ve interviewed the Pope, for God’s sake. I can do this. She mentally whimpered. I think.

The walls were covered with construction paper collages, posters showing the alphabet in cursive, and brightly colored maps. Row after row of desks was neatly lined up facing a large, clean whiteboard. It was cheerful, though a little overcrowded.

The woman behind the desk, Mrs. Lynch, was nearly 60, with hair dyed a bright reddish color that reminded Lauren of a rusty bucket. Her desk was painfully organized, with the papers on it placed in perfect piles and the pencil can containing pencils all the same length. Ashley’s teacher was short and plump, and her face held a perpetually annoyed look.

"Weren’t you every elementary teacher I ever had?" Lauren asked under her breath, extending her hand and smiling brightly at the woman, who didn’t smile back. "I’m Lauren Strayer. I’m here to talk about Ashley Marlowe."

Mrs. Lynch studied Lauren for a few seconds before saying, "Hello, Ms. Strayer." She didn’t take Lauren’s hand.

The reception was so frosty Lauren fought the urge to shiver. Apparently, Mrs. Lynch found something lacking in her. Been there, done that. The more things change, the more they stay the same, Lauren thought wryly.

"Won’t you sit down?" The woman gestured to a chair in front of her desk, before reclaiming her own seat.

Lauren nodded and then nearly fell when she sank down into the midget chair. "Whoa!" Her head was now a full foot lower than Mrs. Lynch’s. "Ugh." Lauren tried to move, but her rear end was crammed between the arm rails of the child’s seat. "Can you even see me down here?"

Mrs. Lynch was not amused. "I just received a phone call from President Marlowe, sending her regrets and saying that you would be attending in her place."

Lauren shook her head. God love her, Devlyn was not only a workaholic, she was an anal-retentive one at that. Thank goodness. "The President takes her role in Ashley’s education very seriously, Mrs. Lynch. I hope you know that."

"And what about you?"

"Me too. Of course," Lauren said quickly, feeling as though she’d already made a tactical blunder. "I may not be Ashley’s mother, but I do care very much how she does in school."

Mrs. Lynch smiled briefly, showing off canines that were just a little too pointy.

God, I’ll bet you scare the shit out of the kids. "I’ll do my best to convey everything you say to the President."

This seemed to perk Mrs. Lynch up a bit. And for a few moments she diligently explained Ashley’s progress in her studies. She showed Lauren several of Ashley’s math papers and drawings from art class, giving Lauren a very good idea of where Ashley needed to work harder and where she was doing quite well.

Lauren quickly became absorbed in the discussion and began rethinking her initial and mostly negative impression of Mrs. Lynch. The woman clearly took Ashley's education very seriously. She forgot to worry about whether she was doing this right as she focused on the task at hand, her nervousness fading with each passing second.

Finally, when it seemed there was no more to talk about, Mrs. Lynch said, "I suppose Ashley explained to you and President Marlowe the shocking disciplinary incident that happened yesterday?"

Lauren’s stomach lurched. Shocking? "Of course," she lied, after all, maybe Ashley had told Devlyn. "But I’d like to hear things from your perspective, Mrs. Lynch."

"Of course you would."

Lauren’s lips thinned.

"Ashley got caught passing notes. Again." Mrs. Lynch opened her desk drawer and a rank smell wafted from it.

Lauren turned a little green around the gills. "God."

Mrs. Lynch slammed the drawer shut in irritation, a piece of tattered paper in her hand. "It’s where I keep my tuna sandwiches. The refrigerator in the teacher's lounge broke last spring and there’s no money in the budget to repair it." She raised her eyebrows at Lauren, who looked back at her blankly.

"That’s too bad," Lauren finally offered, wondering what Mrs. Lynch expected her to do about it.

Disappointed, Mrs. Lynch thrust out her hand. "Here is the note."

"Okay…" Lauren said slowly, eyeing the evidence of Ashley’s unknown, dastardly deed warily. "Is it really that bad?"

"Judge for yourself." Mrs. Lynch sniffed haughtily and shook the many-times folded piece of paper.

Lauren took it and opened it with not a little trepidation. The scrawled letters were large and uneven, though she could see they’d been carefully penned.

The word yes was circled by a bold heart. Lauren smiled gently when she finished. Oh, Ashley. She re-folded the paper and put it in her pocket, ignoring Mrs. Lynch’s disapproving stare. This didn’t need to go in that permanent record teachers were always talking about. Surely Devlyn would want to keep it. "What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Lynch? This doesn’t seem so horrible. Did they sneak out of class and make out in the coat room or something?" Lauren knew from personal experience that that would get you six weeks' detention.

Mrs. Lynch’s back went ramrod straight. "Of course not!"

Lauren’s eyes narrowed, and she felt her pulse pick up as a horrible thought occurred to her. "Is there any reason to believe this is something other than two kids just being kids? John isn’t another teacher or a janitor or something?"

"Good heavens, no!" Mrs. Lynch looked like she was about to swallow her own tongue. "John is in Ashley’s class. He’s a good boy and excellent student, though Ashley does seem to distract him from his work. It’s not the content of the note that is the problem, Ms. Strayer. That, I assure you, is quite normal."

Lauren thought she noticed a slight inflection on the word normal, but let it pass, deciding that calling Ashley’s teacher a bitch wouldn’t make the little girl’s school life any better. "Then what?"

"It’s what Ashley did after I read it to the class that was highly problematic."

Lauren’s face hardened, and her gray eyes glinted with sudden anger. "After you did what?"

The look on Lauren’s face caused Mrs. Lynch to involuntarily flinch. "I know it seems harsh, but—"

"You read this in front of everyone?"

Mrs. Lynch lifted her chin defiantly. "It’s my policy to share notes. It discourages children from passing them."

Lauren felt her temper rising fast. "So your policy is to embarrass children as a method of discipline? Do you make slow children wear dunce caps as well? Or do you just brand them with a big D?"

Mrs. Lynch’s face turned brick red. "I have been teaching in this God forsaken city for 40 years, Ms. Strayer. I have 39 students in my class. I have to keep—"

"What you have to do is teach these kids and treat them with respect," Lauren snapped. "Mrs. Lynch," she ground out, "I’m not a member of the local school board. You can take your complaints about your refrigerator and class sizes to them. I’m here for Ashley. She is who I’m concerned with." Lauren forced herself to take a slow, deep breath. "What happened after you read the note?"

Mrs. Lynch licked her lips. "Well… She grew very upset while I was reading it and asked me to stop, which I couldn’t do. If I did it for her I’d have to do it for the other children. Just because she’s the President’s daughter doesn’t mean she gets special treatment." She looked away briefly before unflinchingly meeting Lauren’s eyes. "Then she began to cry."

Lauren’s hands shaped into twin fists. "And," she prodded in voice far calmer than she felt.

"And then she called me an inappropriate name."

"Was it bitch?"

Mrs. Lynch gasped. "No!"

Lauren gave her a false smile. "Go on."

"It was," Mrs. Lynch paused for effect, "‘battle axe.’"

Lauren rolled her eyes. "That’s the big trauma?"

"She said it in front of the entire class!" Mrs. Lynch defended hotly. "What sort of showing of respect is that? She should be setting an example."

"You read her private note to the entire class," Lauren shot back. "Maybe she’s learning to be respectful from you?" With a grunt, she pried her butt out of the tiny chair and leaned forward until she was nose to nose with the teacher. "I don’t know if it makes you happy to make little girls cry, but I do know this. Lady, you are a battle axe." She pinned Mrs. Lynch with a fierce glare. "What Ashley did was wrong. What you did was worse."

She leaned even closer. "Our conversation today had better not have a negative effect on the way you treat Ashley. She’s a good kid who doesn’t deserve your contempt." Abruptly, Lauren picked up the folder that contained Ashley’s school papers. "Are we finished?"

Mrs. Lynch was too stunned to speak.

"Looks like we are." Without another word, Lauren strode out of the room, giving the next two waiting parents a grim smile as she passed them. She could see Ashley and Amy waiting on a bench at the end of the hallway, and Brendan quietly fell in step behind her, communicating their location status to the other agents.

Lauren could see Ashley looked pale and frightened. She stopped in front of the little girl, who refused to meet her stare. "Ashley," she said quietly.

Ashley glanced up, her soft brown eyes brimming with tears. "She read it to everyone." Her voice cracked, and so did Lauren’s heart.

The blonde woman crouched down and silently opened her arms to Ashley.

The girl flew into them and began mumbling her apologies between her sobs.

"Shh… It’s okay."

"Every… everybody la… laughed."

"I know, sweetie. That wasn’t very nice." Lauren kissed the top of Ashley’s head and hugged her as tightly as she dared. She let Ashley cry for several moments before she gently pushed her away and wiped wet cheeks with tender fingers. "You know you shouldn’t have been passing notes in school, right?" Intently, she studied Ashley’s face.

Ashley nodded, relieved that Lauren hadn’t mentioned the note’s content.

"And that no matter how utterly and completely fitting the name battle axe might be," she smiled and Ashley let out a surprised burst of laughter, smiling back, "you’re not allowed to say things like that to anyone. Much less a teacher. Even if they deserve it." Her voice turned serious. "Got me, darlin’?"

Ashley sniffed and the tension drained from her body, leaving her as limp as dish rag. "Got you. I apologized after I said it."

Lauren gazed at her in understanding. "I figured you did." She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then straightened and wrapped her arm around slender shoulders. Okay, so she hadn’t handled the teacher as well as she could have. But she still felt a little proud of herself. Ashley seemed to feel better, and the girl knew she’d done something wrong. So the afternoon wasn’t a complete bust. "Do you want me to talk to your mama about you going to a different class?"

"No!" The girl looked a little panicky. "I like my class."

Lauren wasn't surprised. Ashley didn't seem reluctant to attend classes, as she herself had been. "Is Mrs. Lynch a good teacher, Ashley?"

Ashley thought about that for a second before nodding. "Except when she reads notes out loud," she added sullenly.

An indulgent smile twitched at the corners of Lauren's lips. "That was pretty rotten." She signed. "Honey, your teacher does a hard job under tough conditions. Maybe she was just having a bad day. I know it seems impossible, but teachers are people too and everyone can have a bad day and make bad choices." She lifted an eyebrow. "Like passing notes in class instead of paying attention." In truth, that was more charitable towards Mrs. Lynch than Lauren wanted to be. But Ashley was a child inclined to forgive easily, and she didn't want to influence that with her own opinion.

Ashley winced. "I understand. I guess."

Lauren ruffled the girl's dark hair. "Good."

"Lauren?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to tell Mom?"

Lauren cringed as she thought back to her own harsh words. "I don’t want to."

"Yes!" Ashley pumped her fist in the air.

The cringe intensified. "But I think I have to."

Ashley's face fell, but she didn’t seem surprised.

They all started for the car and were greeted with a blast of cool air that smelled like wet grass. It was still raining and shallow puddles had formed on the sidewalk, snaking their way into the schoolyard. Two of the agents popped open umbrellas and held them over Lauren and Ashley.

"Don’t worry, honey," Lauren said, "before I tell her anything I intend to bribe your mother." Kisses. Backrubs. Oh, yeah, this could be good.

Ashley’s face wrinkled in confusion. "For me?"

Lauren snorted. "Nuh uh. For me. You’ve got that short, adorable kid thing going. I, on the other hand, need all the help I can get."

The agents all rolled their eyes and sniggered.

"What?" Lauren complained, taking off her wet glasses and stuffing them in her blazer pocket. "I do."

***

Dev tossed the pen down on her desk and stood up to stretch. Rolling her neck, she decided to take a walk through the plane and see what the press was up to. They were on their way back to Washington after spending two days touring Jefferson County, Kentucky, which had been hit by multiple tornadoes in the past week. The devastation was severe, and Dev had promised federal aid to help the people rebuild their homes and businesses.

Thinking of home and a hot bath, she wandered to the back of Air Force One and entered the area where the press always traveled. As soon as they realized she was in the room, several of the reporters stood to greet her. She smiled and waved them off. "Relax, everybody. I’m just stretching my legs." Devlyn was dressed in black slacks and a casual sweater, having discarded her blazer after entering the plane. Taking a seat on a table in the front of the room, she let her hands rest in her lap.

"That was a good trip, ladies and gentlemen."

A round of general murmurs of approval met her words, and she relaxed further into her seat, pleased that things had gone so smoothly.

"How are the wedding plans, Madam President?" The reporter from the Post continued to twirl the pen in his hand, but made no move to record Devlyn’s words. The atmosphere with the press on Air Force One was decidedly casual, with a certain level of mutual trust and respect between all the parties.

Devlyn laughed and bit her lip. "I’m not sure my mother is speaking to me at the moment. I haven’t been around much lately and I haven’t given her or my social secretary as much input as they would like. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it," blue eyes twinkled, "most of my participation has been via telephone and email."

A woman in the back lifted her camera high over her head, and Dev gave her a quick nod. Permission granted to take photos.

"Actually, Michael Oaks and my mom are working very hard to make sure things go off without a hitch. I’m a little worried though, because Secretary Oaks came into my office the other day and asked Lauren and me, ‘blue or white?’ That was it, nothing else, and he didn’t say what I was giving my opinion on."

