by Sheila Kell
After some chitchat and allowing the saleslady to fuss over the fit, making sure it didn’t need alterations, she left the platform to go change. Before she closed the door to the dressing room, she heard, “Brad’s going to love that dress.”
“Love it, he’s going to go ballistic and try to make her wear a wrap.”
Madison smiled. Just let him try it.
BRAD’S FRUSTRATION ROSE as his twin made more and more sense. Why couldn’t he toss logic out the window and agree with Brad?
“You need to tell her something. She’s going to be on your arm. If you do get the unexpected chance to ask questions, she’s going to notice. Do you really want her asking why at dinner?”
“It’s nothing she needs to be concerned with,” Brad firmly stated.
Matt shook his head. “Come on. Just tell her something. She doesn’t need to know everything, just what you might be doing so she doesn’t interrupt out of curiosity.”
Brad had shared with his twin that, should the opportunity present itself at the dinner to extricate any Secret Service agent who knew something about what happened to him, he would find a way to question him or her. Of course, he’d known that he couldn’t just walk up and talk to an on-duty agent. He could, but they’d avoid him so they could do their job. Matt knew the truth about Brad leaving the Secret Service. He also believed Brad when he said he had to have been set up. Again, that niggling of doubt that he might’ve screwed up slipped into his bloodstream, but he vanquished it.
Yet keeping Madison close presented a small problem. She’d be listening, maybe even interrupting him as he talked to his old colleagues. That wouldn’t do.
Heck, he may not know an agent there. The agency was pretty large, and people were spread out. He’d been presidential detail. Those in attendance at the party wouldn’t have climbed to that level.
His brother sighed. “Look, she’ll be a help or a hindrance. That’s for you to decide right now. The dinner is tonight.”
He’d spent another day with Madison taking off without him protecting her. He’d not fought her, but he’d made sure someone was with her. Spending her day with Rylee while working at their bar worked fine because he knew Rylee carried a concealed weapon. He’d have preferred it was him, but at least she was protected.
“Help or hindrance for what?” Madison appeared at the door to his small office. He’d invite her in, but there was barely enough room for him, the desk, a bookshelf, and the one other chair that Matt was sitting upon.
Both men stood and faced her. Her jeans fit snuggly, and her T-shirt accentuated her luscious chest. She and Rylee had gone to the spa after the club so that Madison could get all that girl stuff done before the dinner. Her hair hung in waves ending in large curls. It looked so silky, he wanted to run his fingers through it and wrap it around his hand as he pulled her into a deep kiss. It was possible he’d been drooling while she waited for a response.
“Nothing,” he finally said.
She raised an eyebrow and looked to Matt, who put his hands up in surrender. “This is him.” He stepped forward as if to leave, but Madison didn’t move from her space in the doorway.
“Brad?” she questioned.
Fuck. Matt was right, but he couldn’t tell her he’d woken up with a prostitute and the fallout was why he’d left the Secret Service. He’d never have a chance with her again. That stopped him short. What kind of chance did he want? Sex? More? He internally shook his head. Sex. That was it. No, it was more. He just had a difficult time acknowledging it.
“I can give you two privacy,” Matt offered. The chickenshit was leaving him to deal with this alone. After it was his idea? So much for brotherly love.
“That’s fine,” he managed, still unsure what he would say. But he knew to watch his words because too often he said the first thing that came to mind, and that was usually the wrong thing with her.
Madison stepped away while Matt exited with a backward glance that could’ve been “don’t fuck this up” to “you’re screwed now.” Both seemed appropriate.
Once she was sitting in the chair opposite his desk, he sat, perched on the edge of his chair because for some strange reason, nervousness rose within him and he felt the need to bolt. No real way to do that in this room.
Brad cleared his throat before he began what he hoped sounded normal. “At the dinner, I’d like you to stay with me if possible.”
“I won’t know anyone else, so that’s okay, but why?”
“Lechers,” he stated.
“Lechers?”
“That room will be filled with men looking to grab onto their next mistress, and you will be a prime candidate once you enter the room. Don’t get me wrong,” Brad said, “they’ll still try, even with you on my arm. It just won’t be so blatantly.”
“Oh.” She thought for a minute. “This is supposed to be a small dinner though.”
Brad shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Trust me. The only safe man in there is my dad.”
“Your dad will be there? Good. I will know someone, even though I’ve only met him the once—at the wedding. Do you think he’ll remember me?”
Was she fucking kidding? Remember her? Who could forget her? She brightened any room she entered and made everyone feel special with her smile and friendly demeanor. She was impossible to forget, and that had nothing to do with her being a model. She left an impression that kept a man—or woman—smiling for days. Remember her? What a stupid question. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure he’ll remember you.”
“Okay. That doesn’t make sense with what you two were talking about though. How could I be a hindrance?”
He sucked in a deep breath and held it. Hell, he’d just have to give her basics—like Matt suggested—and hope she didn’t dig deeper. “I might be asking some questions of the Secret Service agents and didn’t want you to be caught off guard and say something you shouldn’t.” Or ask the wrong question in public.
“Why?”
