Sexual Politics

by Tara Mills

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I won’t get to do this again once we leave this room.” Cupping her cheek, he brought his mouth to hers. Tasting her again, letting his lips cover and caress hers, he experienced a surge of relief when her hand curled behind his neck and she pulled him in deeper, kissing him back. Their tongues circled and stroked, their bodies pressed and ground. Nuzzling noses and cheeks, he sighed with regret. “Why didn’t I make love to you last night?”

  “Decency?”

  “I’m a condemned man anyway.”

  “I’m the Scarlet Woman.”

  Chuckling ruefully at that, he stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “Hardly.”

  * * * *

  They’d just reached the bottom of the landing when Sean got his call. His friend was coming down the alley. Timing was everything so he told them exactly when to leave through the fire door. The silver Land Rover had barely stopped rolling before Sean boosted her into the backseat, slammed the door, and then dove into the front with the driver.

  “Heads down,” said his friend. “There are people crawling all over your place.”

  Other than a few pats on the outside of the vehicle as they rolled through, no one tried to stop them when they pulled back onto the street.

  As soon as their rescuer gave them the all-clear, Justine sat up and buckled her seatbelt. She saw the driver raise his sunglasses and look at her in the rearview mirror.

  “Mrs. Hubbard, I presume?”

  “Justine.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Trent.”

  “Thanks for helping us, Trent.”

  Sean lowered his visor and used his own mirror to see her. “You okay back there?”

  “Under the circumstances? Yes.”

  “What’s our destination, Justine?” asked Trent.

  “West. Wayfair Avenue. I’m not sure about the house number—somewhere in the sixteen-hundreds.”

  Trent programmed his GPS and they put some distance between the vehicle and the press. For the time being.

  No one talked on the way. That was fine with her. She wasn’t ready to talk, let alone carry on idle getting-to-know-you chitchat. There were at least three messages from Gary on her phone, not to mention the five from his chief of staff before she stopped counting. Carter Douglass was a pit bull, a nasty loathsome pit bull. She didn’t care for the man. He was a sexist ass, but his calculated ruthlessness was very effective and he’d made a political mark for himself even if he didn’t have the personal charm to run for office himself. He created icons and destroyed others. She didn’t want to get anywhere near him. Once he took a bite out of her, he wouldn’t let go.

  She did need to return her assistant’s calls. Someone had to clear her schedule. Then she realized Carter Douglass had probably done that already. He’d appointed the woman. Did he choose Lois so he could keep tabs on her? It wouldn’t surprise her, anything and everything to control the image without necessarily controlling the senator. She had a very uncomfortable conference coming up with Gary’s chief of staff, deputy chief of staff, and the communications director. How they chose to handle the budding scandal was anyone’s guess. Considering the man they worked for, there had to be a plan of action ready to go just in case. It was ironic they’d end up having to use it for her rather than her husband. For once, she was perfectly happy to let them handle her affairs, quite literally, for her. She simply wasn’t equipped for all this.

  Recognizing where they were all of a sudden, she sat forward and began to pay attention.

  “Tell me when we get to the right block,” Trent said, slowing down through the neighborhoods.

  “Two more. It will be on the right. Green shutters and front door. Third house from the corner.”

  Jeannie was watching from the window when they pulled up to the curb. She opened her door, hugging herself against the cold.

  “Justine.” Sean turned and handed her a folded slip of paper between the seats. “My number. Don’t be afraid to call me.”

  Her heart breaking, she nodded. “Goodbye.” She exited the car and dashed up the steps and into her sister’s arms.

  * * * *

  Sean knew it was coming. They hadn’t reached the end of the block before Trent started in on him.

  “She’s a beauty.” Pulling up to the stop sign, Trent looked at him incredulously. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

  “Nothing happened.”

  Trent laughed. “It’s me. I won’t sell you out.”

  “Read my lips. We. Did. Not. Have. Sex.” Shaking his head, he admitted, “Yeah, all right, I want to, bad, but she won’t. I only took photos of her last night.”

  “You’re telling me she spent the night at your place and nothing happened?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. It was perfectly innocent.”

  “What about the elevator this morning?”

  “That was…unfortunate. We were saying goodbye.” He couldn’t hide how depressed he felt right now.

  Trent glanced over, reading him as only a best friend can. “I’m sorry. Obviously you care about her.”

  “I do.” Snorting, Sean dropped his head back and rubbed his temple. “You know what really pisses me off? Can I talk about this?”

  “Go for it.”

  “The rumors about her husband are true. The guy’s a total dick. Can’t keep it in his pants. I don’t know what kind of hold he has on her, but the marriage is basically over. She’s just waiting until November to divorce him. She doesn’t want to hurt him in the next election.”

  “That’s fucked up.”

  “Tell me about it.” He dropped his hand to his lap and sighed. “She’s a good person, Trent. Honest, warm, kind. I admire her.” Pausing to watch a meter maid ticket a parked car as they rolled by, he finally confided, “I’m falling for her and I can’t do a damn thing about it.”

  “Whoa. Seriously?”

  Sean sighed. “Yes.”

