The Phoenix Campaign (Grace Colton Book 2)

by Heidi Joy Tretheway

  My body heats and flushes with desire as Jared’s breath caresses me, as his fingers explore the places I’d forgotten. I arch into his touch, moaning with the pent-up frustration of wondering, wanting, waiting.

  I needed him to come back to me and now he’s here.

  I needed him to promise me a future and now he’s offered it all.

  Jared’s teeth find my neck, drawing sharp pleasure-pain. Then he descends, his tongue coaxing my nipples into peaks, his lips trailing kisses down each rib.

  When he reaches my stomach, he freezes. I lift my head enough to see his eyes are closed, his expression pained, as he plants a soft kiss below my navel. His whiskers brush my skin as he shakes his head slowly.

  “I’m so, so sorry. I know there’s nothing I can do to change it, but I want you to know that I would have wanted that child. I would have loved her with everything I had in me.”

  A light tap on my stomach makes me lift my head again and I see a tear splash on my stomach, followed by another. Jared’s lashes are wet, his face streaming with emotion from what we lost.

  “She would have been beautiful,” I whisper.

  “And stubborn. Terribly stubborn,” Jared adds, and a smile surfaces from beneath the tears. “Even though I didn’t grow up with a real father figure, I swear to you I would have done my best to be a good dad.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Would you—would you ever, I mean, after Ethan, and this…” Jared trails off, looking away from me. “Would you want to try again?”

  “Us? Or a baby?” I still haven’t given Jared my answer to the first part, so it’s crazy that we could even be discussing the second.

  “All of it. And maybe a dog.” Jared’s smile spreads wider. “I told you I’m done after this. No more campaigns. If you want to keep going, I’ve got nothing to stop you and every reason in the world to help you get there.”

  I swallow, understanding the weight of everything he’s offering.

  Everything. All for the taking.

  “I want to keep going.”

  “That’s my girl.” He laughs and rolls us, shifting me on top of him.

  “And I don’t want to do it without you.” I say, ticking off my requirements on my fingers. “And if we do this—no more secrets. No more lies.”

  “No more,” Jared agrees, his fingers skimming over my skin, raising goosebumps on my arms. Then his hands still, and his eyes lock on mine. “We’ll start clean. And to do that, I have to tell you. Your mother came to campaign headquarters. She wanted money.”

  I nod, ashamed he’s bringing this up when I should have. One more secret to drag out of the closet. The money’s in my account now, just waiting for me to write a check, and I hope my deal with Gloria Alton will prevent my mother from going back to Alton in the future. “I know. Fifteen thousand. I finally have enough to cover the check.”

  “Don’t.” Jared’s eyes are tight with worry. “Don’t pay her. She’ll never ask you for money again.”

  I pull back, sitting up as I straddle him. “How can you be sure?”

  “I made a deal with her.”

  “Without asking me?” My voice rises with anxiety.

  “How could I bring it up to ask you when you weren’t even willing to tell me what was happening?” Jared’s frustration is evident and I remember some of his probing questions from a few weeks ago. “I decided to take care of it.”

  “What did you do?”

  Jared takes a deep breath. “I sold my house. Bought a condo in Portland. I told your mother that she can live in it as long as she wants, for the rest of her life, so long as she never comes back to either of us for more.”

  I’m floored by this decision. This is Jared riding back to me on a white horse, even when he’s terrible at communicating what’s really happening in his head or heart. This is him putting me first, smoothing my path to get to where I want to be.

  With him.

  I lean forward and smother him with kisses, my hair forming a curtain around our faces. It makes a secret dark space where we can relish each other’s touch and smell and taste. His hands skim my back, up and down, with ever-increasing pressure as he draws me closer to him.

  “Thank you,” I finally tell him when our lips part for air. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I couldn’t share everything with you. I was just … scared.”

  Jared rolls us, his body crushing mine, his fierce dark eyes penetrating. “Don’t be. Not with me, not ever. You’re taking me for who I am, and I’ll take you, all of you, no matter how damaged or haunted you feel. Because to me, you’re not damaged. You’re perfectly mine.”

  I sigh as his mouth descends again, as his knee nudges my legs apart. Our breaths mingle as he whispers more words that fill my heart with confidence, banishing the fear and the shadows. I reach between us, stroking his hard length, begging for a pure feeling to cut through the grief and the pain.

  He needs no more encouragement. His cock finds my entrance wet and wanting and I wrap my legs around his hips as he buries himself to the hilt. He moves inside me, building from gentle to hard, from slow to a furious pace.

  I quake from the power of him, thrusting and demanding, pushing past my boundaries at every turn. I watch his expressions—lust, need, passion, sacrifice. He sacrificed his most valuable asset, his future, to protect me. Even when I was too afraid to tell him the truth.

