Merline Lovelace – The Duchess Diaries: The Diplomat's Pregnant Bride / Her Unforgettable Royal Lover / The Texan's Royal M.D. (страница 16)

The image shifted, and he pictured her manga’ed mane. God, what if she was still sporting that look? He could only imagine his father’s reaction. The thought produced a wry grin as he swung his chair around and dialed his parents’ number.

* * *

Jack brought his tux in to the office with him the next morning and changed before leaving work that evening. Anxious to see Gina, he arrived at L’Enfant Plaza early.

The plaza was named for Pierre Charles L’Enfant, the French-born architect recruited by General LaFayette to serve as an engineer with George Washington’s Continental army. A long rectangle, the plaza was bordered on three sides by an amalgamation of office buildings, government agencies, retail shops and hotels. One of I. M. Pei’s iconic glass pyramids dominated the center. A sister to the pyramid in front of the Louvre, it rose from a lower level with gleaming majesty.

The spot was a good choice for evening events. Foot and vehicle traffic died out when the surrounding offices emptied, leaving plenty of underground parking for guests. Or they could hop off the Metro and let the escalators whisk them up to the plaza. Jack had opted for plan B and emerged from the Metro’s subterranean levels into a balmy June evening. Tiny white lights illuminated the trees lining two sides of the plaza. Centered between those sparkling rows, the lighted pyramid formed a dramatic backdrop for lavishly filled buffet tables and strategically placed carving stations.

Two dozen or so other early arrivals grazed the tables or clumped together in small groups with drinks in hand. Jack took advantage of the sparse crowd and lack of lines to hit one of the S-shaped bars set up close to the pyramid. He kept an eye out for Gina as he crossed the plaza but didn’t spot either her blond curls or a waterfall of purple. Nor did he find a bartender behind the ebony-and-glass counter. He angled around to check the other bars and saw an attendant at only one. Flipping and tipping bottles, the harried attendant splashed booze and mixers into an array of glasses and shoved them at the tuxedoed waitstaff standing in line at his station.

The fact that three of the four bars weren’t ready for action surprised Jack until he spotted Gina, a male in a white shirt and black vest and a plump female with a radio clipped to her waist hurrying out onto the plaza. The man peeled off in the direction of one unattended bar, the woman aimed for another. Gina herself edged behind the ebony S where Jack stood.

“Shorthanded?” he asked as she whipped bottles of champagne out of a refrigerated case and lined them up on the bar.

She rolled her eyes. “Just a tad.”

When she started to attack the foil caps, he moved behind the bar to help. She flashed him a grateful look and set him to popping corks while she extracted champagne flutes from a rack beneath the counter.

“I should be in the media center making a last check of the seating,” she told him, “but I’ve been on the phone with the bar subcontractor for twenty friggin’ minutes. He’s supposed to be sending replacements for their no-shows. You can bet this is the last time the jerk will do business with TTG.”

The fire in her eyes told Jack that was a safe bet.

“Keep your fingers crossed the replacements get here before the real hordes descend,” she muttered as she began pouring champagne into the tall crystal flutes.

He nodded toward the crowd emerging from the bank of elevators. “I think they’re descending.”

“Crap.” She slapped the filled flutes onto a tray and hooked a finger at one of the waitstaff. “You’re over twenty-one, right?”

“Right.”

“Take this and start circulating.”

“I’m a food server,” he protested.

“Not for the next half hour, you’re not. Take it! I’ve cleared it with your boss.”

Champagne sloshing, she thrust the tray at him and reached under the counter for more flutes.

“Good thing the subcontractors aren’t union,” she said fervently. “My ass would be grass if I got TTG crosswise of the culinary workers and bartenders local.”

Jack eyed the racks of glasses, bottles and nozzles behind the counter. Everything appeared to be clearly labeled.

“I’ve fixed a few martinis and Manhattans in my time. I’ll pull bar duty until your replacements arrive. You go do your thing in the media center.”

“No way! I can’t let you sling booze. You’re a guest.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t. Go. I’ve got this.”

