Page 94 of Where There's Smoke

She grinned triumphantly. “Uh-huh. Just a—Oh, there they are.Finally.” She started to get up. “About time.”

I looked over my shoulder.

A ways down the concourse, flanked by their various security personnel and a flock of starstruck onlookers, Jesse and Simone walked hand in hand.

A pang of jealousy dug itself beneath my ribs. I knew it was an act, but it still killed me every time I saw them like this. Ah, but if they could act, so could I, so I plastered on a smile and stood as they approached.

Everyone exchanged the usual polite greetings. Someone mentioned the joys of security. Jesse and I glanced at each other. The weather came up, as did the flight schedules and the itinerary for this trip and the next one. Jesse caught my eye and sent my pulse skyward. Roger went into a long-winded diatribe about the latest goings-on in the Senate, completely unaware that I’d just fixed my gaze on that spot on Jesse’s neck, that spot where a well-timed kiss or nip could make California’s future governor whimper with ecstasy. Theflight attendants announced the plane would be boarding soon, and when every head turned to hang on her every word, Jesse and I locked eyes for a fleeting second before quickly looking away.

Why we tortured ourselves like this, I couldn’t even say. The odd glance was irresistible, but it only made things worse, especially in a place like this.

Ranya was here. Roger was here. Even my assistant, Lydia, was with us today, along with Simone, Dean, and Jesse’s security. The airport was jam-packed, and I was acutely aware of every soul whose presence kept me from launching myself at Jesse. Didn’t stop me from looking around for an unpopulated nook or cranny in which to steal a minute or two of something that could derail this entire campaign in a hurry.

Jesus, I was losing my mind. So much for being a professional around him. At least I convinced myself to keep those nook-and-cranny fantasies in my mind where they belonged. Acting on them, it’d be too easy to get caught. Especially since I doubted either of us would stick to any plan ofjust a quick kissorI just need to touch you for a second. Now that we’d crossed a few dozen lines a few dozen times, it was too easy to let a quick kiss or a brief touch turn into something more.

And of course it didn’t help that flights and sexual tension didn’t mix. They so fucking didn’t. If idle hands did the work of the devil, then idle, horny, gay men were an explosion of sin waiting to happen, and there was nothing like the boredom of a goddamned flight to bring both idleness and horniness to a breaking point.

It was probably just as well Jesse and I would be apart this evening. The rally wouldn’t run all that late tonight, and since we were in my hometown of San Jose, I had some plans with an old friend. An old flame, actually. He and I were long since over, having both moved on in the years since we’d split up, but we were still close friends. And I had to admit, if only for the sake of my blood pressure, I was looking forward to spending an evening away from Jesse. Not because I wanted to be away from him—hardly!—but being around him, close to him, when I couldn’t touch him, couldn’t pull him down onto a flat surface and give in to temptation with total abandon was driving me out of my mind.

Fortunately, for the time being, the only maddening idle time we had was here and now on this plane. Once the plane began its descent, my mind shifted into campaign-manager mode. Time to be busy.

And we certainly were busy. We almost literally hit the ground running. Our flight was delayed—weren’t they always?—and arrived just in time for our little mob to make a mad dash across the airport, grab luggage, throw ourselves into vehicles, and get to the afternoon’s rally. The activity didn’t stop, not for a second, until the rally was over and we finally made it to our hotel.

We all went to our respective rooms to drop off luggage, then met in the lobby to regroup. Tomorrow’s itinerary was a simple one—visiting a couple of retirement homes and a formal dinner to cap off the evening—so there wasn’t much we needed to plan or coordinate at this point, but I preferred to get it done tonight.

Once everything was squared away for tomorrow, I said, “I think that takes care of everything. And Jesse, we’ve got to get you ready for the next debate and a few speeches this week.” I handed him a slim binder. “Here’s what I have written so far. Look them over, and we can make any changes as needed. I’ve got everything you’ll need for the debates in one of my suitcases.”

He gestured toward the elevators. “Well, I’ve got time if you do. Why don’t we look it all over now?”

“I would,” I said, glancing at my watch. “But I can’t tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot you said you had plans this evening.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “You have enough to remember without trying to keep my schedule straight.”

He laughed. “You’re not lying.” He held up the binder. “I’ll look this over tonight, then. We can catch up sometime tomorrow about—”

“Anthony?” A familiar voice turned my head, and I couldn’t help grinning when the matching familiar face materialized across the lobby. My ex-boyfriend Slade crossed the room, smiling broadly, and threw his arms around me.

“Good to see you,” I said.

“Likewise.” He let me go and gave me a quick once-over before meeting my eyes and winking. “Looking spectacular, as always.”

“Would you expect any less?”

He rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. “No, and you haven’t changed a bit, Hunter.”

I chuckled and turned to Jesse. Gesturing at Slade, I said, “This is my old friend, Slade Ralston. Slade, this is Jesse Cameron. I’m running his camp—”

“This is Jesse Cameron?” Slade huffed. “AsifI wouldn’t recognize his face from a hundred paces.” He extended his hand to Jesse. “Slade Ralston. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Jesse said with an amused, if slightly taut, smile.

After they’d shaken hands and we’d introduced Slade and Ranya, Slade said to Jesse, “So you’re keeping him busy these days, then?”

Alarm raised Jesse’s eyebrows. “I…um…”

“He’s running me into the ground,” I said. “This campaign is killer.” In a stage whisper, I added behind my hand, “This man’s a goddamned slave driver.”

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