"You could have asked," a press corps member reminded her wryly.

"I could have," Dev agreed, saying nothing more.

"So what color did you select?"

"I said blue."

"And Ms. Strayer?"

"She looked up from her laptop and grunted what I assumed to be her agreement. Sometimes she gets a little engrossed in her work. I can’t imagine how that could happen."

This time Devlyn joined in the laughter. "I may have agreed to something totally hideous." She adjusted at the table and got more comfortable. "Keep your fingers crossed for me."

"Madam President, getting information about the wedding has been darn near impossible."

"You don’t say?" Dev answered wryly.

"Is there anything you can tell us?"

"C’mon, Madam President," another reporter joined in. "Throw a wild pack of dogs a bone."

Dev thought for a moment, then nodded. "I can tell you that the wedding will be a small ceremony held in Ohio with our family and friends. A few members of the press will be invited to the reception, sans cameras…."

There was a chorus of groans.

"But the ceremony will be private." Dev nearly laughed at the devastated looks on their faces. "Don’t worry, when Lauren and I get back from our honeymoon, we’ll host a formal reception at the White House. It should be a grand event, and cameras, and all of you, will be welcome."

Dev's expression went serious. "As most of you know, Lauren is an extremely private woman, who is still adjusting to life in the public eye. But even if she were used to all the hounding, it wouldn’t matter. Our wedding is something just for us that we want to share with the people we love. I hope you can all respect that."

"How do your children feel about this?"

An involuntary smile crossed Dev's face. "My children are ecstatic. They love Lauren, as does my entire family. As a matter of fact, Lauren has already attended her first parent/teacher conference, while I was stuck in Chicago."

Devlyn remembered how nervous Lauren had been when she explained what happened at the parent/teacher conference. The blonde woman had waited until Dev was nearly asleep and had been buttered up to the max before spilling the beans. Dev hated having to punish Ashley, but the look on her daughter’s face when she told her that her next month’s allowance would be donated to the charity of her choice, assured Dev she was doing the right thing. Ashley would hold her tongue next time. Or, as Lauren pointed out, be really, really poor.

Devlyn still wasn't quite sure why Lauren used her last three weeks' poker winnings to buy a used refrigerator and have it sent to Ashley's school. She silently vowed to ask more about that later.

"Have you considered running for a second term?"

The question brought Dev out of her musings. "I’ve been considering it, but before I make a firm decision, there’s a lot I need to discuss with my family and my advisors."

"Where are you going on your honeymoon?"

Dev was used to the ping-ponging of questions from topic to topic, and she easily rolled with the punches. "I have no idea. The honeymoon is Lauren’s wedding gift to me, and it’s a surprise."

"Is it hard to keep a surprise from you?"

Devlyn rolled her eyes. "You’d think it would be, wouldn’t you? But I can assure you she and my chief of staff are managing quite nicely. As President, most of the surprises I get aren’t that pleasant, so this will be a very nice change of pace. I’m just holding my breath and hoping that we’ll get two weeks together that aren't interrupted by anything big." She blinked as she thought about what she’d said. Then she reached over to the table and knocked on it twice. "You don’t need to print that last statement; let’s not tempt fate and give the nuts any ideas."

"Will Ms. Strayer assume the typical duties associated with being First Lady?"

"That will be up to Lauren. I do know that she has hired Beth McMillian as her chief of staff. I think she and David McMillian will be the first husband and wife team in history acting as chiefs of staff. "

"Madam President, just about everything associated with your presidency is a first."

Dev smiled. "True enough."

"Will Ms. Strayer be taking the name Marlowe?"

Devlyn was careful to keep her expression neutral when she answered this question. Samantha had eagerly taken her name. Dev knew she was being silly and that her ego was rearing its sometimes-inflated head, but the fact that Lauren wanted to keep her name had stung a little. It wasn’t until Lauren teasingly suggested that they could solve the problem by Devlyn and the children taking the name Strayer that Devlyn realized how silly she was being. "No, she’ll be keeping her name. As will I."

"Isn’t it traditional for the wife—" The man stopped mid-sentence, clamping his jaw down hard as he felt his face heat

"The wife to take her husband’s name?" Devlyn finished gently, feeling sorry for the man and hoping that the other reporters would have mercy on him and not quote him. "I believe it is. Though it’s increasingly rare. However, since there will be no husband in this marriage, we’ll be making our traditions, don’t you think?"

The man nodded, grateful, Dev had taken his stupid comment in her stride.

"It’s a brave new world, people. Let’s not chicken out now." She clapped her hands together. "Enough business. Who wants to play cards?"

***

Dev was looking forward to calling it a day and grabbing a shower before the party. It wasn’t being called a bachelor or bachelorette party, it was just "The President’s party" and Lauren’s was just hers. The children had indignantly demanded their own when they found out they weren't invited to the others. And their mother had eagerly complied. By necessity and protocol, her children were excluded from 99% of the social events at the White House. When an opportunity arose for them to have their own fun, she never begrudged it.

She couldn’t help but grin as she recalled Ashley saying, in a slightly miffed voice, "Fine, be that way, but don’t be surprised if I don’t invite you to my party." When Dev inquired about what party that might be, she was told it would be held in the family room, involve Sorry, Junior Monopoly, cartoons, all the popcorn you could eat, and was "invitation only." Dev wondered if the children's party might not turn out better than the one David was planning for her.

Dev pushed away from her desk and slowly padded back to the residence. Liza trailed after her, quickly informing her of the next day's appointments, and a bevy of Secret Service and various other aides clustered around her. By the time she turned the corridor for the Presidential apartment, the Secret Service agents had taken their posts at the ends of the hallway, and she was allowed to walk the rest of the way alone. She sighed happily, already plotting the quick removal of her pantyhose and the heart-stopping kiss she wanted to give Lauren.

When she opened the door to her apartment, the smell of warm, fresh-baked cookies tickled her nose. She all but groaned.

Emma walked past holding a treat-laden tray. Dev snagged one before Emma could move it away. "Mmm… I'm still too quick for you, Emma," Dev teased as she chewed with extra relish. The only thing better than eating a cookie was eating a cookie that you weren't supposed to be eating.

"Humph." Emma glanced down at the tray. "Those are for the children's party. We managed to round up most of the children of the people attending your and Lauren's party. Besides, aren't you turning 40 this year, Madam President?" Emma's eyes twinkled.

"Maybe," Dev answered warily.

"Then you should be slowing down enough for me to keep you away from the cookies soon enough."

Dev scowled at the good-natured barb, then winked at the matronly women, reaching out to give her a fierce one-armed hug. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"

"Devil," Emma only used the Marlowe family nickname in the most private of times with the tall woman, "you know I hate that song."

Dev burst out laughing.

"But I love you, too, and these children." Emma beamed at her employer and long-time friend. "I’m so happy for all of you. Lauren is a wonderful girl."

"Girl?" Dev gave Emma a look, and the older woman smiled unrepentantly. "She's not that much younger than I am!" Dev groaned. "Remind me not to tease you again, Emma."

Emma snorted, the action so enthusiastic her large bosom jiggled. "Like you ever listen."

Dev ignored that last comment, knowing it was completely true. "I did hit pay dirt with Lauren, didn't I?"

Emma nodded fondly, enjoying the gleam in Dev's eye that had been missing for so many years.

"How can one person get this lucky twice in a lifetime?" Dev marveled, looking skyward.

"Madam President," Emma said haughtily as she leaned again the sofa. "After all this time, haven’t you realized that you make your own luck?"

Dev grinned broadly, loving that thought.

"Besides, I always had faith you'd find someone. You weren't meant to be alone."

Dev felt a lump developing in her throat, and she leaned over and kissed Emma's cheek as she wrestled her emotions under control. Then she stepped back. "So are you going to chaperone the kids' wild party?"

"Oh, yes, I'll be here until bedtime, then I'll take you and Lauren both up on your invitations and stop by each of your parties. But I'd better stay for the entire length of the children's party. I expect security will have to be called in when Ashley's Go Fish tournament gets out of hand because Aaron has an ace up his sleeve."

Dev shook her head. "Don’t give them any ideas; I can barely keep up with them as it is." She let out a slow breath as she bent and slipped off her shoes. It brought her an inch closer to Emma's height. "Well, I’m off to take a shower and get dressed. Tell the kids I’ll try to sneak back to tuck them in, and they get an extra hour tonight."

"Oh, goody," the older woman said dryly, rolling her eyes as she re-arranged the cookies. "Have a good time until I get there. Just not too good. I don't want to miss anything. I don't get out much, you know."

Dev prudently didn't remind Emma about the exploits she and her sister had regaled her with after their Christmas cruise. When those two women got together, they were something else. "I intend to. If you need me…"

"You’ll be the last to know. Later, Devil."

"See you later, Emma."

Emma waved at Devlyn as she made her way to the family room to set up her tray. Devlyn headed in the opposite direction. She blinked when she opened her bedroom door and heard the faint hum of her shower in the attached bathroom. "Her shower is still broken? I really should make sure somebody does something about that. Heh." Dark eyebrows waggled lecherously. "I wonder if she'd notice if it mysteriously broke again next week? And the week after that. And the week after that." Even though they saw each other and often slept in each other's beds, the separate quarters thing was wearing very thin for Devlyn. Only another month, she told herself with no little irritation.

She tossed her shoes into the corner, shucked her blazer, and began unbuttoning her green silk blouse. As it fell to the floor, she attacked her skirt, visions of Lauren’s flushed, soapy body surrounded by steam spurring on her actions. "Stupid clothes," she growled, tugging furiously at her skirt’s zipper.

Just as her skirt passed her hips, the water stopped. "No," Dev cried, closing her eyes. She opened the bathroom door, clad only in her bra and pantyhose. The steam poured out and it took a moment for her to spot her quarry.

"I’ll give you a thousand dollars to get back in the shower," Dev begged, a puppy dog look on her face as Lauren wrapped a towel around her body.

Lauren laughed lightly. Her blonde, wavy hair was slicked back, her skin flushed a bright pink from the hot water. She wrapped a large blue body sheet around herself, tucking the end between her breasts.

Dev whimpered.

"Sorry, can’t do it, darlin'. I have to meet your mom and Beth in about 20 minutes."

"They’ll understand," Dev promised. She took several steps forward and laid warm hands on the hot skin of Lauren's shoulders. "They remember what it’s like to be young and in love."

"Oooo." Lauren squealed as she squirmed away. "I’m going to tell your mom you called her old."

"I never said that." Her hands reached out again. "You’re misquoting me. You should go to work for the Times; they’re always misquoting me."

"They hate you," Lauren said crossly as she picked up a wide-toothed comb from the bathroom sink and began tugging it through her hair.

"Here." Devlyn plucked the comb from her hands and gently set to work on Lauren's hair.

The smaller woman smiled, utterly charmed by the affectionate gesture.

"Tell me about it. They’ve done everything but print that I’m a card-carrying member of the Nazi party and out to destroy the American family with my evil lesbian ways. Ultra conservative doesn’t even begin to describe that rag."

Lauren closed her eyes, enjoying the gentle attention. "Uh oh. They did another article, didn't they?"

"Oh, yeah." Regretfully, she passed the comb back to Lauren after getting the worst of the tangles. She still needed a shower herself. But it would have been so much more fun with you, her mind grumpily supplied. "This time they attacked my DNA Registration Act."

Lauren just bit her lip and toweled off her face.

Dev’s head tilted slightly to one side as she tried to catch a look at Lauren's face in the steam-covered mirror. "That sucks, honey. I’m sorry," Dev mimicked in a slight Southern drawl.

"Okay." Lauren nodded reluctantly. "That’s good. I could have said that."

"So why didn’t you?"

Lauren set the comb down and turned around. Her voice was soft and warm, and she hoped it would take some of the sting from her words. "Devlyn, darlin’, do we have to get into another debate over this? You know how I feel about it. I love you and I’ve never made my opinion public, and I never will," she reminded her firmly. "But you know there are a few issues where we differ politically. And that's one of them."

Dev made a face. "If I lose re-election by one vote you’re in trouble."

Lauren just shook her head and walked out of the bathroom, leaving Devlyn to strip out of her bra and hose. She didn't miss the President's sigh of relief. She went over to the bed where she'd laid down her garment bag. "Are you going to?"

"Am I going to what?" Dev called from the bathroom.

"Run again."

This brought the President back into the bedroom. They'd talked generally about this. But they’d never given it the attention it needed.

"I don’t know." Dev's expression grew thoughtful. "There are days when I think yes, and then there are days when I wonder why in the hell I’m here in the first place." And what living like this is doing to you.

Lauren shed her towel and walked purposely back to Dev, wrapping her in a warm, skin-on-skin embrace. Reflexively, her eyes closed at the delicious sensation. "Listen to me good, Devlyn Marlowe, because I’m only gonna say this once. So don't forget it." She pressed her lips to Dev's ear, feeling warm hands splay across her back, holding her tight. She sank deeper into the embrace. "It’s in your blood, Devlyn. This insanity that is the presidency. And more importantly, you're a good president." The hands on her back increased their pressure. "Even the people who don't agree with everything you do trust you. They are smart for doing so, Devlyn."

Lauren drew in a deep breath. "You need to do what's going to make you happy. And I'll support you no matter what that is."

