Liza told herself she was being stupid. You’d think she’d be used to this kind of thing by now—this generalized grouchiness and dissatisfaction from her father—but no. It was no good telling herself that he didn’t know what he was saying, that he had dementia or that he really appreciated her deep down. Those things worked only when the behavior was a recent change, the result of the disease. The Colonel had never thought she was much good at anything and most likely never would.
But…he was her father and only living relative.
Determined to take the high road, she changed the subject and tried again, her hopes low. “Did you see my report on the news earlier, Colonel? About Senator Warner and his campaign?”
“Yeah, I saw it,” he snapped. “I had to hang my head in shame over in the activity room tonight. Daughter of mine giving a black candidate a hard time. What’re you thinking, girl?”
Just like that he was clear and focused again, centered on the present and Liza’s most recent failings. She supposed she should be glad for these fleeting moments of lucidity, but it was hard when he used them to attack her professionalism, which was somehow worse than his personal attacks.
“I’m thinking about giving objective coverage—”
“There wasn’t anything objective about your coverage,” he muttered. “Black reporter criticizing a black candidate—”
Okay. Enough was enough. She’d really tried, but now her blood pressure was in the red and she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. Time to cut her losses before this man sent her into stroke territory up here at thirty thousand feet, where decent medical help was unavailable.
“Uh-oh, Colonel,” she interrupted. “The captain just told us to stop using the air phones. I’ll see you this weekend, okay?”
“When are you going to take me home, girl?” he spluttered.
“Bye.”
She hung up. There was a moment’s silence, and then Takashi spoke.
“Daddy Dearest?”
Liza snorted. “I like to think of him as Ward Cleaver.”
The last thing she saw before she lowered her blindfold was Takashi’s sympathetic smile. Because she didn’t do emotions of any kind, especially pity, she flashed him a warning look that only earned her a soft chuckle in return.
Men. They were so aggravating.
If only she could wave a magic wand and rid the earth of them. It would be a much better place.
After thirty seconds of blessed silence, an annoying new sound hit her ears: the unmistakable crinkle of a food wrapper. Feeling grouchier by the second, Liza slid the blindfold up to her forehead and cracked open her left eye to watch Takashi rip into a bag of—she squinted—dried apple crisps.
“Yuck.” What a disgusting waste of calories. “Why can’t you ever eat any decent junk food?”
Takashi winked one heavily lashed dark eye at her and flashed the dimpled white grin that turned women far and wide to jelly. “Want one?” Crunching loudly, he tipped the bag in her direction.
She snorted before collapsing back against her seat and rearranging the neck roll. “Why would I eat that? Wake me up when you break out some Cheetos.”
“No Cheetos. I’ve got soy nuts, dried apricots, and…uh-oh.”
“Hmm?” she said sleepily.
“Wake up, Za-Za,” Takashi hissed. His sharp nudge to her ribs jarred Liza fully awake and she yelped. “The Princess of Darkness at twelve o’clock, and she’s looking right this w—. What’s up, Adena?”
Liza snatched the blindfold off and looked up to see a new visitor to row twenty back here in the tail end of the plane.
Adena Brown—Senator Warner’s senior adviser, gatekeeper and consigliere, a couture-clad political marvel so shrewd, disciplined and fierce in her protection of her candidate that the press universally hated her—stood in the aisle next to Takashi.
Liza snapped to attention and sat up straight.
Adena looked annoyed, as usual, but made a token attempt at politeness. She stretched her perfectly lined lips past her teeth in the grimace that was the closest she ever got to a smile, tossed her hair over her shoulder and spoke to both of them even though the worst of her narrow-eyed glare was reserved for Liza.
“Got a minute?” she asked.
“Of course.” Liza tossed her blanket aside and scooted to the edge of her seat.
“The senator would, ah—” Adena’s feeble attempt at pleasantries slipped away and she heaved a long-suffering sigh “—like to see you, Liza. And I need to talk to you, Takashi.”
Liza blinked. Senator Warner wanted to see them? As the Scooby-Doo cartoon character liked to say, Ruh-roh. Yeah, this was it. She’d known she was getting tossed.
Exchanging a discreet sidelong glance with Takashi, who looked as puzzled as she felt, she tried to act as if being summoned to talk with the candidate in the middle of the night was an everyday occurrence.
“Ah,” she said, “is everything okay?”
“Peachy.” Adena checked her watch. “Coming?”
Liza stood and exchanged a Help me! look with Takashi as she edged past him and into the aisle. Takashi merely shrugged and stood aside for her.
They fell in behind Adena and marched toward the front of the plane. A few of her cohorts gave them curious looks as they passed their rows, but for the most part the cabin was quiet and people were trying to get a little shut-eye.
They passed through the adjacent cabin, which was filled with drowsy campaign staffers—they all looked like they were twelve or younger, anxiously awaiting that first growth of facial hair so they could run out and buy a razor—stretched out in their seats.
Liza looked around for the senator, but he wasn’t there. The three of them kept moving into the next cabin, which held a conference room.
