She did know.
At her continued silence, he sighed. "I'd like to spend the rest of the afternoon proving just how much I love you." He kissed the curve of her neck. "But I've got a stack of papers to go through before my trip."
His job again. He'd been away from the center of his work for too many weeks. A man in Daniel's position would always have work. He couldn't close shop if he wanted to take a few hours off. Or hire someone else to take over. No, being a United States senator demanded everything he had to give.
Technically, this trip was for social reasons—an invitation to a party. The party, to be held at the vice-president's house, was important beyond the social aspect, though. Daniel had told her enough in the last few weeks for her to understand that he needed the support of several key members of the House and the Senate in order to get his new bill passed.
He snapped his fingers. "Come with me."
"To Washington?"
"To Washington."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." He took her hand. "Just for the weekend. We'll fly back the next evening. My mother keeps an apartment in Georgetown. You can stay there."
As a child, she'd been accustomed to the pick-up-and-leave-at-a-moment's-notice type of life. Public life demanded that its servants be able to go where and when the job demanded.
"If I promise to have you back by midnight Sunday, will you say yes?"
She knew a wild desire to laugh. Would the plane turn into a pumpkin if he failed to make good on his promise? And what about her? What would happen to her? Cinderella, she wasn't.
And she wasn't looking for the handsome prince to rescue her.
"One of us has to be sensible," she said, sounding hopelessly prim.
"Why?"
The question coming from the oh-so-proper Senator Cameron surprised a laugh from her. "I don't know why. I just know one of us has to be."
"I'll tell you what. You be sensible. I'll be…” He whispered in her ear.
Her eyes widened. "Senator, shame on you."
"You'll come."
The banter was gone from his voice. All that remained was a quiet request. One she didn't think she could deny.
"Okay."
He skimmed his lips along her jaw. "You won't be sorry. I promise."
She was afraid she was already sorry. Not for agreeing to accompany him to Washington. But because she'd gone and done what she'd promised herself she would never do: she'd fallen in love with him.
In the next two days, she packed, worried, cleaned up her workroom, worried, dusted every inch of her shop, and worried some more. Not about the trip. But about what Daniel expected from her following the trip.
Daniel stopped by the night before they were due to leave. "There's something I wanted…needed…to say." He swallowed. Hard. "I think you know what I want, what I'm asking." He waited.
Her nod, barely there, acknowledged her understanding.
"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm asking you to marry me, Eve."
Her hands, normally so graceful, so sure in their movements, fluttered nervously. "I can't—"
He forestalled what he feared was a refusal. "You don't have to give me your answer now. Wait until we get back."
The relief in her eyes told him he'd done the right thing by not pressuring her for an answer now. Time was on his side. He intended using every minute, every moment, to convince her that they belonged together.
His hopes raised another notch when she took his hand and laid it against her cheek. "You're good to me."
He wanted to tell her that he was good for her, that they were good for each other. Instead, he skimmed his fingers along her jaw and tried to say with his touch what he couldn't put into words.
There was one thing he could say, though. One thing that she couldn't challenge, couldn't deny. "I love you."
"I know."
Why couldn't he take comfort in those two words? Was that regret he heard? He pushed his fears aside and worked up a stiff smile. "I'll pick you up at eight."
Eve watched as he shook his head, as though he didn't like the direction his thoughts had taken. "I'll be ready," she promised.
The sigh of relief that whispered from her when Daniel left shamed her. Heaven help her, she wasn't ready. She wasn't sure she would ever be ready. Why couldn't they continue on as they had? Why did he have to complicate everything with a proposal?
Yet how could he do anything else? Daniel was an honorable man, a courageous one. He deserved a woman who was equally honorable, equally courageous. She was neither. She wanted him but on her own terms. She wasn't selfless enough to share him with the entire country or brave enough to risk him to an assassin's bullet.
She feared she couldn't give him what she knew he wanted, but she could give them this weekend together.
Chapter Eight
Washington. The nation's capital. Home. An ache in her chest swelled so that she could scarcely breathe; her hands trembled within her gloves. A piercing sweetness went through her. A lifetime ago, she'd loved this city.
She'd left Washington over ten years ago shortly after she'd graduated from high school. She'd tried sticking it out, for her father's sake. When she found that she couldn't, she'd moved to Saratoga and lived with her grandmother while she went to college. At her grandmother's death five years ago, Eve had inherited the house, a small trust fund, and a love for her adopted hometown.
A late snowstorm had reduced Washington traffic to a crawl. Eve didn't mind. The city normally moved at a frantic pace. In everything. Cold and ice hadn't shut the city down, but they had slowed it down. She was grateful for the opportunity to catch her breath.
Washington glistened under its layer of new snow, giving the city a fairy-tale appearance. On the streets, reality intruded, though, as exhaust fumes turned the pristine white a muddy gray. Much like the character of the city, she thought. Glittering on the outside, soiled beneath the surface.
She recognized her attitude for what it was. Prejudice, laced with pain. She had never been able to view the city objectively. As a child, she'd seen only the gleam of marble monuments and the twinkle of the ladies' jewels.
