Her Perfect Candidate Read online

  Chelsea was currently using her wit and sassiness to appease an irate client. She talked and walked fast in her Louboutin’s as if they were tennis shoes. Megan increased her pace in her flat gladiator sandals in order to keep up.

  “Chérie, my love. The awards show is a month away. I have already spoken to someone at Versace, and they’re making five one-of-a-kind evening gowns just for you to try on.” Chelsea paused and rolled her eyes, which made Megan giggle silently. “No one else will have the same dress. My assistant has already spoken to a rep from Harry Winston about a diamond choker with matching earrings. Have I ever let you down?” Chelsea shook her head at Megan. “Of course not, my love. Now go finish recording that number one song and let me handle the big things,” Chelsea said before her client could oppose. She pushed the off button on her phone.

  “Girl, these celebrities never know what they want. That’s why they hire me to tell them.” Chelsea tossed her phone into her purse and placed her aviator shades in her hair as they walked into Barney’s.

  Megan nodded her head in agreement.

  “I understand completely. I have a celebrity client right now who keeps changing her mind about what type of rug she wants in front of her fireplace. Her home is being featured in a magazine next month, and she’s a nervous wreck, which is driving me crazy. However, I’m excited that one of my creations will be in House to Home Magazine. Now if my client will just make up her mind before the photo shoot.” Normally Megan made all of the decisions, but this particular celebrity client wanted to give her two cents. Luckily, Lucy was going to handle the rug problem on Monday.

  “Probably the same person,” Chelsea said. “Now let’s get back to why we’re here. You need an evening dress for a black-tie function. There’re some gowns that I want you to try on as well as some other things.”

  “Other things?”

  “I’ve already called ahead and had the saleslady take out several black gowns in a size six for you to try on,” Chelsea continued as Megan looked at her questionably.

  “But what other things?”

  “I was thinking since you’re dating Senator Monroe, you may want to invest in getting a few more items. Some suits, cute sundresses for the summer. No shorts or minis. Some nice summer slacks and blouses. I know you’re only twenty-six, but we’re going to have to get rid of the baby doll and peasant top look you’ve been wearing since college. No more Gap and Old Navy, my love,” Chelsea said glancing at Megan’s T-shirt and bootcut jeans.

  “Chelsea, I’m only here to buy a dress,” Megan complained not interested in an image makeover.

  “Correction, Mr. Monroe is going to buy the dress and whatever else you want. He gave me a limit and trust me it’s a nice one because there isn’t one. It will all be charged to his Black Card. A whole new wardrobe for the summer. We’ll do the fall one when the time comes. He said that personally. I guess his bachelor days are over with!” Chelsea said looking through a rack of sundresses, pulling out several and handing them to the saleslady. Chelsea continued while the brightness in Megan’s face slowly faded.

  “Next week I’m going to go through your closet and tag the clothes you’re not to wear while out with him just in case you get photographed. What wife of a senator do you know that dresses like you? Sweetie, you dress really cute but remember you’re dating a senator now.”

  “I’m not married to him, Chelsea.”

  “Not yet, my love. Not yet. And of course I’ll help you pick out your wedding gowns. You must have one for the ceremony and another for the reception. I’m sure Vera will design something special just for you. Then you’ll need a whole new wardrobe as a married woman. We can store your old clothes in your guest room closet or give them to charity. I’m sure you can use the tax write-off.”

  “Chelsea, let’s go through my closet first before we begin buying other things. I own a lot of nice suits and dresses. I have to wear jeans and sweats when I’m doing a job. I have to be comfortable if I’m on a ladder painting, moving furniture or hanging wallpaper.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m only following orders from Mr. Monroe. He is paying me nicely to select clothes for you. Now, my goal is to give you a new look and style of your own. We want other politicians’ wives, girlfriends and even their mistresses to be jealous of you plus set out a new trend. Remember Jackie O?” Chelsea inquired placing a dozen of dresses on the chair next to Megan and going back for more.