Dev smiled and pulled away, reaching up to cup Lauren’s cheek with one hand. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

Lauren kissed Dev’s palm. "We'll talk about this more when we have time, all right?"

"Deal." Dev’s brow rose as Lauren moved back to the bed and unzipped her garment bag. "You wearing that to the party?" she squeaked loudly.

"I am." Lauren grinned. "It’s a tropical themed party, Devlyn."

Dev's mouth was still hanging open at the sight of Lauren's bright purple, flowered bikini top and the loosely fitted, wraparound skirt.

"You know, beach theme."

"Oh, yeah. Can I come?"

Lauren chuckled. "You know you can't. Besides, I know for a fact David has been planning you a really nice party." Lauren wriggled into her top, much to Devlyn's dismay. "Do you know anything about it?"

"All I know is that we're watching a boxing match. It's not televised but David spoke to the promoters and we're getting a private satellite feed."

Lauren grimaced. "Sounds bloody."

Dev shrugged. She'd always enjoyed that particular sport, but knew her weak-stomached partner wouldn't make it past the first bloody uppercut. "Could be. It's supposed to be a good one. They're the two top-ranked heavyweights."

Shimmying into panties and the skirt, Lauren examined herself in the mirror. After a month of hard dieting she'd taken off 12 pounds and was nearly back to her normal weight. "Well," she kissed Dev on the cheek. "How do I look?"

"Fabulous. Let's stay in the room."

"Devlyn," Lauren scolded, but she eagerly absorbed the praise. "You won't miss me. You'll have fun watching two idiots pound each other silly."

"I always miss you," Devlyn said seriously.

Lauren just smiled. "Have fun."

Dev smiled back. "You too."

"We will."

"Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do."

Lauren let a thousand easy retorts ease their way from her mind before promising, "I won’t." She stepped forward and laid warm palms on Devlyn’s cheeks, feeling the flesh beneath her hands ease into a genuine smile. On tipped toes, she brushed her lips against Devlyn’s.

Dev turned her head and kissed Lauren’s palm. "I love you." Then she kissed her again, sinking into the moment.

Warm breath tickled Lauren’s face and she relished their closeness and the undercurrent of passion that crackled between them. "I love you, too."

***

The sensual rhythm of tropical drums and the smell of roasting pork and fish floated down the hallway that led to the indoor White House pool, causing Lauren to sniff appreciatively and her hips to pick up the beat of the music as she walked. A relaxed smile eased across her face, and she tried not to think about how badly she needed this. An evening of fun and relaxation, where she could truly be herself and laugh and drink rum punch to her heart's content. There would be no worries about protocol or minding every word that she said. The only photographs would come from the small 35mm camera slung around her neck, and they would end up in her personal scrapbook instead of the tabloids. The only missing ingredient was Devlyn, who she fully intended on coaxing into her bed after their respective parties anyway.

She smiled as she walked across the thick carpeting in flip-flops she hadn't worn since college. Beth hadn't told her much about her party other than giving her specific instructions on what to wear and to come hungry. The latter, Lauren admitted wryly, would not be a problem after her crash dieting. She only hoped Beth had ordered enough food.

Gremlin and his mate, Princess, trotted alongside her, apparently finding the prospect of 15 children under the age of 10 too daunting to face, even with the prospect of eating up the mountains of food that would be dropped on the floor. "Cowards."

Her pug lifted his head at her and snarled, baring his tiny crooked teeth.

"Don't whine," Lauren chastised, giving her a pet a dismissive wave of the hand. "You know it's true."

She stopped in front of the doors that led to the pool and bit her lip to keep from laughing at the agents who were standing guard. It was Jack and Brendan. Both men were wearing their suit coats, but Jack had on a pair of bright orange swimming trunks and Brendan was wearing a red bandana over his head and sporting a tie covered in gaudy palm trees.

"Ms. Strayer," both men greeted, barely able to keep a straight face.

"Agent Kieser. Agent Wochowski," Lauren replied just as formally, her gray eyes twinkling with mischievous delight. She'd been itching to see a great many of the men and women who worked for the Executive Branch in a more relaxed setting. Tonight, she would get her wish.

Lauren rocked back on her heels. "Are you going to let me in?" She could hear laughter and music behind the door, which was actually vibrating a little from the raucous sounds behind it. Apparently, the party had started without her. She tried to peek inside; black construction paper had been taped over the glass windows in the doors.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We'll have to take that camera." Brendan gestured towards Lauren's chest.

Lauren blinked at them. "What are you talking about?"

"We have our orders, Ms. Strayer."

"Orders?" Lauren very nearly stamped her foot. "Christ, this is my party. Shouldn't I be allowed to take photographs?"

Jack and Brendan looked at each other and then back at Lauren as they both shook their heads.

Lauren's eyes narrowed.

Wordlessly, Jack opened the door, and a blast of wonderful-smelling food and pulse-pounding music nearly blew Lauren off her feet. She peered inside, her eyes growing wider with every second. "Oh, my God." Three dancers were bumping and grinding away alongside the pool, while onlookers hooted and howled their approval. Is that Beth? For a second Lauren was rendered mute, then a dark blush stained her cheeks and she quickly handed her camera to the smirking agents.

Smiling, she walked in, and Jack shut the door behind her. "When is someone coming to relieve you so you can go to the party?" He lifted the camera.

An enormous grin split Brendan's cheeks. "Half hour. Same as you. Heh. It's gonna be great."

Click. The flash went off as Jack took the picture of his smiling fellow agent. Both men then faced forward, and their smiles disappeared as they projected their normal stoic demeanor, guarding some of the nation’s most interesting people.

***

After her shower, Dev killed another hour checking on the kids’ party and looking at some paperwork before she wandered into the multimedia room to find about two dozen of her friends and colleagues. A large table of food was set up; it looked like it had all her favorites. Pure, unadulterated junk. She had sympathetically been staying away from fattening foods while Lauren was dieting; she figured that David knew she was near the breaking point.

David placed a cold beer in her hand and patted her on the back. "Hiya, boss." He waved a hand over the delectable spread that contained enough calories and grams of fat to end world hunger. "What’s your pleasure?"

"She’s having her own party by the pool."

"I meant food."

Dev lifted her chin. "I was speaking of dessert."

"Dev…" he growled playfully, glancing around to see who might have heard.

"David," she growled back with a grin, "cut me some slack and don’t mother me tonight. Let me relax. These people are my friends or else they wouldn’t be here." She stepped closer to David. "Except for Michael Oaks. What the hell is he doing here?"

"I had to invite him, Devlyn," he answered in a hushed voice. He chewed on his thick, red mustache unhappily. "It would have looked bad to the other staff members if I hadn’t."

"I know." Devlyn sighed. Then she had a thought. "Has he seen the food?"

David thought about that for a minute. "I don’t think so. He’s been over in the corner sulking because I wouldn’t let him plan this with me. He hasn’t been over here at all."

"Hehehe. Good. This will give his Mr. Proper ass a heart attack."

"Great idea!" David gestured towards the young social secretary. "Oh, Michael," he called out. "Can you come here for a moment?"

Michael nodded and slowly got up from his seat. Everyone else was in casual clothes; he was still wearing a three-piece suit.

"I’ll bet he’s really hot."

They shared childish smiles. "I’ll bet so, too," David agreed.

Dev clasped David’s shoulder and left the breaking of the news about their dining selection to her friend. Her mind drifted to Lauren’s party for a moment when she glanced around the room and noticed that, while most of her friends were here, the number of male agents in attendance could be counted on a bird’s foot. This is what happens when there’s a clothes-optional pool party.

***

The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly and everyone was laughing as Dev regaled the group about how she had accidentally caught sight of a very naked David once during their years as college roommates.

From across the room, David gave a loud whistle to get everyone’s attention. "The fight is ready to start."

"Sure it is!" someone called out.

"Very funny." He pointed to the large image that had materialized in the front of the room. "It is."

Dev happily marched up to the front of the theater and took her customary seat, placing her drink on a small table next to the chair. She chuckled when she saw that Attorney General Evelyn Sanchez had taken the seat right next to her. She liked Evelyn, and Dev was proud of the unexpectedly solid friendship and the level of trust that had grown between them since she’d appointed her.

"Why, Evelyn, I didn’t know you were a fight fan."

"I’m not really. But I couldn’t very well turn down an invitation to your party, now could I?" She gave Devlyn a wry grin and stole one of the M&Ms out of the large bowl on Devlyn’s tray. "Besides, it’ll be fun to see people other than my staff beating each other up."

Dev chuckled at the mention of last week’s incident, where two deputy chiefs had gotten so frustrated with each other they had a fight inside one of the men’s bathrooms in the Department of Justice.

"That wasn’t one of my stellar moments, Madam President."

Even in the darkened room, Dev could see the flush covering Evelyn’s olive-toned skin. She leaned over and whispered, "I’ve had my share of those moments, too."

The image of the two boxers and a referee took center stage, making it look as if the boxers were actually in the room. The announcer finished his spiel and a loud clang filled the theater, which was taut with anticipation. Dev turned and retrieved her beer.

"Holy Christ!" Evelyn exclaimed as she rose to her feet. "What a punch!"

Dev’s head whipped around, and her eyes bugged out when she saw one of the boxers lying on the mat. The crowd was roaring, and the referee began to count to 10. "Oh, my God," Devlyn said slowly.

The bell rang.

She shot out of her seat and turned to David. "What the hell happened?" she cried in disbelief.

"It’s over," he mumbled unhappily. "Didn’t you see?"

Dev’s hands flailed wildly. "It took two seconds!"

"It’s not my fault that—"

"Whoa!" Frank Marlowe shook his head in appreciation of the perfect punch. "They just showed it again."

Dev spun back around, but the image was right where it was the last time she looked. With one boxer on the mat, unconscious, and the referee counting him out. "I missed it again!" She covered her face with her hands. "Nononononononono."

"There it was again," David said. "Wow. What an amazing hit!"

Dev’s hands flew from her face, but it was too late. She whirled around and pointed at the crowd of her friends, who were now laughing. "Is this some sort of a sick joke?"

They all pointed back at the screen, but when she turned around, she’d missed it a fourth time.

"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Dev wailed. The "Fight of the Century" had been a complete and total failure; no one had been expecting a K.O. in the first two seconds of the first round.

"It’s over?" Dev repeated in disbelief, her eyes round. "I was robbed."

The room laughed again. The Secretary of the Army sipped his beer as a speculative looked overtook his rugged face. "That’s what Jackson is gonna say when he wakes up and wonders how Maccio cleaned his clock."

Dev groaned. "Turn it off. I can’t take it anymore." She moved over to David and put her arm around his shoulders. "Now what, mighty party planner?"

"Never fear, we’ve got digital replay. Hang on."

"Forget it, David. The entire point is seeing it happen as it happens."

David’s mind raced for something else to do. "This is where I unveil my brilliant contingency plan for just such an occurrence, right?"

Dev smiled, relieved. "Yes."

"Damn."

***

Lauren leaned against the wall, an empty, still frosty, beer mug dangling loosely from her hand. She let out a deep, satisfied breath as her eyes slid closed and any remaining tension she felt eased its way out of her system. The rhythm of the music had long since seeped into her blood, and she felt a light buzz from the various margaritas, Mexican beers, and fruity island punches she'd sampled over the past several hours.

It felt sublime.

"Hello, love."

Lauren's lips twitched into a genuine smile at the sound of the deep, lilting voice.

"You didn't think you'd avoid me all night, didja?"

Lauren chuckled and opened her arms, feeling the solid warmth of Alex as he wrapped large arms around her and pulled her into a fierce hug. "I was thinking perhaps you were angry with me for appearing on that dreadful American television show?"

"Nah," Lauren answered good-naturedly, pulling back to examine her former lover with a fond eye. "I was just waiting for Beth and Janet Marlowe to finish dirty dancing with you."

Alex exploded into laughter. "Beth, that firecracker, headed off towards the bar, leaving me and Janet alone. I was havin' a high time of it, too, until a man with a white beard threatened to cut off me privates if I didn't back away from his wife."

Lauren muffled her surprised snort. She glanced across the room to see Frank and Janet Marlowe slow-dancing, their bodies pressed tightly together despite the quick beat of the tropical music. "That would be Devlyn's daddy, Frank Marlowe." Hmm… I thought he was going to the other party? Huh.

Alex scratched his jaw as he eyed the happy couple. "Well, even though Janet laughed at his bold words, the man seemed serious enough to me. I haven't stayed alive this long by not knowing when to quit. Besides, I'm afraid I'm not man enough for those two wild lasses."

Lauren backhanded him gently in the belly. "That's not true, and you know it."

Alex just shook his head. "Lordy, if I'd known you were such a wild bunch in Washington, I would have come years ago." He winked at her, then his expression went a little serious. "By the way, love looks grand on you, Lauren. I've never seen you smile so much.

Lauren beamed. "It feels as good at it looks."

"Ah," Alex sighed wistfully. "I'll just bet does."

She patted his forearm. "It'll happen to you someday, Alex. But until then—"

"I'll continue to share myself among the ladies of the world," he interrupted, grinning from ear to ear.

Lauren nodded at the handsome, undeniably charming man. "Just to be fair, of course."

