by Mary Whitney
“And I love you.” He responded with a more intense kiss, followed by a quiet embrace. “I can see why you feel the pressure. It’s not just me; everyone in my family is obsessed with the election.”
“Just a little.” She smirked.
“Don’t feel bad. It gets to me, too.” He smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead. “But my family supports us—even Patty. Believe me, if she didn’t, she’d let me know. And they all would much rather I be happy and with you than be the miserable, single bastard I was before we met.”
For a brief moment, she thought of the photos in the gossip rags of him smiling with Jennifer Hamilton. “You weren’t miserable.” Her mouth twisted with sourness.
“Compared to how happy I am now, yes, I was miserable,” he said with a sheepish smile.
She sighed and stared at him squarely. “But what if you lose?”
“I don’t know . . . the White House would probably offer me an appointment of some kind.” He played with her hair. “Or maybe I’d be like all the other defeated senators and get an ambassadorship somewhere good—like Australia. That would be fun for both of us, right?”
“Right. As an ambassador, you’re going to take your girlfriend along with you—like the State Department would let you do that.” She rolled her eyes.
“Maybe you wouldn’t be my girlfriend.” He squeezed her hand and grinned.
“Whatever.” She chuckled, but her face soon became serious again. “Really, Stephen, how will you feel if you lose and it’s because of me?”
He shook his head and smiled. “Do you remember the night in the car when we talked about Master of the Senate?”
“Yeah.” Her brow furrowed because she wasn’t following him.
“What did I say about it?”
She was silent for a moment as she recalled the conversation in the backseat of his car. She remembered what he said, and things fell into place. “You said . . . something like you didn’t aspire to be master of the Senate.”
“Exactly. I’ll be okay. Life will be different than I envisioned it at one time, but it will be better because of you.”
“But what would you do?”
“I don’t know. For a while I’d probably spend time on the ranch . . . doing things up there. Then I’d live wherever you were—either here or in Colorado. I’d go into private practice or go back to being a prosecutor. Hell, if I wanted, I could be the U.S. Attorney for the state if the job opened up.”
“You’d be easily confirmed by the Senate.” She chuckled.
“Exactly.” The hope was evident as he stared into her eyes. “And we could get a house together. It would be a nice life.”
Holding his gaze, she saw his sincerity. As much as he enjoyed all the power and trappings of being a senator, he’d be equally happy with a quieter life. It was one of the reasons she loved him. She leaned in for a kiss. “I’d like that life.” After a long kiss, she sighed. “Of course, I still have to get a job for the next year.”
“Why don’t you work on Grayson’s committee staff? He’ll hire you.”
“The Senate? No friggin’ way.” She giggled. “I’m getting outta there. I want a lowly administrative job in a giant law firm where I can get lost in the mix.”
He chuckled and tousled her hair. “Well, Grayson could get you one of those, too.”
Chapter 21
One night in March, Stephen looked up from his laptop as Anne appeared at his office door. He rose immediately. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” she said, locking the door behind her.
“Well, it’s nice to see you, sweetheart, but what are you doing here so late?” He walked toward her. “And why are you locking my door? You know I don’t do that.”
“I’m in the office because I had to cover the front desk while that big meeting was going on. And as for the door, I’m taking extra precautions,” she said as she met him halfway. “I asked Greg if he could do me a favor and stick around for another hour. I told him we needed to talk—in person.”
“About what?” Her naughty smile told him it couldn’t be bad.
“Well, Greg probably thinks we’re having a fight, but that’s the last thing I want to do.”
“But you still want to talk?”
“Actually, I don’t want to talk,” she said as she wrapped her arms around him.
“What do you want to do?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking. My internship is going to end soon, and there’s something that’s been bothering me.”
“What’s—?”
“Let me finish,” she said as she kissed his nose in mock reprimand. “I’m tired of thinking about Helen and God knows who else you’ve been with in here. I realized this afternoon that maybe I needed to lay claim to the place before my internship ends. Then, when you talk about your office, I’ll think about us.”
“Lay claim to my office? Like how? Erect a flag?” He snickered.
“Like this,” she replied, and laid a giant kiss on him. The kiss, which started as a smolder, sparked into a fire. He didn’t want to stop it, but he needed to take some precautions. She whined in disappointment when he pulled away.
“Give me a second.” He went to the window and closed the curtains. “No one can see anyway, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
When he turned around, she was perched atop his desk with a sly smile. “Are you ready now?” she asked as she unbuttoned her blouse.
A few minutes later, Helen began her walk to the condominium she kept only a block away from the Senate. The brisk air of early spring was invigorating, and she breathed in the chill of the night. As she always did when she passed her side of the Hart Building, she looked up at her office. It never ceased to cause a smile, as it reminded her of her rarefied place in the world. She was about to look away when something out of the ordinary caught her eye.
Just a few floors down from her office was Stephen McEvoy’s. She stopped on the sidewalk and stared at the windows of his office. Something was different—the curtains were closed.
