Rumor Has It (14 page)

“Liza, I'm not a teenager hiding from his parents. If I want to see you, I will. And I do want to see you—every inch.”

She trembled with desire as he brought his lips to her ear. “And,” he said, “you're going to come over in something as alluring as that jumpsuit you wore last night. I like peeling your clothes off.”

The heat from his breath almost made her want to peel her clothes off right then, to hell with the media, the rumors, and everything else. She wanted Jackson with every fiber of her being. “I could take a cab over. Because I don't want to do anything that would cost you an election that you deserve to win.”

Before Jackson could respond, Teresa returned with the coffee. “Is all the sexual tension gone now? I just saw Channel Nine's truck pull up. Remember, we're telling them that you two aren't involved—politically. Anything else would just be a lie.”

Jackson winked at Liza, then straightened his tie. “We're good.”

“I'm going to check my makeup,” Liza said. “Where's the bathroom?”

Teresa headed for the door. “I'll show you.” As she and Liza walked out of the conference room, he wondered how he was going to keep his feelings for Liza under wraps.

 

 

When Liza walked into the restroom to touch up her lipstick, she hadn't expected Teresa to follow her. “Miss Palmer,” Teresa said, “I want to believe that you don't mean any harm to Jackson.”

“I don't.”

Teresa threw up her hand. “Whatever this is that's going on between the two of you, if the media or your former friend find out about it, it's not going to end well for Jackson. He has some good ideas and he's in this for all the right reasons.”

“I know,” she replied. “I really want the best for him.”

Teresa folded her arms across her chest. “Then stay away from him, at least until the election is over. I mean, if you really care.”

“I just said the same thing to him,” Liza said. “But, Teresa, he made me see that whatever we do has nothing to do with the election and as—”

Teresa rolled her eyes. “You do this for a living and you know that this is not going to be a secret in Charlotte. It's a slow news cycle and then there is Nic. He's going to be looking for anything to bring Jackson down.”

“I have what you need to bury Robert.” Liza sighed and dropped her head. “Teresa, you're right.”

“And that picture of Robert, as disgusting as it is, can't come from this campaign. Then we are no better than they are.”

“True. It's just a little sad that he gets off scot-free and Jackson has to live in a bubble.”

“That's the life of a politician. But everything done in the dark comes to light. Montgomery isn't going to win, because he's running for the wrong reasons.”

Liza leaned against the sink. “And you really believe that?”

“I've been running campaigns for twenty years now. Aside from our current governor, I've seen a lot of power-hungry candidates get torn down because of their greed. Your friend—sorry, ex-friend—won't be any different. The truth will come out and voters will make the right decision. Now, fix your lipstick and hold on to your feelings until the election is over.”

Teresa walked out of the bathroom and Liza wondered if she should take her sage advice.

Chapter 17

When Liza walked into the conference room, she saw all of the local stations had made it to the press conference and there was even a camera from a TV station from Raleigh.
People love a scandal,
she thought as she stood beside Jackson, forcing herself not to look at him. But being this close to him made her insides quiver. She thought about how she'd spent the night in his arms. Somehow, they would have to make it through this press conference and go their separate ways. She stole a glance at him as he chatted with a perky blond reporter. Liza wanted to roll her eyes. But why? Was she jealous? How was she laying claim to a man who was about to be off limits to her?

“We're ready to begin,” Teresa said. “Mr. Franklin has a debate to prepare for and I'm sure Miss Palmer has her business to run.”

And Blondie needs to get behind the camera and out of Jackson's face,
Liza thought as she plastered a plastic smile on her face.

The cameramen hoisted their cameras on their shoulders and the reporters piled their microphones in the middle of the table. All eyes focused on Liza and Jackson. She'd never been nervous in front of the media, but today her heart was beating like an African drum.

“Good afternoon and thank you for coming so that I can address a nonissue,” Jackson said, flashing his trademark smile. “I want to thank Robert Montgomery for pledging to run a clean campaign and thank him for doing so, until today. It was sad to see my opponent on television this morning and listen to the half-truths and innuendos. Were Liza Palmer and I in the same restaurant for breakfast? Yes.” Jackson paused. “But, how many other people were in that restaurant this morning? To imply that there is a vast conspiracy against him is ludicrous. Was everyone in the restaurant plotting against him? I know that we have a debate coming up and people may not be paying attention to the election right now, but let's focus on the issues. Do we really want to send a man to the General Assembly who jumps to conclusions without all of the facts? How is that any different from the people we have in office now? I look forward to debating Mr. Montgomery on the issues and not whom I have breakfast with. It is clear that Miss Palmer and I had breakfast together. Who can resist The Original Pancake House?” Jackson laughed and so did the reporters.

