Disclosure of the Heart (The Heart Series)

by Whitney, Mary

  “Oh, that smell! I know that smell.”

  “The smell sucks.” He laughed.

  “Where do you think it comes from?”

  “I don’t bloody know.” His voice became a little mischievous. “I think the nurses bring it into the house.”

  “No, they’re nice. They wouldn’t do that.”

  “Then what’s the cause? Because I’m fucking sick of it.”

  “I don’t know…” Then I did a double-take at what he’d said. “Wow. You just said ‘fuck.’ I was beginning to think you’d given up cursing. You used to swear like a sailor when we were in high school, but not anymore.”

  “Give up cursing? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I curse all the bloody time.”

  “Not around me.”

  “That’s because I’ve been trying to be good around the deputy White House press secretary.”

  “You’re so full of it.” I laughed, though I wondered if there was something to what he’d said.

  “It’s true.”

  “Oh yeah? Do tell.”

  “Fuck no,” he said with snicker.

  For the next few hours, we laughed and talked, and while it wasn’t just like old times, it was a lot of fun. There were moments when it was better than our past, simply because I thought he was even more interesting now, but there was still our underlying relationship from our youth. Our past together just made the conversation richer. I watched the clock tick the hours away, not wanting to be the one who cut off the conversation.

  Late in the night, he finally said, “Nicki, I’m so sorry. I’ve been talking your ear off, and I didn’t notice the time. It’s two in the morning.” He then added, “You probably want to call Juan Carlos.”

  “No. I already talked to him earlier today. He’s on a cross-country flight tonight.” Mention of Juan Carlos was a reminder of my responsibilities, though. Reluctantly, I said, “But I should go to sleep. I’m not getting much of it these days.”

  “Well, thank you for calling…and listening. I really appreciate it.”

  “Don’t thank me. I wanted to.”

  “I suppose I’ll talk to you in a few days when we’re back in DC.”

  My response was swift with no forethought or caution, just my own personal want. “No, I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Night, Adam.”

  And I did—every night for the next three nights. His dad’s health and family took up a chunk of every long call, but with each evening we talked more about other things: our work, our old friends, and what was going on in the world. Yet we never talked about what might be going on—or had gone on—between us. Instead, we chatted and laughed and teased one another.

  The final night that we spoke, I couldn’t stifle all my yawns as the clock ticked on. Adam said, “It’s quite late, Nicki. You need to get to bed.”

  “It’s okay. I’m in bed.”

  “Are you now?”

  “Of course. It’s after three.”

  “You’re in bed. Now, that’s something I’d like to see…again.”

  I had been in a half-dreamy state, but that woke me up. It was an unmistakable flirt, making me as flustered as a seventeen-year-old. “Uh…it’s not very exciting. I’m staying at the Lagos Sheraton. I might as well be in Phoenix.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “A T-shirt.” I gulped. I’d had enough phone sex with Juan Carlos to know what was coming next.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  I shook my head. As much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t go there. “Adam…”

  “You can’t blame me for trying.”

  I winced. What had I done? I’d started this, and maybe he thought I wanted a fling to remind us of old times. But as I pinched my brow with worry, he stunned me. “Nicki…you must know by now how much you mean to me. I adore you. I always have.”

  My hand searched my chest for my heart. Adam had crossed the line. The professionalism and friendship we’d so carefully established had been breached. And as worrying as that was, I was tickled to my core that our feelings from so long ago were reciprocal once again. Yet now I was mature enough to control them.

  I couldn’t say anything like that to him, though, even if it was truer than true. I stumbled. “And you mean…the world to me, Adam, but I don’t know if…and then there’s…” Defeated by all the complications between us, I sighed. “We should probably have this conversation in person.”

  “Probably so.”

  He sounded a little dejected, so I wanted to say something encouraging. “I want you to know our talks have been the highlight of my trip.”

  “Mine, too.”

  “I should go now. Good night. Have a safe trip back home.”

  “I’d tell you to have a safe trip as well, but I think Air Force One is pretty secure.”

  “That’s true. It’s the only time I’m not scared at all to be on a plane.”

  “Well, go get some sleep…in your T-shirt and what little else you’re wearing.” His swagger was back.

  “Adam…” I giggled.

  “Oh, don’t mind me.” He laughed. “Good night. We can talk next week.”

  Did things change between Adam and me because of that night, or had it been a slippery slope over time? Or, if I looked back on it, had anything ever changed?

  Air Force One was the worst place to collect my thoughts on the matter, but it was also an in-my-face reminder of my problems. Work was all around me, people mentioned the BBC wasn’t on the plane because Adam was with his dying father, and there was always the random friend of Juan Carlos’s asking me to say hello.

  Maybe it was my discomfort with the situation that made me rationalize my dilemma. Pretending to read a document on my laptop, I sat quietly in my seat and dissected my life. First, I set aside that I was supposed to be in a happy relationship with Juan Carlos. That was an issue unto itself. Then, I played out the problem with Adam. If anything happened between him and me and it got out, which it always did, it would disgrace us both professionally. In public relations, there was only one repeatedly proven method to weather a scandal—get all the bad information out there yourself as soon as possible. Full disclosure and nothing less.

