White House Autumn by Ellen Emerson White Read Free Book Online

grabbed Josh’s hand, shaking it firmly. “Come down to the office sometime, boy. We’ll talk.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Josh said. “I’ll do that.”
    “Good.” Steven nodded several times, starting for his room. “We’ll talk.”
    Josh watched him go, walking like an elderly Supreme Court justice. “The kid’s a maniac.”
    “The kid’s
a pain,”
Meg said.
    Josh nodded, and she knew he was refraining from saying that he thought the two of them had the exact same sense of humor. They headed up to the solarium to watch television for a while—she was a
big
one-hour drama person—and then, switched over to the news at eleven, where the top story was about the President, and her response to the most recent flare-up in the Middle East.
    “Do you really want to watch this?” Josh asked.
    Would it be embarrassing to admit that the answer was yes? “I don’t know. We could just go down and
ask
her, I guess.” She took off his glasses, putting them on herself. “What do you want to do?”
    He removed the glasses, putting them carefully on the nearest table, and then leaned forward.
    “We could listen to music,” she said, just as he was about to kiss her.
    He stopped, his arms resting on her shoulders. “Do you want to?”
    “If you do,” she said.
    He kissed her, and slowly, they moved until they were lying on the couch.
    “We got a whole new shipment the other day,” she said. The music companies—along with publishing houses, and Hollywood—almost always sent their latest releases to the President and First Family as a matter of courtesy, and there were literally thousands ofrecent movies and CDs in the White House collection, most of which was stored up here on the third floor. “I could just walk out there and pick out a few—”
    Josh kissed her harder.
    “Or,” she said, when she got her mouth free, “I could stay right here.”
    He nodded. “You could do that.”
    “Unless you want to hear some inspirational gospel songs,” she said. “You want to hear some gospel music? Or folk music. I bet I could dig up some really rousing folk music.”
    He moved to kiss her neck, and she decided that it would be much more pleasant to remain where she was.
    “I’m going to take off my shirt,” he whispered, after a few minutes. “Okay?”
    She nodded, not even wanting to let go of him for that long, and he sat up, yanking the t-shirt over his head, then stretching out back on top of her.
    Wow. She slid her hands over his shoulders and down his back, feeling the muscles and the warmth of his skin. Wow. Why did she always get excited so quickly? Maybe there was something wrong with her.
    His breathing was faster, and Meg could feel and hear herself breathing almost as quickly. Practically panting, in fact. She blushed, embarrassed by the sound, a blush that made her face feel even hotter. His hand was inside her shirt, and she wondered if it was supposed to feel that good, or if there really
was
something wrong with her. Well, Meg, she could hear the White House doctor, Dr. Brooks, saying, I’m sorry, but it looks like a case of terminal libido. How long do I have, doctor? she would ask, choking back tears. Three months, he would say. Make them good ones.
    Josh’s heart was pounding, and she hugged him closer, affection and passion mixing somewhere inside her.
    “I wish—” He sighed, resting his head against hers.
    “What?” she asked, although she was pretty sure she could guess the answer.
    “I don’t know.” He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. “I wish we could go somewhere where I didn’t have to be scared that the President of the United States was going to walk in.”
    Meg laughed. “I’d be more afraid of the First Gentleman.”
    “You know what I mean,” he said.
    Now, she sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”
    “You
know
what I mean,” he said.
    “Yeah.” She turned her head enough to look at him. “If we went anywhere else, my agents would have to be there.”