Disclaimer: See previous chapter.

Rating: Still the same.

                                                            *********Kristy Thomas*********

"……and our new president of the United States of America is……Kristen Amanda Thomas!"

Kristy Thomas stood to her feet and smiled amid the screams and cheers of the crowd outside the White House East balcony. She smoothed down her dark blue designer suit, adjusted the red, white and blue silk scarf around her neck, and stepped up to the temporary podium to address the people- her people.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the United States," she began, her voice ringing clear and true, "I have come here today to-"

All of a sudden, a man in the crowd bounded up on the balcony and landed squarely on top of her, straddling her and shaking her violently. "Kristy!"

Kristy twisted away from him with a scream and tried to call for her guards, but it was to no avail. The man continued to shake her.

"Okay, fine, Kris! Don't get up."

Confused at his words, Kristy reached out for the man, but he was gone. She looked out over the crowd for the last time, then turned to look over her shoulder and……

……..and got a faceful of pillow.

Kristy sat up in her bed, staring around ht her room, eyes half-open. "Oh, jeez," she muttered. In the background, she could hear the sound of a kettle hissing faintly in the distance. She picked up the clock on here bedside table and held it close to her face, trying to read the time.

"It's seven-fifteen," said a voice from her doorway. "We have a breakfast to attend at seven-thirty. You have exactly fifteen minutes to shower, get dressed and eat something so you won't be gobbling like a hog once we get there."

Kristy sprang out of bed like a woman possessed. "God, Pres, why didn't you wake me up?"

"I tried!"

Kristy ignored him and banged her door, stripping off her boxers and baseball jersey and grabbing a bra, a slip, and clean panties from her underwear drawer. She pulled them on, sprayed herself all over with perfume, covered her neck and shoulders with scented talcum powder, and yanked on a pair of sheer hose. After retreating to the bathroom in the hall, she squeezed an enormous lump of Colgate onto her brush, the moved it around in her mouth with one hand while trying to wash her face with the other.

"Preston!" she yelled around a mouthful of peppermint-flavored foam. "Have you seen my-"

"Got it, woman," Preston was standing at the door, holding a plastic-covered white linen dress on a hanger. Kristy spit out the toothpaste, rinsed her mouth and walked out of the bathroom, snatching her dress from him and yanking to over her head.

"We've got eight minutes," Preston glanced at his watch and headed for the door. "Kris, I'm warming up the car!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, I'm coming!" Kristy yelled back. She quickly ran a brush through her hair and gathered it up with a white shell comb, as there was no time to use rollers. She applied makeup- nothing heavy, just powder, mascara and lip gloss- as quickly as possible. She grabbed her purse and paused to take a cursory glance in the mirror, slipping her feet into a pair of backless pumps as she did so.  The young woman staring back at her was small, yet stood up straight, her sleeveless dress clinging slightly to her slight frame. Her dark hair was gathered up into a chignon, neat except for a few wisps of hair that framed her face, looking nearly as if she had done it deliberately. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and large.

She shrugged. "Good enough."

Kristy ran out the door, slamming it behind her, then threw herself through the lobby doors and landed squarely in the front seat of Preston's white Camaro.

Preston glanced at his watch once more, then pulled the car smoothly from the parking lot and headed for the main road.

"What did you do, fly?" He looked sideways at her, as she set the station in the car to the sports channel. "Did you even shower?"

Kristy shook her head. "Nope. No time."

Preston looked horrified. "Kris, we're having breakfast with the Secra-freakin'-tary of State's WIFE! You don't not shower when you meet with her!"

Kristy rolled her eyes. "Please. When you don't have time to shower, all you have to do is put on clean underwear, wash your face and saturate yourself from head to toe in Oscar de la Renta. It isn't that difficult. I perfected the art in college."

Preston leaned over and sniffed deeply. "It did work," he admitted grudgingly. "But that's still disgusting."

"To each his own."

Preston continued. "You look good, too. Positively Hepburn-esque."

Kristy rolled her eyes again. She hadn't changed much figure-wise since high school, and with her dark brown hair, light skin, large brown eyes and dimunitive stature, she'd heard that reference often enough. She didn't need to hear it coming from Preston. "Who are you, Donna Karen?"

Preston only smirked.  "Check in the glove compartment, willya please? There's a box in there."

Kristy opened the compartment, pushed aside some insurance papers, and pulled out a small, velvet dark-blue box.

"Open it. It's yours."

Kristy inserted her thumbnail into the catch. "You're not proposing to me, are you?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Preston snorted. "Yeah, right. Just open the box."

Kristy did so. Inside lay a large teardrop-shaped pearl, attached to an invisible white-gold chain. She held it up to the light, watching it sparkle. "It's gorgeous." She never normally wore jewelry if she could help it, but the piece was exquisite- even she could see that. "So what am I getting it for?"

