Fires of Autumn (7 page)

“I almost
tripped over that damn longboard,” she hissed. “Brody is going to kill somebody
with that thing someday.”

 Casey
already pretty much knew that.  She turned to her sister, younger by eleven
months and three weeks, and held out her arms.

"How
do I look?"

Riley
Cleburne inspected her sister, eyeing the pale pearl-essence pantyhose and dark
gray platform pumps.   With her long caramel colored hair, signature bangs,
pale pink lips and dark eye shadow, the woman could stop traffic. She was
stunning.  The younger, pretty but slightly pudgy sister sighed.

"Like
you always do,” she said. “Great. So what's the occasion tonight? State dinner
or simple cocktail party?"

Casey
smoothed at the dress. "Cocktail party with the Ambassador of China and
some other Chinese diplomats," she said. “It’s Russ’s first official
cocktail reception so it’s a big deal. Are you sure I don’t look too slutty?”

“Slutty
enough that the Chinese will probably kidnap you and sell you into white
slavery,” Riley snorted, laughing when her sister couldn’t decide if she was
serious or not. “You look fine, Casey. Quit worrying.”

“Are you
sure?”

"I
am." Riley plopped herself down on Casey's overstuffed bed. "So why
don't you have a date?"

Casey
shook her head. "You don’t bring a date to a cocktail party at the White
House."

“Different
from Pentagon events, eh?”

“Just a
little bit,” Casey replied, looking at herself in the mirror one last time.
“I’m still trying to get used to this.  I had the Pentagon wired but the White
House… it’s a totally different animal.”

“Regret
taking the job?”

Casey
shook her head. “Not at all,” she grinned at her sister. “I control the man who
controls the free world. Hey, you want to hear something funny?”

“What?”

“The new
Special Agent in Charge took over today,” she said, fussing with her new shoes.
“Guess what his name is.”

“Mickey
Mouse.”

“Very funny,”
Casey eyed her sister as she continued to mess with her right shoe. “His name
is Philip Sheridan the Fifth.”

Riley’s
eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Is he a
descendent of the Phil Sheridan?”

“He sure
is,” Casey confirmed.  “They call this guy the ‘Anti-Christ’ because he’s so
intimidating, even the Secret Service guys are leery of him.”

Riley
chuckled. “Does he know you’re a Cleburne?”

“He does. 
Weird that there are descendents from two great Civil War generals working in
the President’s office, eh?”

Riley
shrugged. “As long as a Sheridan doesn’t start anything with a Cleburne, there
shouldn’t be any problems.”

Casey
thought on the extraordinarily handsome agent. “I’ll say one thing for him,”
she said frankly. “He’s pretty damn cute. Maybe I wouldn’t mind if he started
something with me.”

Riley
giggled, watching her sister get comfortable in the new expensive shoes. As
thoughts of the new Special Agent in Charge faded, she began to think of
another time, back in their lives, when they were dressing up, preparing to
attend an important event.

"Remember
our prom?” she said. “Remember how I made my dress and it turned out all
retarded, and Mom loaned me one of her dresses?"

Casey
smiled. "How could I forget? You spilled Cold Duck all over the dress and
ruined it. Mom was furious!"

They
laughed, not at all concerned over their mother's anger. "I think she was
angrier over the fact that we were drinking alcohol rather than the fact I
ruined her dress," Riley said. Then, her smile faded. "I can hardly
believe it's been seventeen years since we graduated. So much has happened, you
know?"

Casey
nodded. "I know. A marriage for you, a marriage for me, and then two
divorces." She turned away from the mirror, focusing on the woman who had
been her best friend her entire life. "And now look at us. I work for the
President of the United States and you're an analyst at the treasury
department. Remember when we planned to open a hair salon together?"

Riley
snorted. "We didn't get far with that."

Casey
shrugged. "Mostly because it would have been too boring. Who wants to
brush hair ten hours a day?"

"Not
me," Riley admitted. She rolled around on Casey's bed, sighing heavily.
"So

you're
leaving me alone on a Friday night with my nephews. You suck.”

Casey
giggled as she went in search of her purse. "You’ll survive. Just make
sure they’re in bed by eleven. Oh, and Brody is having Aiden and Jackson over,
just so you know.”

Riley
waved her off; she knew the drill.  She had lived with her sister for the past
six years, ever since Casey divorced the Virginia State Trooper who couldn’t
seem to understand that when one was married, one does not see other women. 
Dennis Nantz was a nice enough guy, handsome, and had been good to his boys,
but he’d never been very strong on the loyalty factor to his wife.

 Casey had
ten years of trying to change the man before finally giving up.  Now, Dennis
lived about fifty miles away and saw his boys about once a month.  He was too
busy doing his own thing and living the single life, which suited Casey just
fine. She didn’t want her boys to think their father’s crazy social life habits
were the norm. Because of that, she’d lived the relative life of a hermit.  Her
mention of the new Special Agent in Charge was the first time Riley had heard
her sister talk about man in years.  Name and ancestors aside, Sheridan must
have indeed been memorable.

Riley
followed her sister down the stairs of the five bedroom brick home in Falls
Church that was in quiet and family-oriented neighborhood.  The boys had a pool
in the back yard and friends all over the neighborhood. It was a little
Mayberry-like.   As Riley opened the front door to usher her sister out and
allow two neighborhood boys entrance, she watched her sister walk out to her
big Ford SUV and climb inside. 

As Riley
closed the door and yelled at the boys to turn the television down, she
wondered if her sister would ever find the happiness in a relationship she so
badly deserved.  Casey had it all; looks, brains, personality, and a good job. 
She owned her own home and had two beautiful boys.  But the experience with
Dennis had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth when it came to men and
although she’d had a couple of boyfriends in the past six years, the
relationships had never come to fruition.  The fear of a broken heart was
holding Casey back.

