Campaign For Seduction (21 page)

But he would get her back. Oh, yes, he would get her back.

“She’s home in St. Louis for a few days, spending time with her family.”

Liza’s flat eyes showed no expression. “What about the other part of my question, Senator? Is she still on your staff?”

“I’ve accepted her resignation,” he said.

“Why?” Liza demanded. “Why should your chief strategist quit in the middle of a difficult primary battle if there’s no affair?”

“We’ll be issuing joint statements later.”

A collective groan rose up from the journalists, and he counted himself lucky that there were no rotten tomatoes nearby or he’d have been nailed. Taking his time, he walked up the aisle and paused at the doorway to the restricted section, just like he always did.

“We’ll have more information for you tonight.”

As he left, keeping his shoulders squared and his chin up, he could have sworn he heard a couple of hisses along with the mutinous muttering, but Liza was his only thought.

Glancing over his shoulder, he caught her gaze one last time and it impaled him, accusing now, unforgiving.

No more and no less than he deserved.

Chapter 19

L iza’s summons to the front came the second they hit their cruising altitude. She went and took the pictures with her.

Déjà vu overwhelmed her the second she walked into the senator’s private cabin, and she remembered that first night she spoke with him alone. It seemed like a thousand years ago and yet a few things remained achingly familiar. The space was still cozy, the music sexy and evocative. Al Green sang his heart out on “Let’s Stay Together,” and Liza wished she had a baseball bat so she could smash the nearest speaker.

He stood in the middle of the cabin, waiting for her and doing a remarkable imitation of a man who cared—all tight jaw, thin lips and worried eyes. As though he was hurting as much as she was.

Man, he was good, she thought, watching him, her heart breaking again and again in an endless loop worthy of the movie Groundhog Day.

He was really, really good.

He opened his mouth once, shut it and opened it again. Floundered.

She waited, giving him time to get his lies in order.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

This didn’t deserve a response.

“I know how it looks, Liza, but I’m not Adena’s lover.”

“Oh?”

Having nothing better to do to pass the time during this short flight from Columbus to Richmond, she decided to play along for a minute and see what happened. Why not? Maybe compare outrageous falsehoods and see who was better at them, him or her ex-husband. Which of the men she’d loved was the best liar? They could run a contest.

“When did you stop being Adena’s lover, pray tell?”

He paled but didn’t deny the relationship entirely. “When we’d been married for about a year, Camille and I separated for about six months because we were both young and ambitious and were spending way more time on our careers than we were on our marriage. We talked about a divorce and I did something really stupid—I had an affair with Adena. She’d been working on my campaign way back when I had my unsuccessful run for office. And then Camille got sick.”

Liza said nothing but remembered what he’d told her:

I wasn’t a perfect husband.

“Camille’s getting sick put things in perspective real fast.” He did a great job with the whole misery and shame thing, hanging his head and looking sorry for the day he’d been born. “I realized how much I loved her and how much I had to lose. How immature and selfish I’d been. I told her about the affair and asked for another chance. She forgave me. We were together until she died. Closer than ever, if you can believe it.”

Disillusioned and cynical as she was—she’d known he wasn’t a saint, but hearing the proof was still a shock—Liza still found herself wavering because she wanted so much to believe in him and their chances for a successful relationship.

She tried to think. This story, if it was true, wasn’t so bad, was it? Many marriages went through rough patches, didn’t they?

Yes. Yes, they did.

But then her suspicious mind intruded, reminding her that
what happened years ago had nothing to do with him being wrapped around Adena last night.

“How touching,” she said sickened by her ongoing gullibility and foolishness, which seemed to have no beginning or end. “Irrelevant, but touching.”

He stepped closer and held his hands out, palms up. “After Camille was gone, Adena and I worked together again. We’ve always been a good team professionally. But that’s all. She was married by then, and I was never in love with her anyway. You’re the only woman I’ve loved since Camille, Liza. You.”

Staring into his earnest face, seeing the intensity, Liza softened for three hopeful seconds and then caught herself. Wasn’t the hallmark of a good liar the fact that he preyed on your weaknesses? That he told you what you wanted to believe anyway?