"You won the last case, remember? I'm just fulfilling my bet."

Kristy laughed and dropped the necklace back in the box. "Look, I was only joking about that Tiffany's necklace, okay? I don't wear stuff like this, you know that. And beside- you shouldn't give me something this expensive."

"See, that's what I like about you," Preston said approvingly. "Any other woman would have taken it and kept pumping me for more. Don't worry about it. I'm a honorable man, I fufill my debts. Plus-" he shot her an impish grin. "I didn't buy it at Tiffany's. This is an Ebay buy, woman." He ducked her slap.  "And about buying you expensive stuff- did you forget how I got this watch?"

"True," Kristy agreed. He'd won his last bet against her on case she'd been sure she lost, and the bet had resulted in the gold Rolex that now adorned his wrist. She leaned back into the seat and tucked the box into her purse.

"Wear it now, wear it now," urged Preston. "Mrs. Sheffield is a huge pearl collector. It'll give you something to talk about. "

Kristy made a face, but pulled the necklace on and put it on. Surveying herself in the mirror, she had to admit it looked great with her dress, through.  "So," she said, relaxing again, "Did I have any messages this morning?"

Preston made a face. "How would I know?"

She stared at him.

He sighed. "Okay, okay, so I did pick up the phone this morning when I came over. I was out of coffee!"

"Whatever. Who called?"

"A Mary Anne Retlin, form Connecticut. She called about some reunion at your old highschool.."

"Mary Anne?" Kristy's thoughts went immediately to her best friend. "Wow, I haven't seen her in years. What did she-"

"Your old high school buddy is going to have to wait, Kris," interrupted Preston. "Here we are."

Kristy straightened up, plastering a fake smile on her face as Preston drove up to the valet booth of the affluent DC restaurant. They got out of the car and walked a short distance to the entrance. Preston opened the door for her. "Walk slowly, spare the sarcastic comments, no matter how stupid the woman acts," he hissed. "This could be a huge opportunity for both of us, you hear? Don't screw it up with that mouth of yours."

Kristy elbowed him in the side- hard. "When last did I screw up something with my mouth?"

"You didn't shower. You can be capable of anything- Good morning, Mrs. Sheffield!!" Preston plastered a huge smile on his face, took Kristy's elbow and glided forward.

The second wife of the Secretary of State, known less formally as Mrs. Anabella Sheffield, rose gracefully to her feet, then held out a hand, smiling warmly. "Preston, darling," she drawled, her slight southern accent evident in her voice. "And you must be Miss Thomas."

"Pleased to meet you," Kristy said, shaking the woman's hand warmly. "And call me Kristen, please." They all took a seat around the table.

"Now, Preston," cooed Mrs. Sheffield. "You must tell me all about this young lady's credentials. What a lovely necklace, dear," she added.

"Certainly, Mrs. S."

"You are aware, dear," she said to Kristy, "that I'm Preston's client. And hopefully his favorite."

"And his loveliest," Preston added with a wink. Kristy barely repressed gagging as the woman laughed coquettishly. Typical Preston. One of the most powerful women in Washington was at his disposal, and he was flirting with her.

"Preston," said Mrs. Sheffield suddenly, "Do go and hunt us up some appetizers. I want to speak to your friend alone."

Preston hoisted himself to his feet and ambled off, heading for the fruit buffet. Mrs. Sheffield then spoke to Kristy, although she was watching him walk away. "What a charming couple you make," she remarked.

"What? Oh, no!" Kristy was adamant. "We're not a couple."

Mrs. Sheffield raised a slender brow. "Rumor has it you two are an item." She leaned forward and took a sip from her orange juice. "And that you live together as well."

What is with her? Kristy wondered irritably. Nosy broad. "We don't exactly live together," she said. "I mean, we share a penthouse suite uptown- Pres has one side, and I have the other. We both have our own kitchens and bathrooms, and the two halves of the apartment are separated by a door." Are you satisfied now? She wanted to add. Mrs. Sheffield continued.

"How did you two meet?"

Kristy smiled. "I met Preston after law school. He needed a lawyer for some legal issues, and took me on as a rookie- he liked me, I guess."

As the woman nodded and sipped her juice, Kristy's mind wandered back to her life since her high school graduation, ten years ago. So much had happened since then. After graduation, she'd gone for a joint degree in business and elementary education, graduated a year early, and bean working on what was possibly her Biggest Idea ever- the development of a business she choose to call Kristy's Baby-sitting Agency. To further complicate that year, her father, Patrick returned- and showed every indication that he was in Connecticut to stay. He'd landed a job with a newspaper in Bridgeport, and tried to become as close with his children as possible. He seemed sincerely sorry for his actions of the past, and slowly but surely, became close to his daughter once again.

