“We have that?”
“Almost all the big chains deliver.” He smiled at her.
She looked back at the bags, at the loaf of Italian bread that stuck out from one, and focused on the aroma of the fresh bread instead of the thought that there were just the two of them in the house. The two new agents who had replaced Harrison and Green were outside, keeping the media at bay.
She wanted to go back upstairs and hated the cowardly impulse. “Can I help?”
“Sure,” he said, watching her as if he could read every thought that flew through her head.
She hoped not. “How about this?” She pulled a pot, suitable for soup, from a base cabinet. “Want me to fill it up with water?”
He shook his head as he grabbed an onion from one of the bags and started to peel it. “A little olive oil.”
She brought out the jug from under the sink, poured and set the pot on the stove. He came over to dump the onions in, then turned the burner on low.
“So where did you learn to cook?” she asked, just to keep on talking, and watched him tackle a couple of cloves of garlic next.
Ian and she had never cooked like this together. Neither of them knew how. For the most part, the stove was used for cooking pasta on the odd occasion when they didn’t go out, order in, or pop in a microwave dinner.
“I learned how to toss together a couple of meals in college to pick up girls.” He admitted good-naturedly, looking just the tiniest bit embarrassed. “I’m afraid I was pretty shallow in my younger years. Had a one-track mind.”
And now? She didn’t ask, not sure if she wanted to know.
“This job must be hard on the social life,” she remarked instead. Funny, that had never occurred to her with either Green or Harrison. Neither had ever mentioned their private life.
“No girlfriend to complain about it.” His gaze was on her as he dumped the crushed garlic into the pot. “Keep stirring,” he said.
She focused on that, until the monotonous task finally relaxed her. “What else do we need?”
She would not ask any more questions about his personal life or allow herself to make another stupid remark. She had been guarded by dozens of men over the years, but she had never let her guard down like this with any of them, had never let any this close. Nor would they have wanted to be. They were trained to be invisible and professional. Why was everything so different with Danny?
Because he was one of Cal’s men. The trust she had transferred to him was instant and complete. Maybe that had been a mistake. She needed to pull back, if it wasn’t too late already. Things certainly couldn’t go further than this. She wouldn’t allow it.
“Celery, carrots, herbs.” He pulled the items from the bag as he named them. “Smell this.”
She bent to the twig of rosemary he held up to her nose. “Nice.” The sweet-spicy scent seemed to fill her head. She recognized the herb from having seen it used at restaurants as garnish, but other than that, she had little idea about what to do with it. She normally avoided the more “gourmet” sections of the grocery store.
He rinsed and chopped the celery and carrots, did the same with the herbs then dumped everything in.
“How do we know when it’s done?”
“The onions will turn soft and see-through.”
He pulled an eggplant and a zucchini from the paper bag. “While you were upstairs, I had a chance to look through some House transcripts for the last couple of months or so. You’ve taken some hits from the other party.”
She shrugged. “That’s the way the game is played.”
“What bothers me more is that you took some hits from a couple of men on your own team. What’s the story with Congressman Cole and Congressman Brown?”
“Neither of them would come to my house in the middle of the night to shoot me, if that’s what you’re asking. For one, Brown has been in New York since Tuesday for his mother’s funeral.”
“Cole has a pretty good alibi, too.”
She stared at him. “You questioned Roger?”
“Not yet.” His eyebrows went up. “You didn’t hear it on the news? Congressman Cole had a mild heart attack last night. He’s been in the hospital.”
Oh, God. “It’s—” She shook her head. “That explains why he was acting so strangely at the awards gala.”
“How strange?” Danny turned the tap off.
“Came into the ladies’ room by accident. I was alone in there. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. He spooked me. I didn’t pay close enough attention. Now that I know … I think his heart was troubling him already. If only I—”
“You are not a doctor. You can’t diagnose a heart attack before it occurs.”
She couldn’t. Still, if she was so preoccupied by her own troubles that she didn’t pay enough attention to a friend—
“How come he votes against you on just about every issue?”
“We used to be on better terms. The whole Speaker things … .”
“You’re moving up and he’s not.”
“I really don’t want to believe that he could be like that.”
“But he sure acts it?”
“Lately.” She nodded. “Then last night—He seemed a little unwell, but nice again. You know what I mean? Said he heard about my accident. Told me to take good care of myself. He hadn’t talked to me like that for a while.”
“How did he hear about the accident?”
The question stopped her. News of the crash had finally gotten out after the attack at her home. The press of course connected the two and speculated wildly. But they had not heard at the time when Roger had talked to her.
“Did you tell anyone?”
“Cal and Marge my secretary. I had to reschedule some appointments. There were cops on the scene. An older couple stopped to help, but I don’t think they recognized me. The people at the emergency room and my insurance.”
“So he could have heard. I’ll still check it out as soon as I can get in to see him,” he said. “What about Brown?”