Another rupture appeared in her ruined heart.

He had Kent beat by a mile in the liar department.

She would not believe this bullshit even though she wished she could. It was now inconceivable that all the whispers and glances she’d personally witnessed between the senator and Adena were platonic, or that Adena’s obvious and instantaneous dislike of Liza was because of protectiveness of the campaign and not personal jealousy.

This man would not make a bigger fool of her than he already had, and Liza hated him for trying.

“This is all very interesting.” An angry buzz started in her head, the way it would sound if a thousand agitated bees were trapped inside her skull, but she was determined to remain calm and keep her voice steady. “But what does it have to do with all these pictures—” she flapped the folder at him “—of you and Adena draped all over each other last night?”

With obvious frustration, he rubbed both hands over his head and then dropped them to his sides. His face looked splotchy now, his eyes wilder, almost feral, but when he spoke, it was in calm, rational tones.

“After you and I talked, she came to me—remember when she asked to talk to me?—made a big confession and offered her resignation. She’s screwed up in a major way, done something that’s going to hurt the campaign when it goes public—”

Liza gaped at him. “She’s screwed up?”

“—and she wanted to tell me first. I was comforting her because she was distraught. That’s all.”

Comforting? The buzzing in Liza’s ears got louder. Comforting?

“I have to get this mess straightened out, Liza, but I promise you that—”

“You…promise?” She felt her face twisting as she spoke, her mouth contorting into a snarl. “Promises from you are like gold in the bank, aren’t they, Senator?”

“Liza—”

He reached for her arm but she jerked away. Raising his hands, he backed up a step or two to give her space but kept talking.

“You can’t believe in your heart that I’d make love to her and you. You’re the only woman I want, Liza. I love you. You know that—”

The buzzing in her ears erupted in a violent crescendo that had her crying out with rage. Destroyed in a way she’d never been before, even after she’d discovered Kent’s third affair, she wondered if the agony would strike her dead on the spot and almost wished it would.

Because she had done this to herself. She had believed in love when she knew damn good and well that love didn’t exist, at least not on the man’s part. She had thought she was in line for a happy ending. She had chosen the wrong man—again—and given up everything she’d worked for to be with him.

Maybe this pain was no less than she deserved for being this stupid.

Undone, she lashed out, hurling the folder at him. He seemed to have been expecting something like this—had braced for it—because he didn’t flinch or duck when the folder hit him in the center of his chest and the photos fluttered to the ground at his feet.

“I gave up the anchor chair for you,” she screeched. “I quit my job for you. I thought you loved me—”

Without warning he lunged, grabbed her around the waist, trapping her arms at her sides, and swept her off her feet. Startled, she struggled against him, but there was no point.

It cost him zero effort to swing her around and sink into the nearest captain’s chair with her on his lap. Holding tight so she
couldn’t smack him, he hooked his chin over her shoulder and spoke directly into her ear.

“I’m sorry.” There was terrible control in his tone, an excruciating politeness that shredded her overwrought nerves. “I don’t seem to be communicating very well right now. It must be because the woman I love thinks I’m cheating on her and my campaign is in the toilet. Let me try again.”

She could never physically be afraid of him, but there was something so edgy, so determined and ruthless in his calm voice that she knew that, strong as she was, she was no match for him and never would be. The senator, when he got like this, could probably move mountains with his bare hands, hypnotize world leaders with the force of his will.

“Let me go.”

“No. You’re going to listen to me.”

Liza roared with outrage. All the commotion finally attracted some attention and one of the new secret service agents opened the cabin door, poked his head in and surveyed the scene with an impassive face.

“Everything okay in—”

“Get the hell out,” the senator roared.

The agent backed out and shut the door, and the senator continued as though there’d been no interruption.

“I haven’t had sex with Adena in years, okay? That’s number one.”

The heat of his breath against her face made Liza’s belly flutter, so she renewed her struggle, to no avail. His arms tightened, gentle iron bars from which she had no chance of escaping.

