Crashing the Congressman’s Wedding (Crimson Romance) (5 page)

Justin groaned. “I’m going. I’m going.” He took a few steps back. “Get back in the water.”

She stopped knee-deep in the surf. “So now you want me to get swept away. You don’t make any sense.” Throwing her hands over her head, she turned and dove beneath a wave.

Alice was right. He didn’t make sense — nothing made sense. His life was supposed to be straight and narrow. By winning back the congressional seat his father’s death left empty, Justin was able to effect change where it mattered most, implementing steep tax cuts and generous incentives to corporations who set up in rural Pennsylvania. The congressional service was supposed to be temporary, but Justin surpassed everyone’s expectations, and newer, loftier plans formed. The presidency? He laughed the first time Robert Parrish suggested such a thing. But these things took on a mind of their own.

Maybe Justin needed this break from the constant pressure and planning. Maybe the stress of the wedding and the wheeling and dealing at work had finally taken its toll. He was a young guy, but even young guys suffered high cholesterol and heart attacks. While his latest physical showed a healthy body, his mind went unchecked. Had the constant pressure caused this fissure in his normally practical thinking? If so, then a few days away from it all should smooth the crack.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t a vacation. The circumstances were far from ideal. If he stayed beyond the few hours of sleep he needed to drive home to Harmony Falls, he’d have to face his age-old feelings for Alice, while he worried about what awaited them back home. Where was the peace in that?

Sun scalded his face as though he were in the universe’s hot seat, but the blue sky kissing the horizon beckoned as pelicans floated above the crystal water on a steady stream of warm, salty air. Carolina Beach was a dream location — sun, sand, and solitude — the perfect place to clear his head and plot a plan that would allow him to face the mess back home, a mess that was messy enough already without including Alice.

She floated on her back, drenched in sunshine. Her eyes were closed. Her arms barely moved. Despite their sticky situation, she looked carefree. Justin craved that freedom, a freedom he would’ve had if his father lived longer and Justin could’ve grown at his own pace, made his own mistakes out of the public eye. There’d have been no overwhelming expectations and no one to answer to but himself. But that wasn’t his reality.

“Are you going? Go! Feed him, too. He’ll eat anything humanly edible.”

She’d been awake for only a few hours in the last fourteen and already he had a headache. If he wanted any semblance of peace, he was going to have to rein her in. “So I can’t tell you what to do, but you can tell me what to do?”

“Because you dragged me here. It’s only fair.”

“Like hell it is, Alice. You played a part in this, too.”

She righted, tilted her head and wrinkled her nose. “A minor part. You’re the star, buddy.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked beyond her to the water’s edge. So much for reining. On a sigh, he conceded. “Do we have to bicker like this?”

“Under the circumstances, yes. This whole thing sucks, and I don’t see how either one of us can say ‘screw it’ just to enjoy a couple days in the sun.”

Nah. Justin had never said “screw it” to anything. “Screw it” was irresponsible. His face contorted under the weight of his thoughts.

“Plain Old Justin would’ve said ‘screw it’.”

“Who?”

“The man you used to be before … ” She jumped a wave. “Never mind. Just go.”

The man he used to be? Had the last few years of obligation and ambition split him in two? He glanced at the dusty tips of his patent leather loafers sinking in the sand, and flinched when his palm itched to brush them clean. So what if they had? Polish and rhetoric were required traits for a politician. Plain Old Justin remained. He just stayed out of Congressman Mitchell’s way.

And damn if that didn’t bother him as he carted the luggage up to the condo, fed Mouse a bowl of canned chicken, and debated his next move. Congressman Mitchell wanted to haul his biggest liability off the beach and out of eyesight, but Plain Old Justin pushed in another direction. He was at the beach. He’d been driving all night. A quick swim would wash away some of the sleep that hounded him and might even prove to Alice that he hadn’t changed enough to deserve her disdain. Maybe then she’d calm down and stop yapping long enough for him to form an executable plan.