That picture had died along with her mother.
She yanked her thoughts back to the present. She'd promised herself, more importantly, she'd promised Daniel, this weekend.
A fantasy in a city that had once been likened to Camelot. But Camelot had crumbled.
She knew the importance of dressing for Washington parties where appearances counted more than substance. Her strategy was simple: surprise. Her jewel-toned flowing pants and floor-length tunic were hardly Washington-party fare. Shot with gold threads, they glimmered with every movement. Conventional, they were not. For a moment, she wondered if her attire might embarrass Daniel.
The look in his eyes when he arrived to pick her up bolstered her confidence.
"How do you do it?" he asked, spinning her around.
"Do what?"
"Manage to be more beautiful each time I see you."
"Save your flattery for the party, Senator," she said, wanting to dispel the quivery sensation that had settled in the pit of her stomach at his words.
"The truth's not flattery." He dropped her evening shawl over her shoulders, his touch doing nothing to disperse the butterflies that flitted around her heart.
The party was pure Washington. Designer dresses and safety deposit jewels. Champagne and canapés. Power handshakes and plastic smiles.
She accepted them for what they were. More than any city on earth, with the exception of Hollywood, Washington was built upon illusion. It was an illusion all worked hard to maintain. If that illusion were allowed to crumble, the whole house of cards might collapse.
Conversation buzzed, competing with the music. Eve circulated with the ease that came from growing up on the political circuit. She held her own when she disagreed with a Supreme Court Judge who had singled her out to be the recipient for his latest views
and barely managed to extricate herself when the tirade threatened to continue for another hour.
When Daniel appeared at her side, she managed a smile. Not for anything would she ruin this evening for him.
"I'm fine," she said when he showed a tendency to hover. "Go do your thing."
"What about you?"
"I'm going to sample the food." To prove her words, she plucked a caviar-laden cracker from a tray.
When Daniel hesitated, she gave him a little push. "Go. I'll yell if I need rescuing."
"What if I need rescuing?"
She reached up to brush a kiss across his cheek. "I'll be there."
Filling her plate with an assortment of fancy finger foods, she settled back to indulge in her favorite past time at such functions: people watching. The guest list was as impressive as was the setting. An ambassador and a visiting dignitary. A Supreme Court judge and a pro-football player. A prince from a mid-eastern country and America's own kind of royalty—a movie star.
But the real work was taking place in the corners where deals were made.
She was seasoned enough in the rituals of political socializing to recognize the favor-trading and deal making as necessary. But that didn't mean she had to like them.
She watched Daniel. He moved with an easy assurance. He filled her with pride, not just for who he was, but for what he was: a man devoted to making a difference.
When word got around that she was Daniel's date, she attracted more attention than she wanted. The constant questions, the assumption that Daniel's and her relationship was fodder for public consumption, ate away at her.
She understood that when one entered public life, he gave away any private life. What she resented was that her life was also considered fair game.
Daniel slipped up behind her, placing his hands on her waist and nuzzling her ear. Shimmers of pleasure danced down her spine at his touch. When a photographer aimed his camera at them, she felt her enjoyment slide away.
"Smile."
The order had her lips turned up in an unnatural curve that felt stiff and stilted. Daniel's hand tightened around hers. She squeezed back, grateful for the contact.
"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked.
More than she wanted her next breath, but she didn't tell him that. The party was important to Daniel. Therefore, it was important to her.
"When you're finished," she said.
The grateful look he gave her warmed her as she watched him walk away.
This was Daniel's world, she reminded herself. She'd been deluding herself if she believed the weeks in Saratoga could continue indefinitely.
Washington was his home. And, she feared, his destiny.
He was a heartbreak waiting to happen. Somehow, he'd pushed and finagled his into her life. She still didn't quite know how it had happened. He had forced his way into her life, and it was hard—no, make that impossible—to picture a day going by without seeing him, without the sight of him sending her heart into a full-fledged gallop. With each day, it became harder and harder to remember why she couldn't have a future with him.
Alone, she could summon the reasons with no problem. When he was with her, though, her good sense fled and all that remained was a soul-deep need to be with him. What happened when she lost even that bit of sanity?
The thought was enough to leave her trembling. Daniel threatened everything she'd strived for the last ten years. Images of them laughing, working, and traveling together tumbled through her mind. Love danced in front of her, close enough for her to touch.
Daniel could be anything he chose. She knew his desire to serve ran deep. There were countless opportunities for him to make a difference in the country. It didn't have to be within the arena of politics. She shook her head, dispelling the notion. This particular fantasy had no basis in reality. Even if he were willing to abandon his profession—it was more than that, his calling—she couldn't allow it. She loved him too much to ask him to give up what he was so obviously born to do.
She opened her eyes and looked again at Daniel. He was deep in conversation with a portly gentleman who gestured in her direction. Probably discussing her suitability, she thought sourly.
