Affairs of State. Jennifer Lewis
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He just wanted to get to know her better. It was a good idea, though. He’d like to raise awareness of World Connect in the US and gain some new donors. “Do you think you could help me put together a fund-raiser for World Connect? We’ve never done one on this side of the Atlantic before.”
“Absolutely.” Her face lit up and he could almost feel her lungs fill with relief. “We organize gala events all the time. We can pretty much print out a guest list of people who like to support worthy causes. Happily there are a lot of them in D.C.”
“They sound ideal. And I wouldn’t turn up my nose at people who want to donate for the tax benefits, either.”
She grinned. “They’re often the most generous ones. What kind of venue did you have in mind?”
He tried to look like he’d put some thought into it. “Somewhere…big.” It was hard to think at all with those big green eyes staring so hopefully at him. “I’m sure you could come up with a good place.”
“The Smithsonian might work. There are a lot of possibilities. I can make some phone calls once you pick a date.”
“A date?” He drew in a breath. “What would you suggest?” A date far off into the future might be good, so he’d have plenty of excuses to get together with her for brainstorming and planning.
“Summers aren’t ideal because a lot of people go away to the beach. I’d recommend the fall or winter. Something about the short days makes people want to get dressed up in their sparkliest outfits and stay out late.”
“November or December, then. You can choose a date that works for the venue.” Perfect. Five or six months of meetings with Ariella should be enough time for…
For what? What exactly did he intend to do with her?
For once he wasn’t sure. All he knew is that he wanted to be close to her. To hear her voice. To touch her…
“My partner, Scarlet, keeps a master list of venues and cultivates relationships with the people who run them. We should talk to her. It’s important to find out what else is going on that week, too. You don’t want two similar events taking place on the same night, or even back to back.”
“Of course not.” He jerked back his hand, which was heading toward hers. He needed to keep himself in check or she’d send her partner to meet with him. “I’ll rely entirely on your expertise. I usually raise money for our endeavors by ringing people up and asking them for money.”
“Does that work well?” Humor danced in her eyes.
“Surprisingly, it does.”
“That sounds a lot less expensive than throwing parties.”
“But think of all the fun I miss out on. And hardly anyone in the US has heard of World Connect, so I need to get the word out.”
She stopped walking. “I have an idea.”
“Yes?”
“How about an outdoor concert?”
“In the dead of winter?” Was he following the conversation? He might have lost track when he just got lost in the way her navy dress hugged her hips.
“No!” She laughed. “You could do it in September or October. The weather’s usually lovely then and we’ve pulled festivals together quicker than that. You could get a much larger and more diverse crowd and make the same money by selling more tickets.”
“I love it. World Connect is about inclusion, so the more people who can come and hear about it, the better.”
“If the bands are enthusiastic enough they might even perform for free, so all the profits would go to World Connect.” He could see her getting excited, which had a strange effect on his own adrenaline. “A good friend of mine is a music agent so I’m sure she can hook me up with some interesting performers.”
“And how about some musicians from Africa? I could talk to some friends over there and see who would be interested. Already the world is coming together. I’m so glad I convinced you to come here today.” Again his fingers itched to seize hers. Again he shoved them into his pockets. They’d walked past the rhododendrons and out onto a lawn that circled around the tennis court. “I can’t believe I lucked into meeting you.”
“You hardly lucked into it.” She shot him a teasing smile that sent heat right to his groin. “You came right up to me.”
“I like to make things happen, not sit around waiting for them to happen.”
“I guess that’s the best way to live your life. I’m going to adopt that attitude from now on.”
“Just keep on being yourself and don’t worry about the press or anyone else. Don’t let the bastards grind you down.”
A smile tugged at her mouth. “I bet you wouldn’t say that in front of the press.”
“True. So more accurately, you have to be yourself, but not put every aspect on public display. I won’t lie, it’s a delicate balance, but I can already see that you’re more than capable of doing it.”
She shrugged her slim shoulders. “I don’t really have any choice.”
“In some ways, I think that makes it easier.” He slid his arm around her shoulders, which sent a delicious sensation of warmth flooding through his torso.
He instantly regretted the rash move when she sprang forward toward a herb border. He shook his head in frustration at himself. He could see that beneath her calm and controlled demeanor she was nervous and skittish as a startled filly. It hadn’t been easy to persuade her to come here and he didn’t want to add to her anxiety by being yet another person who wanted a piece of her.
Her scent filled his nostrils, delicate and feminine, like their lush floral surroundings. “A garden is the perfect backdrop for you.” The sunlight sparkled in her dark hair and lit up her eyes. Even the bird on a nearby tree branch seemed transfixed by her beauty, still and unblinking, head cocked.
“I don’t know why. I haven’t spent much time in gardens.”
“You grew up in the city?”
“Nope, in a tiny town in Montana, but my parents didn’t have a garden like this. It was a smooth clipped lawn with a fence and a doghouse. No camellias to bury your nose in or arbors to stand gracefully under.”
“The president’s from Montana, isn’t he?”
“Yes, that’s how the journalists found me. They went there to do a story on his childhood and decided to tap the phone of a former White House maid who lived in his town. She inadvertently revealed that my mother—his high school sweetheart—had become pregnant and never told him.”
Anger surged inside him. He knew the story already. Who didn’t? It had been setting headlines on fire for months. And since he was here to sign a treaty between the United States and the United Kingdom to punish those who used technology to violate other people’s privacy, it was his business to know the more intimate details. “Have you been following the story in the press? Angelica Pierce, the ANS journalist who did the illegal wiretapping is going to prison, last I heard. She’s expected to get a twoto five-year sentence.”
“I know. Everyone seems to think I should be thrilled about it, but I feel sorry for her. It turned out that Graham Boyle, the former head of ANS, was her biological father and had denied all knowledge of her for years. I’m not sure if she was trying to impress him or ruin him with her illegal antics, but it certainly was a cry for help. I did hear that she and her father have started writing to each other now that they’re both behind bars. Hopefully they’ll have a better relationship once they’ve both served their sentences.”
“Now that’s a family situation that makes almost anything seem normal by comparison, even discovering that your father is president.”
“I suppose you’re right. And