“So,” the blond reporter began. “What did you and Miss Palmer discuss at breakfast?”

“Crepes and pancakes,” Liza said with her camera-ready smile plastered on her face. “It's not a secret that I worked on Mr. Montgomery's campaign. I think he has been preparing for political office since we were undergraduate students at the University of North Carolina. We had a disagreement on some issues and thought it best to part ways. I'm not involved in any campaigns, because I have a business of my own to run. I was never paid by Mr. Montgomery's campaign and who am I to turn down crepes?”

“Are there any questions?” Teresa asked. “Mr. Franklin and I have some campaign work to do and Miss Palmer has her business to run. And, let me add, she is not affiliated with the Franklin for Senate campaign.”

The group of reporters was disarmed by the statements that Liza had prepared, as she knew they would be. That's why she kept it fun, light, and told the truth. She hoped the story would play out that sometimes breakfast is just breakfast.

Match point, jackass,
she thought as she watched the cameras get packed away. Liza thought it was best for her to leave with the media. She was surprised that Jackson followed all of them outside. He shook hands with reporters, and when the trucks began pulling out of the parking lot, Jackson turned to Liza.

“That went well,” he said. “Are we still on for dinner and dessert?”

“Jackson,” she said, turning her eyes away from him, “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“What did I tell you?”

“Do you want to be the first senator for district forty-five?”

“You know I do. But how does having dinner with you tonight change any of that?”

“The game was changed when we had that press conference and said we don't have anything to do with each other. If you think that doesn't change anything that happens between us, then you're wrong.”

“We just told the press that you don't have anything to do with my political campaign. That's the truth.”

Liza closed her eyes and tried to pretend that she didn't hear Teresa's voice in her head.

“I want you to win this election because you are the best man for the job.”

“Okay,” he said. “Glad to have your vote. Now, can I have more?”

“And what more do you want?” she asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“You know exactly what I want more of, and tonight, I'm going to get my just
desserts
.”

Heat flushed her face. “This is dangerous.”

“It is not. Are you married? Are you involved in illegal activities?”

She rolled her eyes. “If only it were that simple.”

“Later,” he said, fighting back the urge to blow her a kiss. Liza walked away and Jackson watched until she climbed into her car. His mind wandered to her legs wrapped around his waist and . . .

“Franklin? You want to come in and work on your campaign?” Teresa called from behind him.

Turning around, he saw that his campaign manager wasn't very happy. “Let's go to work,” he said.

Once they were inside the building, she turned to him and shook her head furiously. “You have to leave thoughts of Liza Palmer in the wind.”

“Teresa.”

“I'll admit that I was wrong about her—she's not trying to take you down—but that's when things get complicated. The media is going to be looking for any hint of something shady. That includes another breakfast meeting or watching her leave your house looking like a carbon copy of yesterday.”

Jackson folded his arms across his chest. “I find it hard to believe that my personal life makes a big difference in where I stand on the issues.”

“And Bill Clinton never had sex with that woman. John Edwards was just hanging out with that videographer and the baby wasn't his. Anthony Wiener . . .”

“I get it. But those men had something that I don't: a wife.”

She nodded. “True indeed. But I don't trust that Nic and Montgomery won't use this woman to sully your reputation indirectly. Imagine someone having naughty pictures of you and threatening to use them. How would you handle it? Wait, don't answer that. I know what you would do. You'd explain it to people and hope they understood. You're an honorable man. I don't hold your opponent in such regard. I think any man who would cheat on a woman like Chante Britt—and get caught by a social media maven—is a damned idiot. But he'd throw you and everyone else under the bus to save himself. If those pictures come out, we can't have anything to do with them, and being around Liza is going to cloud how innocent we are when it comes out.”

“When?”

“Stuff like that doesn't stay hidden for long. We're talking sex and politics. One thing Robert did today was paint a target on his back while he was trying to paint one on your head.” Teresa smiled. “I tried to tell Nic a long time ago that when you start digging graves for people, be sure you don't fall in first. He has this idea that he's smarter than everyone else in the room. I've never voted for a candidate who hired that sleazebag to run their show.”