Yeah. He knew that question would come. Here’s where skirting the truth came into play. “Something happened while I was an active agent, and I’m trying to solve the puzzle. It’s been bugging me since I left.”
“What happened?”
Of course she’d ask more. “That’s not important right now. What is important is finding anyone who knows about what happened in Columbia some years back.”
With a happy smile, Madison rubbed her hands together. “Ooh. I get to be Nancy Drew. I’ve always wanted to be her.”
What. The. Fuck? Nancy Drew my ass, he barely kept himself from saying out loud. She couldn’t be asking questions in case there really was something fishy. He’d only wanted her to behave, not be involved. What gave her the impression she could play his game? Well, he’d put an immediate halt to that thought process.
“No fucking Nancy Drew. You aren’t doing anything but smiling on my arm and ignoring it when I start to ask questions. If I even get the chance.”
Her eyes narrowed so fast, he felt the heat from her gaze to his bones. “Maybe I can help. Did you think of that? Men like to share their secrets with beautiful women. I’m not vain, but I do know I fall into that category or else I wouldn’t have made a living with my face.”
“You can’t help. You can only hinder if you try to get involved,” he stated.
“So I’m supposed to act like an airy woman clutched to your arm like I can’t think for myself?” Her voice rose as she spoke.
Good God, this wasn’t going as he’d planned. Actually he hadn’t planned. Matt had just convinced him. Maybe if he’d had time to think it out, this would’ve been easier.
Wearily, he wiped his hand down his face. “That’s not what I’m saying.” He sighed and spoke more softly, hoping to fend off another fight with her. They’d had far too many already. “Madison, I’m just asking you to not interfere when I’m asking questions. I can’t have you questioning what’s going on in public.”
“What’s this incident in Columbia you’re s
o interested in?”
“Nothing.”
“The only thing I know of with the Secret Service and Columbia is—”
Fuck and double fuck. Everyone knew of the incident. While the memory faded in some, most could draw the facts from the back of their mind in a minute. “Yeah” was all he said to that.
“Were you… were you involved in that?”
Fucking Matt. “Talk to her. Just tell her the basics,” he said. Look where that fucking got him. No way could he bare his soul to someone he didn’t even have a relationship with. They may live in the same house, but they only saw each other rarely and hadn’t formed a bond that would open his heart.
Avoiding her question, he said, “I think there was some foul play and want to check it out.”
“Foul play?”
“That’s not important right now. What’s important is that you agree not to interfere when I question someone.”
She watched him, and those questioning eyes burned bright and tore at his heart. She looked like she was trying to trust him but wasn’t certain. Well, he couldn’t do anything about that. It was her choice whether she trusted him or not. If she’d quit avoiding him, she’d see he was trustworthy. He wanted to mentally slap himself. Wrong. He needed to earn her trust, not sit back and wait for her to decide he was worthy. Yet reaching out was daunting as he’d never worked to earn someone’s trust before. He’d never cared enough.
“Okay,” she finally said, and stood. “I’ll behave. No Nancy Drew.” She offered him a small smile that shot hope to his heart.
When she turned and walked out the door, he had the unnerving urge to reach for her, tell her everything, then hold her until he felt whole again.
Now wasn’t that some shit for the confirmed bachelor of the family to want that? Next he’d be asking her to go steady.
MADISON HAD ATTENDED many events in her profession, and usually with confidence, but she had nervous butterflies in her stomach for this dinner. She’d never dined with just politicians before. She and Brad didn’t belong at this dinner, and it would show. Thank goodness his father would be there. Would his father see it as a date? Did Brad? He’d been speechless about her dress, and it had taken him a minute to say how beautiful she looked. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn she’d blushed. To her, it might not be a date, but it was the next best thing to it, and it was with Brad.
On the drive, Brad—dressed handsomely in a tuxedo—must’ve sensed her nervousness because he kept up a steady stream of questions about what she and Rylee planned to do with La Belle and how they proposed to make it happen.
“Devon said you’re selling lingerie. If you need someone to preview each item—preferably on a model—then I’m your man,” Brad offered.
Madison shook her head and chuckled. “You’re such a dog, Brad Hamilton,” she teased.
“Dog is it? I’ve been called worse.” He glanced at her in the waning evening sun. “Will you be my model?”
She wanted to reach out and mock slap him while they were in this playful mood that built on the connection they were creating. But he was driving, and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Not to mention, she wouldn’t make a dent in his hard muscles. She’d probably hurt her own hand. And she’d never slap him across his beautiful face. Even though he’s deserved it more than once.
But as she entered the senator’s residence on his arm, she didn’t care about his immaturity in relation to sex and all things related to it. He exuded confidence that made her feel comfortable and safe. Seeing the senator brought back the last time she’d been around their hostess—Madison had been shot at. How could she have so easily put it to the back of her mind? Thankfully Brad had been there to protect her before, and he was here to protect her now should she need it. Hopefully she wouldn’t.
A man in a black tuxedo opened the heavy oak door inlaid with stained glass, and welcomed them. He escorted them to a large room where people mingled, mostly in small groups, and servers in black tuxedos—skirts for the women—walked around with trays of champagne and bite-sized appetizers, while a man served mixed drinks from behind a portable bar.
