“Oh, Margaret’s smart enough not to do it in public,” Vicky said bitterly. “In front of an audience, she keeps herself in the background. When it’s just family, she treats me like I’m invisible and Rachel like crap. Margaret and Rachel had a terrible argument right before we left on the trip.”
“About what?”
Vicky looked down at her drink again. “I don’t know. It’s always something. Then Philip walked in and reprimanded Rachel. Not a word to Margaret about showing a little respect for his own daughter. And he allows Margaret to treat me like I’m a nonentity. I’ve spoken to him about it, and he says, ‘She’s supposed to be more concerned with me than you, Vicky. Why do you want all the attention?’ He makes me sound like a spoiled brat. I don’t want all the attention. But he doesn’t even listen to me.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He’s having an affair with her,” she announced sharply.
“Oh, surely not.” Adrienne heard the lack of conviction in her own voice. She hoped Vicky didn’t notice, but she’d had her own doubts about Philip and Margaret. “Philip wouldn’t cheat on you.”
“I didn’t used to think so. Not because he loves me. Because of his public image. He’d be too afraid people would find out.” The waitress delivered the drinks—the first one Adrienne didn’t want and the second one Vicky didn’t need—and left menus. “Before, I’ve never had the feeling that he’d risk being unfaithful. But Margaret is damned attractive. Physically, that is. Her personality leaves much to be desired, although she’s usually sweet as pie to Philip. Flatters him until it’s sickening, and he just eats it up. You know how stupid men are when it comes to their egos!”
“I don’t remember Dad being that way.”
Vicky dismissed him with a sweeping wave of her hand. “Oh, he doesn’t count.”
As a man? Adrienne smiled inwardly. She wondered how her father would have reacted to that comment. “Listen, Vicky, do you actually have proof that Philip is having an affair with Margaret?”
“He hardly ever touches me.”
“He’s under a lot of stress.”
“Stress never bothers any man!” Adrienne wondered if it were the rum in the piña coladas that was suddenly making Vicky such an expert on men. “And I don’t know of anyone Margaret’s involved with,” Vicky went on angrily, her voice too loud. “I don’t think she’s dated for ages, and I’m sure she’s not the kind of woman who can go for long without sex!”
“Well …” Adrienne went blank. She felt a little hot with embarrassment when she noticed the men at the table behind Vicky had gone silent, listening to the tirade of the wife of a gubernatorial candidate, a tirade that gave every indication of picking up piña-colada-fueled steam. With relief, she looked up to see Kit drawing near. “Here’s Kit!” she burst out. “I’ll bet you haven’t seen her for a while!”
“Gee, it’s been at least a week,” Vicky said dourly, clearly not wanting to cut short the topic of Margaret and Philip. But years of practice in the political venue allowed Vicky to quickly assume a look of forced pleasantness for Kit. “Hello there, Ms. Kirkwood. Looks like business is good.”
“Almost too good,” Kit said. “Sometimes I wish we’d have a few bad days so I could get some rest.”
“Some people take vacations,” Adrienne said, motioning for Kit to sit down.
Kit scooted next to Adrienne but focused on Vicky. “So how is the campaign trail?”
“Tiring but exciting.” Vicky slipped into the role of enthusiastic, supportive wife. She and Kit had never been anything but casually friendly. “I really think Philip is going to be our next governor, although he claims if I say that too much, I’ll jinx him.”
Kit smiled blandly. “I didn’t know Philip was superstitious.”
“He’s joking.” Vicky’s false, professional smile faded and she abruptly asked, “Have there been any new developments in Julianna’s murder?”
“Not that I know of,” Kit said. “Adrienne’s the one with the inside source.”
Adrienne shook her head. “Lucas isn’t big on talking about cases with me.”
“Even if the case involves one of your best friends?” Vicky asked, dipping her head toward her straw again.
“That would make him even less likely to let me in on details. He wouldn’t want to upset me.”
Kit grimaced. “As if anything could make Juli’s murder sound worse than what you saw.”