The agency was truly a masterpiece of Kristy's. It was basically a huge, office-based variation of the Baby-sitter's club. Parents could call and hire babysitters on part time, full time, or full-fledged nannies. Possible babysitters were hired after thorough background searches, then sent out all over Stoneybrook, Stamford, and beyond.

Patrick helped immensely with this business, putting much of his time and effort into it, helping Kristy in every way he could, even up till the point of babysitting himself. Six months later, business was booming, and Kristy was making quite an income.

Then the bomb dropped. Patrick did it again. He left.

And this time, he took some of his daughter's money with him.

Kristy's had been hurt immensely, to the point of breakdown- she couldn't believe her father would betray her so, after they had worked on this together. She'd nearly cracked. If it hadn't been for her family's firm support, she would have.

 Still, the damage was done.

All Kristy could think about was getting out of Connecticut- away from her business, away from all the memories. She'd packed up, sold her business- to Watson her stepfather, and broken all ties with former friends, including Mary Anne. He'd tried to talk her out of selling, then finally bought the business from her- "You'll be surprised, you may want it again someday," he had said, but Kristy knew better.  "Watson," she'd said to both him and her mother, "I've got to get out of here- and do something else. Something that he can't touch." She had immediately applied to a small law school in DC, and taken the bar exam- then passed. It was then she had met Preston Timothy Fields- and won her first case.

After winning his case, Preston had become so intrigued with the smart-mouthed, fast-talking, bitter, sarcastic, shrimp sized brunette from nowhere, Connecticut that he'd immediately taken her on as a sort of protégé, introducing her to many of his friends who needed legal advice. This led to many of Kristy's first cases, all of which she won- giving her the legendary nickname of the "crack shot kid," in DC's legal circles. She'd been working for a small legal firm that handled oddities such as real estate and juvenile law-  but Preston persuaded her to move into the criminal and political side of law ("That's where the money is, woman!"). He liked the way her businesslike, practical mind worked- and she liked his lack of conceit, sense of style and love of the Blue Jays.

Preston and Kristy were truly the oddest couple in Washington. She was a sharp, young lawyer who'd been a virtual nobody in Washington's political circles until recently. She didn't come from an affluent family, she had no political ties or connections, other than Preston, and seemingly cared nothing for politics, although she was so involved with it. Her motives? She wanted to become everything her father wasn't- successful, powerful, dominating, and as removed from her homey Connecticut roots- and memories of her father- as possible. She wanted to be able to detach herself from any type of occupation that required her to have an emotional side- and both Preston and her new career seemed to be doing just that.

Preston Fields was a cool, classy, reserved member of the African-American elite, born into an affluent, new-money Georgia family. His elementary school years had been spent in exclusive prep schools, and his high school years had been spent at Eton, in England. He'd returned to the states at the age of eighteen with a British accent and the cool stone face made famous by the British elite. He'd taken that face to Harvard, taking on the unusual double major of media and pre-law, then finally to Washington, DC.

Now he was thirty-one years old, still had the accent, and was press secretary to the President of the United States, and that's how Kristy had met him. Not too shabby of a connection to have.

Kristy watched him as he crossed the room, holding a platter of fruit. He was good-looking, she had to admit. Tall, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, flawless mocha skin, close-cropped black hair, and dark-brown eyes framed with long lashes, his looks contributed to his success just as much as his talents did. Still….she couldn't see herself with him as anything more than a business partner, though they were extremely close, and now shared an enormous penthouse. It had been Preston that suggested they move in together. "I'm a cool, classy black guy who kicks ass," he'd said. "You're a single white woman who looks about ten, and came and took DC by storm the hell out of nowhere. Can you imagine what press we'd get? The mystery….." he shook his head. "We work together well as a couple. I get you the connections, you keep the press interested in my whereabouts."

Kristy had been wary of his idea at the time, but as usual, Preston was right. In Washington's inner political circle, pardon the language, they were the shit.

Kristy sighed. How had she gotten into this type of life, anyway? It was so out of character for her- or at least for the character she used to be.  Sometimes, she wondered…….

"Kristy!" Preston's voice broke into her thoughts. "What do you think of Mrs. Sheffield's proposal?"

Kristy shook her head to clear away the cobwebs. Damn. How long had the woman been talking to her?

"Um, yes," she managed to stammer out, "but I'd like it if she could go over it again- for your benefit, Preston." She gave him a smile. "After all, it's you who'll talk to the press about it." She gave him a bright smile, and he gave her a Look. He always knew when she was bullshitting.

"I'd be delighted to," bubbled the woman. "Now here's the case…….."

Kristy sighed and sat back. It was going to be a long morning.