Wingman Wednesday - Sexual Politics

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Today I'm sharing a scene from Sexual Politics. Justine and Sean have already been caught together in the elevator of his apartment building by the paparazzi. The timing creates a feeding frenzy of speculation and they're chased back upstairs where Sean calls in reinforcements to sneak the Senator's wife out the back. We pick up the story after they've just dropped her off at her sister's townhouse. Enjoy.

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​Sean knew it was coming. They hadn’t reached the end of the block before Trent started in on him.

“She’s a beauty.” Pulling up to the stop sign, Trent looked at him incredulously. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Nothing happened.”

Trent laughed. “It’s me. I won’t sell you out.”

“Read my lips. We. Did. Not. Have. Sex.” Shaking his head, Sean admitted, “Yeah, all right, I want to, bad, but she won’t. I only took photos of her last night.”

“You’re telling me she spent the night at your place and nothing happened?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. It was perfectly innocent.”

“What about the elevator this morning?”

“That was…unfortunate. We were saying goodbye.” He couldn’t hide how depressed he felt right now.

Trent glanced over, reading him as only a best friend can. “I’m sorry. Obviously you care for her.”

“I do.” Snorting, Sean dropped his head back and rubbed his temple. “You know what really pisses me off? Can I talk about this?”

“Go for it.”

“The rumors about her husband are true. The guy’s a total dick. Can’t keep it in his pants. I don’t know what kind of hold he has on her, but the marriage is basically over. She’s just waiting until November to divorce him. She doesn’t want to hurt him in the next election.”

​“That’s fucked up.”

“Tell me about it.” He dropped his hand to his lap and sighed. “She’s a good person, Trent. Honest, warm, kind. I admire her.” Pausing to watch a meter maid ticket a parked car as they rolled by, he finally confided, “I’m falling for her and I can’t do a damn thing about it.”

“Whoa. Seriously?”

Sean sighed. “Yes.”

“Is she strong enough to weather this?”

That was a good question, one that chilled Sean to the marrow. “I don’t know.”

“And those pictures you took?”

“Would only hurt us both at this point.”

“I figured. How did she look?”

Remembering the unblemished delicacy of her skin against the white muslin and those graceful feminine curves, Sean had to smile. “Spectacular.”

Trent’s soft laugh died out and he turned serious. “What are we doing now? Do you want to stay at my place for a while and wait for this to blow over?”

“I can’t. I’m too busy to hide out.”

“Bet you get even more clients now.”

Sean snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Justine’s downfall just raised my profile outside the art world. People are going to want to take potshots at her and throw money at me.”

“Forward your calls to the gallery. I’ll only pass the legitimate numbers back to you.”

“You’d do that?”

“My staff will, but I suggest you do something nice for them as a thank you, like scoring tickets to a show or dinner at one of those trendy restaurants you’re going to be promoting. It’s next to impossible to get a table in some of those places.”

“Done.”

Trent glanced at him. “So I’m taking you home?”

“Yep.”

“Then check the glove box.”

Curious, Sean popped the button and saw a hat and dark glasses inside. He laughed at the ridiculousness of his situation. “Thanks.”

“No sweat. I don’t play personal taxi for just anyone.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I hope things work out for you two.”

“Me too.”

Trent had a shit-eating grin on his face when he asked, “Any chance I can see those pictures you took last night?”

That earned him a backhanded cuff on the arm. “Never.”

“Just checking.”

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