Here, Adena stopped and put her hand on Takashi’s arm. “Wait here. Liza, the senator’s in here.” She pointed to the next cabin. “Follow me.”
Liza, who thrived on adventure and was in her element whenever she put a politician in the hot seat, gulped. With the random and, she hoped, ridiculous thought that she may never see Takashi again, she slipped into the senator’s private digs.
Wow.
Must be nice to have the money to outfit the plane like a smaller version of Air Force One.
This cozy little cabin had six or eight large leather seats, the kind that were plush, comfortable and totally unlike the torture devices the press was consigned to in the back.
The lighting was mellow and intimate. So was the music—that anthem of longing and need and one of her own personal favor ites: Patti LaBelle’s “If Only You Knew”—which was piped in from invisible speakers.
Liza’s thoughts shifted automatically to lovers, bedrooms and feverish kisses in the dark. Remembering a piece of candidate trivia that every person aboard knew, namely that Senator Warner liked to unwind to Motown music and soulful ’70s soul jams did nothing to dispel her first, overwhelming thought:
What a seductive little hideaway.
Adena stepped aside and there he was, Senator Warner, the presidential candidate and the sexiest man Liza had ever seen.
Especially now, when he seemed like any other man.
A more imposing man than most others, true, but still just a man who was human, vulnerable, and…touchable.
He sat at a table poring over his paperwork, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his tie now gone, his brow furrowed with concentration and his face weighed down with fatigue.
But he glanced up when they came in and looked straight at Liza.
Liza’s feet slowed and stopped, leaving her frozen and exposed. As a television journalist she was used to bright lights and people staring at her, but the senator’s intense interest was somehow different.
Standing quickly, he came around the table, and Liza’s skittering heart went into overdrive. Thankfully he kept his distance and stopped when he got within three feet of her.
Making no effort to hide what he was doing, he stared at her
with shrewd eyes, studying and assessing. Liza kept her chin up and submitted to this appraisal, somehow holding his unfathomable gaze even though it was too bright, too powerful and too curious.
Liza forced a breath into her straining lungs and waited for him to speak. He didn’t. Adena, apparently growing impatient with all this silence, cleared her throat. This, finally, spurred Senator Warner to action.
“Thanks, Adena.” His deep voice, which was commanding and impressive at rallies and on the Senate floor, was now low, husky and as enticing as the stroke of velvet across Liza’s skin. “I can take it from here.”
“But—” Adena began.
“I’ll catch up with you in the conference room.”
There was no arguing with the senator when he spoke in that tone, and Adena seemed to know it even if she didn’t like it. Her expression dour, she crept toward the door at a glacial pace, showing every sign of not wanting to leave the two of them alone together.
Liza wondered whether the two were lovers. They’d worked together for years and spent every waking moment together on campaign business, so they definitely had the opportunity—
Wait a minute. Wait, wait, WAIT. What the hell was she doing?
Liza shook her head to get rid of the weird thoughts and remembered two things.
First, from all reports, the senator was leading the celibate life of a priest.
Second, Adena was married.
Not that it would ever be Liza’s business anyway.
Period. End of story. Over and out.
And then, even though Liza was nowhere near ready, Adena left, leaving Liza alone with John Warner.
Chapter 4
Chapter 4
L iza had never been this close to the senator before, and being the focal point of his attention was an intoxicating experience, especially because he seemed too interested in studying her to interrupt his perusal with, say, blinking.
The air between them shifted until it crackled with its own energy, a living thing with a power Liza didn’t understand and couldn’t control.
Realizing she could no longer hold his piercing gaze any more than she could stand on the equator at noon and stare at the sun, she looked away on the pretext of checking out this unfamiliar part of the plane.
A lame conversation starter popped into her head at last, but she had to clear her voice twice before it worked. “Nice cabin. The other peasants and I don’t have this much space in back.”
He laughed.
Shoring up her courage, Liza risked a glance at him and had that same old predictable reaction: Oh, my God. He was so unbelievably sexy. Though his laugh was guarded, it was still dimpled, thrilling and enough to squeeze the breath right out of her lungs.
She looked away again before he damaged her retinas.
“Don’t complain,” he told her. “Senator Fitzgerald only has a 737.”
This time Liza laughed. “I’m not complaining.”
His smile slipped away, bit by bit, and he stared for another beat or two while Liza tried not to fidget with nerves. Did she have leftover dinner lettuce wedged between her front teeth? Was that it?
God, she was antsy. When would he get to the point?
With rising desperation, she glanced around and wished there was something—anything—for her to feign interest in, but the space was austere and unhelpful. Seat…another seat…whoops, another seat with his soccer ball in it…table…paperwork…dark windows through which she could see nothing.
That was about it.
A troublesome new thought came: why hadn’t she worn something other than the cornflower-blue suit her network-provided stylist had picked out for her? She supposed it was pretty enough, but—
Wait a minute. Thinking about changing clothes to impress a man, Liza? Hang your head in shame, girl. Obviously she was not in her right mind. Time to speed things along and get out of here.
“So,” she said. “Was there something you needed from me?”