She shrugged. “He couldn’t stand me almost from the get go. Not sure why. I know his wife. She’s nice enough. Suze went to college with Ian. They went out for a while, I think. Suze invited us over once. I don’t think Jack liked that. Rumor is, he’s pretty jealous. And Suze is much younger than he is. I used to think he hated us because of Ian, but he hasn’t eased up in the last two years, so who knows? Funny thing is, Suze adores him.”
“Speaking of jealousy,” he said slowly, with apparent reluctance. “It might help if I knew if either you or your late husband had any extramarital relationships.”
“No,” she said without thinking, appalled at the suggestion. How could he ask something like that?
“Have you had any relationships in the last two years that ended badly?”
She took a long breath. “I haven’t—I’ve been alone since Ian.” Not that it was any of his business.
“I’m sorry. I had to ask.”
He was sorry. She could see from the way he was looking at her. But beyond the apology, his gaze held other things she wasn’t brave enough to acknowledge—genuine concern, care, maybe something more.
She’d had good-looking bodyguards in the past. Why was she having so much trouble with this one? Why did she feel on the edge and all awkward around him? If her body was going to take notice of a man after all this time, couldn’t it have been someone else? Someone who didn’t work for her and who wasn’t a much younger man.
Maybe she was going through the change early, she thought, and felt better having identified the problem. Obviously a horde of misguided hormones were trying to overtake her body. She wasn’t about to let them. No matter what it cost her, she was going to act with dignity and decorum.
“I’ll be in the living room. I’m going to check what they’re saying on TV.” The press release would be coming out around now—just the thing to distract her from Daniel DuCharme in her kitchen.
She made it as far as the couch bef
ore she saw the stranger in front of the sliding glass doors outside.
“Danny!”
What happened next was a blur of action, during which she ended up on the floor behind the couch, watching Danny leap across the room and shove the door aside. He took the man down roughly.
“Who the hell are you?” His gun was at the intruder’s back, his right knee holding the guy to the ground.
“press.” The man could barely get the single word out, his face smushed against the bricks.
“ID.” The gun didn’t budge. “Don’t move. I’ll get it.”
Danny reached around the man’s chest and must have found what he was looking for, because he yanked and came up with an ID tag.
Just a reporter. She willed her heart to slow as she pushed away from the floor and started to stand.
“You stay where you are,” Danny said without looking at her.
Agent Meyer burst through the front door at the same time. “Where the hell is he?” He had his gun drawn, came straight through to the living room. “Can’t believe the idiot wouldn’t listen.”
“Taken care of.” Danny hauled the reporter to his feet.
“Are you all right, Congresswoman?” Meyer was helping her up. “I’m sorry. They’re going crazy out there. Everybody wants the story behind the story. We checked the lot of them, they’re all clean, but they are a pain in the—” He took a breath. “I saw him come back here, but had to handle another one. And this one just wouldn’t stop. Didn’t want to shoot him in the back.”
“No. That’s okay. Everything’s fine.” The last thing she needed was a dead reporter on her lawn.
“Want me to take him out front?” Meyer asked Danny.
“I’ll do it in a few minutes. Thanks.” Danny was searching the rest of the man’s pockets. “Call in that police unit we have on standby. They can take him in, maybe hold him for the day just to teach him a lesson.”
“You can’t do that to me,” the reporter protested with outrage and tried to twist away from Danny without success. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted to talk to the congresswoman.”
But Meyer was already making the call.
She went back to the kitchen and sat at the table, next to the scattered ingredients that were still to go into the soup. What was in the pan smelled wonderful. She let the aroma of the spices soothe her, looked up at the sound of an approaching vehicle.
Flower delivery. She could see through the window as the van stopped behind the press line. For her? From who? Her birthday wasn’t until next week.
She stood to watch as a young boy got out and went to the back, came away with a large bouquet of pink roses—her favorites. He was immediately stopped by the other agent out there. He looked as though he was protesting, pointing to his watch. probably had a schedule to keep.
The agent patted him down and checked the flowers, but still wouldn’t let him through.
“I’ll get them for you, Congresswoman, once DuCharme comes back,” Meyer said from behind her. “If you’re okay here, I’ll go and do a walk-around.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
He went out through the back.
She watched through the window as a police car arrived, saw Danny go up to it with the reporter, talk to them.
The flower delivery boy was talking to the agent again, looking sullen and worried. She wondered if he could lose his job if he was late with his deliveries.
She picked up the walkie-talkie from the counter. Which line was Mr. Dalton’s? Channel two, she remembered and twisted the button. “It’s okay. You can let him through,” she said.
The agent looked toward the house. She waved the boy on from the window then opened the door for him.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He was younger than she’d thought, barely old enough to work.
“No problem. It’s not always as crazy around here as this.”
“Signature on line twelve. You someone famous or something?” He handed her a clipboard.
“Politics.”
The boy looked disappointed. “Where would you like the flowers?”
“On the counter will be fine,” she said and shook the pen since it wouldn’t write.