The waitress came to take orders. Kit declined. Adrienne and Vicky ordered, Vicky freezing Adrienne’s objection to a third drink with an icy glare. Then she did a quick shift and looked pleasantly at Kit. “I’d weigh two hundred pounds if I worked here around this delicious food all the time.”
Kit grinned. “All the time being the operative words. Sometimes I get sick of just the smell of food, no matter how good it is.” Kit turned to Adrienne. “I hear you and Mother had quite an adventure yesterday.”
Was there an edge to her voice? Adrienne wasn’t certain. But Kit’s hazel eyes showed no anger. Only curiosity. “I was painting at the Belle when your mother came by, determined to walk up the hill to Lottie’s cabin and look for her along the way. Unfortunately, we didn’t find her.”
“Lottie is still missing?” Vicky asked in surprise. “I thought she would have been found or just come home while we were gone.”
Adrienne shook her head. “No. Anyway, Ellen and I saw nothing of her. But the jaunt just about did in Ellen.” She felt guilty about not mentioning that they had gone farther up the hill to the vine-covered bunker Ellen called the Hideaway, but on their way back to the hotel, Ellen had made Adrienne give her sacred promise that she wouldn’t mention it Like a child, Ellen had insisted the promise be repeated three times. “Is Ellen all right?” she asked Kit
“Not really. Last night she was a mess. The problem was more emotional than physical, as usual with Mother, but Gavin had to call her doctor. Then he called me. He can’t handle anything on his own. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to take responsibility for Mother. Whatever. But that’s how I know about your walking tour.”
“I’m sorry,” Adrienne said sincerely. “I should have stopped her.”
Kit smiled ruefully. “You couldn’t have stopped her short of tying her to a tree. She has a will of iron, and she’s a lot stronger than she looks or acts. Physically, that is. I’m grateful you went with her. She wouldn’t let me.”
Adrienne thought of how Ellen had said she hadn’t minded Adrienne going with her because she knew Adrienne wouldn’t hurt Lottie. Did she fear Kit would?
No. The idea was nonsensical, Adrienne thought After all, it was Kit to whom Lottie had gone after Julianna’s murder, not Ellen. Kit that Lottie had turned to, not her best friend, Ellen. Not Ellen.
“Adrienne, are you all right?”
Adrienne glanced up as she felt blood drain from her cheeks. Her sister was looking at her somewhat Wearily, but Kit’s eyes seemed to have narrowed slightly. Kit knew her too well not to realize something disturbing had crossed Adrienne’s mind. “I’m fine, Kit,” she said brightly. “Just hungry.”
But she still felt uncomfortable as Kit abruptly said she’d leave them to their lunch and swept away from the table. Kit did suspect something, Adrienne realized. And whatever she suspected was making Kit feel extremely uneasy.
Feeling wretched and confused, Adrienne forced down what should have been a delicious lunch while her sister harangued endlessly about Margaret Taylor, the woman Vicky hated.
3
“I get so tired of skulking around like a pair of teenagers. I wish we could bring our relationship out into the open.”
Margaret Taylor gave Miles Shaw the long, slow blink she knew he found enticing, and ran her foot up his bare leg to the top of his thigh. “But darling, you know I can’t pull the focus away from Philip onto myself, and that’s just what I’d be doing by announcing that I’m seeing a world-famous artist.”
Miles laughed softly. “World famous. Now that is funny.”
�
�You are famous.”
“Maybe in a tristate area. Big fish in a little pond. That’s all I am.”
“A fabulously talented fish who will soon be well-known in a much bigger pond. As soon as I get Philip elected, give me two or three years to work on you. Your name will be known all over the United States and Europe.”
Miles reached out, touching the silky length of Margaret’s gleaming black hair. “Not lacking in confidence, are you, Ms. Taylor?”
“There’s no room for insecurity in my business.”
“And you do know your business. You’re an expert at disseminating and concealing information. But are you certain Philip doesn’t at least have an inkling about us?”
Margaret turned slightly and picked up her glass of red wine from the bedside table. “I’m quite certain. I’ve taken great pains to keep us a secret.”