Moving swiftly, before the nagging voice in the back of his brain wrestled control, Justin tugged on trunks and led Mouse back to the beach, finding Alice where he’d left her, bobbing on the waves. He relaxed a tiny bit as the sun soothed his frazzled nerves. It was time to look on the bright side. At least he wasn’t married. Sure, walking away from Morgan was a potential disaster now, but had he married her and endured years of treacherous behavior, there was no telling what sort of nightmare he’d be living.

Far enough up the beach to afford a little admiration, Justin didn’t divert his eyes when Alice jumped a wave. If he was closer, admiring Alice would be problematic. Standing next to her he would see the water droplets sliding down the curve of her throat, diving into the valley between her breasts, and he might feel compelled to lift the bra strap that slipped down her soft shoulder and … A twinge tugged at the skin below his waist. He released a growly breath and adjusted his trunks. Maybe he wasn’t far enough away after all.

She saw him then, jumped another wave and smiled. Her breasts bounced with the rest of her body, and he stared too long into the sun, sort of wishing it would blind him. He hung his head and let his shoulders sag. Once again, he felt the weight of the precarious position he’d put himself in. It had always been a precarious position where Alice was concerned.

She was fifteen the first time he told himself it was wrong to look. Back then, he was twenty-one, and a young man leering over the overdeveloped curves of a young teen amounted to perversion in most opinions. Her brazen attempts to attract his attention made matters worse. He looked once or twice — more like whenever he thought he could get away with it. But when he hit the campaign trail, ambition put an end to the unseemly temptation. No matter how beautiful she was, she was still a Cramer. Looking at Alice, seeing too much, feeling too much, and imagining more were luxuries an upstanding politician couldn’t afford.

But Plain Old Justin had leeway.

Justin looked at Alice again and told himself the lacy undergarments were no different than a bikini. She was covered — barely — and he had to get a grip.

It’d be so much easier to do if she had something decent to wear.

Forcing himself to stare at her until the warning bells in his head quieted, Justin splashed through the surf and stood waist-deep at her side. “We need to get you some appropriate clothes.”

Her narrowed eyes stuck to his chest. “When you say that, I hear your mother’s voice in my head.
Appropriate
.” She squinted up at him and wagged her head in a humorless mock. “The heroic, do-gooder thing is old. You’re nothing but an uptight prude. There’s no difference between this and a bathing suit.”

Alice stepped back and drove a stiff arm into the water, splashing him in the face.

“Stop it.” Justin swiped at the barrage of droplets, stinging his eyes.

She did it again.

“I said, ‘stop’.” He clenched his teeth together and felt the muscles in his neck contract.

She did it again.

He didn’t recall directing his body to act, but it did, diving into the waves and winding his arms around her waist. He dragged her under, water searing through his nose and burning his throat before he raised them above the water as quickly as he’d pulled them under. They surfaced with her back pressed against his belly and her arms pinned to her side. He squeezed her there, feeling her chest rising and falling as he struggled for his own breaths.

“Let go!” She pushed her head against his breastbone and kicked her legs out, forcing them deeper.

Justin tried to gain leverage with his feet and fired the muscles in his thighs with her bottom pressed against them. But when the sand slipped, so did he.

Alice got away before the water drew him under. A cold current blasted him without her body as a shield. When he surfaced, she was several feet away in waist-deep water, shaking her head in his direction. “Have you lost your mind?”

He dragged a painful breath through his mouth and into his lungs, holding it there, hoping rationality would seep in. “You splashed me first.”

She dragged her palms from her forehead over her hair to the back of her neck, stretching her breasts toward him. “That wasn’t very congressman-like.”

When she said
congressman
, she tightened her voice until the tone was condescension personified. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Dragging his gaze from her breasts, Justin gulped more air. “My apologies. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act, considering our colorful history and the fact that … ”
I left one woman at the altar and am leering at another.

“I knew it!” She drove a hand into the water again, this time splashing away from him. “I knew this would get weird. You’d bring up stupid things I said and did when I was younger. Well you know what? You don’t need to worry about a replay of our
colorful
history. Not only am I mad at you for making matters worse by bringing me here, I stopped liking you years ago. There’s not much to like these days.”

