Page 102 of Not the Plan

“And I’m worried that if I missed something there, I missed other things. And I don’t want any mistakes I’ve made to have a negative impact on you. I spent each evening this week double-checking everything I could, and that seems to be the only weird thing.”

“What’s different?” she asked.

“The statute concerning the dates to elect officers is included. It wasnoton the version I drafted.”

She had a spark of adrenaline but breathed through it.

“We’ll get to the bottom of it, but Daniel still has enough pledges,” she said.

“Pledges?”

“Promises to vote. Three-fourths of the majority have already pledged to vote for Daniel to become pro tem. He only needs half plus one. He hasn’t done anything to lose that support, so I don’t think it’s anything to really worry about. Let’s not let it spoil our time together, okay, baby?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Karim

Grazing her cheek, Karim asked her how she wanted her eggs when he came back into the bedroom after taking his shower Saturday morning. She bewitched him—dark, bare shoulders contrasted with his cream-colored sheets, her curves creating undulating waves beneath them. He wanted to climb back into bed with her, but he also wanted to make her breakfast. She smiled and stretched.

“Over easy, or scrambled, or whatever’s easiest, gorgeous.”

“Toast?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Juice?”

“Silly. Whatever you make for me will be wonderful. You don’t have to take a breakfast order.”

“Okay, Isa. It won’t take long,” he said. “Do you want it in here, or at the table?”

“At the table, after my shower?”

“Okay. Take your time. No stress today.”

“I like that. No stress today.”

He kissed her cheek again and went to get dressed. His back was to her when he dropped the towel around his waist, but he peeked at her over his shoulder.

“Careful, beautiful. You keep looking at me like that and we won’t make it out of this room.”

“Would that really be so awful?” she asked, gliding one leg out from under the sheet. Her skin beckoned from ankle to hip.

“No, it wouldn’t. But I think you should eat so you have enough energy for what I plan to do to you later.” He’d slid on a pair of black boxer briefs and turned to face her. She licked her lips.

“If you insist.” She sighed, slurping him up with her eyes.

He smiled again, threw on a black T-shirt and headed for the kitchen. Humming, he took the eggs and bacon out of the fridge, grabbed some juice, and set the table with dishes from the machine. He tossed the dishtowel over his shoulder. Once the shower went off, he started the bacon. His personal phone rang. A Harrisburg number. He asked himself why his lawyer was calling on a Saturday.

“Hello?”

“Hey there, sexy.”

His vision narrowed. The sizzle of bacon faded away. He stumbled back from the stove. At least instinct saved him from flipping the pan and burning himself.

“Laila?”

“Of course. How are you, sweetie?” The syrupy “sweetie” clicked him back to himself. And the stored-up rage. He stalked to the patio and once outside, hastily jerked the door back along its track, worried that Isadora might hear if things got as messy as he anticipated. He turned to face the parking lot.

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