After Midnight. Diana Palmer
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“Are you going to bury me in paperwork again?”
She grinned. “Want to lie down, first, so we can do it properly?”
“If I lie down, three senators and a newspaperman will come in and stand on me,” he assured her. He sat upright in his chair. He was good-looking—tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed, with a charismatic personality and a perfect smile.
Women loved him, Derrie thought; particularly a highly paid Washington lobbyist who practiced law named Bett Watts. The woman was forever in and out of the office, tossing out orders to anyone stupid enough to take them. Derrie wasn’t. She was simply biding her time until her tunnel-visioned boss eventually noticed that she was a ripe fruit hanging low on the limb, waiting for him to reach up and…
“Are you going to stand there all day?” he prompted impatiently.
“Sorry.” She put the letters on his desk. “Want coffee?”
“You can’t bring me coffee,” he said absently. “You’re an overpaid public official with administrative duties. If you bring me coffee, secretarial unions will storm the office and sacrifice me on the White House lawn.”
She knew this speech by heart. She just smiled. “Cream and sugar?”
“Yes, please,” he replied with a grin.
She went out to get it, laughing at his irrepressible overreaction. He always made her laugh. She couldn’t resist going with him to political rallies where he was scheduled to speak, because she enjoyed him so much. He was in constant demand as an after-dinner speaker.
“Here you go,” she said a minute later, reappearing with two steaming cups. She put hers down and sat in the chair beside his desk with her pad and pen in hand.
“Thanks.” He was studying another piece of legislation on which a vote would shortly be taken. “New stuff on the agenda today, Derrie. I’ll need you to direct one of the interns to do some legwork for me.”
“Is that the lumbering bill?” she asked, eyeing the paper in his lean hands.
“Yes,” he said, mildly surprised. “Why?”
“You’re not going to vote for it, are you?”
He scowled as he lifted his cup of coffee, fixed with cream just as he liked it, and looked at her while he sipped it gingerly. “Yes, I am,” he replied slowly.
She glared at him. “It will set the environment back ten years.”
“It will open up jobs for people who can’t get any work.”
“It’s an old forest,” she persisted. “One of the oldest untouched forests in the world.”
“We can’t afford to leave it in its pristine condition,” he said, exasperated. “Listen, why don’t you meet with all those lobbyists who represent the starving mothers and children of lumbermen out west? Maybe you can explain your position to them better than I could. Hungry kids really get to me.”
“How do you know they were really starving and not just short a hot lunch?”
“You cynic!” he exclaimed. He sat forward in his chair. “Hasn’t anybody ever explained basic economics to you? Ecology is wonderful, I’m all for it. In fact, I have a very enviable record in South Carolina for my stand against toxic waste dumps and industrial polluters. However, this is another issue entirely. People are asking us to set aside thousands of acres of viable timber to save an owl, when people are jobless and homeless and facing the prospect of going on the welfare rolls—which is, by the way, going to impact taxpayers all the way from Oregon to D.C.”
“I know all that,” she grumbled. “But we’re cutting down all the trees we have and we’re not replacing them fast enough. In fact, how can you replace something that old?”
“You can’t replace it,” he agreed. “You can’t replace people, either, Derrie.”
“There are things you’re overlooking,” she persisted. “Have you read all the background literature on that bill?”
“When I have time?” he exploded. “My God, you of all people should know how fast they throw legislation at me! If I read every word of every bill…”
“I can read it for you. If you’ll listen I’ll tell you why the bill is a bad idea.”
“I have legislative counsel to advise me,” he said tersely, glaring at her. “My executive legislative counsel is a Harvard graduate.”
Derrie knew that. She also liked Mary Tanner, an elegant African American woman whose Harvard law degree often surprised people who mistook her for a model. Mary was beautiful.
“And Mary is very good,” she agreed. “But you don’t always listen to your advisors.”
“The people elected me, not my staff,” he reminded her with a cold stare.
She almost challenged that look. But he’d been under a lot of pressure, and she had a little time left before the vote to work on him. She backed down. “All right. I’ll work my fingers to the bone for you, but I won’t quit harping on the lumber bill,” she warned. “I don’t believe in profit at the expense of the environment.”
“Then you aren’t living in the real world.”
She gave him a killing glare and walked out of the room. It was to her credit that she didn’t slam the door behind her.
Clayton watched her retreat with mixed emotions. Usually, Derrie agreed with him on issues. This time, she was fighting tooth and nail. It amused him, to see his little homebody of an assistant ready to scratch and claw.
The telephone rang and a minute later, Derrie’s arctic voice informed him that Ms. Watts was on the line.
“Hello, Bett,” he told the caller. “How are you?”
“Worn,” came the mocking reply. “I can’t see you tonight. I’ve got a board meeting, followed by a cocktail party, followed by a brief meeting with one of the senior senators, all of which I really must get through.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of lobbying and long for something different?” he probed.
“Something like giving fancy parties and placating political adversaries?” Bett asked sarcastically.
Clayton felt himself going tense. “I know you don’t like my sister,” he said curtly. “But a remark like that is catty and frankly intolerable. Call me back when you feel like rejoining the human race.”
He put the phone down and buzzed Derrie. “If Ms. Watts calls back, tell her I’m indisposed indefinitely!” he said icily.
“Does she like virgin forests, too?”
He slammed the phone down and took the receiver off the hook.
Clayton phoned Nikki that evening. He didn’t mention Bett’s nasty remark or his fight with Derrie, which had resulted in her giving him an icy good-night and leaving him alone with cold coffee and hot bills. He had to depend on his district director for coffee, and Stan couldn’t make it strong enough.
“I’m not going to be able to turn loose for at least two weeks,” he said sadly. “I’d love to spend some time with you before we get our feet good and wet in this campaign, but I’ve got too much on my plate.”
“Take some time off. Congress won’t be in session much longer.”
“I know that. I am a U.S. Representative,” he reminded her dryly. “Which is all the more reason for me to push these so-and-so’s into getting down here to vote when our bill comes up. I can’t leave.”
“In that case, don’t expect me to wail for you.”
“Would I? Anyway, you need the rest more than I do,” he said on a laugh. “How’s