“You and this Nic guy have history, huh?” Jackson picked up a folder from the center of the table and looked at the latest poll numbers that Teresa had printed off.

“It doesn't matter,” she said. “All that matters is getting you elected. The margin between you and Montgomery is narrowing and I wonder how the events earlier today will change these numbers.”

Jackson didn't say anything as Teresa began going over the upcoming campaign events and debate preparations. Maybe he was fooling himself thinking that he could make a difference. The main thing he'd wanted he'd gotten: funding for the center. Was he ready to give up his personal life in order to be a public servant?

“I meant to give this to you at our meeting this morning, but we had to put out that fire,” she said, then handed him a letter. Jackson smiled when he saw the return address was from Fort Bragg.

 

He blinked back the tears in his eyes. Cooper had been a hotheaded private and now he was a sergeant. Jackson felt like a proud father hearing from one of the young men he'd trained all those years ago.

Teresa handed Jackson Riley's three thousand–dollar donation. It was that moment right then that Jackson knew he couldn't quit or do anything to risk his chances.

 

 

Liza walked into her office, but she didn't turn the television on. She didn't really want to see the news coverage because seeing Jackson on TV would do nothing but set her body on fire. Still, the professional inside her knew she needed to see how the story was playing out. Rubbing her eyes, Liza told herself this wasn't a story but her life. A life Robert was trying to make a part of political theater because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

Now, she was mad. Picking up her office phone, she called Chante. If her friend wanted to be stupid, Liza needed to know if the heffa had seen her text message.

“Hello?” Chante answered.

“Chante, it's Liza.”

Her friend's sigh echoed in her ear. “What could you possibly want? Great performance you put on today. Caught you and your coconspirator on the news.”

“You really think Robert is telling the truth?” Liza scoffed.

“I know you, Liza. And as much as you tried to pretend there's nothing but crepes between the two of you, I know better.”

“If you know me so well, then you have to know I'm telling the truth about Robert.”

“What I know is, you're bitter and you think that every man in the world is like your father or Alvin Thorne. You introduced me to Robert, and for you to do what you did to him, it makes no sense. I thought you wanted me to be happy and get a life outside the courtroom.”

“Chante, if you're going to believe the lies Robert told you because you want to be married so badly, then go ahead. But those pictures I sent you don't lie. That's the man you've pledged your life to and he doesn't give a hot damn about you.”

Chante sighed again. Liza could feel her friend faltering. “Maybe you shouldn't have done such a great job of selling Robert to me, because I love him, Liza.”

“Then I guess you've decided that love makes you stupid. Chante, if Robert had been the man I thought he was, the man who pretended to care about you and the people of this district, then I wouldn't have those pictures.”

“Like you couldn't have Photoshopped them,” she said in a small voice.

“No matter what Robert tells you, Chante, I'm not trying to hurt either of you. But I don't want to see you make a mistake and wake up in twenty years realizing that you married a fraud. Or finding out that you have some incurable disease because of his wayward dick. But you're a grown woman.”

“Just be honest. You don't want to see Robert happy.”

“Chante, I don't want to see you hurt,” she replied. “Yet, every time I try to tell you about your
man
, you want to throw my past in my face.”

“Liza, you introduced us. You said Robert was the best thing since sliced bread. Now he's the devil and a liar?”

“This is your bed and you're going to have to sleep in it. I tried,” Liza said exasperatedly.

“Liza, what really happened between you and Robert? Last week the two most important people in my life were the best of friends. I had been looking forward to planning my wedding with you. Making that stuff we talked about while we were in college come true. You're my best friend and I just want you to stop this. . . .”

“Have a nice life and I pray that Robert shows you his true colors before you walk down the aisle.”

“So, that's it?” Chante asked.

“You've already decided that I'm the bad guy here, so I'm going to move aside and let the chips fall where they may. If you need me, you know how to reach me.” Liza hung up the phone and fought back an ugly cry.

She and Chante had become instant friends when they were pledging their sorority. Chante had been the legacy who'd wanted to prove herself to her new sisters. Around the third week of pledging, Liza had been ready to quit, wondering what was the purpose of being a member of the oldest black sorority in existence. Chante had been the one to encourage Liza to stick it out and showed her the true meaning of sisterhood. Liza mourned for the loss of that friendship, that sisterhood.