Ashamed of her thoughts, she ducked her head. Daniel wasn't like that. He would never ask her to be anything other than what she was. She could do no less for him.
Daniel wasn't surprised when Senator Howard Canfield, a staple on the Washington scene, cornered him. "I've been asked to approach you." Daniel waited for Canfield to continue. "It's early days yet, but not so early we can let the grass grow under our feet." Canfield laughed at his own joke.
"What do you want, Senator?"
The older man cleared his throat. "No beating around the bush for you, is there, Cameron? Some of the party leaders have their eye on you for the top office."
Daniel had been expecting it. Still, hearing it put into words jolted him. "I've been thinking along those lines myself," he said cautiously.
"Then you know we've got a long haul in front of us. We'll have a fight on our hands." Canfield rubbed his hands together with the relish of a seasoned campaigner. "Not that you can't handle it." He coughed. "There's one thing. The people like their leaders happily married."
He followed Daniel's gaze to where Eve occupied the center of a group. In a room where most of the women appeared clones of each other, she sparkled with life and energy and color.
"She's a bright girl. I knew her family, of course. She dropped out of Washington years ago. Lacks polish, but that can be acquired."
Daniel's eyes narrowed. This was exactly what Eve had tried to tell him, and he'd brushed it aside. Now he realized he'd been foolish in dismissing her concerns. "Eve's not required to be anything except what she is."
"Well…of course, I like the girl. But there are others who aren't as broadminded."
"Tell the others—" Daniel stressed the word "—that Eve's not part of the package."
"Don't be naive," Canfield snapped. "Any man aiming for the top rung is fair game. And that includes his family." With that, he patted Daniel's shoulder and took himself off.
Daniel struggled with his anger. Not at the other senator. The man had only been speaking the truth. But at himself. He'd known, of course, what public life entailed. But he'd blinded himself to it. Because he wanted both. He wanted a shot at the presidency. Not for the power involved. Never that. Only a fool craved that kind of power. No, he wanted to help shape the future of the country he loved.
He also wanted Eve.
He threaded his way through the crowd and found her. Slipped his arm around her waist, he felt the tension within her coil tighter and tighter. Laughter, conversation, and music swirled around them, but the pain in her eyes made a mockery of the party atmosphere. She looked up. Her lips curved brightly, but the smile didn't move to her eyes.
He wondered if he knew how easily she fit into the political world, despite her professed disdain of it. She could hold her own in any setting, he realized, but she sparkled here. If only she could put aside her fears, she might find the excitement, the energy that he always felt while in Washington.
Granted, the parties and socializing weren't his favorite thing. He recognized them for what they were: camouflage for the real business of power brokering. Accusations that he had a white-hat syndrome had been tossed his way over the years. He wasn't ashamed of the fact that he wanted to make a difference.
That he chose to do it from the public arena rather than from the private sector had been a carefully made choice. Family tradition had played a part. He wouldn't deny it. But not even the practice of generations could persuade him to do what he didn't truly want to. And he wanted this.
But he wanted, no, he needed, Eve by his side. Without her, none of it mattered. He loved her in a way he'd never loved another woman. She touched something deep within his soul. She filled places he hadn't known were empty, answered questions he hadn't thought to ask. He couldn't picture a future without her.
He'd find a way to lay her fears about his profession to rest. His lips flattened in determination. The alternative wasn't an option.
* * * *
He'd promised Eve that he'd wait until their return from Washington to ask her to marry him again. Nearly a week had passed, and he'd yet to fulfill his promise. He'd tried, but she'd always managed to sidetrack him from his intention. She had a movie she wanted to see, an art show to attend, a new idea for a design she had to get down on paper.
Well, no more. It was time to confront it head on. He had to stop letting his fear dictate his actions. He could worry about losing Eve forever, but worry never accomplished anything. It never had.
He found her in her workroom. The carefully-chosen words he'd planned to say vanished as he took in the tear-shiny brightness of her eyes.
He didn't know what had put the tears there, but he had a good idea that it had to do with him. The knowledge filled him with guilt. And hope. If she were troubled enough about him—about them—to cry, then maybe it meant she loved him and realized what he had weeks ago: they belonged together.
Eve didn't know she was vulnerable. She was too busy trying to be independent and tough. He admired both qualities. That didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the softer side he knew she kept hidden inside. It was up to him to show her that she could be both without losing any of herself.
He took her in his arms. Seconds bled into minutes, and still he held her. He put her from him just long enough to wipe away the tears with the pads of his thumbs.
"Why the tears?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No reason."
He didn't buy that. Not for a minute. Eve wasn't a woman to cry for no reason, but he let it pass. For now. "You know why I'm here."
"You want an answer."
He nodded. "I love you. You love me. It's that simple."
Her laugh was strained. "I wish it were. Only you and me. But it's not."
He wanted to argue with that, but she'd spoken only the truth. His next words confirmed it. "I should tell you, I've been approached by some members of the party to run for president. It won't be for another eight years, maybe more, but the wheels are already in motion. I need you by my side, Eve."
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