Free The Boss and His Cowgirl by Silver James Page B

the whole world and you love me, but let’s be real. I won’t ever win a beauty contest.”
    The buzzer sounded, alerting her that someone was at the outer door to her building, and she cut off Jen’s reply. “Gotta go.”
    Time was up. Smoothing the formal gown, she grabbed a warm wrap and the beaded bag.
    Using the same care as a tightrope walker, she managed both the apartment building’s stairs and entryway without tripping on the high heels she normally avoided wearing. Her feet would kill her before the night was over but such was the price of fashion.
    Boone waited beside the limo and his eyes lit up when she emerged from the door. “Dang, sugar. You clean up real nice.”
    His exaggerated accent made her laugh and relax. Boone always managed to walk the fine line between boss and friend. He kept up a running commentary on the way to the White House, but his words washed over her like a gentle waterfall. Since her first political job, she’d been on staff in one capacity or another. From campaign volunteer all the way up the ranks to communications director, she’d been Boone’s protégé in all things political. She’d attended hometown rallies and national conventions. But this was her first state dinner. And she was slightly terrified. No. She was totally terrified.
    Could she remember those long-ago cotillions where she’d learned place settings and greetings? Did she offer her hand or wait for the other person?
    â€œBreathe, Georgie.”
    She gulped in air and fought the urge to put her head between her knees. The gown’s tight skirt didn’t leave room for that. “That’s easy for you to say.”
    He patted her hands, which she realized were clenched on her lap. “When we arrive, your door will be opened and a military escort will offer his arm. Someone else will make sure your dress is lying correctly, whatever that means.” He winked at her. “You’ll enter with your escort and everything after that will just come naturally. Trust me.”
    â€œHa. Just goes to show what you know!”
    The limo turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue. Her breath caught as she focused again on the evening’s events. Mainly, her escort tonight. Senator Clayton Barron. Panic choked off her breath once again and stars circled her head the way they did in the cartoons. Good thing she was the only one who could see them.
    They were stopped by the guards at the gates, who checked their IDs and invitation. Moments later the big vehicle slid to a smooth stop in front of the East Doors. A man in an army dress blue uniform opened her door and handed her out, Boone tight on her heels.
    He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
    She whirled to face him. “You picked a fine time to ask me that, Boone Tate.”
    The sorry son of a gun laughed. At her. And winked, his devilish grin hinting that he was up to no good. She’d been well and truly set up. Narrowing her eyes, she muttered through pinched lips, “You are so going to pay for this, Boone.”
    â€œSmile, sugar. You’ll thank me in the morning.”
    Breathing deeply, Georgie lifted her chin, but the army officer offered his arm before she could reply. A female air force officer appeared beside her and twitched the back of her dress into place. Georgie managed to murmur a “thank you” under her breath. Straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin—and wouldn’t her mother be so proud of her now?—Georgie accepted her escort’s arm and stepped toward the doors. She totally ignored Boone ducking back into the limo and the vehicle pulling away—and did it without hyperventilating.
    The East Entrance foyer was full of people, but she saw Clay the moment she stepped inside. His head was bent in conversation with a stylish woman who looked vaguely familiar. One of Georgie’s talents was