Nothing about her word choice was particularly amusing as far as she could tell, but his eyes crinkled at the corners anyway, and she had the distinct feeling she was missing a crucial detail about something.
“You could say that. I hope Adena didn’t wake you up.”
“Don’t worry.” She studied the tips of her pointy-toed black heels and tried to brace herself lest he grin again. “I don’t think anyone on the plane is going to sleep until November 5th, anyway. Do you?”
Another rumbling laugh, every bit as exciting as the first. “I was just thinking the same thing a few minutes ago.”
“So…I’m assuming you’re going to ask the network to replace me?…”
“What makes you say that?” he asked.
“I don’t seem to be your favorite person.”
“What makes you say that?”
The words were the same, but his inflection was a little sharper the second time around. Looking up, she discovered that his gaze had become narrowed and speculative.
“I think it was the way you glared at me earlier, Senator. That was a clue.”
A slow grin crept across his face. “And here I thought I’d been so subtle.”
“That was subtle?” She widened her eyes in mock alarm. “I’d hate to see direct.”
“Well…your coverage hasn’t been that easy on me, has it?”
“You didn’t expect me to go easy on you, did you?”
“Liza,” he told her, “I wouldn’t expect anything about you to be easy.”
There was a husky new note in his voice that made her wonder if the topic had changed without her knowledge, but nothing in his bland expression or relaxed posture gave him away.
And yet she still felt pleasantly agitated, her skin a degree or two warmer than it had been a second ago. “I give you the same unbiased professionalism that I give all the politicians I cover. That’s fair, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure former senator Gregory would think it was fair.”
Liza scowled. Naturally the role she’d played in the downfall of one of his colleagues would be a sore subject for Senator Warner, but that didn’t mean she was an unethical reporter. She wasn’t. She was a shining example of journalistic integrity, and everyone knew it.
“Senator Gregory shouldn’t have had his aides buying drugs for him to support his coke habit.” Liza tried to keep the huffiness out of her voice, but that was a lost cause. “He contributed to his own downfall. In fact, I’d say he hand-picked the most spectacular downfall he could find and then enthusiastically worked for it like it was his lifelong goal. I just broke the story.” She shrugged. “And anyway, any other reporter would have done the same. Like the CNN news reporter who broke the story of the governor’s affair a while back. It’s news.”
Liza froze.
What? What had she just said? Had she just mentioned Beau Taylor, the governor of Virginia, who was married to the senator’s sister, Jillian?
Smooth move, girl. Way to move the conversation along.
Liza wanted to glue her big fat mouth shut, but the senator merely grimaced and ignored the subject of his wayward brother-in-law.
“I…see.” Leaning a hip against the side of the nearest seat, he crossed his muscled forearms over his chest and flashed a wry smile. “So as long as I don’t do something that stupid, I have nothing to fear from you?”
“Have you done something that stupid?” Now that Liza knew her brashness hadn’t derailed the conversation, her journalist’s keen instincts sniffed the air, on the scent of a potential story. “You could give me an exclusive. Just in case you feel the sudden urge to confess to anything.”
“No. But I will keep you in mind in case I have any sudden…urges.”
“Please do,” she said, distracted by his gaze, which flickered to her lips and then returned, brighter than before, to her eyes.
“I do have you in mind for something special, Liza.”
Liza blinked and tried not to wonder too hard about why he’d been looking at
her mouth. “What’s that?”
“There may have been something to what you said earlier about me granting the press more access. And that’s where you come in.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. Congratulations. You’ve just been granted exclusive access to Sitchroo for the next month or so. You get to hang around, see the decision-making process and generally make a nuisance of yourself. I’m going to instruct my staff to answer all your questions. I’m sure I’ll live to regret it, but…there you go. Adena’s talking to Takashi right now to get things formally arranged.”
A wild rush of triumph ran through her body, getting all of her professional juices flowing. Could she be this lucky? Complete access to Sitchroo? What a coup! As soon as all her cohorts in the back of the plane heard, they’d be Grinch-green with jealousy.
Ha! What a way to go out before she took the anchor chair!
While she resisted the urge to clap her hands and jump with glee, she couldn’t quite stifle her Cheshire-cat grin. Senator Warner smiled back, and the atmosphere shifted into territory that was sensual and exhilarating, as though he’d trailed one long finger up her spine. Renewed awareness of him as a man skittered over her skin, and her breath caught.
As though he sensed some of her turmoil, he stopped grinning.
Oh, no. Did he know how attracted she was to him?
Maybe that was what was going on here. Maybe he’d detected her soft spot for him and intended to use it to his advantage. Yeah, that was probably it; he was known as a brilliant strategist, after all.
If the press was clamoring for more of his time, he was probably thinking, why not grant more time—to the female journalist who had the hardest time controlling her hormonal surge? Why not count on foolish, horny Liza to soft-pedal the coverage?
Or…maybe something else was going on.
She was the most senior black correspondent on the plane, so maybe he hoped—just like her father did—that she’d give him more favorable coverage on the basis of the race connection. Maybe the good senator figured a black correspondent wouldn’t give a black candidate a hard time. He should know better than that.
Campaign For Seduction Page 3