  It took me a nanosecond to reject that idea. Nothing had really happened between us yet. We’d simply expressed there was mutual interest. The timing wasn’t ripe to disclose anything to our bosses or even our partners. What if nothing came of it? We could cause an unnecessary disaster for everyone.

  But what of Juan Carlos? Was it just Adam who could turn my head, or could another guy do it as well? I didn’t know. I was sure, though, that Juan Carlos and I couldn’t move in together, at least not yet. With our travel schedules, things had already felt a little distant between us for a few weeks. Even the phone sex was non-existent because of the eight-hour time difference. Yet despite my feelings for Adam, I missed Juan Carlos. Maybe because I knew he would be there for me. Adam was still an unknown.

  The middle of the following week, Lisa caught me before I left work for the day. “Where’s Juan Carlos this weekend?”

  “Hmpf,” I grunted as I put in an earring. “He’s here on Friday but leaves Saturday morning for Hawaii, of all places. There’s a senate race.”

  “So you would be okay if I invited Adam and David over on Saturday night?”

  My mouth gaped open. “What the hell? Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “It started when David sent me a dozen roses at work while you were gone.”

  “Really? So he asked you out properly?”

  “Hardly.” She shook her head. “He told me he wanted to play doctor.”

  “And you fell for that?”

  “No way. I told him to knock it off.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He asked if he could make it up to me by cooking dinner.”

  “And you said yes?”

  “I said I’d only do it if you were there, too. He said
three’s a crowd but then asked if Adam could come, too.”

  “Does Adam know?”

  “I’m not sure.” She leaned against the doorjamb and eyed me. “So should I invite them over?”

  What a little shit. She was forcing me to make the call for everyone. I would be the one to decide if things could proceed or not for either of us, and Adam would most definitely find out. I hadn’t told her about our phone calls while we were away. If she knew that, I bet she’d demand I inform Juan Carlos immediately. Yet here she was practically setting me up to cheat on him. What was her deal?

  “What’s going on?” I casually put my other earring in. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “It looks to me like you need some help sorting your shit out. This is just a nudge.”

  “Okay, maybe I do…” I smiled. “What about poor David?”

  “Did you just say ‘poor David’?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Pfft. As for ‘poor David,’ I’m just toying with him.” She crossed her arms. “What’s your answer?”

  “Sure. It’s just a dinner among old friends,” I said, convincing no one.

  “Very nice.” She turned to walk away. “Good spin.”

  “Because it’s the truth!” I called back.

  The following day after the press briefing, Adam walked up to me with a smile. I’d just been grilled over health care, so he was a welcome sight.

  “Morning, Adam,” I said.

  “Hello. It sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you on the health care legislation.”

  “Yeah…well, any reform we do will be compared to the British system. That’s both good and bad, as I understand it.”

  “Anything free at the point of access has to be good.”

  “Excellent point. I’ll remember that.” I grinned.

  “Did I just give you a talking point?”

  “Maybe.” I scanned the room to see if anyone was in earshot before I asked in a low voice, “So, dinner with David and Lisa?”

  “Odd…but I’m looking forward to it.”

  I studied his happy face. “I agree.” I then gestured toward the door. “I’ve got a meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Wait. Please. I’ve got a question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Are you going to tell Juan Carlos?” he asked quietly, staring me down.

  Dear God. That was a tougher question than anything I’d been hit with that morning on health care. My smile became firm. “No. There’s nothing to tell. We’re having dinner with friends. Have you told Felicity?”

  “No, nor do I plan to.”

  “Because?”

  “That could unnecessarily cock up everything.”

  “It could.” I checked my watch to hide my glee that Felicity was being kept in the dark about me. “I’m late,” I said as I looked up. “We can talk this weekend.”

  He smiled. “Yes, we can.”

  Chapter Eight

  ON SATURDAY NIGHT, I slowly slid the serrated knife through each tomato. I was too nervous to chop quickly. I’d probably slice off a finger, lose a ton of blood, and end up with an ambulance at our apartment building. Then there would be a whole lot of nosy neighbors, who all worked in or around the government, now curious why the BBC White House correspondent was at the deputy White House press secretary’s apartment.

  As I diced the tomatoes, I heard Lisa welcome Adam and David into the apartment. I could make out bits of conversation. There was talk of the size of the apartment, and it sounded like David had brought her flowers.

  When they walked into the kitchen, the flowers entered the room first. “What a beautiful bouquet,” I said and reached out to touch the giant arrangement.

  “Not as pretty as the ladies tonight,” said David. He swooped down and gave me a peck on the cheek. “How are you, Nicki dear?”

  “Great,” I said, sniffing his cologne. He smelled divine and looked even better. This would be a true test of Lisa’s will. I grinned at the thought. “Thanks for coming.”

  Adam stood behind him, holding a bag of groceries. He appeared a little annoyed at David, but smiled at me. “Evening, Nicki. You do know you didn’t have to cook.”

  “Oh, we just thought a salad might be nice,” I said cheerily.