"Of course."

They shared conspiratorial grins. Their love affair had been brief, torrid, and sweet and had ended when Lauren had to take an extended trip from Ireland to Italy while working on her last biography. Their short time together was something they each recalled fondly, but both were well aware, even then, that they were good friends and nothing more. It was that sure knowledge that made things easy for them now.

"I must admit, I was surprised to hear who your president was marrying." He gave her a pointed look. "If I'd known you liked the ladies, we could have double dated when you returned to Ireland. I've got a cousin who's studying to be a nurse, with eyes the color of emeralds and a shape that could bring a man… or woman… to her knees," he said dreamily. "It's God's own joke that we're related and she's forbidden fruit for me, but you'd love her."

Lauren felt a surge of affection for her friend, and she hugged him again. "That means a lot to me, Alex," she murmured against his broad, dark chest. She suddenly felt as though she was going to cry. Why couldn't her father's reaction to Devlyn have been half that accepting? But Lauren pushed those thoughts aside for the time being; tonight was a night for fun.

Alex opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a shrill scream.

"Get him away from me," Liza cried, doing her best to slog through the pool water. In one hand was a pork-loaded sandwich, in the other a tall drink with a cheerful umbrella poking out the top. Gremlin's will power had finally snapped. His tiny teeth bared, he was doing a frantic doggy paddle, swimming after her, intent on stealing her sandwich.

Alex lifted an eyebrow. "Gremlin! I've missed him so." He stripped out of his bright Hawaiian shirt, leaving himself clad only in a pair of skimpy black Speedos. "Time to be a hero." Without another word, he bolted for the pool and executed a perfect dive into the deep end as he headed to rescue Liza's sandwich.

The noise in the room was suddenly cut in half, as nearly every woman and even a few men stopped in mid-conversion to gape at the specimen that was Alex. Multiple sighs and whistles sounded as he smoothly swam over to Liza, who nearly dropped her sandwich when his muscular torso emerged from the water.

Beth stalked over to Lauren and demanded, "What is wrong with you?"

Lauren tore her eyes off Alex long enough to say, "Huh?"

"Look at him." Beth pointed. "How can you not like men? How?"

Lauren lifted a pale eyebrow and lowered her voice so that it was for Beth's ears only. "I do like men, Beth. The damn press are the ones who, for some reason, insist I have to pick men or women just on principle. Well, I've got news for them, I'm — not — doing — it." Her eyes drifted to Alex again, and she smirked. "He was every bit as good as he looks, too," she said, knowing full well it would torture her friend.

It did. Beth bit her lip and whimpered.

"I find both sexes attractive, but I'm in love with Devlyn and want to build a life with her. She's funny and gorgeous and sexy as hell and… and…" she put a hand on her hip, "why am I telling you all this?"

Beth laughed. "Because you've had too much to drink." She reached over and lifted Lauren's empty mug.

Lauren looked hard at the glass and grinned. "Oh, yeah."

"Let's go and get a refill."

Lauren's eyebrows drew together. She licked her lips. "I dunno, Beth," she said skeptically. "I've—"

"Stop being such a party pooper. C’mon." She grabbed Lauren’s hand and began tugging her towards the bar."

"Beth," Lauren laughed.

"Excuse us. Excuse us. Coming through." Beth and Lauren sidestepped a wildly wriggling conga line led by Jane, Devlyn’s private secretary.

"Hey, wasn’t she at Devlyn’s party?" Lauren asked, craning her head backwards to see as Beth continued to lead her across the room. "Hi, Wayne!" Lauren waved at her agent from Starlight Publishing, who was wearing a floppy straw hat, T-shirt, shorts and black knee high socks with his sandals, and trying his hand at playing the bongos. "You sound great!" Lauren gave him a thumbs up.

"Thanks!" he called back, returning the gesture.

When they reached the bar, it took a moment for Beth to get the attention of one of the bartenders. "Can I get the bags behind the bar now, please?"

He nodded and pulled out a large paper sack. When he handed it over, Lauren detected the clanking of metal.

Beth stood on a chair and motioned for the band to stop playing. The room suddenly went silent, and all eyes turned to Beth.

"Strip!" someone shouted, and Lauren turned to find a smiling David fixing himself a plate at the buffet.

"Later," Beth answered sassily, and the room erupted in cheers.

David heaped more food on his plate, figuring he’d need all the carbohydrates he could get for later.

What’s he doing here? Lauren wondered.

"Okay, everyone," a wild grin split Beth’s face, "pick a partner — it’s time for the limbo contest!"

There were more cheers and several groans from a few of the less limber party-goers.

Beth held up the bag in her hand and shook it. It clanked loudly. "Limbo with a twist!"

Both of Lauren’s eyebrows shot skyward.

***

Dev walked down the hall, scowling as she looked up at a grandfather clock and realized how quickly her party had broken up after the pathetic fight. "Should have let Michael plan it," she grumbled to herself. Her guests had disappeared one by one until even David snuck out while she wasn’t looking.

The reprieve, however, gave her a chance to check on the kids before deciding what she would do with the rest of her evening. She opened the door to Ashley's room and smiled at the moonlit lumps under her daughter's blankets. One belonged to the energetic child and the other belonged to the largest teddy bear that Devlyn had ever seen. Lauren had gifted Ashley with it after one of her business trips, and the little girl never slept without it.

She straightened the covers until she was sure that Ashley wouldn’t smother herself, then kissed her eldest on the forehead. "I love ya, Moppet."

For a few minutes she just watched the even rise and fall of the girl's chest. A peaceful wave gently washed over her, and she was instantly glad she took the time to do this, every night that she was home. Only Lauren knew the long, calming moments she would spend simply watching her children sleep. It was here that a sometimes crazy world could sometimes be seen with crystalline clarity. Satisfied that her daughter was romping through dreamland, she walked just down the hall to the room where the boys slept.

They had recently given up their race car beds for a set of bunk beds that they swore they needed more than anything else in the world. Dev and Lauren had put the beds together themselves after they’d accidentally been delivered in their original boxes. Several people in the maintenance department, of course, practically begged to be allowed to do it themselves, but this was a parental moment she found herself very much wanting to share with Lauren.

Dev was proud of the good job they’d done. Good being measured by the fact that the beds hadn’t collapsed under the rambunctious boys yet.

Christopher and Aaron were breathing heavily, and Dev picked up a baseball off the carpet and set it on their toy box before padding quietly to the bed. Aaron’s pajama-covered legs were sticking out from beneath the covers, and Dev lifted her son into place and readjusted his blankets, all without waking him. She had to uncover Christopher’s face and push aside a shock of messy, slightly sweaty blonde hair before placing a tender kiss on his forehead. "Love you both," she whispered fondly. "Sweet dreams."

Leaving the room, she lasted all of five seconds before heading back down the long hallway to Lauren’s apartment. She knocked on the door. When there was no answer she tried the knob and stuck her head in. "Lauren, honey?"

The room was still and dark, and Dev could tell Lauren hadn’t been back there since earlier this evening. She spun in a circle then dropped to her knees and lifted the comforter to look under the bed. No dogs. "How long can one party last?" she wondered out loud.

She decided it was time to find out.

***

Dev approached Lauren’s party with increasing wonder. The sound of music and laughter could be heard at the far end of the corridor leading to the hallway. She nodded her greeting at the two agents guarding the doorway. One was a woman clad only in a sleek, maroon swimsuit. The other agent was a tall slim man who had tropical flowers in his hair and smelled of tequila. "Hello," Dev drawled as she took in their smiling, bleary-eyed appearance.

They both stood up a little taller, and the woman began to giggle despite herself. "Hello… ma… ma… ma… You," the male agent said, proud that he’d thought of the word.

Dev blinked. "You two aren’t wearing your guns, are you?"

They both shook their heads wildly. "This is una… una… unaoffish unoffishel…"

"We’re off duty," the woman finally finished for him, smacking him hard on the arm.

"Whew." Dev wiped mock sweat from her forehead. "I wouldn’t want to get shot."

"You can get a shot inside," the woman said, and both agents burst out laughing. "Bacardi is my favorite."

Dev just stared at them incredulously. What kind of party did it take to loosen up this crew? In the White House, no less. She had to know. "Is Lauren in there?"

Suddenly, from behind the closed door, Dev heard the deafening chant, "Lau-ren. Lau-ren. Lau-ren."

The agents nodded obediently. "I think the answer is yes."

Dev lifted an eyebrow. "Ya think?" Dev gestured between them. "Step aside, please."

The man began to move away, but the woman grabbed his arm. "Don’t you remember?" she ground out harshly, glaring at him.

"Oh, yeah!" he blurted, reclaiming his spot in front of the door. He lifted his chin. "Sorry. Nobody comes in."

Dev’s jaw sagged. "What?"

The woman crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Nobody."

"I’m not nobody. I’m the President!"

The woman’s eyes went wide, and for a moment Dev thought she was going to let her pass. Then the agent simply shrugged and said, "Sorry. You’re still somebody. And nobody gets in."

Dev scratched her chin and considered her options. She could just let Lauren have her fun, or she could go in there and have some fun too. She was, she decided, in the mood for fun. And tormenting these agents was just the place to start. "Tell me, do you two know anything about protecting penguins?"

The agents looked at each other and then blankly back at the President. "Uh... No."

"Well, I'm sure if I don't get in there, I could arrange a transfer to someplace nice and cold where there are lots of penguins."

"I grew up in Minnesota," the male agent wailed, a desperate look on his face. "I can’t go back to that kind of cold!"

"Hold on, hold on," his companion soothed. "I’ll get Ms. McMillian." She pointed a slender finger at Devlyn. "Watch her. I don’t trust her."

Dev sneered as the younger woman disappeared behind the door.

"What’s that smell?" Dev nearly swooned when the door opened and closed, sending the scent of roasting meat floating out over her.

"Food," the agent answered with a grin, as though he’d revealed a big secret.

"You’re never going to make it on Jeopardy, are you agent?"

Just then Beth came to the door and poked out her head. It was dripping wet, dark curls hanging haphazardly in her face. "You can’t come in," she hissed, making a shooing motion. "Go away!"

"Dammit, Beth," Dev complained bitterly. "Puhleez! I wanna see what’s inside."

"I know you do."

"Bitch."

"A bitch at a rockin’ party, you mean."

Dev frowned, and her long-time friend took pity on her.

"Okay, you can come in if you know the password and promise not to wreck the party."

"Wreck the party?" Dev gasped. "I would nev—"

"Ahem." She tapped her bare foot against the cool tile of the floor. "Aren’t you forgetting something?"

Dev sighed. "I don’t know the password."

"Sorry then." The door started to close.

"Wait!"

"Yessss…" Beth poked her head back out of the room. "Can I help you?"

Dev shot daggers at her. "Please?"

"Nope. Try again."

"Pretty please?"

Beth rolled her eyes. "As if."

Dev ground her teeth together while strongly considering busting her way in. But she thought about who she was dealing with and tried one last time. "My party sucked and I want to come to yours."

Beth’s eyes lit up. "And?" she prompted with undisguised glee.

The muscles around Dev’s jaw tensed. "And I’m a big loser."

"That’ll work," Beth said casually, reaching out and grabbing Dev by the wrist. "Keep up the good work," she told the agents as she and the President disappeared inside.

"I shouldn’t have made you say the same thing in college, should I, Beth?"

"Paybacks are a bitch," the older woman sniggered.

The music was loud. The beat was throbbing and the scents coming off the buffet, intoxicating. Dev’s eyes flicked from wall to wall — bright, fragrant flowers and decorations filled the room, transforming it into an island paradise. "Wow. This is great."

A loud chorus of cheers drew Dev’s attention to the pool. At least 50 people were clustered around it. Most were standing in pairs. "What’s happening? Swim races?"

"Not exactly." She looked Devlyn directly in the eye. "Now remember, Devil, you have to be a good sport. This is all in fun."

"Yeah. Yeah. I’m a good sport." She hurried over to the pool and peered over her mother’s head at the same moment that Lauren burst up out of the water, followed immediately by Alex.

"The winners of our underwater limbo contest!" someone cried and the crowd applauded and hooted their admiration.

Lauren blinked the water from her eyes. "Devlyn?"

"That would be me." She looked over at Alex, stunned.

"Remember, you’re a good sport, Dev," Beth whispered in the dark-haired woman’s ear.

"Uhh…" A slightly panicky look chased its way across Lauren’s face just as a long wooden bar and the two partygoers who’d been holding it popped up from out of the water behind her. "Let me introduce you to my friend."

Dev remembered the Irishman from the Gary Kramer Show. He hadn’t said anything bad about Lauren so she couldn’t exactly hate him. But did he have to have perfect abs? And was that swimsuit he had on even legal?

Dev thrust out her hand, trying not to think about the fact that this was someone who knew her fiancée intimately. But she’s mine now, sucker. And I’m never giving her back. And with that thought, her mood suddenly brightened. "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." When the man thrust out his hand, Lauren had to turn her body. His right hand had been handcuffed to her right hand, causing them to face opposite directions. He grinned. "Alex Doolen."

Dev ignored his hand and focused on Lauren. "You’re handcuffed together?" she said incredulously, noting that Lauren suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

Lauren smiled weakly, then hiccupped. "All the teams were."