When they would meet in his office, there was one step in their routine he never skipped. He always closed the draperies before anything happened between them. Staring at the curtains, she sneered as Stephen’s latest rejection cut at her pride. So, Stephen’s fucking someone in his office. She wondered who it might be.
Something she’d seen only an hour earlier flashed in her mind—that girl sitting at his front desk. She thought back to all her conversations with him in the last few months, and as she gaped at his windows, it came to her. She was shocked by her own conclusion. She had no proof, no real reason to believe. Yet her intuition told her it was true.
He’s with that girl.
Helen couldn’t believe her discovery as she gawked at the shuttered draperies of Stephen’s office. It took a moment to remember the girl’s name; she barely remembered the names of her own junior staff, let alone an intern in another office. Yet Anne’s name soon came to her, and the scene she had witnessed months ago came into focus. There was the cute intern curled up with Stephen on his office sofa. She imagined the two of them together again behind the curtains.
Looking behind her, she spied a large, concrete flower planter the Capitol groundskeepers kept in perpetual bloom. She perched herself on the planter so her coat avoided the tulips and her legs stretched comfortably before her. The houndstooth pattern of her suit pants caught her eye, as Stephen’s words from months ago resurfaced.
She’s a friend of my mother’s.
She chuckled aloud as she thought to herself, Oh, I bet she is. It was a reflexive, sarcastic answer, but she realized it could very well be true.
She remembered her last encounter with Stephen when he spurned her. There was only one reason he’d reject her—he was seeing someone he cared for enough not to cheat. What she hadn’t understood was why he wanted to keep the woman’s identity a secret. She quickly put two and two together. Anne was special—special to his mother and special t
o him. In fact, she needed to be exceedingly special for him to risk everything.
He had the trifecta of wealth, fame, and good looks; ninety-nine percent of men with the trifecta slipped up when it came to women. But Stephen McEvoy should be the kind not to fail. He was too smart, disciplined, and carried too much family honor. For him to make such a colossal mistake—especially when he was up for reelection—meant he’d changed dramatically.
Helen closed her eyes and shook her head. The girl had probably thrown herself at him, and he fell for her.
She recalled Anne chatting with Senator Haddow’s handsome legislative director. The memory of Stephen’s jaw locking and his terse responses made her reconsider. Stephen had pursued the girl, not vice versa. Thus, she truly was special to Stephen. He was in love.
While jealous of Anne, Helen was taken in by the sweet, if improbable, story. But as a political animal, she understood the unlikely occurred all the time. In politics, anything could happen, and it often did. Elections could be lost and won in only a few days; that was how upsets occurred.
Sure in her assessment of the situation, Helen wondered what she should do with the information. Party loyalty aside, she harbored no ill will toward Stephen and didn’t want to out him. She still liked him, even if she thought his political views were detrimental to the future of the American way of life.
Yet Helen believed she needed to keep her friends close and her enemies closer. It was handy to have leverage over someone. She might not wish Stephen ill, but she wanted to make sure he knew his secret wasn’t safe. She rationalized that it was for his benefit, too. He should know his secret was out. She grinned. Oh, I can’t wait to tell him . . .
The next morning in the well of the Senate, Stephen caught a glimpse of Helen just as he was leaving. He nodded to acknowledge her, but quickened his step to avoid any conversation. He hadn’t taken two strides when he heard her voice.
“Oh, Stephen! Do you have a moment?”
Keeping up his façade for her, he instantly transformed into his old self. “For you, Helen? Always.”
As she angled them to a vacant corner of the room, he dreaded what she would say. They hadn’t spoken since that night in his office, and he always hated it when she hit on him in the Senate chamber.
“Sorry I wasn’t with you on your amendment,” she said as she briefly touched his forearm.
“I never expected you would be,” he replied with a smile. Unlike many legislators, he never took it personally if someone voted against him.
“You look tired. That was another late one last night, wasn’t it? I’m exhausted.”
He noticed she said it without appearing tired at all; instead, she seemed happy and alert. While he was weary from staying up late, his night had been great. He and Anne had made good use of his office, and she’d followed him home where they had slept soundly in his bed. He kept a straight face as he lied, “You’re right. Last night was grueling.”
“It was so late when I finally left, I decided to stay in my condo rather than go home to Arlington.” She casually fiddled with her earring for a moment. “And as I was walking home last night I happened to notice something.”
“What’s that?”
“Your office drapes were closed.” She wore a simpering smile.
Despite the jolt to his world, he didn’t flinch. He acted as if she’d told him the sky was blue. “So?”
“So I know what was going on behind the curtains.”
Fear came over him, but he simply shrugged.
She jumped on his silence. “And I know who you were with. I figured it out.”
He blinked twice, betraying nothing of his internal panic. He decided his only recourse was to take the issue head-on and play it straight. Crossing his arms over his chest, he chuckled. “Really? Inquisitive, aren’t you?”
“Inquisitive and intuitive. You know how women are.”
“My mother is Lillian McEvoy, and I have two sisters. I know a little about women.”
“I suppose so.”