As she sipped, Miles looked at her closely. “Then why do you lower your eyes when you talk about our secret? Is it to hide a little flicker of doubt in your eyes?”
Margaret’s forehead wrinkled slightly. “Maybe there’s just a little doubt.” She took another sip of wine, her voice hardening. “It’s that damned Rachel. I think she suspects us. And if she does, she’ll tell her mother.”
“And you don’t want Vicky to know about us because she thinks you’re having an affair with Philip, which thrills you.” Margaret tried to look insulted and failed. The corner of Miles’s lips crooked. “You really can’t stand Vicky, can you?”
“She frustrates me.” Margaret replaced the wineglass on the table, turned, and began tracing tiny circles on Miles’s chest. “From what I’ve heard, Philip made a good choice when he married her. She was attractive, charming, self-possessed, even fairly savvy about political affairs. She was quite satisfactory as a politician’s wife. She even had some backbone, like her sister, although I don’t care much for Adrienne, either. She watches me, like she’s waiting for me to screw up. Of course, that’s because Vicky has told her all kinds of unflattering things about me.”
“Imagine that,” Miles said dryly.
“I don’t know what happened to Vicky over the years, but now she’s so damned weak,” Margaret went on heatedly as if Miles hadn’t spoken. “And whiny. And not nearly so physically presentable. Do you know that half the time she doesn’t put on her makeup properly?”
“Good God! I had no idea!”
“You think it’s funny, but it’s not. It’s a sign. Vicky isn’t careful about her looks because she’s fast on her way to becoming an alcoholic. I think she has her first drink by ten in the morning. Certainly by noon. An alcoholic wife! She could ruin everything for Philip!”
“All right I see the trouble with Vicky. I hardly know her, but she doesn’t appeal to me, either. So let’s move on to Rachel. What’s your problem with her?”
Margaret’s expression turned rancorous. “I have lots of problems with Rachel, not the least of which is she doesn’t appreciate that a great life has been handed to her on a silver platter. She takes it for granted, like it’s her due. If she’d had to scramble to pull herself out of the dirt like I did, she might value a thing or two. Instead, she looks down on me.”
“Are you sure she looks down on you? Or is that your imagination? You can be a little paranoid about how people view you.”
“That is not true!” Margaret drew away from him, her face turning pink.
“Uh-oh.Hit a nerve.”
“No, you did not hit a nerve. You accused me falsely. I don’t like it.”
“What you don’t like is being criticized.” Miles smiled and drew her close again, cupping her firm, bare breast. “But most people don’t like being criticized unless they’re masochists. I’m sorry, lover. I’ve had too much wine. My mouth is running away with me.”
“Your mouth is just fine.” Margaret kissed him deeply, then licked his earlobe. “No earring tonight?”
“You nearly tore it out last time.” He chuckled. “Besides, I seem to have misplaced it. Hey, speaking of tearing, how about tearing ourselves out of this bed for a while, going to see a friend of mine who’s having a little party, then returning for more fun and games?”
Margaret tensed as she pulled back and looked him full in the face. “Those friends who indulge in drugs?”
“Only moderately, for mind-expanding purposes.”
She shook her head. “No, thanks, darling. Too risky. Whenever we’re there, I feel like the cops will be sweeping down any minute. Besides, Philip has an important meeting tomorrow.”
“Philip has a meeting, not you.”
“When Philip has a meeting, so do I. You know I have to be on my toes so I can brief him.”
Miles sighed in disgust. “Good God. If only people knew they were electing you instead of him.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you seem to do all the work. Philip is like an actor, reciting for the public the lines you’ve given him. He’s just a puppet, a conventionally good-looking guy in an expensive suit who can memorize.”
“That is not true, Miles. Philip Hamilton is a brilliant man.” Miles snorted. “He is. But no political figure does all his research. Not even the president.”
“Now that I can believe.”
Margaret sat up in bed, not bothering to hold the sheet in front of her breasts, her hair hanging long and tangled over her shoulders. “Are you jealous of Philip?”