Jack had no trouble interpreting the emotions that flashed across her expressive face. He could tell the instant the idea of John Harris Mason III dishing up drinks at Global Protective Service’s big bash struck her as too irresistible to pass up.

“All right,” she conceded, laughter sparkling in her eyes. “But let’s hope Nicole doesn’t hear about this. My ass won’t just be grass. It’ll be mowed and mulched.”

“And it’s such a nice ass.” He couldn’t help it. He had to reach behind her and caress the body part under discussion. “Trust me, sweetheart, I won’t let anyone mow or mulch it.”

She backed away and tried to look stern, but the light still danced in her eyes. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

Jack couldn’t believe it, either. He’d do it again, though, in a heartbeat. Or better yet, drag her upstairs to that bridal suite she’d mentioned and caress a whole lot more than her ass. Sanity intruded in the form of the gray-haired senior senator from Virginia.

Thomas Dillon broke away from the group he was with and strolled over to the bar. “Jack?”

The senator looked from him to Gina and back again. Clearly he didn’t understand what an ambassador-at-large was doing behind the drinks counter, but he contained his confusion behind a broad smile.

“I thought I recognized you, son. How’s your father?”

“He’s still kicking butt and taking names, Senator. What can I get you to drink?”

“Pardon me?”

“I’m pulling special duty tonight. What would you like?”

* * *

Despite the near-disastrous start, the remainder of the event went off without a hitch. Most of the invitees were jaded Washingtonians who had attended too many black-tie functions to do more than guzzle down the free booze and food, but Jack heard more than one guest comment on the quality of both.

His replacement arrived before he’d had to mix up more than a dozen drinks. He surrendered his post with some reluctance and mingled with the other guests. Jaded they might be, but the arrival of the movie’s star started a low buzz. Gina had returned to the plaza and stood next to Jack while Dirk West graciously made the rounds.

“Wow,” she murmured, eyeing his shaved head and six-feet-plus of tuxedo-covered muscle. “He looks tougher in real life than he does on the screen.”

Tough, and extremely savvy. West worked the crowd like a pro and seemed to sense instinctively the real power brokers and potential backers. He might have been aided in that by the CEO of Global Protective Services, who stuck to the star’s side like a barnacle and made a point of steering him over to Jack.

“This is Ambassador John Harris Mason,” he said by way of introduction. “He’s the man who faced down a cell of armed insurgents in Mali a few years ago.”

“I read about that.” West crunched Jack’s hand in his. “Sounded like a pretty hairy situation. I might have to send a script writer to ferret out the details that didn’t get into print.”

Jack could have told him not to bother since most of the details were still classified but West had already turned his attention to Gina.

“And who’s this?”

The bronze-edged name tag pinned to her lapel should have given him a clue. He ignored it, concentrating all his star power on her face.

“Gina St. Sebastian.” She held out her hand and had it enfolded. “I’m with the Tremayne Group. We’re coordinating this event.”

West’s appreciative gaze made a quick trip south, edged back up. “You ever considered taking a shot at acting, Ms. St. Sebastian?”

“I’ve toyed with the idea once or twice.”

“If you decide to do more than toy, you give me a call.”

Global’s CEO was more interested in Jack’s connections at the State Department than the acting aspirations of the hired hands.

“I hear you’ve got a meeting with the Senate Intelligence Committee next week regarding embassy security, Ambassador. I’ve got some ideas in that regard.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“I’d like to discuss them with you. I’ll have my people call and set up an appointment.”

His mission accomplished, he steered West to the next group. Jack waited until they were out of earshot to fill Gina in on his conversation with his parents.

“I got ahold of my folks. They’re anxious to meet you, but mother’s chairing a charity auction tomorrow evening so I told them we’d drive down for Sunday brunch.”

“Sunday brunch works for me.”

“Good. That leaves tomorrow for just you and me.”

She started to comment, but spotted the plump brunette with the radio clipped to her waist signaling from across the plaza.

“Gotta go. It’s almost showtime.”

She turned, spun back and flashed one of her megawatt smiles.

“Thanks for helping out earlier. Remind me to pay you for services rendered.”

“I will,” he murmured to her retreating back. “I most certainly will.”