by Tara Mills
He hoped she’d come to his show. He would have two tickets to the exclusive preview set aside for her.
Sean prayed she’d only need one.
* * * *
Justine set her book down and took off her glasses, noting the time as she reached to turn off her bedside lamp. It was twelve-thirty and the prick wasn’t home yet. Not that she’d expected him to be. When Gary used the words, “Don’t wait up,” he generally meant them.
She’d never felt so alone. There was no one she could confide in, not without jeopardizing his campaign. She might not care for the man anymore, but she still believed in his political platform. He was one of those rare men with the talent and stamina to bring off the impossible.
Thinking back to the beginning of their relationship, she sighed bitterly at how idealistic and trusting she’d been. She didn’t know his every move was calculated with an end goal in mind. When he began to pursue her, she was so flattered her head spun. Their exciting whirlwind romance swept her off her feet and right into his bed. She’d never met a more passionate man. She admired it at the time. Not so much anymore. When you were the wife of a man with a short attention span where women are concerned, limitless passion was downright painful.
She didn’t regret banning him from her bed. It was the right thing to do. Who knew what he might have brought back to her eventually. What she did regret was not having children. How long had he tried to get her pregnant before she decided to seek fertility treatment? Only then did her husband admit he’d conveniently neglected to tell her about the vasectomy he had two years before they met. He knew she wanted to be a mother!
Betrayed and denied, she threw herself into creating Open Arms, Warm Hearts, a non-profit that worked to place unwanted children in good homes. There was a wall of photos at the office, a tribute to the success of her mission to build families—even if she never got one of her own.
She missed her job, but right now she had to stump for the people’s candidate, playing her empty shell of a part with her fixed smiles and private sorrows. If she thought it was all to feed his monumental ego, she wouldn’t bother, but whether they shared a bed or not, they still shared the causes that drew them together in the first place. To see those through, she’d make personal sacrifices.
It would just be nice to see her husband make a few sacrifices too. Alas, the more she retreated, the more he grew as a man to be reckoned with and the man to beat. She didn’t want to see his opponent in office. Phillip Gould’s agenda concerned her. People would be hurt by the policies he proposed. Unfortunately, Gould was garnering a lot of media attention, not to mention money, which meant Gary had better keep his pants zipped or all her sacrifices, and all his winning smiles, wouldn’t keep him in the senate.
Unbidden, her mind drifted back to Sean O’Donnell again. She might stray off-topic, but she always returned to him. It was impossible not to contemplate the differences between these two men. Her husband sought the limelight. He had a preternatural instinct for where the cameras were and how to capitalize on his own image. She wasn’t sure if it was even possible to catch him off guard, not that the media didn’t try.
Then there was Sean—quiet, unassuming, sensitive Sean. Clearly more comfortable behind the camera than in front of it, he had a gift for finding what others missed, or concealed. His revealing images forced people to feel, made them wake up and pay attention. Both men were influential in their own way, only Sean let his lovely photos speak for themselves. She liked his style.
The way he appeared tonight, with big snowflakes silently settling on his dark hair and shoulders, brought a romantic hero to mind. He had a nice smile. A kind, authentic smile. What would her life be like if she’d fallen for a man like him instead?
It was a pointless question, an unanswerable one.
Still, she couldn’t stop the sob of anguish when it came because she truly was alone. She yearned for love. She had so much to give, and longed desperately for a little in return.
Turning on her side, she hugged the extra pillow to her chest and quietly cried herself to sleep, knowing her husband was giving her share of love to some unknown bimbo right now.
Chapter 2
The next week was a hectic bustle of running from one speaking engagement to another, not to mention all the phone calls Justine made to help get out the women’s vote for her husband and the party. She only had two joint appearances with him, holding hands, masking her internal grimace when he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him in a show of marital harmony and unity.
It was all for a good cause, she told herself, when they sped away in separate cars, her handler and his keeping them organized and focused on their mutual goal, if not their marriage. By late Thursday, she was feeling the strain. Calling in a few favors, she was able to clear her Friday schedule so she could detach from the political melee for a mental health day. She needed a break.
Craving a little normalcy, she dropped by unannounced at Open Arms, Warm Hearts. It felt like coming home. Walking into the reception area she pulled up short at the sight of Sean O’Donnell sitting in one of the visitor chairs, one ankle resting casually on the other knee, a leather portfolio in his lap.
He looked up, then sat up when their eyes met. His smile was most welcome.
“Mrs. Hubbard. I didn’t expect you to sit in on the meeting.”
“Justine,” she corrected him. “You’re here for a meeting? I had no idea. I should have called before dropping by. I missed this place, the stability.” She threw up her hands and laughed at herself. “Have you met Lise yet?”
“We’ve only spoken on the phone.” He glanced at the receptionist. “I understand she got caught up in a phone call, but she knows I’m here.”
“Oh good.”
He sat forward, studying her with concern. “How have you been?”
“Fine. Just fine.”
