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you to call me by my first name but I’m not sure you deserve the privilege.”
    The haughty tone of a man accustomed to either getting his own way or bullying people into it. He stared at her for a moment, his jaw locked as if he assumed she’d not so gracefully excuse herself or clumsily back away. Both of which were not outside the realm of possibility.
    This was not starting well. Caroline rubbed the back of her neck apprehensively.
    “I wanted to apologize for what I said about you during the campaign,” she said.
    “Oh, you said many things, but the highlight was that little remark about how I was…what was it…‘a millionaire playboy trying to buy his way into Congress.’”
    Caroline flinched at the precision of his tone. McIntyre had evidently watched her speech more than a few times. He’d undoubtedly had numerous opportunities since his opponent and several liberal PACs had used it in almost every attack ad they’d produced.
    “Yeah, um, that.” She suddenly lost all ability to articulate, although she was glad he hadn’t brought up anything else she said during the speech. His eyes were still boring into her and she shifted her gaze away from his, ever so slightly. It was a trick she’d use from time to time to avoid awkward exchanges, but it was much more effective in a crowd than in a face to face confrontation.
    “I shouldn’t have called you that,” she said. “It was an awful, terrible, slanderous thing to say and I deeply regret it. I thought about phoning you the next day to apologize but I figured you wouldn’t take my call.”
    “You’re right. I wouldn’t have,” he said.
    Caroline brought her eyes to his again, surprised he would be so undiplomatic. He continued to glare at her, and bit off his next words.
    “I wouldn’t have taken your call then and I won’t accept your apology now. Washington’s a big town, Ms. Gerard. I think we can do our best to stay away from each other.”
    “But-”
    “You can do your best to try and charm me as you have everyone else, but I assure you that I will not be fooled. So stop wasting your time.”
    She tried not to scowl at him. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
    He returned her stare. “Enjoy the rest of the party,” he said coldly, right before he spun around and walked away.
    Caroline sank into the couch in the corner of the room. That hadn’t gone well at all. Her plan had backfired in the worst way possible.
    “Didn’t want to listen to you, huh?” She heard Bob’s voice at her side.
    She looked up. That was the understatement of the century. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to her that way. “No. No he didn’t.”
    Bob sat down and patted her shoulder. “He doesn’t know what you did after that speech, does he?”
    “I wasn’t going to mention that part. And neither are you.”
    He stood up. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to talk to him.”
    “No, Mr. Speaker.” She hoped her deference to his formal title would convince him to let it go. “Please don’t. I made this mess myself. He’s not the only person I’ve had to apologize to.”
    “You’ve had a rough year, Caroline. You made a couple of mistakes. It’s okay.”
    Another understatement. Bob had an exceedingly benevolent interpretation of reality when people he cared about were involved.
    “I know.” She looked down at the floor.
    Bob reached down to pat her shoulder again. “You’re going to be fine. You know that, right?”
    “It sure doesn’t feel that way sometimes.” Caroline looked at her watch. “I’ve got to round up the girls and get them to bed.” She squeezed the hand on her shoulder. “Thanks, Bob.”
    “Anytime, sunshine. And if you call me Mr. Speaker again, it ought to damn well be at a press conference or on the House floor. You know better.”
    She returned his smile. “Yes, sir.”
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