“And what exactly do you think you’ve discovered?”
“For starters, I know why you close your curtains.” She raised her eyebrow in accusation.
“Now Helen . . .” He smiled because he took some joy in reminding her of their mutually assured destruction. “How would you explain why you think such an extraordinarily mundane act like closing some drapes means anything other than I closed my drapes?”
She laughed. “That is something I hope never to have to explain.”
“Good. I’m glad we still have a deal,” he said, hoping to have shut down the conversation.
“Oh yes. Don’t worry. I won’t break our nonaggression pact. But what about the girl?”
“The girl?” he asked, pretending to be confused rather than worried. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you once called her a family friend. She must be a very good friend of yours to be in your office so late.”
Stephen could lie easily and effectively, but even he couldn’t skirt the truth when there was factual evidence to the contrary. Anne had stayed late at work the night before, and there were witnesses. Rather than tell a ridiculous falsehood, he blunted the facts. “I believe you’re referring to Anne Norwood. Yes, she’s an intern and a family friend. And she was at work late yesterday. There’s no secret there.”
“No secrets?” She pursed her lips. “I’m willing to bet my next election that’s not true.”
“Are you suggesting I would risk my career with an intern?”
“Yes.”
Her stare taunted him, but he gave her nothing other than a prompt, terse response. “Unlikely.”
“But not out of the question.”
He rolled his eyes playfully as he turned to walk away. “Always good talking with you, Helen. We’ll have to do it again.”
“Yes, we will!” she called cheerfully, and walked in the opposite direction.
As soon as he was safely back at his desk, he phoned Patty. “Helen knows about Anne.”
“How?”
There wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to tell Patty about his night with Anne in his office. Furthermore, he didn’t think anyone—including Anne—would want to know the details of how Helen figured it out. “It really doesn’t matter how she found out. What’s important is that I’ve got things under control.”
“Are you crazy? Under control?” Patty’s sneer came through the phone loud and clear. “She’s evil. I wouldn’t trust her even if she were a Democrat.”
“She agreed we still have a mutual nonaggression pact.”
“For now . . .” Her voice was thick with rue.
“Yes, for now.
“Listen, I’ve got a busy day. Can you tell Megan and Mom? I don’t think there’s anything to do right now.”
“Sure, I’ll call them.” She chuckled. “So Helen Sanders is the first to know. What a witch. I don’t suppose you want to hear me say I told you so?”
“No, I don’t.” Without saying good-bye, he ended the call.
Later that evening, Anne listened stoically as Stephen broke the bad news. It was one thing to be found out, it was another thing entirely for Helen Sanders to be the one to do it. Anne hated her. Stephen apologized profusely for causing the mess, but she was miffed. She was reaching her boiling point with his past constantly being thrown in her face. She asked only one question. “Based on your . . . experience with Helen, do you think you can keep her quiet?”
“Yes.” He nodded, but then qualified his answer. “God willing.”
Chapter 22
A few weeks later, Dan Langford was all smiles as he left a meeting at the Republican National Committee. As he and Trey exited the doors of the stately building, Langford placed his straw cowboy hat back atop his head. “You’re going to tell Walter, aren’t you?” he asked Trey.
“Absolutely.” Trey smiled at his boss’s joy. “The RNC dumping money into your race is huge. I
t’s great we’ve been able to tighten those poll numbers in the last few months. You’ve been doing good work. Keep it up.”
The grin on Trey’s face slowly disappeared when he saw Anne Norwood emerge from the Capitol South Metro station across the street. The night at the donut shop came back to him, and he instantly became curious—who was the woman and why was she in D.C.? “Do you know that girl over there?” He pointed to Anne.
Langford looked to where Trey indicated. “Why, that’s Anne Norwood. Elton’s daughter. Remember I mentioned her to McEvoy that day at the TV station.”
“Oh yeah . . .” Trey said as his voice trailed off in thought. “Who’s Elton?”
“Elton Norwood. He’s the Summit County district attorney.”
“Those Norwoods? Her family are Republicans. What’s she doing working for McEvoy?”
“Well, Elton is a moderate, and obviously he’s done a poor job of controlling his children if his daughter is working for McEvoy.”
“Huh,” Trey said. He mulled over the situation as he assessed Anne from afar. He decided from her face to her figure she was attractive. “I wouldn’t call her a child.”
“It’s still inexcusable she’s working for him, of all people.”
“You know, I saw her before Christmas around three in the morning at a donut shop by the Denver airport,” Trey told him. “She was with McEvoy’s guy, Greg, and I think they were driving one of McEvoy’s cars.”
“That’s strange.”
“That’s what I thought,” Trey answered, his mouth askew in thought.
Langford shook his head. “Well, I expect to see Elton this weekend at the state Republican convention. The last time I spoke with Anne, we ended on a bad note. I should go say hello. I might be able to find something out.”
“Good idea.”
Langford cut across First Street to meet her on the corner by the Cannon Building. He ignored the pesky Capitol police officer permanently stationed at the corner to bark at jaywalkers.