“After my nap it’s back to meeting voters.”
She asked a couple more questions, nothing tough, and then it was over.
“Thanks, Senator.” She stood and unclipped her mike. “I really—”
But he was already gone. Looking over her shoulder she discovered, with an unpleasant start, that he’d stalked off to his desk in the corner, kicking his soccer ball out of the way as he went. It ricocheted, hard, off the cabin door.
Vaguely alarmed, Liza exchanged raised-eyebrow looks with Takashi—she’d never seen the senator upset like this, ever—then followed him.
“Liza,” Takashi said.
She ignored his hissed warning. When he muttered a curse, she ignored that, too. She hoped he would continue to keep their secret, but at that moment she didn’t really care one way or the other.
Only the senator mattered now. Reaching out, she touched his arm.
“What—” she began.
He cut her off and leaned down in her face, nothing but a snarl of heavy eyebrows and glittering eyes. “Is that what you think? That I should call it a day and go home?”
Whoa. Of all the things she might’ve expected him to say, this wasn’t on the list. Startled, she blinked and tried to compose her thoughts.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. I was asking on behalf of viewers—”
“But what do you—” for emphasis, he jabbed his index finger at her chest “—think?”
Liza, who was no dummy even if she had lost all objectivity where he was concerned, saw where this was going. With a vague but growing sense of panic, she shook her head and backed up a step.
“No one cares what I think.”
“I care.”
Everything crystallized for Liza in that one second—the euphoria of listening to his speech, the crowd’s excitement, his absolute determination to earn the voters’ trust and be an outstanding president.
More than that, she grappled with his intelligence, humor and heart. Remembered how he’d allowed himself just that one private moment of despair a few minutes ago and was now ready to climb back into the saddle and fight another day.
He was amazing.
“I asked you a question,” he said. “What do you think?”
Though she would’ve liked to hide behind a scowl and a sarcastic comment, she could no more deny him in his moment of need than she could speak Farsi.
With a fortifying breath, Liza took a huge emotional risk. Expressing intense emotions had never been her thing, especially since her divorce, but maybe, just this once, it wouldn’t hurt anything.
“I think that you have the heart of a lion, Senator. I think the country would be lucky to have you as president.”
More frightening than saying the sentence aloud was his reaction to it.
After a sharp breath and an arrested moment during which he tilted his head as though he couldn’t be sure he’d heard correctly, a change came over him and it wasn’t subtle.
It was…oh, God, it was a blazing look of absolute adoration and worship.
They weren’t alone, though. She had to remember that. Off in the corner Takashi was talking loud on his cell phone, and Liza knew he was reminding them of his presence without confronting them directly. Even so, she couldn’t be bothered with Takashi now.
“I don’t…deserve that kind of faith,” the senator said.
His voice grew huskier and his breath harsher with each syllable, and she knew what it cost this proud, ambitious man to make such an admission. He was showing her a piece of his soul, and she was ridiculously honored and grateful.
“Things are bad,” he continued. “I’m not sure I can win.”
“I am.”
Another smoldering look was her reward and her punishment. He hesitated, apparently hovering between keeping his mouth shut, the smart thing to do, and telling her how he felt.
Liza wanted any confession he’d give her, even if it tormented her later.
“You’re under my skin, Liza. I couldn’t get you out now if I wanted to.”
Having opened the door on her feelings, Liza let a few more creep through even though it was against both her nature and her better judgment.
“I know the feeling, Senator.”
A faint smile lit his face.
Staring up at him now with the connection between them growing stronger by the second, Liza felt as if she had so much to tell him.
If only she knew where to start.
A movement out of the corner of her eye reminded her that now wasn’t the time anyway. Reluctantly looking away, she saw Jillian standing across the cabin, watching them with such quiet understanding that Liza felt exposed and had to lower her gaze.
“Well,” Liza told the senator, “I should get back to the peon section of the plane. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay.”
Liza’s whole body drooped with the pain of leaving his presence. Everything, including gathering up her notes and walking to her seat at the back of the plane, seemed as if it would require much more energy than she could ever generate. But then she caught a glimpse of Takashi, who was giving her the concerned, tragic look she’d seen him give starving orphans in Africa, and it helped. Automatically she straightened her spine and raised her chin because nothing strengthened her backbone like pity.
“Let’s go.” She headed toward the door to the conference room. “Time’s ’a’ wastin’, and I’m starving.”
Her renewed brusqueness actually seemed to relieve Takashi. With an approving wink, he fell in behind her, but then the captain’s voice came over the intercom to announce that they’d been grounded for the night because of the weather and would be stuck in New York.
Everyone groaned.
The two of them were discussing their hotel arrangements for the night when a voice called after them.
They turned in time to see Jillian walk up and give Takashi an apologetic smile. “Can I borrow Liza for a minute?”
Uh-oh. What could Jillian want? Oh, but wait. Maybe she’d decided to grant Liza an interview.
