Page 69 of Where There's Smoke

I raised an eyebrow. “Hot booty? Really?”

“Look, if you’re going to make me picture it, I’m going to give it immature nicknames. Accept this. It’s happening.”

“Yeah,that’snews.” I tried to laugh, but thinking about Anthony made my stomach twist in simultaneously pleasant and unpleasant ways. I wanted to relive last night as often as we were physically capable, but guilt had set up shop in my head and wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

“So what’s wrong?” she asked.

I sighed. “Look, stupid as this sounds, I swear I’m just setting myself up to get hurt. Or hurt him.”

“How do you figure?”

“The stress of the campaign. Having to keep things quiet if I get elected. Plus Simone’s still in the picture.”

“Yeah, she’s still in the pictureon paper.”

“On paper,” I said with a nod. “But I can’t imagine it’s easy for him to watch Simone and me play the happy couple while he’s the skeleton in my closet. Any more than it’s easy for Simone to play the happy wife while I’m with Anthony.”

“No, I can’t imagine it is. But the election won’t last forever, sweetie. After November, you and Simone will be free to go out on the prowl, and I’d be willing to bet money you and Anthony will still be burning up the sheets anyway.”

I sat on the edge of the bed to put on my shoes. “How do you figure?”

“Jesse, my friend, some people just go together.” She picked up my suit and started putting it in the garment bag, adding over her shoulder, “They hook up, and it’s like, yep, that’s how it should be.”

“People said that about Simone and me.”

“And you two are compatible as hell except for that minor detail about you being a sausage fiend.”

I snorted. “Have I mentioned lately how exceptionally classy you are?”

“No, but duly noted.” She zipped the bag emphatically. “Anyway, you and Anthony seriously go together. You two click. From where I’m standing, you boys go together like texting and car crashes.”

I raised an eyebrow, glancing up from tying my shoe. “Texting and car crashes? Well, if that’s not the most romantic analogy I’ve ever heard.”

“Blame my mother.” She showed her palms. “No, seriously. Blame her. And it’s not a perfect analogy, but whatever. The point is, you guys go together. End of story.”

“How do you even know? You’ve only seen us working together.”

“And making disturbingly adorable googly eyes at each other when you think no one’s looking.”

“What? We do—”

“Don’t argue with me, Cameron. I know you. Shit, just going by the dreamy look on your face and the way you were almost limping earlier, I could probably give a play-by-play of every horrifying thing you two did to each other last night.”

I smirked. “Or what he did to me, anyway.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Goddamn you, Jesse…”

“Hey, you went there. Again.”

Shuddering, she shook her head and made a disgusted noise. “Brain bleach. I need brain bleach.”

“Whatever.” I finished tying my shoes and stood. “You know damn well you’d be all over it if a Jesse-Anthony sex tape ever made it out there.”

“Pfft. I can’t even watch films of you when you’renotmaking sweet wrong-love to someone else I have to work for.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m not acting.”

“Thank God for that.” She picked up the garment bag and draped it over her arm. “Still…no.”

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