Social hour. She could do that. Yet the nerves returned. Maybe it was because she didn’t have the support she usually had at functions. No Jacques there to keep her company. Instead, she had Brad who might be asking questions of the protection detail she’d witnessed outside and standing on the fringes of the party. He’d said he couldn’t just walk up to them, so she hadn’t figured out how he planned to speak with any of the men.
“There’s my dad,” Brad said, nodding in the direction of Senator Hamilton. “Let’s go say hi.”
Still holding onto his arm, they made their way, declining the appetizers and champagne. With her nerves, she didn’t think her stomach could handle anything at the moment. Hopefully she’d be more relaxed by dinner.
Madison checked out the crowd and saw several senators she knew from television and print, but had never met. There were also many men and women she had no idea who they were. She’d guess they were donors since Senator Walden was running for president.
“Miss Maxwell,” Brad’s father, dressed smartly in a black tuxedo of better quality and cut than even Brad’s elegant one, began. “It’s great to see you again.” He took her hand in his and squeezed it softly before releasing it. He put his arm around the woman standing next to him in a gorgeous cream gown. “This is my wife, Elizabeth.”
She’d recalled Rylee telling her that he had married, but she’d completely forgotten that fact. “Hello, I’m Madison,” she said, holding her hand out to shake.
Elizabeth took it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madison. I’m a big fan.”
Embarrassing heat rose up her neck. She’d never gotten used to someone saying that. “Thank you.”
“Brad,” his father said with a nod.
“Hey, Dad. Elizabeth.” He gave a smile to Elizabeth when he addressed her. So Brad liked his stepmother. That was a good trait in a son and a man.
“I love your dress,” Elizabeth told her.
“Thank you. I love yours.” The cream silk gown was lovely with its fitted bodice and flowing skirt. It was created for an older woman in mind, and it set off the air of sophistication with Elizabeth. As for conversation, Madison hoped it progressed from the little pleasantries.
“Your first political dinner?”
Madison smiled. “Does it show?”
With a slight shake of her head, Elizabeth answered, “No, but I figured you hadn’t moved in this circle with your career, even though you may know many politicians.”
“You’d be right,” she said, noticing Brad and his father had stepped apart from them, their heads close and talking low. Brad’s body language changed. He appeared to be agitated. Curiosity opened within her, but she couldn’t blow off Elizabeth and eavesdrop. Damn.
Of course, it was none of her business she had to remind herself.
She and Elizabeth chatted with Elizabeth pointing out people in the room and giving Madison some background and a keen knowledge of who not to be alone with—ever.
When dinner was announced for the group of about twenty-six—small dinner my ass, she thought—Brad took her elbow and guided her along with the mass into an elegant dining room with the largest table Madison had ever seen. She’d expected they’d sit at smaller tables in groups or something, not all on this one long table. On the white tablecloth, there were groups of lavender and white flowers staggered down the center intermingled with candles in silver candelabras that were lit, stemware was set at each place—probably crystal—silverware, and a white cloth napkin shaped like a bird. It looked magnificent.
Thankfully there wasn’t a seating chart or cards at each setting, so Brad and Senator Hamilton sat so that she and Elizabeth were in between them, saving the two from unwelcome attention and conversation.
It wasn’t until after she’d been served a stuffed chicken breast with roasted asparagus that she remembered B
rad had a mission for the evening. She leaned toward him. “How are you going to ask your questions?”
He smiled. That smile that melted her tough veneer. “Don’t sweat it. There’ll still be time after dinner. And since the agents have been rotating out in here to check me out, I’d say I might have some luck.”
She still wanted to help him in this quest, even though she knew he wasn’t telling her everything. While curious, she wouldn’t push into his personal life. It wasn’t hers to invade. “Do you think it would be easier if I wasn’t with you? Maybe they’d open up more?”
He hesitated, and that gave her the answer she’d expected. Disappointing but probably true. “Maybe. But I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“You won’t. I’ll stay with Elizabeth and your dad after dinner while you see what you can do.”
“They’ll be making the rounds, so you’ll be introduced to many people. You’ll have to stick close to Dad for protection from those lechers I told you about.”
She’d already caught the eyes of two men who she had a feeling were the lechers Brad referred to in reference to needing protection. Her skin crawled at their looks upon her. “I can do that.”
Relief crossed his face. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. Do your thing. I think they’ll keep me safe from,” she lowered her voice even more, “lechers.” Then she smiled and picked up her silverware. Something inside her wanted to do anything she could for Brad. It confused the hell out of her, considering how he was with her. Usually. Tonight had been another exception. Actually, if she was honest, there weren’t exceptions any longer. They enjoyed each other’s company.
After dinner, as promised, she stayed with Senator Hamilton and his wife, meeting person after person and listening to more politics than she ever wanted to in her lifetime. It told her that when she settled down, a politician was out of the running. Of course, the only man she cared about now was the one speaking in hushed tones to a Secret Service agent who looked mighty uncomfortable.