Galvanized by this cheering thought, Liza put a hand on Takashi’s arm, eager to get rid of him and glad for the commotion as people packed up their belongings and got ready to deplane. The dull roar would make it easier to speak with Jillian with a modicum of privacy.
“I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”
“Great.” Takashi’s curious gaze flickered between the women, and Liza braced for the worst, but he left without comment.
Jillian took Liza’s elbow and navigated her back through the crowd to the conference room.
Always eager for the next great get—Jillian had never spoken to the press about the governor’s betrayal, and the idea of a comprehensive interview with her got all of Liza’s journalistic juices flowing—Liza plunged right in.
“I’d love to interview you, Mrs. Taylor. You know that, right? Is that what this is about?”
“Call me Jillian, Liza, okay? I’ll never sit for an interview about my personal life with you or anyone. I’d rather have you as a friend.”
“Friends.” Liza couldn’t keep her face from falling at the loss of the interview she’d thought was hers. “Great.”
Jillian laughed. “You can socialize with friends, right?”
“Of course,” Liza said dully, still trying to conquer her disappointment.
Satisfaction or something like it skated across Jillian’s face. “Then I’d love to have you stay at my townhouse in the city tonight instead of at a hotel. Beau is home in Richmond, so you can keep me company.”
Liza floundered. Stay…with her? What was up with that? Why would Jillian go to the trouble? It was great to have new friends and all, but they were barely acquaintances and Liza liked her privacy.
She was about to open her mouth and say so when the senator appeared in the doorway behind Jillian, distracting Liza. He’d had his head bent over some papers he was flipping through, but now he looked up and caught Liza’s eye.
Suddenly she understood.
It was there in the banked intensity in his eyes and his air of expectant waiting. Most of all it was in her breasts, which now ached for him—and her sex, which wept for him.
Stay with me tonight, Liza. Come to me.
Liza’s lungs hitched with sudden breathlessness.
Yes was her automatic answer, but she knew better than to give it just yet.
Slow down, Liza. Think.
There were a lot of implications to this invitation, this decision. Jillian was offering her home and discretion, but she’d know. The senator’s security people would also know, of course, but they already had an inkling something was going on, didn’t they?
Meanwhile, Liza could tell Takashi that she’d spend the night with a college roommate or some such who lived in the city. Maybe he’d believe her.
This could work. She could spend the night making love to the most intriguing man she’d ever met, and their secret affair could remain reasonably safe.
That covered the logistics.
What about the professional and emotional consequences?
If her secret affair with the senator came to light, she’d be fired because it was a gross breach of ethics for her not to disclose a personal relationship to her producers and the viewing public. Simple as that. If their affair became public, she could kiss the anchor chair goodbye along with her professional reputation and, basically, her entire career.
Put a huge check mark in the con column.
Another big check in the con column: she’d never had a successful relationship of any sort with a man. Kent had broken her heart and then, for good measure, stomped it and fed it through a meat grinder. Liza’s emotions had lived in a state of suspended animation since then. So any kind of a long-term thing was out. Assuming, of course, that a politician was a good candidate for a relationship.
Yeah, right. Not in this lifetime.
But…if they were discreet and she went into it with her eyes open and her heart firmly out of the equation, as his surely was…a brief affair could work, couldn’t it?
She would make it work because she wanted this man.
Violently, desperately, passionately wanted him.
She stared at the senator and a few more seconds passed—but he waited patiently, his paperwork in his hands, and let her reach her own decision.
“Liza?” Jillian interrupted her thoughts. “John will also be staying with me tonight. Why don’t I give you a few minutes to decide what you—”
“I don’t need a few minutes.”
Still watching the senator, who was too far away to hear them, Liza let her lips curve into a private smile full of the meaning and feeling between them. Even across the distance she felt his new stillness, his excitement. And she knew that her gut instincts wouldn’t lead her wrong. Not on this.
This one time, this one night, with this one man, she would take the risk.
He was worth it.
“I’d love to stay with you tonight, Jillian,” Liza said. “Thank you.”
Chapter 13
Chapter 13
T he moonlight filtering around the edges of the closed windows illuminated John’s watch as he checked it for what felt like the billionth time in the last three minutes.
2:38 a.m. now.
He paced around his darkened bedroom inside Jillian’s Manhattan townhouse, too excited to sit down. Back and forth between the massive platform bed and the seating area he went, each step making him more agitated and anxious. His face felt hot, his pulse alternately sketchy and thunderous. A fine sweat had broken out across his body, and he was pretty sure his hands were shaking although there was no real point in checking.
Damn, that woman made him a nervous wreck.
Contentious Senate votes didn’t do this to him. Neither did town hall meetings with angry voters, televised debates or speeches before thousands of people. Only Liza Wilson did this to him.
Every particle of his being, every thought, every heartbeat and breath, had whittled down to one essential question, the one that was far more crucial than a mere presidential race: would Liza come to him tonight?
