Alistair stared despondently at the ringing phone, willing someone sane and remotely friendly to be on the other end. Halfway through a reelection campaign, and most of the calls that came through these days were reporters with vicious quotes from the opposition, reporters wanting vicious quotes against the opposition, and reporters who still hadn't given up on making a story of the fact that the son of southern political royalty was serving as the chief of staff for a bleeding heart, lily livered, northern democratic senator.
As if anyone who had ever met Duncan would be brave enough to call him lily livered to his face.
Steeling himself, Alistair picked up the phone. "Senator Grey's office, this is Alistair speaking, how can I help you today?"
"Well hello, Alistair," said a warm and cheerful voice. "This is Senator Cousland and I was hoping to speak to your boss."
"Oh, um, hello Senator Cousland. Duncan's out of the office right now," Alistair replied, hoping she couldn't hear his flush, however ridiculous that was. Senator Cousland was entirely too attractive, and entirely too brilliant, and Alistair was out of practice in ignoring his crush on her.
"Well damn." Her voice wasn't nearly as disappointed as her words implied. "I forgot he had that rally out in Canton today."
"And yet you seem to have such a good memory for details, Senator," Alistair said dryly, his composure recovered, and wondered what the reporters would make of this almost flirting between the bastard, too-brown son of the last Republican president and the entirely legitimate and favored daughter of the current Democratic one.
Nothing good, but then, providing fodder for scandal had been his rarely welcome burden since birth, and he'd long since given up fighting it.
Anne cleared her throat and Alistair flushed again. On the other hand, he'd be happy to be rid of his enduring awkwardness with anyone he found attractive. "Would you like me to pass on a message, Senator?"
"Well I was hoping for a lunch date, as I happen to be in town. I don't suppose you're free?" she asked, her tone light and far more confident than he felt, butterflies awkwardly lumbering about his stomach region. "I'm not very familiar with Hartford, and could use a recommendation if you're not free," she added after a moment of silence, giving him an easy out that he refused to take.
"No!" he declared with entirely too much enthusiasm, then coughed in a vain attempt to cover for his ridiculousness. "I'm free and I would love to have lunch with you, Senator."
"Oh please call me Anne," she said, sounding quite happy despite the pleading note in her tone. "I'll be at the campaign office in thirty minutes or so. See you then!" She hung up before he could say anything else and Alistair slumped back in his chair hard enough to send it rolling backwards into the wall.
"Well you're an idiot," he told himself, then laughed at how optimistic he sounded about it. Anne had absolutely no trouble sending him into a tizzy, and he was pretty sure she liked it that way. Unfortunately, he thought he might too. And he was pretty sure stockholm syndrome wasn't possible over three years of largely long-distance flirting (that the small, neglected boy in him still doubted was anything of the sort.) All of which meant that he was totally screwed, and couldn't even complain about it.
He set himself the task of stamping mailers, just about the only thing he thought he could manage in his present state of mind even it was the intern's job, and somehow managed to push everything out of his mind well enough that it was a surprise when Anne came into the office with a burst of cold air and the sound of distant traffic. She grinned at him, teeth bright against the red of her lips, and pushed her mass of black curls out of her face as she nodded toward the stack of colorful mailers. "Bit mundane for the chief of staff, isn't it?"
He grinned back, unable not to in the presence of her easy charisma, and shrugged. "Gave the staff that aren't with Duncan the day off and our current intern is with him, learning how to rally."
She laughed, a warm sound that made his last bit of unease settle into a kind of pleasant buzzing. "I wish her well. I've always preferred arguing to gladhanding."
"Indeed," Alistair said with a sly smile as he stamped the last mailer in the stack and then made to stand up.
"You would know," she said with a rueful grin, accepting the teasing with good cheer. "There's a reason Duncan and I are such good friends after all."
It was his turn to laugh as he walked over to her and pulled his coat off the stand by the door. He would never learn to love northern winters, even if he missed nearly nothing else about his home state. "That's the reason I sent the intern, actually; she enjoys arguing with him and I needed a break."
Anne gasped in mock horror. "Why surely an old political hand like yourself could never tire of honest debate?"
Alistair grinned and permitted himself to bump his shoulder against hers as they made their way out of the office. "Oh of course not. Just doing my part for the next generation."
"Oh good," she told him, waiting for him to lock the door and then linking her arm through his. Alistair held his breath for a moment, then returned her bright smile with one of his own. This was definitely going to be worth every single reporter hounding his step with outrageous questions. "Because I prefer a lively debate over meals, helps spice the food."
Alistair laughed and offered her a shallow bow, both of them ignoring the slight awkwardness of their still linked arms. "I live to serve."
Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief, her wide mouth curving upwards in an entirely suggestive smirk, and Alistair bit his own lips to hold in an entirely too sappy smile. Definitely worth it.