Frank and Janet raised the linked hands, as did several other couples.

"Don’t worry. There’s a life guard watching." Lauren pointed to a passed out Secret Service agent who was snoring at the end of the pool.

"Dev, it’s not that bad. It’s, well…" Beth gestured towards the very attentive agent who was watching the pool and was very much on duty.

"Handcuffs?" Dev repeated, pinning Beth with an evil glare. "And whose idea were those?" Then she looked around the room and recognized that it was half-filled with the guests from her party. Comprehension hit her like a 2x4 and her face turned a bright red. "Traitors!"

The room went silent. Even the band stopped playing. Dev let them all stew for several long seconds. "David," she finally yelled loudly. "Get over here."

David appeared at her side instantly. He knew his friend had a seldom-seen jealous streak and didn’t want things to spiral out of control. "Alex is here legally on a visa, Devlyn," he whispered urgently. "I will not deport him for you."

Dev ignored his remark and kicked off her shoes as she grabbed his hand. She jumped into the pool wearing her jeans and cotton shirt, and taking the tall man with her, causing an enormous splash. When she emerged, she held her hand and that of a sputtering, very startled David out to Beth. "Cuff us and lower the bar." She smirked at Lauren, who had a slow, relieved smile of comprehension spreading across her face. The blonde woman mouthed a silent "I love you," and Dev fought hard not to melt on the spot. "I refuse to be beaten in my own house."

The entire room relaxed, and the buzz of conversation began again as Beth scampered off to find another pair. She only hoped she had remembered the keys.

Dev leaned close to David and whispered in his ear. "Do you know how to limbo?"

"Why do you think I don’t have a partner?"

"Uh oh."

>CHAPTER SIX

Lauren sat in silence for a long moment before moving to exit the rented sedan. The Secret Service agent unbuckled his seatbelt to join her.

"You need to wait here?"

"Ms. Stray—"

"This is a private matter." She reached over and patted his hand, doing her best to soothe his distress. "I know that David probably told you not to let me out of your sight, but I’m going to be fine. No one even knows I’m here." And it was true. They’d flown out of Baltimore and slipped through Nashville International Airport without anyone taking so much as a second look.

Lauren was dressed in a pair of worn jeans, comfortable sneakers, and a gray, soft cotton short sleeved shirt that Devlyn always liked because she said it was the exact color of Lauren’s eyes. She’d recently had an extra few inches shorn from her wavy locks and the new cut accentuated her slender neck, and, to her surprise, finally made her look her age instead of a handful of years younger. A pair of Ray-Ban Sidestreet sunglasses sat on her nose, and a bright orange University of Tennessee baseball hat covered her head, tufts of thick blonde hair popping out from the back.

The agent looked nearly as casual, though he wore a vest to conceal his weapon.

They’d come directly from the airport to the Wyndham Nashville Airport Hotel, where Lauren had dropped off her overnight bag. She wanted this over.

"Actually, the President instructed me to give you all the privacy you required."

Lauren blinked. "She did?"

"Yes, ma’am." He gave her a gentle smile and a slight nod.

You get a kiss for that one, Devlyn.

"I’ll be here if you need me."

Lauren smiled warmly. "Thank you. Wish me luck."

"Good luck."

She drew in a steadying breath and opened the car door, slowly walking up the narrow, cracked sidewalk that led to her childhood home. She was struck by the familiarity of the moment. How many times had she traveled this short path in the past? And were there ever times when her stomach was not churning with dread at being in this place?

Yes, her mind instantly supplied, you know the ones. She closed her eyes and relived those few precious moments, well-worn memories she held close to her heart. Her mother helping her stand on roller blades for the first time and both of them laughing as Lauren fell again and again, taking her mother with her each time she tumbled to the ground. The sweltering July day when her father stayed home an extra hour at lunchtime to run alongside a nervous rider as she peddled a rickety bicycle for all she was worth. Carving a Jack-O-Lantern on the front porch and being told by both her parents that hers was the prettiest one on the block.

Lauren shook herself from her memories and glanced around. The sun was just starting to set, painting shadows across a small lawn that wanted cutting. She climbed the three steps to the porch, hearing the familiar creak of the last stair as it groaned slightly under her weight. She lifted her hand to knock and swallowed hard, regretting that she’d insisted that Devlyn stay in Washington rather than coming to baby-sit her here. At the moment, however, she felt very alone. And it’s my own damn fault. Before she could change her mind, she rapped on the door.

It took a moment, but finally the door opened and Howard Strayer stood there, slack-jawed at finding his wayward daughter looking up at him with soft, worried eyes. There was a painfully long silence where each of them shifted uncomfortably, waiting for the other to speak.

Finally, Lauren cleared her throat and said, "Hello, Daddy."

He was standing in the shadows, but even there Lauren could see how much older he looked than the last time they were together. The creases in his face were deeper and he looked thinner and weary. Howard gently cleared his throat, his gaze drifting to the curb. "That your new boyfriend?" With a square chin, he gestured towards the Secret Service agent waiting in the car. "Get tired of being famous so you picked an ordinary man instead?"

Lauren sighed. "I’m still with Devlyn, Daddy. That’s Jack, an agent assigned to try and keep me safe."

Howard’s gray-eyed gaze flicked to Lauren and ignited with indignation. "Safe from me?"

Shit. "Of course not."

He grunted and dismissed the agent from his thoughts. "Why are you here? I told you before, if you—"

"—If I left Tennessee to go back to Washington when my mama needed me that I wasn’t welcome here again," Lauren interrupted, her voice steady, though her heart was pounding. "How could I forget?"

"Don’t you sass me, girl." Howard’s expression darkened. "Your mama taught you better than that."

They stood there staring at one another, searching for family, but seeing a stranger’s eyes instead. Howard finally looked away and sighed. "Do… um… do you want to come in?"

"Yes," Lauren blurted. "Or… well, maybe we could go out back?" Nervously, she stuffed her hands into her pockets. "It’s cooler outside."

It wasn’t a particularly warm day, but he drawled a low, "All right," and headed around back with Lauren trailing behind him.

The back yard was small and surrounded by a white picket fence that was missing planks every so often. "Don’t come out here much," he said, seeing Lauren’s gaze travel to the fence. "No kids playin’ back here anymore."

Several lawn chairs were clustered around a small table that held an ashtray and an empty soda can. Howard sat down first. When Lauren remained standing, he lifted grizzled eyebrows. "What?" His voice was gruff but held a resigned note that surprised Lauren. It was as though all the fight had gone out of him.

She looked at the ashtray. "I thought you quit."

"I thought you were normal." He shrugged one shoulder. "Guess neither one of us knows the other as well as we thought we did."

She wasn’t surprised by his attitude, but the remark hit her in an unexpectedly deep place. It stung, but she refused be baited. "That was cruel, Daddy."

His jaw worked, and he pushed the table away and stood, ready to bolt. "I know," he whispered. "Go back to Washington, D.C., Lauri. This place hasn’t been home for you for a long, long time."

"No," Lauren agreed, reaching out and laying her hand on his forearm. "It hasn’t. But you’re still my father." She swallowed. "Please wait. I… um… I came here to talk, not to argue."

Howard let out a slow breath and nodded. He sat back down and steepled thick fingers on the tabletop. "Do we have anything to talk about?"

A lump grew in Lauren’s throat, nearly cutting off her speech. "I really hope so, Daddy." She sat down across the table from him, her mind scrambling to come up with something to say. She’d truly expected him to slam the door in her face, and now that she was actually here, talking to him, she found herself uncharacteristically tongue-tied.

After a long flustered moment, he broke the silence by a whispered, "How could you do it?"

Lauren winced. That wasn’t the beginning she’d been hoping for. "How could I do what? You’ll have to be more specific. Seems like I’m disappointing a lot of people these days. Whether I mean to or not."

Howard leaned forward intently. "How could you leave when we needed you? And all to take up with… that… that woman?"

"Her name is Devlyn."

"I know her Goddamned name!" A shaking hand coming up and sweeping back a shock of pale hair that was mixed liberally with gray.

She tried not to flinch, lifting one hand, only to let it drop again. "Jesus, Daddy, what do you want me to say? That I’m sorry I left Tennessee for Washington? Well, I’m not! Devlyn needed me and I couldn’t do anything to help Mama. I never could." Her temper flared when he opened his mouth to speak. "And don’t dare you say differently!"

"No, no," he murmured, still heartsick. "She was in the hospital."

"So was Devlyn," she shot back.

Howard slammed his hand down hard on the white, plastic table, causing it to wobble furiously. "That woman is not your family. Whatever you feel for her, it’s not the same thing as blood."

"No," she agreed slowly. "I guess it’s not. But even then I was closer to Devlyn than I ever was to Mama. She needed me. And, Daddy," she paused and looked him directly in the eye, "she’s my family now."

"Does that mean she’ll get the same respect we did?" he challenged. "We needed you, Lauren."

Feeling slightly sick, Lauren dropped her gaze from his and spoke in a whisper. "I’m sorry I had to choose."

Howard grunted his acknowledgement of her words, though not his acceptance. "And if you had to choose all over again?"

She looked up from her hands, her expression as fierce as he’d ever seen it. "I’d choose exactly the same way."

He let out a low groan. His voice grew quiet and Lauren was shocked to see his eyes go misty. "What happened to make you want a woman that way?" he asked with all the bewilderment of a confused child. "Did someone touch you when you were a girl?" Desperately, he cast about for an explanation as Lauren stared at him, her mouth slightly open in shock. "Did—"

"No," she hissed. She glanced skyward, waiting for some divine intervention she knew wouldn’t come. "God, it’s nothing like that, Daddy. Nothing happened to me except that I fell in love. It’s a wonderful thing, not a tragedy."

He looked at her as though she was crazy, and Lauren felt her heart sink.

"But Judd—"

"—Was a nice guy who should have stayed my friend instead of becoming my husband."

Howard crossed thick arms across his chest. "You were happy."

Lauren shook her head. "I was happy with my job and my dog," she corrected firmly. These misconceptions had gone on for far too long. "I was never happy with my marriage." She bit her lip. "Daddy, how can I explain that we grew in opposite directions and didn’t even care? We wanted different things from each other. Things that neither one of us could give. It was a mistake from the beginning."

"He’s a good man."

"You’re not hearing me! Didn’t you ever wonder why I spent most of my marriage overseas?"

"That was none of my business," he answered gruffly, reaching to his shirt pocket for a cigarette.

Lauren nodded a little. "The details of how I live my life aren’t your business. But my happiness is."

"And," he waved his hands in the air, "whatever sort of thing you have with her makes you happy?"

Without hesitation. "More than you could imagine."

He lit his cigarette and turned his head to blow out a stream of pungent smoke, his brow furrowing deeply as he thought. "It’s wrong," he said quietly.

"What about it is so wrong? We’re not hurting anyone."

"Christ, I’m too tired to answer stupid questions, Lauren." He stood. "Nothing has changed. Every night on the damned evening news I see pictures of you two together, and every night I’m reminded that you chose her and some life that makes no sense at all over your own mama. "

"We’re getting married," she said in a rush.

"I heard," he commented dryly. "About a million times."

She licked her lips. "I know you don’t approve. But maybe in time you’ll change your mind. And then we—"

"What you’re doing is not getting married," he broke in harshly. "What your mother and I had was a marriage. Not some joke cooked up by liberals from San Francisco or some other screwed-up place full of perverts and druggies."

The fine hairs on the back of Lauren’s neck bristled. "What you and Mama had? That is what I am supposed to aspire to? A life of denial and blame? No, thank you!"

Howard’s voice dropped to its lowest register. "You don’t know anything about what we had, little girl." His entire body began to shake. "There was more to your mother than just her being sick."

"And there’s more to my relationship with Devlyn than the fact that we’re both women. Please, Daddy. Please," she whispered brokenly, her anger melting into pain. "We can at least try."

"Try what?" His voice was flat.

She blinked several times; unsure of whether he was being sarcastic or serious. C’mon, Daddy. Please. "Things don’t have to be this hard. They don’t. We could try to be a real family," she said, a hint of resignation in her voice. She could see that she wasn’t getting through to him. A wall had been put up between them, and every time she climbed to the top, he was there to knock her down.

For Lauren, it seemed, a true relationship with even one of her parents would always be just out of reach. "We could try to at least know, if not understand, each other, couldn’t we?" She honestly wasn’t sure anymore.

The corner of Howard’s mouth quirked upward, and the reluctant smile showed off deep creases around his eyes. "But don’t you see, darlin’? That’s the trouble. Now that your mama is gone, there isn’t anything to hold us together. You’ve never thought much of me, and to be honest, I’ve never had a single clue as to what was going on inside that pretty head of yours." He shrugged one shoulder and swallowed hard before admitting, "We’re strangers who once lived in the same house and happen to have the same color eyes."

Lauren recoiled at the softly spoken words, feeling as though she’d been struck in the chest with a heavy board.

"I don’t know you any more than you know me, and understanding you is way beyond what this man can handle," he muttered numbly, trying not to think about what the words were doing to his daughter. As surely as he stood there in the setting sun, he knew what he was saying was hurtful. But in his heart of hearts, however, he truly believed that this was best for them both.