She grabbed one from the drawer in front of her, signed. “Here, you better take this.” She turned to the boy. “Oh, not there. Here.”
He was setting the flowers by the stove. She pulled them farther away where they wouldn’t be affected by the heat and wouldn’t drop any petals into the soup.
“Sorry,” he said. “Thank you, ma’am.” He just about ran on his way back to the van.
She closed the door behind him then went back to the vase and removed the small envelope from its plastic stick.
Danny came through the door. “Don’t do that again.” He went straight to the flowers and checked them thoroughly, then moved them out to the patio.
“They’ll wilt in the heat,” she called after him.
He pushed the vase a few feet over into the shade. “You should never let anyone in.”
“He was just a kid. Mr. Dalton patted him down.”
He shook his head. “Someone could have sent the kid to check out security. Nobody comes in. Mr. Dalton should know better than to let anyone through.” He was opening his cell phone and dialing. “This is Daniel DuCharme from Congresswoman Kaye Miller’s security detail. I’m calling to confirm that you have a reporter by the name of Tom Delinsky out here covering her story.” He listened for a while. “Thank you.”
He pulled the phone from his ear and dialed again. “This is Daniel DuCharme from Congresswoman Kaye Miller’s security detail. I’m calling to confirm a delivery to …” He gave the address. “I need to know when it was called in, from what number, credit card information, everything you have.” He paused. “Fine. I’ll send someone with authorization to pick it up within the next twenty minutes.” He closed the phone and put it away. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s—I haven’t had security this tight before.” And she hoped she wouldn’t need it long. She missed her freedom.
“If your security was tight, that reporter and that boy wouldn’t have gotten as far as they did. I’ll have to talk to the agents about that.”
“I don’t want them to shoot some innocent citizen for coming near me.”
He waited a beat before he nodded. “Understood.” He walked over to the stove and turned the burner down. “I’m going to step back out for a minute to talk with Dalton and Meyer. Stay inside and stay away from the windows. Please.”
She reminded herself that he had her best interest at heart, and sat in the spare chair in the corner as the door closed behind him. She opened the card in her hand.
Hope you are all right. Happy early birthday. Marge
Well, that was nice of her. She would have to call and thank her secretary for her thoughtfulness. Her gaze wandered to the stack of bills and other miscellaneous mail on the small desk next to her. She rifled through them. All the envelopes were open—Danny had already checked them. By the time this was over, he would know more about her than just about anyone else. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“Visitor.” Danny was coming through the door. “She says you were expecting her?”
“Sadie!” She’d totally forgotten in the craziness.
“So you do know her?”
“My roommate from college. Where is she?”
“She should come back in a few weeks.”
“Absolutely not. She can’t. She’s leaving the country.”
“How well do you know this woman?”
“Like my sister. She is coming in.”
“Fine, coming in.” Danny turned and motioned to someone outside. “I’ll be a few more minutes.” He stepped back out.
“What on earth is going on here? Have you just announced that you’ll be running for president next?” Sadie Kauffman came through the door a few minutes later and smiled as she ran forward for a hug. “I’ve bee
n on the plane all morning, haven’t seen the news.”
“I’ll fill you in.” Kaye squeezed back. “God, it’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”
“Way too long.”
“And now you’re going away.”
“Just for a year or two. Remember these?” Sadie handed her a bag.
She recognized the gold-striped paper box instantly. “Mario’s canolis?”
“The one and only.”
“God, I’ve missed you.”
“Who are you kidding? You missed the canolis.”
“Okay, that, too.” She grinned as she put the box on the table. “Come, sit down.”
“So, what’s going on?” Sadie raised a perfect eyebrow.
“Had a break-in last night.”
“Are you okay? Were you robbed?” She looked around.
“I think he wanted me.”
“What?”
“He had a gun. We wrestled around for a while before Danny got him off me.”
“Danny who?”
“Daniel DuCharme. The man who showed you in. He’s one of Cal’s, temporary addition to my security detail.”
“One of Cal’s?” The eyebrow went up again. “He’s hot.”
“He’s young.”
“He patted me down before he let me in.”
“Sorry. He takes his job very seriously.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Sadie winked and she stood. She always did have too much nervous energy. “I kind of enjoyed it.” She went to the stove, looked at the soup. “Who’s cooking?”
“Danny.”
“Danny, huh? Interesting.”
“Wipe that smirk off your face. He’s just a kid.”
Sadie stirred the soup then sniffed the wooden spoon. “Minestrone.” She nodded her approval. “Smells great. How long before it’s ready?”
“No idea. Half the stuff isn’t even in yet.”
“I suppose there’s no sense in tasting then.” She put the spoon back down and looked out the window. “Have I told you, my fifty-eight-year-old mother is dating a thirty year old? The other day I asked her what she liked about him. You know what she said? She said he had three outstanding qualities: stamina, stamina, stamina.” She rolled her eyes. “How is that for embarrassing? Don’t laugh at me. This is serious. My mother is a pervert.”
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