The sun beat against his cheek, leaving a burn on his skin like he’d been slapped. “Is that so?”

“Yep. You’ve changed.”

“Here we go again.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course I’ve changed. So have you. Everybody changes.”

“Yeah, but you changed into an entirely different person, Congressman Mitchell.”

There went the condescension again. And there went her arms, crossing her chest, forcing mounds of flesh higher.

He was surrounded by water, but his mouth had never been so dry. He tried to focus on her words instead of her lingerie-clad body. “I take it you don’t like my title.”

“I don’t care what you call yourself. You could call yourself Emperor. It’s how you act that matters. If you call yourself Emperor but act like Plain Old Justin, then that’s cool — weird, but cool. Same with Congressman.”

She tossed her head around the title with enough attitude to freeze the Atlantic. He wished the water would freeze; specifically, freeze him from the waist down.

“Let me get this straight. You have a thing for Plain Old Justin, but not Congressman Mitchell?” Against his better judgment, he trudged toward her.

She backed up. “I don’t have a thing for any part of you.” She flinched, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with her squinting into the sun.

“You’re supposed to be a good actress, Alice.”

“And you’re supposed to be a married man.”

That hit below the belt, accomplishing exactly what he hoped the cold water would do. He needed the reminder, because while he wanted peace and time to think, he didn’t want enough distance that he forgot who he was and the mess he’d come from.

Maybe it was the sun. Maybe he swallowed too much salt water.

Alice waded out of the ocean where a beach towel defused some of the heat her body threw his way, giving him time to breathe deep and stop whatever was left of the stirring below his waist. He waded out of the water too, keeping himself busy, picking up the discarded dress, throwing the extra towel around his neck and whistling for Mouse.

Alice walked ahead, her bottom swaying against the towel. It was a side of her he knew well. She’d been turning her back on him for a long time, turning her back as he turned her away.

“Who knows you’re here, and do they know I’m with you?” The towel slipped off her shoulder, carrying a bra strap with it. She had her hands shoved underneath her armpits, forcing the flesh of her chest to bulge.

Justin drew a shaky breath through his lips and redirected his gaze to the dog racing ahead of them. “Will knows I’m here, but he’ll keep quiet. He said no one’s seen you since the church. I told him you were probably with Kory.”

Alice gasped. “You lied?
You
lied. I thought you were like George Washington. Huh. You’re just like all the other politicians, aren’t you?” She shook her head. “And now you’re dragging me into something else I don’t want to be a part of. I guess I have to call Kory and make her an accessory to this crime, too.”

He wished Alice would quit reminding him of her discontent. He got it. She was ticked. She didn’t like him — at least she didn’t like Congressman Mitchell — and she didn’t want to be here with him. But they didn’t have a choice. Even if he was rested enough to jump in the car and drive home, without a solid plan, he’d be doomed.

“I don’t want to bring Kory into this anymore than you do, but what’s the alternative? I need a couple days, Alice, and then I’ll have a plan in place.” He ignored the pinch of doubt squeezing his brain. “There’s no phone in the condo, so use my cell to call her while I shower.”

She seemed to consider his words, watching her feet shuffle through the sand. And then she looked at him with one side of her mouth curved in a way he hadn’t seen in years. She used to preface every wayward hijinks with a half-smile that warned of her mischievous intent. She’d been a study in mood swings all her life. Apparently that part of Alice Cramer hadn’t changed.

“A long time ago, I would’ve snuck into that shower with you.” She sighed and gave her head an admonishing shake. “It’s a good thing I don’t like you anymore.”

With that, she took off running ahead of him, her feet kicking up sand, the towel slipping below the band of her black bra.

Damn it if he didn’t wish he could turn back time.

Kory, with her warped sense of humor, loved the idea of Alice shacking up with the good congressman while the town reeled from his no-go wedding. Obviously Kory didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation, but Alice did. One look at her sopping wet reflection in the mirrored closet doors, and she saw the gravity written all over her face. She was going to rot in hell for standing up in that church. And hell was spelled H-A-R-M-O-N-Y-F-A-L-L-S.