"Oh God, Daddy—"

"No," he said firmly. "You’ve said your piece. Now let me say mine."

Lauren’s mouth snapped shut, a reflex to her father’s command.

"I won’t pretend that I approve of the sort of madness you’re living now. I’ve tried, I swear, but it’s wrong and I can’t convince myself otherwise. You say you aren’t hurting anyone, but that’s not true." His eyes hardened a little. "It hurts me to know I’ve done such a pitiful job of teaching you right from wrong that you don’t even understand why I’m upset now." The tears shimmering in his eyes for several moments finally spilled over. "Stop beating a dead horse, Lauri." He sighed loudly, tired to the bone. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed his cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe.

Howard sniffed self-consciously, angry with himself for the display of emotion in front of this self-assured woman, who bore only a shadow of resemblance to the girl he’d raised. Or maybe this is who she was all along. And, somehow, he’d simply missed it. A watery smile pulled at his lips as he had a sudden flash of a headstrong little girl who demanded to be allowed to play baseball with the boys across the street, even after they’d chased her off more times than he could count. She’d pestered the boys for three summers before they gave in. "You were always too stubborn for your own good."

To Lauren’s surprise he stepped forward and placed a tender kiss on her cheek. She felt the roughness of his stubbly cheek against hers and the warmth of strong hands grasping her forearms, before he took a step backwards and cocked his head to the side.

"For once in your life, listen to your daddy." He pinned her with a sad, defeated look that lanced through her, causing her stomach to twist painfully. There was no anger in his gaze, only resolution. "Leave this," he gestured with a hand stained from a lifetime of manual labor, "in the past where it belongs. You won’t find what you’re looking for here. Go home."

Lauren’s tongue was still frozen in her mouth as she watched her father step away and amble towards the backdoor. She took a step to follow him, but slowed then stopped as his words echoed in her head. "You won’t find what you’re looking for here." The screen door slammed shut behind him and Lauren’s eyes slid closed. God.

***

Dev sat at the desk in the hotel room, doing her best to concentrate on the pile of work in front of her. She was supposed to be studying the effects of global warming and fossil fuel emissions and all she could think of was Lauren. Her lover had insisted on going to Tennessee alone, saying that her relationship, or current lack of relationship, with her father was something she needed to deal with herself and that Devlyn needed to stay right where she was and concentrate on her job.

After Lauren had left Washington, however, Devlyn realized she’d made a grave error. Offering her partner emotional support when she really needed it was part of Devlyn’s job. In her mind, in fact, it was a big part of what being true partners meant. The reality of Dev’s world was sometimes a big, old, cranky bitch. All too often, there were instances when she simply couldn’t be every place she was needed. Today, however, after a lot of last minute planning and a little yelling, she was going to be the woman who was there for her partner when or if she needed her. So here she was, spending her evening in an airport hotel, pretending she was doing something other than worrying.

Dev had ordered the Secret Service to be as unobtrusive as humanly possible. A full detail of agents currently occupied the rooms on both sides and across the hall from Lauren’s. She’d sworn on her mother’s life that she wouldn’t set a foot outside of Lauren’s room, allowing her to have a single agent at each end of the hallway, rather than directly outside her door. Upon arriving in the hotel, extra security cameras had been added and bulletproof glass had been suctioned on the inside of the hotel windows, making the room as safe as possible, given the extreme time constraints. No one knew she was in Tennessee, and she refused to have what she was offering Lauren tainted by having security around at every turn. There had to be something in their lives that could be remotely normal.

Getting up from the desk, Devlyn wandered around the room, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. Impulsively, she reached up and banged on the wall. "C’mon, boys."

The door to the adjoining room opened, and two agents entered, their eyes flicking from surface to surface, their hands already reaching for their guns.

"Whoa." Devlyn held up her hands in a placating gesture. Okay, Dev, that was stupid. "I’m fine."

Both men visibly relaxed. "Is there something you needed, Madam President?" one of the men asked.

Dev pursed her lips. "I need to do something that’s probably going to get me in trouble."

"Ma’am?" The agent did his best not to scowl. "Are we going somewhere?"

"To a two-bedroom brick home on Hancock Street." She began walking to the door, noting that the men’s feet appeared rooted to the floor. "Coming?" she called over her shoulder. "Or will I need to call a cab?" Dev heard what she was sure was a softly muttered curse before the men scrambled in front of her, and they headed out into hall.

The dark sedan cruised down the street slowly, finally stopping when Devlyn tapped lightly on the window.

Jack had received a briefing explaining the turn of events and he was at Devlyn’s door by the time the vehicle came to a complete stop.

In fading twilight, curious eyes surveyed Lauren’s childhood home. Devlyn felt a pang deep within her chest at the plain, somewhat gloomy sight. But for once her timing was perfect and Lauren appeared from behind the house.

The biographer had her head down, clearly not paying attention to her surroundings. Her head snapped up when she heard the slamming of a car door. "Oh, God." Her breath left her in a quick rush when she caught sight of Devlyn. For a few seconds she stood motionless, watching Devlyn sheepishly stuff her hands into her pockets, then she bolted towards her.

Dev opened her arms, grunting a little at the impact of Lauren’s compact body. "Hey," she whispered, "it’s okay."

Several neighbors noticed what was happening in front of the house, which was now a famous landmark in Nashville, and they rudely clustered on their porches, openly gawking.

Instinctively, the agents clustered around their charges, turning their backs on the couple and leaving a few feet to afford the women as much privacy as possible.

Devlyn glanced up to see Howard Strayer standing in the shadows behind his screen door, glaring. She felt Lauren’s breathing hitch against her and tightened her hold on the younger woman, throwing him the iciest look she could muster. Rat-bastard coward.

Lauren let her arms drop and gave Devlyn’s stomach a quick pat before taking a small step backwards. She tilted her head up and looked at Devlyn with red, puffy eyes. "Hi," she said hoarsely.

Dev swallowed as her heart clenched. "Hi." Shit. I should have come here with you to begin with. You won’t talk me out of it next time, Lauren.

"I didn’t expect to see you here."

Dev’s eyes went round and she winced inwardly, hoping that Lauren would forgive her meddling. "I’m… well, I thought maybe… err…"

Somewhere Lauren found a small, grateful smile. She reached for Devlyn again and buried her face against the warm skin of her neck. "I love you," she whispered simply. "And thank you. I’m so glad you didn’t listen to me." She felt silent chuckles shake the lanky frame pressed tightly to hers, and she greedily absorbed the warmth and comfort she found there, clinging to Devlyn as though she were a lifeline. "Guess you never expected to hear me say that, huh?" She swallowed thickly. "I was going to see if I could get an earlier ticket home. The thought of being alone here tonight was making me sick."

Dev slowly stroked her back and placed tender kisses on the top of her head. "You’re not alone, honey."

An agent discreetly gestured towards the vehicle, which was still running. It wasn’t safe to be standing out in the open like this.

Over the top of Lauren’s head, Devlyn nodded.

"I guess I don’t have to tell you how things went," Lauren finally whispered after a few moments of comfortable silence. "He’s never going to forgive me. I swear, after so much pain in our lives I don’t understand how he can begrudge me honest happiness."

Dev sighed. "He just doesn’t understand."

Lauren nodded against Dev’s shoulder. "I… I know it’s stupid. It’s not like we were ever that close." She sniffed a few times. "This shouldn’t feel worse than all those years where we hardly saw each other, but it does. It’s not much different. But…" She shook her head in frustration. "But he’s still my dad and I already missed my chance with Mama."

"Maybe," Dev paused, not wanting to offer useless platitudes. "Maybe things can be different someday." She slowly stroked her partner’s back. "Time takes care of a lot of things, Lauren."

"Mmm…" Lauren let out a shuddering breath. "Maybe." She placed a kiss on Dev’s jaw and resolutely told herself to look forward from this point on. As much as it hurt, her father was, at least to a certain extent, right. There was nothing left for her here now. "What are you doing here?" she murmured against Dev’s neck.

Devlyn gave her a lopsided grin and let all the love she felt show in shimmering blue eyes. "I’m here because this is where I needed to be." I can’t do anything to fix this, honey. But… yeah, maybe. Just maybe I know someone who can.

***

Devlyn walked into the bathroom of her Nashville hotel room, her cell phone in hand. The lights were low and her lover was snoring gently, an exhausted, unhappy expression marring her face even in sleep. "Please be there."

"Hello," a sleepy voice burred.

"Hi."

"Devlyn?" The words came quickly now. "Is something wrong? It’s the middle of the night."

"No, well… sort of. But physically, at least, we’re all okay."

"Why are you whispering then?"

Devlyn could hear the sound of creaking bedsprings in the ultra sensitive earpiece she was wearing. "I want to keep this private."

A long, silent pause.

"All right."

Dev sighed. "Thank you. I need a favor. I need someone to… well, it has to do with Howard Strayer."

A pair of pale eyes narrowed. "Go on…"

***

Dev sipped from a glass of iced tea and from the front porch of her parents’ home watched the sunset paint the world in ruddy colors. She pushed off with her feet, just enough to keep the old porch swing swaying in a gentle motion. A hundred yards away she could see the large, sturdy tent which had been set up to house the brief ceremony and what she hoped would be a hearty, memorable reception.

In the distance the kids were laughing and carrying on with Janet and Frank. Dev sighed and wiggled her toes, realizing that this was about as relaxed as she could get. An unconscious smile swept across her face, stretching her cheek muscles, and for a single moment she was overcome with the feeling that her life simply couldn’t get any better than this — her smile broadened — until tomorrow. "Hard to believe that tomorrow’s the big day," Dev mumbled with a touch of marvel. "Wow."

Warm, firm hands began a massage of her shoulders.

"Are you nervous?" Lauren asked, leaning over and brushing her lips against Dev’s cheek.

Dev could hear the smile in Lauren’s voice, and she reached back and took her hand, guiding her around to sit next to her on the swing. "Not yet. It won’t hit me until tomorrow morning. Then I’ll be a pile of nerves."

Lauren sat down next to Devlyn and snuggled close. The wood felt cool and slightly rough against the back of her pants as she wiggled into a comfortable position. They were both wearing jeans and soft cotton shirts, just warm enough to ward off the slight chill of the evening breeze. She took Dev’s glass and helped herself to a sip before handing it back. "Mmm."

"How about you?" Dev winked.

"How about me what?"

"Nervous?"

Lauren cocked her head slightly to the side as she gave the question serious thought. "No."

Dev blinked. "Really?"

Lauren nodded and laughed. "I’m really not. I can’t believe I’m saying that. But I think I’ll be more relieved than anything to get the actual ceremony behind us." She smiled impishly. "Besides, then you’re stuck with me forever."

"Promise?"

"Uh huh."

"But we still should have eloped."

Lauren fondly noted Dev’s mischievous smile and the gentle creases just making inroads around vivid eyes. "And had your mother hunting us down for the rest of our natural lives? No thanks."

Dev laughed and put her arm around Lauren, remembering the first time she’d tried a similar move and Lauren had swatted at her, thinking the tentative touch was a bug. Dev pulled her close, deciding this level of comfort was much, much nicer. And much less terrifying. She sighed. "You and I have come a long way, Boris. Yeow!"

Lauren pinched Dev hard in the side for using her newest Secret Service code name. "Not nice," she groused, her eyes narrowing. "Why do I have to be Boris?"

Because it fits. "Beats me," Dev said innocently, glad Lauren wasn’t looking at her face.

Last year they’d been Mighty Mouse and Wonder Woman. This year, it was Boris and Natasha. Dev wondered if the agent in charge of code names was going to torture her for the rest of her tenure in the White House. She suspected so. The tall woman laughed again and pulled Lauren closer, kissing her temple.

"You may laugh now, darlin’, but if I don’t get a better code name next time, I’m holding you personally responsible."

"Well, that’s fair," Dev muttered sarcastically. But she was still smiling as she pushed her foot against the porch again, causing the swing to sway gently. "I love you."

Lauren turned and kissed Dev’s throat. "Mmm… I love you, too," she murmured dreamily. "But sweet talking me now won’t save you later if I end up with another horrible name."

"What could be worse than Boris?"

Lauren snorted. "Don’t even say that. I didn’t think it could get worse than Mighty Mouse."

"I saw a list once," Dev paused as she deftly used her tongue to remove an ice cube from her tall glass. She began to chew. "It was of the names the Secret Service was considering for me. Trust me," an elegant eyebrow lifted, "it can get worse." She bit down on the cube and Lauren chuckled. "What?"

"You know what they say about crunching ice, don’t you?"

"It’s fun?"

"No." She sniggered and patted the denim-covered thigh next to hers. "Supposedly, it’s a sign of sexual frustration."

Dev looked aghast. "Well, they’re wrong, whoever they are. I am not sexually frustrated."

They hadn’t heard Janet come up the steps, and both women nearly jumped out of their skins when she spoke.

"I can only hope that’s true." She leaned against the rail of the porch and crossed her arms over her chest. "When was the last time you two…" Janet wriggled her eyebrows, then looked pointedly from Dev to Lauren. "You know."

"Mom!" Dev nearly knocked her glass over as she turned playfully to put her hands over Lauren’s ears. "Don’t go there."