“Forgive me, but you look tired.” Now she got to see his caring smile.
“I am tired,” she admitted with a sigh. “It’s been a tough week. Very busy.”
“But not today?”
“I took the day off,” she declared with satisfaction.
He grinned. “I’m proud of you!”
“Justine?”
They both turned at a woman’s voice. She came forward and embraced Justine.
“Lise, I’m sorry for barging in on you,” she apologized. “I just missed all this, missed everyone. I had a free afternoon and, well, here I am.”
“Don’t be silly. Drop in anytime! Are you going to join the meeting?”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. You helped to set it up.” Lise offered her hand to Sean who’d stood when she arrived. “Mr. O’Donnell?”
He clasped her hand. “Sean.”
“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we move to my office?” Catching herself, her eyes shot to Justine. She seemed uncomfortable for a moment. “Your office,” she amended.
Justine laughed softly. “Lise, relax. Right now it’s your office. I put you behind that desk.”
Looking relieved, Lise nodded. “Okay. Come on back.”
When they got to the office, Sean had quite a lot to show them. He unzipped his portfolio and extracted image after image, most his, though not all. It gave them an idea of what he had in mind for their adoption campaign.
Lise picked up one of the photos and studied it carefully. “I like this.” Handing it to Justine, she asked, “What do you think?”
“I’ve been a fan of Sean’s work for years. This is good. It expresses the need, works on natural sympathies. I think something like this would be perfect.”
“About models...” he spoke up. “Is it possible to see your Waiting Children registry?”
“Of course,” Lise answered, but both women were nodding. “Though, for legal reasons we may have to use already placed children. It will make it easier to get the proper releases signed.”
“I don’t see a problem with
that. It’s best if we use kids, even families, with a positive emotional connection to Open Arms, Warm Hearts.”
Justine looked up from the photo in her hand to ask him, “Did you get a chance to look at our wall of success stories?”
“Earlier, yes I did. I saw a number of good candidates out there.”
Lise smiled at him. “Why don’t you point them out to me and I’ll contact their parents?”
Before he could respond there was a knock on the door. The executive assistant peeked in. “Ms. Van Zandt?”
“Yes, Cami?”
“Mr. Struthers has a few more questions for you.”
Her face fell. “Oh, I should take his call.”
Eager to help, Justine spoke up. “Why don’t I look at the photos with Sean? I can take down the names for you.”
Lise gave Justine a grateful nod. “Would you? That would be great. Thanks.” She glanced at her assistant. “Put Struthers through.”
Justine helped Sean gather his photos then they hurried out with the assistant. She followed Cami to her desk to borrow a pen and notepad while Sean headed over to the wall of photos. He turned with a smile when she joined him and explained he wasn’t looking for the cutest kids. Rather, they wanted young faces that popped with personality and would connect with the public in a visceral way. She agreed with every one of Sean’s choices. Marking them down, she left the pad with the assistant, along with instructions to get the children’s contact information to Lise.
Their task complete, the two of them returned to the reception area and pulled on their heavy coats. She was smiling when Sean slung his scarf around his neck.
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Now what?”
Freeing her hair from under her collar, she shrugged. “I suppose Lise will be in touch once she has some names for you.”
He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “No, I meant, what’s next on your agenda.”
“Ooh. Today, I have no agenda.” She liked how that sounded.
“Have you eaten lunch?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“I know a little place. It makes the best salads in town.”
She laughed. “A man admitting he eats salad?”
He held the door for her. “These aren’t your ordinary salads.”
“Mmm, now I’m intrigued. Sure, why not?”
* * * *
He gave her directions and they met up in a parking garage close to the restaurant. Seeing him leaning against a sleek and sexy black Porsche, she pulled into the open space next to him. He had her door open before she even picked her purse off the passenger seat. She loved it when he offered his hand to help her out of the car. This was the second time he’d done that. It was probably silly, but the gallant attention made her feel special. Her lonely heart sped a little faster.
At his insistence, they rode the elevator down to street level then walked for half a block to the unassuming bistro. The ceilings were high with huge suspended round light fixtures. The walls were bare brick. Even the neat wait staff looked unpretentious in basic white buttoned-down shirts over black slacks or skirts and black aprons tied around their hips. Though the restaurant was dressed down, it had an upscale, almost trendy feel, elegant in its simplicity.
Settling comfortably at their intimate table for two, Justine picked up the drinks menu from the middle of the table. “Wow, they have an impressive wine selection.” She looked up when a twenty-something waiter stopped over.
“Would you like something from the bar?” the kid asked.
Sean raised his eyebrows at her and admitted, “I’d love a glass of wine.”
She brightened at the suggestion. “So would I.”
Gently drawing the small beverage menu out of her hands, Sean looked it over and ordered a respectable bottle of red they could share.
“Perfect.” She smiled and picked up the lunch menu in front of her.
He peered over the top of the centerpiece. “I recommend the lemon garlic chicken on grilled romaine with toasted almonds.”