  “The rapper?” Megan asked sarcastically.

  “You know exactly who I mean. First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. Her style was graceful, elegant and classy. Everyone wanted to look like her, dress like her. People still admire her sense of style and poise. That’s what I want for you. I want people to see a sophisticated young lady on the arm of Senator Monroe. Do you understand, honey?” Chelsea asked seriously.

  Megan groaned as she took several dresses into the dressing room. For the next three hours she tried on more outfits than she had that entire year. She tried to suck it up and have fun, but all she could think about was sleeping next to Steven that night and hoped she wouldn’t have the urge to seduce him.

  Chapter 7

  Megan arrived in Washington, D.C., around eight in the evening. Her ears had finally regained most of their hearing as she stepped off of the plane, chewing her fourth piece of gum. She looked around and saw an older, kind-looking lady holding a sign that read Megan Chase in bold letters. She waved at the woman, who she assumed to be Greta, and walked hurriedly over to her.

  “Good evening, Ms. Chase. I’m Greta Reid, Senator Monroe’s housekeeper. Your bags are being put into the car. Do you need anything before we go to the house?” Greta had a Southern accent, a grandmotherly presence and a genuine smile. Her gray hair was in fresh curls around her warm, brown face and her pleasant demeanor made Megan comfortable.

  “No, and it’s very nice to meet you,” Megan said, shaking Greta’s hand. Greta looked rather surprised when Megan took her hand.

  “Now, Ms. Chase...” Greta began.

  “Please, call me Megan.”

  “All right, Ms. Megan. Is there anything you do or don’t want to eat for breakfast in the morning? I can cook just about anything from A to Z, at least that’s what the Monroe family says.”

  “No, whatever you cook is fine with me just as long as coffee goes with it.” Megan enjoyed eating a hearty breakfast when possible, and she could sense that Ms. Greta seemed like the type to cook big meals.

  “Well, I haven’t seen Mr. Steven for almost a month, so I’m going to fix all of his favorites,” Greta said as they walked to the car.

  “If you need any help, let me know.”

  “Ms. Megan, that’s sweet of you, but you just enjoy yourself these next few days. Mr. Steven said you’re a hard-working interior decorator. I’m sure you can use the break.”

  “Do you have any children?” Megan asked.

  “I have two daughters. Both married with kids. They live in Mobile, Alabama. That’s where I’m originally from. I’m usually there until Mr. Steven calls me a few days before he arrives here in Washington or in Savannah. Mr. Steven is like the son I never had as well as Mr. Bryce,” Greta said as they approached the car. It was a black Lexus LS 460.

  “You don’t live here all the time?”

  “No, Ms. Megan. I’m sort of on call for Mr. Steven or anyone else in the Monroe family. I’m retired now. I’ve worked for the Monroe family for many years. Changed all of the Monroe children’s dirty diapers.”

  “Well, you’re a part of the family. Do you travel with him sometimes?”

  “Sometimes, but Mr. Steven is a simple guy, if you can believe that. He knows how to cook and clean for himself, even though I spent most of the day cleaning.” Greta opened the back door for Megan. “He said he wanted it to be perfect for you and now I see why.”

 
“Ms. Greta, I’m not used to having people chauffeur me around. Can I sit up front with you?”

  “Of course, sugar. You know, you’re different from those uppity girls I see him with in the newspapers and magazines. When he used to bring them here or to Savannah, they wouldn’t even acknowledge my presence. I think he has a keeper now.” Greta winked.

  When they arrived at the brownstone, Greta told Megan to make herself at home. It was a beautiful, three-story building with a studio apartment on the top floor that Greta mentioned she stayed in when she was there. The masculine decorations reminded her of Steven. Sturdy, strong furniture in dark colors. Greta took her up to the second floor to the master suite. It was a large room with a sitting area with a fireplace, and two big, brown-leather, comfy-looking chairs and an oversize leather ottoman. The bed was huge with cherrywood posts. It was so high off the ground it had matching steps on both sides.