  “Is she strong enough to weather this?”

  That was a good question, one that chilled Sean to the marrow. “I don’t know.”

  “And those pictures you took?”

  “Would only hurt us both at this point.”

  “I figured. How did she look?”

  Remembering the unblemished delicacy of her skin against the white muslin and those graceful feminine curves, he had to smile. “Spectacular.”

  Trent’s soft laugh died out and he turned serious. “What are we doing now? Do you want to stay at my place for a while and wait for this to blow over?”

  “I can’t. I’m too busy to hide out.”

  “Bet you get even more clients now.”

  Sean snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Justine’s downfall just raised my profile outside the art world. People are going to want to take potshots at her and throw money at me.”

  “Forward your calls to the gallery. I’ll only pass the legitimate numbers back to you.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “My staff will, but I suggest you do something nice for them as a thank you, like scoring tickets to a show or dinner at one of those trendy restaurants you’re going to be promoting. It’s next to impossible to get a table in some of those places.”

  “Done.”

  Trent glanced at him. “So I’m taking you home?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then check the glove box.”

  Curious, Sean popped the button and saw a hat and dark glasses inside. He laughed at the ridiculousness of his situation. “Thanks.”

  “No sweat. I don’t play personal taxi for just anyone.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “I hope things work out for you two.”

  “Me too.”

  Trent had a shit-eating grin on his face when he asked, “Any chance I can see those pictures you took last night?”

  That earned him a backhanded cuff on the arm. “Never.”

  “Just checking.”

  * * * *

&nbs
p; Justine was chin deep in a hot, bubbly tub when there was a rap on the door.

  “Sweetie, I have fresh clothes for you. Can I come in?”

  “It’s unlocked.”

  Her sister peeked inside then quietly ventured in and set the folded clothing on the vanity. Giving her a sorrowful smile, she asked, “How are you holding up?”

  “I don’t honestly know. I’m afraid to face the music.”

  Jeannie threw up her hand and asked point blank, “What were you thinking? You have a public marriage.”

  “And an unfaithful husband.” Irritated, Justine slapped the water, sending bubbles in every direction. Using her hand, she scooped them down the tile wall and back into the tub. “Sorry, but this is so unfair! Gary’s been sleeping around for years and no one has exposed him. Yet I fall asleep at a friend’s apartment and I’m branded a cheating hussy. We didn’t do anything!”

  “You’re right. It isn’t fair.” Jeannie sat down on the toilet lid and seemed to weigh something. “I should probably tell you this.”

  “What? Did you sleep with Gary too?” She laughed at the absurdity of her little joke.

  “No. But he wanted me to.”

  That was a shock. Justine stared up at her sister. “When?”

  “I don’t know, maybe a year after you two married? He came onto me.”

  “What did you do?”

  Jeannie laughed, clearly embarrassed and amused. “I told him if he ever did anything like that again I’d crush his nuts in a vise grip.”

  “Ooo.” Justine grinned. “What’s a vise grip?”

  “No idea, but it sounds painful. He took it seriously.”

  They both chuckled at the thought.

  Jeannie went on. “I’m sorry I never told you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t. I stopped caring long ago.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  Justine frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I can tell you care about this photographer. Sean?”

  “I do,” she admitted sadly. “Sucks to be me, doesn’t it?”

  “Not necessarily. Does he care about you?”

  “Where’s your magic eight ball?”

  “No joking. Does he care about you?”

  “Whatever is happening between us…it feels real. Something is there. I’m just afraid to label it.”

  They were both quietly thoughtful for a moment before her sister asked, “He takes nude photos?”

  Justine burst out laughing. “Only some of them are nudes. He’s an artist. His medium is photography. He does beautiful work, very emotional, deep. I might even go so far as to call some of it spiritual.”

  “Were you naked?”

  She gave a sheepish nod. “Yes.”

  Jeannie covered her mouth and giggled in the same way Justine did. It was a mannerism of the women in their family, handed down mother to daughter.

  “I can’t believe it.” Her sister shook her head. “You used to pull your nightgowns over your head and undress in your little tent just so no one would see you.”

  Smiling again, Justine wriggled her shoulders under the water. “I’ve come a long way, baby.”

  “I’ll say. Which is why you’re hiding out from the paparazzi and every sleazy tabloid reporter in this city.”

  “There is that.” She voiced a question she’d pondered for some time. “Do you think Gary cheated because he prefers sexually assertive women?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”

  “I’ve thought about it, a lot. When we were a couple, I never turned him away, but I didn’t initiate either. What if I was too passive? Am I partly responsible for his infidelities?” Justine sank down deeper in the tub, frowning at the thought.

  Jeannie huffed in exasperation. “Don’t do this to yourself. You were the perfect wife. He was lucky to have you.”

  “I was the right kind of wife. Not for him, but for the public. For appearances. I think he would have chosen differently if he could have.”

  “What are you saying?” Jeannie asked.

  “I’m saying we were incompatible. That Gary wounded my pride not my heart. I’m completely different with Sean. You have no idea how hard it is for me to hold back with him. I want to knock him to the floor and ride him. Sometimes I want to touch him so badly my fingernails cut into my palms from fighting the urge. I’ve never wanted someone like this before. I think about him all the time.”