Riley
wondered if her sister would ever be able to let herself go and feel love
again.

***

It was
cold. Too cold for the wrap Casey had on, the relatively thin but glittery
thing that matched the gray sequined dress so she was determined to wear it.
She should have known better but she didn’t want to ruin the look of the
outfit, a fancy dress she rarely got to wear. Pride was her undoing. By the
time she made the trip from the parking structure across the street to the
White House grounds, she was turning shades of blue.

Teeth
chattering, Casey entered the White House through a west side entrance from the
west wing and made her way to the Social Secretary’s office near the map room
on the ground floor. The secretary, an older woman with a severe school-marm
look who had worked for four Presidents, took one look at Casey and nearly came
apart.

"What's
the matter with you!" she exclaimed softly. "Don't you know how to
dress for this weather?"

Casey was
shivering so violently that she could hardly talk. Carmen Hennderson pulled her
into the small office, frantically looking around for something to wrap her in.
But there was nothing to be found and, in desperation, she turned for the
office door.

"I'm
going to get you some tea," she said sternly. Then she shook her head.
"Honestly,

Casey, you
should know better. A small wrap simply won't do in weather like this."

Casey
nodded her head, twitching and quaking. "I-I know, but m-my heavy coat
d-didn’t look very good."

The older
woman shook her head again, but it was without force. "You're going to
catch your death."

Casey
merely shrugged and Mrs. Hennderson left the office. Walking quickly toward the
kitchens, she came into contact with three Secret Service agents dressed in
sleek dark suits. She spoke to the first man she made eye contact with.

"You,"
she said pointedly. "I need you."

Sheridan
lifted his eyebrows. "What for?"

Mrs.
Hennderson pointed her finger in the direction she had come. "In the office
adjacent to the foyer is a young lady in desperate need of your jacket. Silly
girl, she's nearly frozen to death. Could you give her your coat until I return
with some tea?"

Colt shook
his head firmly. ''Not me, but Peter .... "

Mrs.
Henderson put up her hands in a hurried gesture. "I don't care who goes,
but someone go help her." She marched away, quickly, muttering to herself.
"If I've told Casey a hundred times, it's to bundle up in Washington. She
runs around like she's still in California half the time."

Sheridan
heard the name. Peter was already heading for the foyer but Colt stopped him.
"I'll go," he said. "You two get up to the residence and tell
the President I'll be there shortly."

Peter and
the other agent nodded and then split off from Sheridan. Colt watched them
mount the stairs before continuing into the small, cozy office.

Casey was
sitting on the couch, a glittery gray wrap around her shoulders and quivering
so hard that he could literally see the tremors. Sheridan rounded the couch and
looked down at her, fists resting on his hips.

"Well,
well, well," he said casually. "A human ice cube."

Casey
looked up and he swore he saw a flash of pleasure cross her features. But it
was quickly gone and she frowned. "What are you doing here?” she asked
with quivering lips. “Shouldn't you be with Russ?"

He cocked
an eyebrow. "That's where I was going until a panicked woman told me there
was someone in her office, half-frozen. I came to help.”

“I don’t
need help, thank you.”

“Don’t be
stubborn. You’re turning blue.”

When Casey
made a face and looked away, he sat his big frame on the couch beside her.
Shocked at his suddenly closeness, Casey eyed him as he began unbuttoning his
jacket.

"What
are you going to do?" she asked warily.

He glanced
down as he undid the last button. "I was going to give you my jacket, but
I don't think that'll be enough." He opened the coat and then reached up
to pull the cold wrap from her shoulders
. "That thing isn't doing you
any good."

Casey
tried to snatch it back, but he tossed it behind the couch, up onto the desk.
Before she could protest, he reached out and pulled her against his hard,
searing torso.

Casey
gasped as she came into contact with his heated tuxedo shirt. Her first instinct
was to pull away from him and slap him in the face, but he wrapped the coat
around them both and before she realized it, she was blissfully cozy and wildly
content. Sheridan put out more heat than a furnace and as much as she tried to
remain stiff and uncooperative in his arms, it wasn't long before her
resistance gave way and she relaxed completely.

Colt felt
her loosen up, slowly but surely, eventually collapsing against him. She went
limp, like a rag doll, and he shifted, pulling her closer and wrapping the coat
more tightly about her. She seemed to fit against him rather well. Strange
thing was, neither one of them said a word the entire time. It was an odd
silence but not uncomfortable. Colt actually thought she had fallen asleep, for
she was utterly still and boneless. He tried not to think of how good she felt
in his arms, but the truth was that she felt marvelous. He couldn’t remember
the last time he’d felt something like this.

"You
can let me go now," her voice bubbled up, muffled against his chest. “I
think I’m warm enough.”

“Are you
sure?”

"Pretty
sure. Plus, I can't really breathe."

She
certainly knew how to spoil a moment that could have potentially been pleasant,
at least for him, anyway.  He could see her point, however; he had her tightly
wrapped up with her face in his chest. He almost refused to let her go but
visions of her fists pelting his abdomen somehow cooled his determination.  He
opened his jacket and Casey pulled herself off his chest, her smoldering violet
eyes gazing up at him.

"Feeling
better?" he asked neutrally.

She
nodded. ''Now I'm sweating to death. You give off more heat than a
furnace."

“It's all
that testosterone."

"Or
hot air."

He lifted
an eyebrow. "I'm late for work and this is that thanks I get? I should
have let you freeze."