49
“Clarissa here.” She sprawled in the bed. Not having Clark home was such a luxury. No s*x was a minor convenience—he was still an every-night sort of man. But no one’s ego to keep an eye on was a major one. And an old t-shirt instead of sexy nightwear was an even bigger one.
She hadn’t even worked late. Instead she’d come home to the Vice President’s luxurious Queen Anne Victorian at One Observatory Circle. After an hour on the treadmill, she’d enjoyed a very pleasant bit of self-soothing in a bubble bath. While Clark was finally good enough in bed to no longer be disappointing, she enjoyed the perfection of the moment.
The biggest bonus, though, she had the king-size bed all to herself.
Straight up midnight. This call had better be bloody important.
“I’m alive.” Clark. If this was
