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“President Kumar asked that you met him in his office.” He gestured toward a hallway.

Once we cleared the additional security, I said, “It had to be more than just that.”

“He broke procedure, and I informed him if he ever approached you without clearance that Mr. Kumar would hear about it.”

I frowned. “If he dared to touch me, I could break every bone in his pudgy hand before he knew what hit him. Hell, you’re the one who taught me the move.”

“Yes, but no one is supposed to know this. As Secretary Camden said after the meeting, you will need to curb your reflexes. As far as anyone knows, you’ve spent the last few years taking on human rights cases that require hours in the courtroom, not time training to disarm combatants.”

“I hope you’re going to be available at god-awful hours to help me get out the aggression that’s been building up without training.”

“Give me the time and place, and I’ll be there.”

“I will hold you to that, and it may be sooner rather than later.”

As I approached the closed doors of the office, two Secret Service agents nodded their greetings and opened the door.

“Go right in, Ms. Zain.”

I smiled and nearly ran straight into Senator Harrison from Georgia.

“Excuse me, Senator,” I said, trying to steady myself.

He all but glowered at me. “You, young lady, are a terrible influence on him. With Kumar’s approach to policy, I’d viewed him as a conservative in the guise of an independent. But now, with you in the picture, I’m not sure anymore.”

“I believe you give me more credit than I deserve. Ashur is his own man and will do as he sees fit.”

He snorted. “We’ll see.” Then he walked around me and into the hall.

The doors closed, making me jump.

Ashur held a tumbler in his hand and leaned against the wall near his desk, the Resolute Desk.

God. Could the man get any sexier?

He wore a dark gray suit custom made to fill out his very built six-three frame. His almost jet-black hair was cut short and combed neatly. Something I knew went against his natural style but was required as part of his job title. His light brown eyes stared at me in a way that made me think of things that were better left locked down.

This man was too good looking for his own good. No wonder the press loved to comment about him being the “hot president.”

A tingle shot into my core, and I felt the urge to shift my legs in hopes of curbing my need.

Why couldn’t I get my hormones under control when I was around him? I wasn’t the barely legal high school graduate anymore. Dammit, I was thirty-three fucking years old.

The slight curve to his lips told me he’d caught my reaction, but instead of saying anything, he offered me his tumbler. “Want a sip?”

I walked toward him, trying to ignore the cocky grin on his face, took the glass from his fingers, and brought it to my lips before taking a deep gulp of the scotch he preferred, a twenty-five-year-old Macallan.

The potent, over-the-top expensive liquid burned down my throat and gave me something to think about other than the desire I felt for the man next to me.

“What did Harrison say to you?” Ashur picked up a lock of my hair and twirled it around his callused finger.

“He thinks I’m a bad influence. And that my liberal views are rubbing off on you.”

“He’s just mad I sided with the Democrats on a pipeline he wants me to open up. He knew my stance on environmental issues even before the election. He’ll get over it.”

“Your nonchalance is going to get you in trouble. You don’t want the Republicans to close rank when you name your Supreme Court pick.”

“I’ll worry about that later. Like when Justice Bosworth announces her retirement.”