She was here. She’d arrived earlier, with Jillian, and been installed in her own room before he got there. Said room was upstairs, as far away from his as possible, and he’d practically made his eardrums bleed straining to hear sounds of her, but nothing.
Once or twice he’d had the disheartening thought that she’d misunderstood his unstated plans for this rendezvous, curled up in bed and gone to sleep. Without him.
But…no. He’d watched the conversation between Jillian and Liza and seen the sudden heat of understanding in Liza’s eyes, the excitement and desire. Liza wanted this night as much as he did.
So where was she?
He wouldn’t go to her; she had to come to him on her own. His pride required it. This wasn’t a negotiation on a new bill, and he wasn’t going for any hard sells here. Either she wanted him or she didn’t. Either she was ready or she wasn’t. Simple.
Except that his gut was tied in a thousand and one knots and nothing about this whole situation—or Liza herself, come to think of it—was simple, especially his feelings for her.
He was in love with her.
Yeah, love. Not just lust. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t known each other that long; he was a grown man and he knew what he felt, because he’d felt it only one other time—for his wife.
In an ironic twist, it was Liza’s impulsive kiss that had made him realize how special she was to him. That brief lightning strike of contact between them had opened his eyes about her, and he wasn’t quite sure why.
All he knew was that she was brash and hotheaded, intelligent and wounded, prickly and warm and, he was sure, a perfect match for him in every way.
Was she perfect? Hell, no. More often than not, she was a major pain in the ass and the kind of thorn in his side that he should ban from his life forever. But her strength and understanding made her perfect for him.
If only she knew it.
He couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Slow and easy was the name of the game with Liza, thanks to the cheating ex-husband that had made John’s job of gaining Liza’s trust damn near impossible. But he would gain that precious trust and, more than that, her love.
Tonight’s unexpected weather delay had given him the small dose of serendipity that he needed. If Liza would only cooperate, he’d spend what was left of the night showing her how he felt about her. If he couldn’t tell her he loved her, he’d express it as thoroughly, passionately and tenderly as he knew how. And come morning she’d be his—forever—whether she was ready to acknowledge it aloud or not.
Slow and steady was the key with Liza.
First he’d make love to her.
Then he’d tell her he loved her.
Then he’d tell her he fully intended to make her both his wife and first lady.
Assuming he won, of course.
The last bit would require her giving up her career for him, and that would be a tremendous sacrifice, one he’d make sure she never regretted. If she married him and he won the presidency, she couldn’t continue a journalism career; the network would never allow such a conflict of interest, because how could the network anchor ever cover any stories regarding his administration?
So, yeah, he felt terrible that she might have to quit her job for him.
A woman like Liza needed a fascinating career, and he would do his best to provide her with one. Maybe she could head a foundation for Alzheimer’s research. Or maybe she could teach journalism or travel around the country on lecture tours. Whatever she wanted for the rest of her life, he would give to her. Whatever job she wanted, he would support. As long as she chose him.
If only she would come.
His relentless pacing led him to the window, where he settled. Leaning against the frame, he brushed the curtain aside and stared out, seeing nothing, until a tiny sound behind him broke the absolute silence.<
br />
He wheeled around, heart pounding, in time to see the knob turn and the door swing open. And then, in answer to his prayers, Liza slipped into his room. She wore short little shorts and a tank top or some such, had a hesitant smile on her face and was the most beautiful dream he’d ever had, sleeping or waking.
Reaching for her, nearly choked on his relief and emotion, he knew that life would never grant him a greater blessing than this one impossible woman.
Liza’s brain shut down the second she saw the senator open his arms to her. Limned by the faint moonlight filtering in around the edges of the windows, he was perfection in his silky boxers—all gleaming skin, sculpted shoulders, arms and legs, muscles and sinew. As best she could tell—and she meant to find out for sure at the earliest possible moment—there was no hair to dust the planes between his small dark nipples or to distract from the sharply defined ripples of his abdomen. Between his solid thighs was a jutting erection that tented his boxers, and the sight of it weakened Liza’s knees and dried out her mouth because she couldn’t believe it was for her. All for her.
Somehow she managed to take his warm hands and let him draw her deeper into the room. “I’m not sure I should be here, Senator.”
“You belong here, darlin’.” His smiling eyes gleamed at her in the darkness. “And let’s work on you calling me John. Try it once or twice.”
“John.”
He liked that. His mouth dimpled as he pulled her closer, and then his extraordinary and unexpected tenderness made her cry. All it took was his gentle hands on her body, his smile and his velvety voice, and Liza, who suppressed her feelings whenever possible and didn’t do relationships, couldn’t stop wave after wave of emotion from crashing over her.
With slow and deliberate movements, as though he was afraid of either breaking her or making her disappear, he kissed her, but not on the lips. Not yet. First he took her cheeks between his palms, burrowed his fingers deep into her hair and rested his lips against her forehead.
“Oh, God,” she murmured, her eyes rolling closed. “I’m not ready.”
“Yes, you are. We’ve both been ready since that night on the plane.”
Campaign For Seduction Page 13