  “Right around the corner is your closet. I’ve already put away your things for you while you toured the brownstone. What a stunning dress you’re wearing tomorrow evening. I’ll steam it for you before you put it on tomorrow. It got a few wrinkles from the plane ride. You know those baggage handlers just throw people’s stuff around.”

  “Thank you so much, Ms. Greta,” Megan said thinking there was a “his” closet on the other side of the master bathroom. The one that was supposed to be “hers” was empty except for her things, a few African paintings, and a stack of about a dozen books sitting on the floor.

  After Megan ate a delicious Southern dinner of chicken fried steak, mashed sweet potatoes and collard greens, she retired back upstairs to the bedroom and looked through the books that were on the floor in the closet. Reading was her favorite pastime. She found a Walter Mosley novel that she hadn’t read yet and quickly read through the first few chapters in one of the big comfy chairs in the sitting area. She found herself yawning an hour later and decided to get up and walk around. She went into the master bath, which was an interior decorator’s dream. A beautiful antique tub with four brass legs stood in the middle. The floor and countertops were marble. There were two vanities on opposite walls. The “hers” vanity had a makeup area with a timeless antique chair. There was a shower big enough for two.

  Now that Megan was on her feet, she realized how exhausted she was. She decided to take a warm shower and climb into bed. Then it hit her again that she would be sleeping in the same bed as Steven. She’d almost forgotten. But he was right about one thing—it was an enormous bed.

  After a refreshing shower, she walked into the bedroom, wrapped in her towel. She remembered Greta telling her she would put her nightclothes on the bed for her. When Megan walked into the room, the sheets on the right side were pulled back, but she didn’t see her pajamas on the bed. Instead, Greta had laid out the little black slip that was in the same garment bag as her evening gown.

  “Ha,” Megan said out loud, walking to the closet with the slip to find the pajamas. She didn’t see them anywhere. She knew she packed them.

  “I was on the phone arguing with my mother, packing my suitcase. I folded up the shirt...” Megan realized that the pajamas were still lying on her bed in Atlanta. What am I going to wear to bed? Her only other choice was her workout clothes. They will have to do. She slipped on a tank top and pink velour shorts. The shorts had shrunk somewhat when she last washed them, but it was better than wearing the slinky black slip. She didn’t want to give Steven any ideas.

  Satisfied, Megan walked back into the room, only to discover Steven asleep in one of the leather chairs by the fireplace. Time flew, she thought. It was only midnight. She had planned on being asleep when he arrived.

  She stopped abruptly in the doorway and stared at him. He sat somewhat slumped down in the chair with his legs apart. His hand rested on his forehead as if he had a headache. A loosened tie hung around his neck, and the first few buttons on his shirt were undone to reveal a glimpse of his smooth chest. Megan had the urge to straddle his lap and wind her arms around his neck and run her tongue down his skin. She shook her head at the thought and began to walk toward the bed, but the hardwood floor creaked, and his eyes flew open. He smiled and sat up straight.

  “You’re here early,” she said, feeling awkward. She didn’t know if she should climb into the bed or not.

  “Yep. I was able to leave the gathering earlier than planned. Have you found everything you needed?” He began to unbutton his sleeve cuffs.

  “Yes, thank you. Greta is wonderful.” Megan decided to sit in the other chair across from him. “These are really cozy chairs,” she said, rubbing her hands on the arms of the chair to feel the texture of the leather.

  “Thank you. I just bought them and had them delivered when Greta got here. I used to have an old couch sitting here. When I saw these chairs in a magazine, I knew they would look nice by the fireplace. Greta did a good job picking out the comforter on my new bed.” Steven looked admiringly at the gold-and-red comforter.

  “New bed?” She was rather relieved that no other woman had slept in it. But why should that matter? It’s not as if we’re a couple.

  “Yes, I ordered it at the same time as the chairs. I used to have a queen sleigh bed in here, but I had it moved to an empty room down the hall. I needed a change.” He walked over and ran his hand over the comforter. “I haven’t even slept in it yet, and now I can’t wait especially since I get to share it with a sexy lady.”