  Jared’s body tenses, coiled and ready to spring, but he holds himself in check and tilts his hips. He goes deeper, finding the catch inside me that’s a tripwire for my climax. He grunts with effort, his teeth clamped furiously in concentration as he thrusts again, his thumb working my clit, taking me where I need to be.

  Suddenly, as if the ground has dropped from beneath my feet, I’m in free-fall, spinning in a vortex as my orgasm sucks all of my consciousness into the truth of my connection to Jared. It’s this truth: that he is irrevocably mine, and I am his.

  Jared’s body arches and he gasps his relief as he pumps inside me, waves of his climax extending my own. We pant together, eyes locked, as if neither of us can bear to interrupt this moment with words. Finally, he lowers his chest to mine, his cock still thick inside me, and I shudder as the energy between us sends aftershocks through my limbs.

  We breathe together, long moments in the dark and quiet of my room as I regain my senses. I feel his heartbeat and revel in the fusion of our skin, our sweat, our sex. Our future.

  “I believe we can survive this,” I tell him, my lips against his soft stubble as I clutch him against me. “I believe in us. But do you think our campaign can? After everything that’s happened?”

  Jared’s rich chuckle rolls from his lips. “Darlin’, I told you why we called you the phoenix candidate from the start. You rose from the ashes, and now look at you: weeks from winning an election.”

  “You think we can win?”

  “I’m certain of it. We’re going to rise up from everything that’s trying to tear you and Shep down, come back stronger, and win the White House. The Conover-Colton ticket will be the phoenix campaign.”

  THE END

  The following is a sneak preview of the final book in this series—The Phoenix Decision.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  “We got beat up bad this last couple weeks.” Shep looks around the conference table at campaign headquarters, where all of us are running on too little sleep and too many crises.

  Sasha snorts. “Understatement of the year.”

  He gives her a sharp look and she presses her lips together, a sign she won’t interrupt further. “So we had to do some calculations. The first issue is we’re far behind on fundraising. That’s no secret, but it’s going to hit us hard in the next couple weeks if we can’t do a media buy to match the Republicans’ ad campaign.”

  “They’ve already scooped up the majority of airtime in some swing states,” Jared adds.
A sheaf of papers in front of him confirms it.

  “The second issue is that we’re trailing the the Jackson-Sharp ticket by double digits on family values issues,” Shep continues. “Doesn’t matter that we’ve come clean. They’re hammering our past mistakes so hard that polls are showing that’s what undecided voters remember about us. We’re the dirty ticket.”

  I cross my arms, watching Jared’s nod of confirmation. “So what’s the bottom line?”

  “We have to make a deal,” Jared says.

  “With Boyle?” Sasha asks. “He’s already endorsed us. We’ve got him out stumping for us at a couple of appearances a week. Same for Rivera.” Shep successfully convinced two of his primary opponents to back him, including Florida Congressman Juan Rivera who dropped his presidential bid early, and New York Congressman Jim Boyle, whose third-place finish in the primaries made him the kingmaker in swinging his committed delegates to Shep.

  “We need to up the ante,” Shep says, and Jared again nods. As fractured as their relationship is personally, I can see that they’re together on this decision. And I hate that I was left out of it. “We need Darrow.”

  The air goes out of the room and my throat constricts in horror. “No.”

  “We do,” Shep says, his deep voice unwavering. “We need a moderate to bring in more independent voters. Someone who can reach into deep pockets to get the fundraising done, and someone who’s squeaky clean on family values. Aaron Darrow fits the bill.”

  I shake my head, my mind spinning from every way the former California governor and his wife Lauren undermined us. “No way. There’s no way we could bring them into this campaign. After everything they’ve done to us? You told me yourself you didn’t trust them!”

  “Still don’t.” Shep shrugs. “But if we’re going to win this, we’ve got to make a deal. We can’t discount the fact that Darrow’s our hook into California.”

  Sasha taps her tablet and frowns. “He’s got a point, Grace. Darrow would serve up almost as many electoral votes as Jackson-Sharp will collect from Texas and Illinois.”

  “Darrow’s the last big fish we can land who would make a real dent in the Republicans’ momentum,” Jared adds.

  I focus my fury on him. “Don’t do this. How can you even let Shep consider this? It’s just … evil.”

  “It’s politics,” Jared says. “And it was my idea.”

  That admission hits me like a sucker punch to the gut and I stand from the conference table, reeling from what feels like absolute betrayal. “How could you let them get within ten miles of our campaign? How could you even consider it?”