Reading aloud from her menu, she said, “With broccoli and sweet baby carrots? Ooh, that does sound good.” She laughed at how enraptured she’d sounded. Closing her menu decisively, she nodded. “Yep. That’s what I want. What are you thinking?”
“I’m looking at the lobster salad with a side of roasted vegetables.”
“Sounds decadent.”
He winked. “It is.”
After the waiter returned with their wine and took their order, they had a quiet moment to contemplate one another across the table. She was finding more and more to like about this refreshingly different man.
Fussing with her cloth napkin, she laughed at herself. “I suppose I should come clean. Not only do I own three of your photos, I’ve read an article or two about you.”
He looked surprised. “Is that right?”
She gave a bashful nod. “Mmm-hmm.”
Now he snickered. “Should I be nervous?”
His question amused her. “Not at all. You were living on the west coast at the time. Still?”
“No. I’m back here.”
“How does your wife like the change? She’s a California native, as I recall.”
“Native and resident. We divorced.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
He gave a philosophical shrug. “She loved my work, at first, said it was dark and penetrating. Then she stopped going to my shows, didn’t want to look at my photos anymore. She said they were too depressing.” He took a sip of his water. “In the end, we didn’t have a lot in common.”
Affronted by his ex-wife’s charge, Justine sat up straight and came to his defense. “They’re moving, not depressing.” Then she thought about it and amended her statement. “Okay, some are depressing and sad, but I understand their purpose. I think. What you do isn’t solely about the art. It’s important social commentary. You don’t allow us to sweep uncomfortable things under the rug and forget them.”
Sean grinned. “Esquire.”
“Yes!” She couldn’t believe he placed the article so easily.
“That was a few years ago. You have a good memory.”
“Unfortunately.”
Her mood in a temporary free fall over her own depressing realities, Justine perked up when she saw the waiter return with the entrees. Everything looked and smelled delicious.
Picking up her fork, she took a taste of the lemon garlic chicken and groaned with pleasure. “Very good.”
Sean looked pleased to hear it. After enjoying his first bite, he said, “This is off-topic, but I’ve wondered what made you decide to create Open Arms, Warm Hearts?”
In raising the new subject, he effectively put her in the hot seat. She smoothed the napkin on her lap and looked evasively away. It made confessing a little easier. “I wanted a family of my own. When I couldn’t have one, I found the next best thing. I’m helping to form new families.” Reaching for her wine, she chanced a look at him and found compassion staring back at her.
“You can’t have children?”
“I don’t know. Gary can’t. Won’t.”
Sean nodded slowly, a grave expression on his face. “This is going to sound forward, but I have to ask. Do you still love him?”
“No.” Ashamed of her swift admission, she dropped her gaze for a moment before looking up and finding he was still focused on her. A wave of support seemed to wash over her, buoying her body, her flagging spirits. It was a startling sensation, yet she trusted it. She trusted him, though she couldn’t explain why. “I can’t even have a dog or a cat. He’s allergic.” She laughed bitterly and wiped under her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m a miserable mess and now I’m ruining a perfectly nice meal for you. I’ll stop.”
Scowling, he reached across the table for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t you dare!”
She stared back at him, surprised. “You don’t mean that.”
“The hell I don’t.”
Biting h
er lower lip, she found herself smiling. “Well, I don’t want to sit here feeling all maudlin. This is my day!” Easing her hand out from under his, she raised her wine in a toast.
Sean tapped his glass to hers and winked. “Now you’re talking.”
Frowning with curiosity, she asked, “How is it you have free time today?”
“I wasn’t sure how long I’d be at Open Arms so I didn’t schedule anything else for this afternoon.”
“Oh. That must be nice. I don’t have a lot of say right now. There’s a woman, Lois, who organizes my schedule then tells me when I have to speak here or show up there. Another person brings me stacks of cards and letters to sign that I never have time to read first. Then I’m hustled in and out of a car driven by a man named Byrnes while a very nice but bossy woman named Marie fills me in on what I’ll be doing at our next engagement. Sometimes I swear they would all follow me into the ladies room if I didn’t say, ‘I’ll be right back,’ before running off to steal two minutes for myself. I hate being handled.”
“I’ll bet. You’re used to being in charge.”
“I know. I miss it.”
“Considering this is a rare escape for you, what are you going to do today?”
Sipping her wine, she pondered the question. “Maybe I’ll go to the museum.”
“Would you like some company?”
“Are you offering?”
“Yes. I’d love to go to the museum with you.”
“You’re on.”
* * * *
They took Sean’s sexy black Porsche Cayman. The new car smell mingled with the leather seats cupping her body. It was a heady pleasure. The only thing the ride lacked was heat. Unfortunately they reached the museum before the engine fully warmed up.
He noticed her hugging herself and rubbing her arms as they hurried into the building. “Hot coffee first?”
She gave an eager nod. “Good idea. I think the temperature is dropping out there. I can feel it even through my gloves.”