"Good." Janet petted Lauren’s bright red cheek. "I didn’t really want to know anyway. But I am glad to hear that you’re such a satisfied woman, Devil. That way you won’t mind not spending the night together tonight."

"Bullshit, I won’t!" Dev exploded.

"Yeah," Lauren chimed in forcefully. "I mind."

"All right, you two, don’t make me get the spoon."

"Mom…"

Frank Marlowe stepped up onto the porch with Aaron perched on his shoulders, Christopher and Ashley bringing up the rear. "No, now Devil, you listen to your mother." Another few seconds and Gremlin and Princess were circling Lauren’s feet, looking for a good place to sit down.

Gremlin decided that Dev’s foot looked like a very good cushion. The chubby pug plopped down right there, earning a sub-vocal growl from Devlyn. Gremlin growled back.

Frank smiled. "You’ve always respected tradition, Devlyn. No use deviating from that plan now. Besides," he winked, "it’s for luck."

Dev rolled her eyes and let loose an exaggerated sigh.

Lauren chuckled and rubbed her lover’s back. "I don’t think she sleeps very well alone."

"Very true." Dev nodded as she glanced over at her mother, hoping that she would take pity on her. When her mother showed no signs of yielding, Dev’s eyes narrowed. "You don’t want me cranky from lack of sleep. I know where the button is."

"What button?" Ashley asked innocently.

"Never you mind," Janet answered quickly.

Frank chuckled at the poorly veiled look of outrage mixed with helplessness that colored his daughter’s face. "Sorry, Stinky. You’re out of luck tonight. Come on, the boys and I will walk you down to the cabin."

Ashley charged up the steps and took Lauren’s hand. "Me and Grandma are going to take Lauren into the house."

"Grandma and I," Lauren and Janet corrected in unison, turning to each other and exchanging small, slightly embarrassed grins.

Bewildered, Ashley scrunched up her face. "No. I am."

Lauren smiled at the girl. "I’ll explain later."

Dev didn’t want to, but reluctantly she relented with a groan and stood up. "All right, I can see the whole family is in on this so I’ll just surrender now and save you all some time." She held her hand out to Lauren. "Can I at least say goodnight to her?"

"Sure, go ahead," Aaron said from his grandfather’s shoulders.

Lauren bit her lip to keep from laughing as she watched Devlyn stand there, waiting impatiently for everyone to leave so she could kiss her goodnight.

No one moved.

Dev glared at her parents. "Fine." She leaned down and kissed Lauren soundly before turning on her heel. She started descending the porch steps, then changed her mind halfway and stopped on the bottom one. She turned and pinned Lauren with loving, fiery blue eyes. The younger woman fought hard not to swoon on the spot. "I love you. I can’t wait for tomorrow."

"Me, too," Lauren heard herself say as she stepped closer to Devlyn.

Dev smiled and leaned forward a little, bracing her hand on the railing as she stretched to steal one last kiss before heading down the walk. She spoke without turning around. "Does anyone want to sleep with me tonight?"

Lauren was so close to shouting "Hell yes!" that she had to clamp her hand over her mouth, much to Janet’s amusement.

The older woman couldn’t help but chuckle indulgently.

Frank winced as his eardrums shook from the sound of childish squeals as Aaron began climbing down his back.

"Me! Me too! I wanna come," Aaron and Christopher screamed, beginning to scramble towards Devlyn.

Ashley looked torn, glancing between her mother and Lauren with slightly panicky eyes. The blonde woman smiled gently at the girl and mouthed a silent "thank you." Then she gestured towards Dev with her chin and winked. "Go on. There’ll be lots of nights just for us, sugar." Affectionately, she petted Ashley’s soft, dark hair. "I promise."

Ashley beamed and bolted for the stairs. "Me, too, Mom!" she called out, quickly catching up to her brothers.

Frank wrapped his arm around Lauren’s shoulder as the porch’s remaining occupants watched Devlyn’s children rush to her, eager for her time and undivided attention, two things which were all too rare in the President’s life.

Gremlin sat down next to his mistress, content to let Princess scamper off after the children. It was hard to be truly lazy in the company of his sometimes-demanding mate.

"One last night of freedom for you then?" Frank said to Lauren, wondering if the young writer knew exactly what she was letting herself in for by marrying into the Marlowe clan.

The corner of Lauren’s mouth twitched as her gaze followed her loved ones. She sighed. "I’ve already had freedom, Frank. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. That over there…" She paused and joined Janet in a quiet round of laughter as Devlyn tried to pick up both Aaron and Christopher at the same time and ended up flat on her bottom in the middle of the path. Then Ashley threw herself on the pile, and Dev looked up and flashed Lauren a beaming smile… just before she yanked up Christopher’s shirt and began mercilessly tickling his belly.

Lauren’s heart skipped a beat at the happy sight. "That’s the good stuff."

***

Dev paced back and forth, stopped, ran her fingers through her hair, and then paced some more. Moments before, she’d ordered all staff members, except for David, out of her parents’ home, and the children downstairs. They were making her crazy. Normally composed and confident, she was nervous as hell and couldn’t find it in herself to even try to hide it.

She hadn’t seen Lauren all morning, her stomach was in knots, the weather had turned nasty, and she was quite sure — mostly because she had been pointedly told so by Michael Oaks — that no amount of cover-up was going to hide the dark circles around her eyes.

Last night had been filled with restless dreams, none of which, to her frustration, she could remember. "Bet you slept like a log, Lauren," she mumbled, admittedly jealous that her lover never appeared to mind their occasional nightly separations as much as she did. Devlyn had never liked sleeping alone, and she couldn’t count the number of nights she’d sneaked into her parents’ room and climbed in between them. A smile touched her lips at the comforting memory.

She hitched up her pantyhose, cursing the ever-sagging crotch, and plopped down in the chair by the window of her childhood bedroom, its soft, soothing blue tones doing little to calm her nerves. Devlyn realized, with a start, that after she started bringing Samantha home, she’d stopping coming into this room completely, having graduated to one containing a queen-sized bed.

But here she was, and it was just as she remembered it. An extra-long twin bed was tucked neatly in the corner. Maps of the world and pictures of far-off, exotic places she’d dreamed of visiting adorned the walls, and photos of her parents and cousins sat neatly on her windowsill. Her bookshelves were crammed with paperbacks and dotted with a few trophies she’d collected during her high school athletic career. It even smelled the same, like the strawberry candles she’d taken a liking to in her teenage years mixed with the faintest hint of Brasso, used to polish the eagle bust that sat proudly on her desk. She smiled faintly at the statue that her mother had lovingly maintained all these years.

Wistfully, Devlyn wondered why she hadn’t taken the childhood treasure when she moved away from home. She reached out and touched the cool metal, letting her fingers warm it as she thought. The answer came to her with surprising speed. It belonged here, just as she did. She nodded a little to herself. She liked the fact that she knew it was here waiting for her if she ever needed it.

Dev stuck her head between the curtains and interestedly watched the caterers doing their best to avoid the fat, pelting raindrops and Secret Service agents filing in and out of the large tent, which appeared to sway a little in the gusting wind. She gulped, vowing to kill Michael Oaks if that tent, which was his idea, came down with her family inside. Hell, maybe she’d kill him anyway, just for fun.

Indulging herself, she smiled wickedly at the thought.

Thunder boomed overhead and Devlyn tilted her head skyward. "Please don’t let a tornado pick up our wedding tent." She was mostly joking, but when the thunder boomed again, even louder, her eyes widened. She began thinking of all the things that could go wrong, and her heart began to thump wildly. Hastily, she rattled off a long list of promises in exchange for smooth sailing on this day, including her eternal devotion to her family, the Constitution, and everything else she considered sacred, ending with a heartfelt, "And puhleeeez don’t let me throw up in front of everyone. Again. Amen." Her father still teased her about her high school graduation commencement speech, despite the fact that she’d become an accomplished and charismatic public speaker over the years.

Growing too nervous to sit and do nothing while she waited for her dress to be brought in, she shrugged into a bathrobe that was a little too small and opened her bedroom door. Peering over the second floor railing, she spied David and her dad sitting in the breakfast nook by the big plate glass window, having coffee in their tuxedos.

"Oooo…" she cooed appreciatively, taking a big whiff of the heady aroma. "Any of that left for me?" Dev tightened the sash of her robe and bounded down the stairs. Her hair was plaited in a neat, glossy braid that trailed down her back and a light coating of makeup was neatly in place. She could always redo her lipstick after she drank her coffee.

"Careful there, young lady," Frank chided gently, eyeing her intently as she bounded down the stairs, full of nervous energy despite her lack of restful sleep the night before. "The last time you did that you twisted an ankle." A white eyebrow arched. "Besides, shouldn’t you be getting dressed?"

Several creases appeared on Dev’s forehead as she frowned. "My dress isn’t here yet. I assumed Mother was bringing it. She must still be with Lauren." She grabbed David’s wrist and looked at his watch. "I’m starting to get a little nervous; the wedding is due to start in an hour." She glanced around. "Where are the kids?" Then she heard the sound of arguing, squealing, and running coming from the next room and rolled her eyes. "Never mind." She lasted all of two seconds before yelling, "Boarding school in Antarctica for the lot of you, if you don’t quiet down!"

The children giggled at the familiar but meaningless threat, but did quiet down.

David picked up the coffeepot and poured Dev a cup. "Your dress will be here soon, Dev. Sit here for a few minutes and relax." He pushed the sugar and cream toward her. "I remember a time when you drank it black."

She lifted the sugar bowl. "Lauren didn’t start drinking coffee until after she met me and this is the way she prefers it. I started using a little cream so now we can drink each other’s coffee without gagging."

David smirked and made a quick motion with his wrist to simulate the snapping of a whip.

Dev’s eyes narrowed. "Is there a problem?"

"Ugh. That is just too sickly sweet," David teased.

Ebony eyebrows lifted. "This from the man who doesn’t mind sharing his wife’s toothbrush."

"David," Frank gave him a squinting stare. "As a physician, I can safely say that that is truly disgusting."

David’s jaw dropped. "One time! I used Beth’s toothbrush once after I lost mine on a camping trip and no one will let me forget it."

Dev smiled at her chief of staff’s indignant look. It was easier to focus on him rather than her own rattled nerves. She asked, "How long did Beth make you sleep on the couch for that? Hmm?"

David opened his mouth to answer. "Well—"

"Enough chit chat," Dev interrupted grumpily. "I am not getting married in my bathrobe." She looked at David, suddenly feeling a little unsure. Maybe she should have paid more attention to the planning of this event. "Right?"

David blinked. "Of course not!"

"Then where’s my damn dress?"

Frank asked, "Haven’t you seen it?"

Dev shook her head in short, jerky movements that made her agitation clear. "They only took my measurements," her gaze narrowed, "a dozen times. I’ve never seen it." She turned panicky eyes to David. "What if the designer forgot it and is too afraid to admit it?"

With an exaggerated sigh, David pulled out his cell phone and dialed. He spoke quietly into the tiny device then flipped it closed, placing it on the table. "It’s on the way right now. Your mother is bringing it over after she takes care of some special guest." The tall man shrugged.

Dev chuckled. "Since when is Aunt Myrtle special? The last wedding the woman went to, someone told her to bring birdseed to shower the happy couple with — the crazy old bird threw the entire bag at the bride and knocked her unconscious. The whole wedding party ended up in the emergency room, waiting for my cousin to come to."

David just looked at Devlyn. "Is that a true story?" he asked incredulously.

Frank sighed. "I’m sorry to say it’s true. Aunt Myrtle is one of my more interesting relatives."

"I guess that answers my question," David muttered, taking another sip. "I’ll make sure security frisks her on the way in. Anyway, according to Agent Tucker your mother is due here in three minutes."

Dev let out a tiny grunt. She didn’t want to be late for her own wedding.

"By the way," David said, "the no-fly zone is in place." A loud clap of thunder boomed. "Not that the tabloids would risk their helicopters in this weather anyway. Between that order and this weather, you’re going to have a nearly normal wedding."

"Thank God." Dev slumped down in her chair. She looked at David’s watch again, missing Liza and her ever-present alarms and electronic calendar. "Aren’t the three minutes up yet? I want to see the dress that’s costing me a small—"

"Ahem." Frank’s gave his daughter a look.

Dev blushed. "Sorry, Dad." She trained her eyes on her coffee cup. "That’s costing you a fortune."

Frank gave her a small smile. "Devil, do you really think, with all the people working to make this day a success, the least of which is your mother, that anything is going to go wrong?"

Dev’s shoulders slumped. "I know, Dad, but I love Lauren so much. And I want this to be perfect for her. And you always expect something to go wrong on your wedding day. And—"

"Don’t say another word," Frank warned, pressing his fingers against Dev’s lips. "Let’s not give the wedding gremlins any ideas, okay?"

"Good plan," Dev mumbled against his fingers.

The door opened and Janet entered with a huge garment bag. She was wearing a cream-colored suit, and low appreciative murmurs — that she was too preoccupied to hear — bubbled forth from Frank and David. She licked her lips and drew in a deep breath before addressing Dev. "Now, honey…"

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God." Dev bolted from the chair. "That’s bad. You never start a conversation with those words unless it’s bad." She turned wide eyes on David, who did nothing to comfort her.

