Simpler.

Like . . . taking a hike with me, I realize. People are going to see.

I’m anxious now.

“Turn the car around.”

He swings his head, shocked. “Excuse me?”

“Turn the car around now, Matt.”

He chuckles and drags a hand over his face, as if I exasperate him.

“Really. This . . . can look a way that it’s not. Tell him to turn around.” I drag my eyes to Wilson, then look back at Matt.

“I can’t.” He shakes his head in bemusement.

“Why can’t you?” I’m getting testy, and so is he.

“It’s the only slot on my schedule open and my only chance to be alone with you for a while.” He looks up at Wilson through the rearview mirror when the car stops and tells him, “See you at Jefferson Memorial in a couple of hours.”

He opens the door for me, and I grab my notepad to keep it professional. His lips quirk when he sees that, but he says nothing as we start heading down the trail, which treks around a large body of blue water surrounded by a path that runs all around the basin’s circumference. From here you can see the Washington Monument, the tall columns and majestic white dome of the Jefferson Memorial, and right up ahead, the spot where the first cherry blossom trees were planted.

It’s spring, and the trees are fully bloomed, their long, slim limbs dotted with cherry blossoms.

It’s a chilly day, but the sun warms my face as we walk toward the nearest memorial, which is only a few years old.

“I’ve never taken this walk before,” I admit. I take in the huge marble carving of Martin Luther King Jr. “I’ve only been to this area once, really, when my father brought me to the paddle boats.”

“Robert in the paddle boats? That I’d like to have seen.” He seems amused at the thought as I absorb the thirty-foot-tall monument of a man whose favorite quote of mine is, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

I realize Matt is watching me, as if he knows the site by memory—but not the sight of me. My cheeks warm as I start walking down the trail by his side.

He glances at our feet, stops walking, and drops to his haunches to lace up my running shoes.

I’m breathless as he stands to his full intimidating height and jerks his head toward the white dome across the water. “See that?”

I look around, thinking he spotted some reporters. Call it paranoia.

“I don’t see.” I’m trying to figure out if anyone is recognizing him—a six-feet-plus, gorgeous-looking man, who’s not looking? I quickly open my notepad and pretend to scribble something.

He laughs and turns my head to shift me around to face the water. The touch sends a frisson down my spine and I can’t see straight. “Seriously? You think that little notebook makes a difference? People will see what they want to see. This is no different than our morning runs. Now look.”

“At what?”

He laughs softly. “Stop talking and look.”

Matt turns my face an inch higher over the water, and I see. How the monuments reflect in the water, the water doubling the effect of their beauty.

I stare at the white classical building across the water. “Oh.”

And he’s looking at me, at his finger on my chin.

“Take me,” I say, then clear my throat when I see the male laughter in his eyes as I point at the Jefferson Memorial. “I mean, take me there. I’ve never been inside.”

“That’s the plan.” He grins, obviously still just a guy with a guy’s mind underneath the famous name.

We start forward, my body acutely aware of his moving beside mine.

We pass a Japanese stone pagoda and other memorials, until we reach the Jefferson Memorial.

We take the steps, walk past the tall white columns, and walk into the cavernous building until we’re standing under a huge domed ceiling. Inscriptions cover the marble walls. Front and center, standing atop a large block of marble, is a massive nineteen-foot-tall monument to Jefferson, third president of the United States, one of our founding fathers.

We take a bench near one of the panels, one that quotes the Declaration of Independence.

I glance around the place. It’s one of those memorials that’s a little more difficult to access because there’s no parking space outside. It feels as if it stands on its own island . . . away from it all, but so close to the heart of the city at the same time.

“Do you always find far-off places to get away and think?” I ask Matt.

“I usually come alone.”

The dark flecks in his eyes look a little blacker as he takes me under the warm yellow lights above us. There’s a bright flame there, in his eyes.

“Except I find myself craving some alone time with you.” His lips tilt in mischief.

His smile soon fades and shadows enter his eyes.

“It would be easier had I not run. During my father’s terms at the White House, I used to dream about freedom. A thousand times, my father said I would be president. He told his friends, his friends’ friends, and he often told me. I’d laugh and shake it off.”

“He even told me,” I say good-naturedly, and the warmth of his smile sends shivers through me.

He makes no effort to hide the fact that he’s looking at me tenderly. “He did, didn’t he?”

His eyes.

They just eat me up.

“I lost my father the day he decided that being president would be his legacy.” His eyes are leveled on mine beneath his drawn eyebrows. “He tried juggling it all, but he couldn’t do it. We kept thinking when it was over, he’d be ours again. He kept promising when it was over, he’d have time for us again.”

I swallow a lump of emotion in my throat. I know what comes next.

“Never happened.” The cold glint in his eyes sends a chill through me.

“It’s been thousands of days since. Too many years spent living in the past. Too many years wondering why. Too many nights wanting things to be right in our country.”

We’re silent.

There’s a tension emanating from him, pulsing around me, tempting me to draw my arms around him and simply crush him against me if that were even possible.

Matt glances at the statue and drags a hand across his jaw.

“Charlotte, I have enormous respect for you and your family. In so many ways, I feel responsible for you.”