“Number two: I do love you. I haven’t cheated on you and I won’t cheat on you. I am not your ex-husband, and I’m not the same man who cheated on Camille all those years ago. I’ve grown and I’ve learned from my mistakes. You should understand that, right? I’m assuming you’re not the same woman who married your ex all those years ago?…”

Fury all but blinded Liza—at him for doing this to her and at herself for being this weak and looking for loopholes in her vow not to believe him, for searching for ways his tortured explanations might possibly be true.

Squirming again, she inadvertently wedged her butt against his groin. She froze and choked off an involuntary whimper.

“Are you trying to make me lose control here, Liza?” he rasped in her ear, thrusting his hips for maximum effect. “Because that’s what you’re doing. You may want to keep still.”

Liza kept still.

“Number three,” he continued. “As soon as I have this all straightened out, which will be later on tonight, by the way, I’m going to come to you and we’re going to negotiate a deal. Do you want to know what it is?”

“No,” she said, terror in her heart.

“Too bad,” he said easily. “We’re getting married, you and I—as soon as we can manage it. I’m not letting your posttraumatic-divorce-stress nonsense, or whatever you want to call it, ruin our chances. Got that? The only question is whether I’m going to end this campaign. Whether I end it or not, I’m not letting my good name go down in flames like this. I need to straighten this mess out so I can at least stay in the Senate. Understand?”

She nodded, not daring to speak lest the sound of her voice prompt him to prolong this interlude on his lap.

“Good girl. I’m letting you go now. Don’t hit me.”

The second those arms loosened, she surged to her feet, wheeled around and glared at him. He rose, towering over her, and she wanted to rage at him for manhandling her and, worse, making her hope again when there should be no hope between them.

“You’re insane,” she spat.

His eyes glittered, although whether it was from irritation or amusement, she couldn’t tell. “Maybe, but you see where I’m going with this, don’t you, Liza? Let me spell it out for you: you’re going to be my wife. The election isn’t going to ruin that, your job isn’t going to ruin that—not even you are going to ruin that. Now I’ve got some work to do to get my ass out of the fire. That’s it for now. I’ll see you later.”

Liza’s jaw dropped to the floor. “You’re dismissing me?”

He looked around, his expression hard and wicked. “Not yet.”

Lashing out, he grabbed her arms, hauled her up against him and molded her body to his. Liza jerked convulsively when their hips met, but his big hand clamped down on her butt, grinding
her against him, weakening her knees and giving her no room for escape. With his free hand he grabbed a hank of her hair, pulled her head back and kissed her, hard and deep.

Furious and helpless to do otherwise, Liza kissed him back. His clawed fingers dug into her butt, hurting her with a glorious pain, and she stroked deeper into his mouth, nipping his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as she withdrew. Their animalistic cries filled the air for a minute, and then they broke apart, panting.

Staring at her, he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Now you’re dismissed.”

With a disbelieving cry—had she just kissed this liar?—Liza raised her hand to slap him, but he grabbed her wrist and wrenched it down between them.

“Don’t do that.”

Liza tore free and glared at him. She didn’t know what to think, whether to believe or not. All she knew was that throughout her life the only person she’d truly been able to count on was Liza.

Patience was not one of her virtues; she couldn’t wait.

“I’m going to do my own investigation, Senator. I’ll get to the bottom of this with or without your help. I’m not going to sit around and wait for you to decide to come tell me the whole story.”

He grimaced. “I know you will. That’s not the issue. The issue is: how many innocent people are going to be hurt if you don’t give me time to get this straightened out?”

On that incomprehensible note, he opened the door for her and she left. Huffing, she was just settling in her seat when her air phone rang.

It was the hospital.

The motorcade drove right up to the gated executive mansion in Richmond, as inconspicuous in the early afternoon hours as a runaway float from the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. John didn’t care. His only feeling, other than a blinding black rage, was gratitude that Jillian was, according to the housekeeper who’d answered the phone, not home to witness the ugly scene that was about to unfold.