"Very bad…" he agreed readily.

"What is it?" Frank asked impatiently, getting up from the table and loosening his bow tie as he moved towards Janet.

Janet closed her eyes and laid the garment bag on the table. Then she took a step back as though the bag was filled with explosives. Instinctively, everyone in the room mirrored her actions.

Gaping at the black bag, Devlyn began to sweat. "Oh, God. Oh, God," she repeated numbly.

"You already said that."

"Shut up, David, or you’ll be wearing whatever’s in that bag."

Dev’s voice was as menacing as he’d ever heard it, and the redheaded man turned to gauge his boss’ sincerity. He gulped and looked back at the bag. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God."

"Come on, now," Frank said reasonably. "How bad can it be?"

Three sets of incredulous eyes swung his way.

"Really," he persisted. "Surely you’ve seen it before this morning, Janet. You—"

"No," Janet corrected quickly. "That damn designer got all sensitive when I wanted to see it. He pitched a fit and started to cry. To cry!"

"Real tears?" Frank asked, astonished.

"I swear to God," Janet answered, wringing her hands. "There was so much else to do and Michael assured me that Devil had approved everything. But—"

"Enough!" Dev groaned. "Mom, I take it you peeked in the bag?"

Janet nodded miserably, her lower lip trembling, though Dev couldn’t tell if it was from laughter or tears. "May God have mercy on my miserable soul."

"Where’s the liquor?" David asked loudly, on his way to the refrigerator to see what he could scrounge. "I need a drink."

Dev’s arm shot out, and she grasped David by the lapel. "Oh, no you don’t. You’re going to open that bag and show me what I’ll be wearing on the biggest day of my life."

"A smile?" David said, trying to salvage a bit of good humor.

"Only if I get to kill someone."

"Open the bag, Frank," David instructed, rapidly moving as far away from Devlyn as he could. Where was Beth when he needed her? She could tackle Dev if she had to, while he ran and hid behind the Secret Service.

"For Pete’s sake! What in the Sam Hill is wrong with you people? It’s only a dress." Frank quickly unzipped the bag and, with some effort, pulled out the dress, not really taking the time to look at it as he tugged it free. "There." He held it up, and his voice faltered. "See."

Collective gasps went around the room.

"Holy shit!" Frank exclaimed, dropping the dress as though it was on fire.

Janet’s mind raced as she tried to think of something, anything, to make Devlyn feel better. "Well, it’s… um… pink and… err…"

"Poofy," David supplied. "Really, amazingly, gravity-defyingly-poofy."

"Sweet Mother of God!" Dev’s eyes were the size of saucers. She wasn’t sure whether to burst into tears or laughter. Maybe she’d just do both. "No!" she scrambled away from the dress as though it was a plague shroud. "Wait." She suddenly stopped. "You don’t really think I’m going to wear this, do you?" She looked hopefully at her mother, who couldn’t meet her gaze." I don’t believe this! "No way! No! I will not wear that to my wedding. I’ll look like Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother… on crack!"

"But I like the big floppy flowers glued onto the sleeves," David supplied, smiling wanly at Dev’s murderous glare. "They remind me of those things you put on the bathtub floor to keep from slipping. Only the ones in my house are better looking."

"I won’t do it," Dev announced, lifting her chin. "I won’t." She waggled her finger at her mother. "And you can’t make me. I don’t care if you went through 29 hours of brutal labor. No. No. No."

"Honey," Janet soothed. "The wedding is due to start in 20 minutes. You could wear the pants you came over in, I suppose. Or just go ahead and wear the dress, it is the style… umm… somewhere, I’m sure." But the doubtful note in her voice was clear. "Anyway, we just don’t have time to find anything else. You’re too tall to borrow anything of mine."

"Maybe it’s not that I’m too tall," Dev said pointedly. "Maybe it’s that you’re too short. Ouch!" She wasn’t quick enough to move away from her mother’s pinching fingers.

Devlyn began ticking off examples on her fingers. "Jeans. Sweat pants. My underpants. David’s underpants. Bare-assed, buck-naked. All of those options are better than that dress!"

"Devlyn," David began, taking a deep breath and hoping his life insurance policy was up to date, "Toby Yagasuki is Japan’s most renowned designer and the emperor’s cousin. The emperor himself called to say how honored he was that you selected him for this momentous occasion and what an honor it was for his family as well as his nation. Next month we begin trade negotiations in Tokyo. If you don’t wear this dress — well, I hate to say it, but it could hinder everything we’re trying to do there."

Just then Ashley, Christopher and Aaron burst into the room. The boys were in tiny black tuxedos, their fair hair slicked back and their chubby cheeks pink from playing more rowdily than usual while all the grownups were preoccupied. Ashley wore a pale yellow dress that set off her dark hair, which was styled just like her mother’s.

For a second, Devlyn forgot about the dress and smiled down at her children, her gaze full of maternal pride. "Don’t you all look great," she said softly.

"Thanks, Mom," Ashley chirped.

"Is this your dress?" Christopher questioned with wide eyes.

Spell broken, Dev made a face. "Yes."

"Whoa," Aaron crooned loudly. "It’s beautiful."

"It’s the greatest, Mom," Ashley agreed heartily. "I can’t wait to see you in it. Lauren will be so happy."

"You are going to wear it, right, Mom?" Christopher asked, touching the fabric with a tentative finger; he’d been told by several adults that the wedding was almost ready to begin. "It’s just like you promised. I knew you’d keep your promise!"

Dev covered her face with her hands and whimpered her defeat, sending a silent wish to Lauren that she, at least, was having better luck with her specially designed wedding day creation.

***

"Stop cursing."

"I will not." Lauren’s face was the very picture of disgust. She and Devlyn had traded locations earlier that morning and she was getting dressed in the cabin. "Beth, there is no way on God’s green earth that I am going to wear this monstrosity. None."

"It doesn’t look as bad on as it did off." Beth winced, knowing her lie was pitiful.

"Bullshit. I’d rather go naked. And don’t give me that Japan trade negotiation excuse again. That won’t work on me. I prefer to buy American anyway. And I saw Mr. Yagasuki skulking around earlier. He was wearing Armani. And his clothing," she pointed at herself, "wasn’t bright, blinding, and a hideous purple!"

Beth bit back a smirk. Mostly. "It might have been Armani, but he was still wearing lime green slippers."

"Shut up."

"You and Dev said no white," Beth reminded, perching against a tall oak dresser. She was dressed in a tasteful, silk, coffee-colored pantsuit and was, for the first time, glad she was a good 40 pounds heavier than Lauren, who was eyeing her outfit enviously.

With difficulty, Lauren lifted her purple-encased arms and rubbed her throbbing temples. "We didn’t want white because we’ve both been married before. Not because I wanted to look like a whore today."

"You do not look like a whore."

Lauren just stared.

"Much."

"Yankee bitch."

Beth couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. She loved the way Lauren’s gentle Southern twang made "bitch" sound like "bee-ach." "Okay, enough lying. That is the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen."

"Of course it is," Lauren said reasonably. "Michael Oaks is out to get me, the bastard. I should have known he’d pull something like this. He won’t have the nerve to do it to Devlyn though." Her voice turned wistful. "I’ll bet she looks stunning."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Like always."

"Yeah." Lauren laughed throatily, feeling immensely appreciative of that fact. "Pretty much like always."

"I don’t think Michael did this on purpose, Lauren." Beth didn’t much like being in the position of defending the annoying man. But in this case it was only fair. "Did you see the Oscars this year? I saw a dress or two like this."

Lauren threw her hands in the air. "On whores!"

Beth’s forehead wrinkled. "Jesus, Lauren. Duh. They weren’t really whores. They only played them in the movie."

"Did you see the movie? Those were their costumes!"

A tiny snigger escaped Beth.

"God, I hate you."

"And who could blame you?"

Lauren put a hand on her hip, gestured down her body and looked at Beth with a beseeching expression. "Would you wear this?"

The dress was strapless and very low cut, with nothing but feathers covering both her breasts. The body of the dress fit her like a second skin, lizard skin to be exact, and the hem, which reached the floor, was slit up to mid thigh and also covered in purple feathers.

Beth bit her lower lip. "Not on a dare."

Lauren nodded. "Help me out of this then. I think I have a skirt in my bag back at the main house. It’s better than jeans. Devlyn will understand."

Beth pushed off the dresser only to pause mid-step when there was a knock on the door.

Lauren’s gaze burned a hole through the door. "If that’s Michael Oaks or that designer from Hell, tell him to come right in."

"Uh oh." Beth scrambled to the door before Lauren tried to open it herself. "Who is it?" she asked warily, her eyes darting from the door to Lauren.

"It’s us!" the Marlowe children shouted happily. "And Grandma," Ashley added.

"Let us in, Beth," Christopher called through the wood. "We want to see Lauren’s pretty dress and flowers."

The unbridled enthusiasm in his voice made Beth smile. There were times when both the boys, but most especially Christopher, reminded her very strongly of a boyish version of a certain handsome redhead with whom she fell in love in college.

"Yeah!" Aaron and Ashley joined in. They’d been briefed by their Secret Service agents, who had taken up positions just outside the cabin under large umbrellas, as to what to expect on this day. And the children were so excited they were nearly ready to pass out. They were going to get to walk down the aisle with Lauren, who would have no family of her own there to give her away.

Before Lauren could answer, Beth opened the door, and the Marlowe children and Janet filed in. They all stood before the blonde woman, staring.

Janet did her best not to explode into laughter, but she couldn’t stop the tears that streamed down her cheeks from the effort. Beth took one look at Janet, who was nearly convulsing in her efforts not to laugh, and lost it. Together the two women dissolved into a puddle of hysteria.

Lauren stood ramrod straight, plotting both their deaths.

"Oh, Lauren!" Ashley exclaimed, running up to her and almost, but not quite, touching the feathers. She was too afraid to touch the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. "You look like a movie star!"

"Yeah. A purple one!" Christopher said, his blue eyes shining with undisguised delight. "Wow! That dress is the best!"

"What about Mom’s?" Aaron said, giving his brother a shove. "It’s good too!"

"I know!" Chris scowled and only kept from socking Aaron because Janet stepped between them.

"It’s really fabulous," Ashley told Lauren, her voice telegraphing genuine awe.

Lauren melted a little under the child’s sincerity. "You don’t think it looks a little… umm… wild?" she asked the little girl, mentally crossing her fingers.

Ashley shook her head. "Oh, yes, it’s incredible." Soft brown eyes were wide with wonder. "You must really love Mom if you’re going to wear something so beautiful to get married in."

Lauren closed her eyes and whimpered. Damn. Damn. Damn. "Not fair, Ashley," she muttered under her breath. "Not fair at all!" Lauren’s shoulders slumped.

Beth wiped her face, hoping her tears of laughter hadn’t smeared her makeup. "I take it you’ll be wearing the ‘creation’ then?"

Lauren looked down at the three eager faces, looking so earnestly at her. She sighed. "Yes," she moaned through clenched teeth. "I’ll wear it." These children’s opinion means more than a bunch of strangers ever will. I only hope Devlyn forgives me. If she laughs…even once, no sex until… well, until I get horny. Damn, but that won’t be very long! What kind of punishment will that be? she privately lamented, cursing the fact that Devlyn had the most gorgeous thighs she’d ever laid eyes on.

"All right." Janet lifted her chin and tried to stay composed. She marched over to Lauren and kissed her warmly on the cheek. "That was just about the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. You are the perfect second mother to my grandchildren, Lauren Strayer. And I love you dearly."

Tears leapt into Lauren’s eyes. "I love you, too, Mom." Her voice cracked a little on the last word, and even Beth felt her eyes sting.

Janet nodded and swallowed. "Time to get you and my daughter married," she whispered.

Lauren’s stomach fluttered wonderfully at the words.

"Are you ready?" Beth asked, picking up a small bouquet and handing it to Ashley, who cooed over the fragrant white roses.

"No," Lauren blurted out, her eyes wide as she recalled what was about to happen. She was more than ready to be married to Devlyn. It was the actually getting married part that suddenly made her nervous.

Janet and Beth laughed again. "Then you’re all set." Janet patted Lauren’s bare arm.

"Devlyn won’t say a word about the dress." Her eyes twinkled. "I guarantee it. Besides, with this rocky start, what else could go wrong?"

Thunder boomed.

Lauren clamped her hand over Janet’s mouth. "Don’t you dare even ask."

***

Fifteen minutes later Lauren was all ready to head to the tent. She opened the bedroom door, surprised to see that the cabin was nearly empty. "Am I late?" she worriedly asked Beth as they traversed the stairs.

"Nope. You’re just on time."

Janet appeared at the bottom of stairs, trying not to look directly at Lauren’s dress, lest she throw up. "There’s a family member who wants to say hello before the wedding. Do you mind terribly?"

"Must be Dev’s favorite, Aunt Myrtle. Myrtle James. She’s as crazy as the day is long, but as interesting as hell," Beth whispered to Lauren. "And she loves Devlyn."

Lauren nodded. "Sure," she said to Janet. "So long as we have time, I’d love to meet someone close to Devlyn." She glanced at her wrist before she remembered she wasn&#