  “I know this doesn’t sit well with you,” Shep says, his voice low and conciliatory, “but Jared reached out to the Darrows and they’re willing to talk. We’re meeting with them later today.”

  “So it’s just done? Whether I’m on board or not?”

  “You’ll have to be.” Jared’s eyes bore into me, a command to sit, stay, and behave.

  But I’m not a puppy. I can’t be complicit in this. “What did you offer them?” If Shep trades a cabinet-level appointment for this endorsement and we win, our administration would be stuck with the Darrows for years.

  Jared’s eyes cut to Shep. But before Shep can answer, the conference room door swings open and six Secret Service agents swarm in. “There’s a credible threat. We need to move you. Now.”

  Shep, Jared, and Sasha spring from their chairs. “What’s happening?”

  “We’ll brief you when you’re in a secure location,” says Eric, one of my main security team members. He holds out a heavy black vest. “Put this on, please.”

  I swallow, pulling the bulletproof vest over my head and securing its velcro straps by my ribs. There are only two vests—one for me, one for Shep—and I stutter out a question, “What about them?” pointing to Jared and Sasha.

  “Stay here,” Eric orders them, grasping my elbow and steering me down the corridor toward the back of campaign headquarters. Other Secret Service agents lead Shep down the opposite hall.

  I’m hustled away so fast that I can’t even speak to Jared. Eric follows me into the back of a Secret Service SUV and its tires squeal as it pulls into traffic.

  I pull out my phone to text Jared. Eric whips it out of my hand and powers it off. “Not now.”

  “What’s happening?” I try to keep fear from shaking my voice.

  Eric’s mouth forms a grim line. “When we know, you’ll know. Right now my only job is to keep you alive.”

  Dear Reader

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  Hearing from readers is my favorite part of being an author. Reach me at author.heidi@gmail.com or www.heidijoytretheway.com. Thanks for reading!

  Acknowledgements

  This book wouldn’t be in your hands without my literary fairy godmothers.

  Adrian Hale coached me through more than a few writers’ blocks even while juggling the launch of her debut novel. Her ideas and enthusiasm are boundless, and she arranged and styled the gorgeous cover shoot for this series. Kudos to photographer Josh Baker who got it right so many times that it was nearly impossible to choose the final image, and models David and Callisto—graceful, beautiful, and damn hot. I apologize for all of my inappropriate swooning during the photo session.

  Devanie Angel offered lightning-fast proofreading and developmental critiques, with a sharp eye that should be the envy of editors everywhere. She held my hand through the last hours until deadline and demanded more orgasms, please. In chapters eleven and thirty-one, I delivered. Your move, writer girl. Gimme.

  Natalie Blitt and Nancy Doublin are the best cheerleaders ever, sharpening the story as they reacted to Grace and Jared’s human failings. Likewise, Clare James offered an early critique that helped me fix plot problems before they went off the rails. Cynthia L. Moyer turned and burned on a copy edit that kept me laughing with wonderfully witty margin notes. I’ve had her in my corner for six books and wouldn’t publish without her.

  Though writing is a solitary endeavor, many talented authors have become mentors and true friends. Diana Peterfreund helped me through my own human failings. Delancey Stewart delivered a pick-me-up when I needed it most (drinks are on me in NYC, babe!). Love to JC Emery, Meghan March, KK Hendin, Levi Buchanan, Stephanie Pajonas, Katherine Ernst, and the 80k writers’ group. This book comes in shy of 80k, so I hope they don’t kick me out because they’re delightfully naughty.

  Special thanks to my editor Jim Thomsen for his unwavering support, ability to juggle deadlines, and insistence on always, always making it better. Like Jared, he never does things “half-assed or halfway.” I have a fantastic publishing partner and friend, and I don’t take either gift lightly.

  Thanks also to Nazarea Andrews, blog tour host goddess, KP Simmon at InkSlinger PR, and Lisa Reeves of A Life Bound by Books, who has championed me from the beginning.

  My family put up with my yin and yang during the writing process, giving me space to sprint to the finish line and encouragement when I wasn’t sure I’d make it.

  Finally, a massive group hug to the bloggers and readers I’ve met so far at signings in Portland, Seattle, Sacramento and Austin. You humble me with your wonderful words in messages and reviews, and I intend to write many more words for you.

  About the Author

  Heidi Joy Tretheway is a sucker for campfires, craft cocktails, and steamy romance in books and real life. She sings along with musicals (badly), craves French carbs, and buys plane tickets the way some women buy shoes.

  He
r first career as a journalist took Heidi Joy behind the scenes with politicians, rock stars, chefs, and detectives, all of whom inspire her stories. She is currently working on her eighth book from her home in Portland, Oregon. She adores hearing from readers at author.heidi@gmail.com.

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