  “Watch yourself, Steven. You better stay on your side of the bed.”

  “I promise. Scout’s honor. Did you enjoy your shopping spree today?” He hopped up and sat on the bed. His longs legs barely touched the hardwood floor.

  “Yes, I did. Thank you. Chelsea knows what she’s doing. I also picked out a really nice tie for you, as well. Maybe you can wear it on Election Day,” Megan suggested. “I hung it in your closet.”

  “Thank you. So you just know I’m going to win the primaries and then make it to November’s election?”

  “Of course. I’ve read the information about the other potential candidates vying for your father’s seat. And I’m not saying this because I know you, but I really do think you’re the best candidate. The only thing that may have been holding you back was your lifestyle. But the media loves that you’ve settled down... Well...sort of, I suppose. So, yes, I think you have a pretty good chance of winning.”

  “Megan, you keep blowing my head up like this, and I’ll never let you go,” he said in a sexy tone that caused her breathing to pause for a second and a sensual warmth rushed over her skin.

  A heated, seductive stare passed between them and for a moment, Megan wished what he said would really happen, but she couldn’t dwell on that. They were simply two people helping each other obtain their career goals. The media was finally warming up to him, and she’d seen a boost of phone calls from prospective clients after the event at Braxton’s restaurant. Besides, she enjoyed her freedom of being single and so did Steven. After the election, they could return to their normal lives. But would it be normal or miserable because he would no longer be a part of her life?

  “Well...I’m going to go take a shower,” Steven said as he strode into the bathroom and closed the door.

  Megan wasn’t sure what to do next. She decided to get in the bed and try to fall asleep before he returned. If she wasn’t, she would pretend she was sleep. She looked around the room again before getting under the covers. Greta had indeed done a wonderful job. Now all that was needed were new curtains and a few throw rugs on the hardwood floor and the bedroom would be complete. She thought of all of this as she drifted off to sleep between the fresh Egyptian cotton sheets.

  * * *

  Steven let the warm water from the shower wash over his tired body. He could still smell her scent in the shower, and it continued to arouse him. When he woke up to find Megan in a tank top and her very short shorts, he found himsel
f at a loss of words. The way the shorts fit around her hips and bottom made him very happy to be a man. He couldn’t believe he managed to talk about comforter sets and furniture. What he wanted was to run his hands on her smooth, freshly oiled legs and taste the scent that emanated from her body when she walked causally into the room and sat in the chair next to him. Even though she wasn’t wearing lingerie, she was still sexy with her pink shorts and her hair pinned up on her head. He had to quickly escape to the bathroom so she wouldn’t see his growing erection.

  After his refreshing shower, Steven went back into the bedroom. He glanced over to the bed. He didn’t want to make her any more uncomfortable than she already was, so he decided to sleep on the old couch in his spacious walk-in closet. Plus, he was still aroused and couldn’t handle sleeping next to her without touching her. He watched her sleep for a moment before he turned off the lamp on the nightstand.

  * * *

  Saturday evening the celebrity stylist Chelsea had arranged to do Megan’s hair and makeup, clapped his hands excitedly as Megan turned around twice so he could admire his creation.

  “Girlfriend, you are absolutely fierce! You’re going to make heads turn!” Keenan the stylist said admiringly, snapping two fingers in the air. “Especially the senator’s.”

  Megan smiled at herself in the floor-length mirror on the wall in the foyer. Her long hair was piled up in a flowy updo with long, curly strands framing her face. Her makeup was light and flawless. Her straight black dress with a lace overlay hit her curves in all the right places, highlighting her curvy hips and small waist. The salesman at Barney’s told her and Chelsea that no one else was able to really fill out the dress like Megan, including a lot of celebrities who had tried on the dress and didn’t look as good as she did. Megan thought the guy was probably just trying to sell it and would say anything so she would buy it.