“I’m jealous of the time you devote to him. He always comes first You can’t go here with me. You can’t go there with me. Being seen in public with me might cause gossip that could detract from Philip. God, Margaret, you make me feel like a whore.” Miles’s ebony eyes blazed. “Maybe that’s all I am to you. A whore.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Then prove it Devote one whole night to me instead of to Philip.”
“I’ve devoted many nights to you. It’s just that I’ll have to cut this particular night a bit short. I have notes to go over, then I need a full night’s rest Alone.”
“And you forgot to mention all of that when you invited me to dinner.” Miles flung off the sheet and stood up, his imposing six-foot-four frame leaning over the petite, small-boned Margaret “I don’t like being taken advantage of, Maggie.”
‘Taken advantage of!” Margaret scrambled from the bed and stood across from him. “I didn’t know fixing you an excellent dinner and having sex with you was taking advantage of you!”
“Why? If I’d fixed dinner for you, had sex with you, then told you to leave, you’d be mad as hell. But because you’re doing it to a man, it’s a whole different story. That’s the trouble with you feminists. You don’t change things. You just turn old conduct on its ear, treat men like crap instead of vice versa, then feel justified!”
“That is preposterous, Philip!”
His eyes narrowed and he said in a low, angry voice, “My name is Miles, Margaret.”
She flushed. “I meant Miles. I say Philip a hundred times a day. It just comes out sometimes.”
“Yeah, like when you’re in the presence of a naked man.” Miles bent and picked up his jeans. “You’ve just been playing with me, haven’t you? Using me as a smokescreen for your real love interest—Philip Hamilton.”
“Oh please,” Margaret nearly spat. “Don’t compare my morals to those of someone like your beloved Julianna. She’s the one who slept with so many men she no doubt got them confused. She would have stooped to anything. But you didn’t care, did you? You were blind to what she was. Absolutely, totally blind. A fool!”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Margaret knew she’d made a grave mistake. Miles stopped fastening his jeans and looked at her, fury growing in his eyes, fury deep and strong and dangerous. Margaret had never been afraid of a man before. Not really. But to her intense surprise, she was now.
And the odd thing was, she didn’t quite know how this fight had started. The last few minutes seemed like a blur with the argument spinning out of control, stunning h
er with its speed and bitterness. But Margaret was an old hand at retrieving unpleasant situations. All it took was some charm and finesse.
She rallied her forces and smiled sweetly. “Darling, we were having such a lovely evening and now we’ve turned it into something silly. We sound like kids, and I’m sorry for contributing to it. It’s been a grueling day. Can’t we just bury the hostility and go back to our earlier peace and comfort?”
Miles gave her a hard look and reached for his shirt “I think it’s time for me to get out of here.”
“You’re going to leave? Now? It’s not even ten o’clock!”
“You have your important meeting in the morning, remember? You’d better be in bed within half an hour or you’ll have circles under your eyes and then God knows what will happen. Maybe it will cause Hamilton to lose the election.”
Margaret forced a laugh. “No one pays attention to me at these events, and even if they did, I don’t think I’d be jeopardizing Philip if I looked a little tired.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. You’re the brain behind the puppet. If you look tired, people will think the campaign is falling apart.”
She sighed. “Listen, darling, sometimes I get carried away. I’m a perfectionist”
“No kidding,” Miles said wryly as he finished buttoning his shirt and yanked back his hair in its long ponytail. “Well, I’m a perfectionist, too. I have a painting to work on tonight Now. Sorry, I forgot to mention it earlier. Hate to eat, screw, and run, but you of all people know that duty comes first”
Margaret dashed to his side, placing her hand on the back of his head and trying to pull his face toward hers for a passionate kiss. But she couldn’t bend his head. Suddenly his neck seemed as rigid as iron. And the look in his eyes turned her cold to the bone.
“Don’t, Margaret,” he said barely above a whisper. “Don’t try to kiss me, don’t clutch at me, don’t even touch me.” She drew back, stunned by the venom in his voice. “And one more thing, Maggie. Don’t you ever say a bad thing about Julianna again, or I swear to God, I’ll make you regret it.”
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