  He wore a starched shirt, jeans that hung just so on his hips, and casual loafers. He looked every bit the dashing Brit. With a wink, he asked, “Just in case dinner was crap?”

  “Maybe…” I smiled. “No, I’m sure David is a great cook.”

  “Let me show you what’s for dinner,” David said, taking the bag from Adam. He began displaying the contents on the worktop. “I’m making a traditional British meal—bangers and mash and spotted dick.”

  Oh God. I’d had spotted dick once in my life, served to me as a dessert by Adam’s dear mum. The memory had stuck with me—there she was, in her kitchen drying her hands and saying, “It’s nice to see you again, Nicki. Maybe you want to sample some of the famous Kincaid spotted dick?” I had been mortified because I’d had no idea what she was talking about. All I’d known was that my boyfriend’s mom had said something about a Kincaid dick with freckles.

  Smirking at the recollection, I glanced at Adam, who held up his hands in surrender. “I’ve had nothing to do with the planning of this meal.”

  “You’re a reporter.” I laughed. “You know ignorance isn’t a very good defense.”

  Lisa chuckled as she examined the package of sausages and the can of spotted dick. “I detect a theme here.”

  “That’s nice to hear, treacle,” David said, putting his arm around her. “I was worried you might not pick up on it.”

  She snuck out from under his arm and handed him the bag of potatoes. “You should start peeling if we’re going to eat before midnight. I’ll get the water on.”

  While David and Adam peeled potatoes, I finished the salad, and Lisa kept the conversation going. Her work at NIH was interesting, and both David and Adam peppered her with questions. After a while, David leaned over her shoulder and murmured, “Such a big brain in such a pretty little head. We could have beautiful children.”

  “Yeah, right,” Lisa said, jabbing her elbow into his side. “Speaking of children, Nicki, you missed a call from Rachel while you were at the grocery store. She’s pregnant again.”

  “Oh my God,” I said with a chuckle. “That will be three in five years. Congratulations to her, but wow. She’s going to have her hands full. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

  “It’s nice to hear she’s doing well,” said Adam. “What’s her husband like?”

  “Local sportscaster,” I said. “He’s hilarious and dotes on Rachel. We like him.”

  Lisa poked David in the side. “You remember Rachel, don’t you?”

  “Hmm. Maybe.” He smiled, shrugging it off. “Like I told you. Ancient history, love.”

  Surprisingly, David’s dinner turned out just fine—except for the dessert. Lisa pushed her plate toward him. “I’m not very hungry any more. You can have mine.”

  “You don’t like spotted dick from a tin?” David guffawed.

  I took a bite and choked the nasty substance down my throat. “Um, Adam, I think I remember your mother’s being better.”

  “My mum’s is much better,” he said as he poked the wet, spongy mass on his plate.

  As we cleared the dishes, I wondered what might happen next. Earlier in the day when we’d discussed the evening, Lisa had suggested a movie. I offered Monopoly, thinking it was more platonic, but she never said yes or no, and I soon found out why. She barred Adam and me from entering the kitchen. “I can’t clean with everyone in here. Nicki, you and Adam go out on the balcony. It’s a nice night.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.” I side-eyed her. This must’ve been a part of her plan to force me to address things with him. For that, I needed a drink. “Let’s get another glass of wine.”

  When we stepped out onto the balcony, Adam sat down in one of the chairs while
I walked to the railing. It was a warm April night, and the balcony was spacious with a beautiful view of the city. In the distance, you could see the Washington Monument rise through the black sky.

  With Adam behind me and the darkness all around, I felt a little more confident. What the hell, I thought. I might as well start from the beginning. “I was sick the morning of that first press briefing, when we first saw each other again.”

  “You were ill? I’m sorry.”

  “Not that kind of sick. I was nauseated because I was nervous.”

  “It was an important day—the start of a new Presidency.”

  “It wasn’t just that, though it certainly was a big day. But I’ve had big days in the past. I don’t mind the spotlight.” I turned around and leaned against the railing, though I still didn’t look at him. “It was you. I couldn’t believe you were going to be there.”

  “When did you hear?”

  I slowly raised my head to see him warily studying me, as if he didn’t know where the conversation was headed. I crossed my arms. “Juan Carlos and I had just gotten back from our vacation in Paris when I heard you’d taken the White House correspondent job. I got nervous immediately. Then, as it sunk in that I’d be seeing you every day, I was…well, Juan Carlos said I’d become ‘distracted.’ That’s what he called it. I blamed it on my job.”

  “Distracted?” He smiled. “I’d say I’ve been distracted myself.”

  “I suppose it’s good to know I’m not the only one.” I snickered. “But that morning was bad.”

  “You didn’t seem nervous at all.”

  “Oh, of course not. Over the years, I’ve become pretty good at putting up a front.”

  “I certainly can’t argue with that. I’d say you’re an expert.”

  Ouch. That was a dig, though I couldn’t deny it was true. “Yeah, well…Anyway, when you came up to me to talk that day, I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t know why you were there—what you wanted. It was a shock just seeing you, and I needed to focus on work. That’s why I walked away.”