  “Wow.”

  Justine nodded, just as amazed as her sister appeared to be. “I know.”

  Slapping the tops of her thighs, Jeannie stood up. “Well, I’ll let you finish your bath in peace. I’ll be downstairs making lunch.”

  “I’ll be down. I can’t put all this off indefinitely. Time to take my medicine.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  As soon as Jeannie pulled the door closed behind her, Justine picked up the washcloth and continued to bathe, her mind returning to what she’d pondered aloud. What she hadn’t said was how different she was with these two men.

  When she was introduced to Gary, he was already a political favorite, a standout from the usual crop of candidates. Handsome, young, energetic, and passionate, he won people over with ease. She was flattered by his attention and openly envied by others when he pursued her. Thinking back, she finally understood she was drawn more to the promise of the man not the man himself. He chose her, presented a ring, and she accepted. That’s the way things worked. She followed the script, much like he followed one when he sought his ideal wife. Knowing his tastes better now, she almost felt sorry he didn’t feel he could choose someone more appropriate for him.

  What about her? Too bad she couldn’t blame political aspirations for her decisions. It never occurred to her she had choices too, or more accurately that she’d bowed out of actively making any. He liked her, so she liked him back. He wanted her, so she accepted his attentions. There was an imbalance going on. Not once did she ask herself what she wanted, what kind of mate would suit her best. A larger-than-life man favored her and she stopped looking, stopped asking, and stopped questioning out of gratitude.

  They were both at fault for the demise of the marriage, but it was a marriage that never should have taken place. Talk about a rude awakening! Too bad she wasn’t thinking clearly before she walked down the aisle. To choose, rather than be chosen made all the difference in the world.

  Her mind slipped back in time to Sean’s exhibit in Berlin. What would have happened if they’d met there? Would they feel the same powerful energy and sizzling attraction? If they’d hooked up then would they still be together? Or did they both need a failed marriage under their belts before they learned what they really wanted, what they needed in a companion? Was it their independent life experiences and maturity that made their connection feel so necessary now?

  She didn’t have any answers to these questions. Right or wrong, like it or not, her marriage helped make her the woman she was. If she’d had an attentive husband and a family of her own to care for she wouldn’t have felt compelled to create Open Arms, Warm Hearts. Her foundation was making a difference in more lives every day. Without her disappointments she wouldn’t have had the incentive to forge ahead in other directions. It was those personal setbacks that placed her on this new and rewarding path. That was how she’d discovered she had ambition.

  Hopefully Open Arms, Warm Hearts wouldn’t be affected by this ridiculous scandal. She should probably call Lise as soon as she got off the phone with Gary, and her assistant Lois. Carter Douglass could talk to Gary. She didn’t want to deal with him.

  What was her husband going to say?

  Chapter 5

  Justine put off lunch until after she made her phone calls. Even empty, her stomach was churning. Stress will do that. She decided to call Gary first.

  “Justine, where the hell are you and what the hell is going on?” he asked as soon as he answered.

  She took a deep breath and let it out, willing herself
to calm down. “Nothing is going on.”

  “That’s not what it looks like. Hang on.” She heard him ask someone to give him some privacy. “And close the door,” he added then returned to her. “I don’t care what you do when I’m gone, but damn it, be discreet.”

  Now her blood was boiling. “I’m innocent—unlike you!”

  “I remember him. You introduced us. Were you sleeping with him then?”

  “No! You’re not listening to me.”

  “I don’t know what to believe. I saw the pictures. Something’s going on. Maybe you haven’t had sex yet, but you’re having an affair.”

  Groaning, she spun in frustration. “You’re insane.”

  “And you’re in love.”

  Justine felt the blood drain from her face. “What did you say?”

  “It’s a love affair.” There was a quiet pause on the other end. “Admit it. You love him.”

  Swallowing and sniffling, she began to cry. “Yes,” she said softly then fell back against the wall behind her and crumpled to the floor.

  “I’m sorry, Justine, for everything. But this is for your own good. And mine. Talk to Carter.”

  “No! Gary…” What? For her own good? That sounded ominous. Unfortunately he’d already cut her off to transfer the call. The impulse to hang up immediately was almost irresistible. She wanted to fly away, out of this cold city to somewhere warm where she could be anonymous.

  Her head shot up when she heard her name in her ear. “Mrs. Hubbard?”

  Damn. Too late. She cringed. “Yes.”

  “The senator will be making a statement to the media in an hour. We’re finishing the draft now. I suggest you watch it. Or listen to it. Local stations will carry it as well. Goodbye.”

  Before she could ask what they were going to say, the bastard ended the call.

  “Oh no.”

  She dialed Gary’s number again. He didn’t pick up. When she tried his office she couldn’t get past his secretary.

  Shaken and afraid, she returned to Jeannie’s guestroom and searched through her purse for the slip of paper Sean gave her. Luckily, he answered right away.

  “Justine? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I don’t think so. Something is about to happen. I’m scared.”