She nearly knocked over her wine goblet. How could a person she’d known for such a short time understand something she hadn’t completely articulated even to herself? “No. I’m not thinking about it at all. I’ve . . . well, I’ve thought about it, but . . . not really.”

“Tell me.”

His intensity made her wish she’d never started this.

“Chicken.”

She was so tired of always being cautious, and she wanted to talk, damn it! Maybe it was time to give these vague ideas a little fresh air. “Well . . . I’m not serious about this, but I’ve thought about it a little.”

“More than a little, I’ll bet.”

“Just these past few months.” She met those penetrating gray eyes. “I’ve been an inside observer for most of my life—living right at the heart of power, but not having any real power myself. I’ve had influence, sure, but no real authority to fix things. Still, there are some advantages to being an observer.”

“Such as?”

“I’ve watched the very best and worst we have. I’ve seen their successes and failures, and I’ve learned from them.”

“What have you learned?”

“That this country is in crisis. That we don’t have enough politicians who are either willing or able to make the hard calls.”

“But you are?”

She considered it, then nodded. “Yes. Yes, I think I am.”

He regarded her thoughtfully. “Where would you start?”

So she told him. Not all of her ideas—that would have taken hours—but some of them. The more she talked, the more excited she got, and the more she believed in what she was saying.

He began to look slightly dazed. “You’ve got the quirkiest politics of anyone I know. Left wing here, right wing there, then middle of the road. It’s a wonder you can walk straight.”

“I’ve never believed in labels. I only believe in looking at what’s best for the country. Partisan politics have stolen our legislators’ backbones.”

“In Washington, real backbone only comes from personal power.”

She smiled. “I know.”

He shook his head. “You’re too much of a featherweight. You lead with your heart. The big boys would chomp you up and spit you out.”

She laughed. “For all your talk, you’re incredibly naive. The big boys have watched me grow up. I’ve sat on their knees and played with their children. They’ve patted me on the head and danced at my wedding. I’m one of their own.”

“All that gets you is patronized.”

“You forget that I hold trump.”

“What do you mean?”

She picked up her wineglass, took a slow sip while she thought it over, then set it down. “I’m a national icon.”