“Don’t worry, Madeline, I have something that will fix this. We don’t want anyone to think this is all about cheesecake—this is a serious political election for governor of Massachusetts and I have just the thing.” He took a banner from behind his desk and brought it around in front of the life-size poster, where he spread it across the bottom, then stepped away with a flourish. The orchestra played it up and the audience absolutely roared. She couldn’t see the sign from her vantage point, until she glanced at the monitor. Spread across the bottom were the words “Grace for Governor.” Her mouth dropped. She couldn’t help her reaction and quickly pulled herself together. She was absolutely unsure of how to react. The entire effect was strangely compelling, but at the same time she felt very uneasy about—something. Was this all a joke? Should she be concerned that they were mocking her? Were they not taking her seriously? Was she taking things too seriously? She was suddenly adrift and unsure of herself—and she couldn’t remember the last time that happened.
It was then that Peter John Douglas popped into her head. That was the last time she felt like this—the last time she saw him. Not a reassuring thought. To her relief, they went to a commercial break and she forced herself to breathe. Jay was thrilled. He should be pleased that his little gimmick went over so well.
“Don’t be mad, Madeline. This could win it for you.” He was serious.
“Not unless all my previous experience and psychological training was absolutely one hundred percent wrong.” Her mind raced to cut through the emotional congestion of confusion, and when it did, she knew. This was not a good thing for a serious candidate. But with the right handling, as usual, it would be nothing more than a speed bump on her road to the election. She’d have to go on one of those Sunday morning political talking head shows ASAP. She would definitely have her people call their people first thing in the morning.
Good lord. What had she been thinking? This wasn’t fun at all. She now literally felt like she was sitting in the hot seat and hoped the cameras didn’t pick up on her sweat. She took a long drink of the cool water someone handed to her just before they went back on. She knew better than to hope for Jay to introduce the next guest. That guy was permanently ensconced in the green room for the night unless she started boring the audience, which of course was the one thing she could not do. It would be worse than having them not take her seriously as a political candidate. Either way, she was on.
After the introductory music and applause, Jay launched right into his next question. No wonder he was so pleased to have her as a guest.
“Of course, it’s hard to figure what category to put you in—dignified Pulitzer Prize-winning scientist, beautiful young woman, or up-and-coming politician. How’s the race for governor going?”
“I think it’s about to get a boost tonight, Jay, especially if you keep saying such flattering things about me. You know, I’m glad you brought up the various roles I have in my life, and the fact that people tend to try and categorize—”
He cut her off. “Now seriously, Madeline, it doesn’t hurt your candidacy to be beautiful. But I am wondering about something else. There is one other issue that I would think must make it tough for your campaign.” Jay paused. She braced herself.
“What’s that Jay?”
“There’s a question that’s been tantalizing everyone in Massachusetts and possibly those in the rest of the country who’ve been tuned into this drama. What about the rumors that right now, right in the middle of your campaign, there’s a romance, perhaps a sexual fling going on between you and your opponent, Peter John Douglas?”
Now she was cooked.
“It’s false.”
“But you’ve already admitted you were once engaged to the man. That’s something you didn’t mention before the media caught up with you—why should we believe you now?” He’d crossed the line and went in through the back door using the “current” relationship angle. So much for their agreement. She clamped down on the anger beginning to simmer.
“Because I’m not crazy.”
“Touché. Good answer.” The crowd laughed.
“What about the future? I’ve seen you two debate. The tension is enormous. I can’t believe there’s nothing between you.”
“I am not having a romantic affair with Peter John Douglas. And I have no plans to do so in the future.”
“What about a sexual affair?”
She gave him a quelling look.
“Those debates are very sexually charged…”
“That’s your imagination.”
“And you don’t get into dog fights. I’ve even seen him stick up for you against the other party.”
“We have a lot of respect for each other.”
“Very interesting. Well, what do you say we see for ourselves right now?” Jay turned to his audience. “Is it a couple of good old friends who respect each other? Or are these political opponents, both running for governor of Massachusetts, having a battle of another kind behind the scenes? Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our special surprise guest…Peter John Douglas.” The crowd responded and she could hear only their roar. Her head snapped around to see that he wasn’t kidding.
There he was. PJD walked out on the stage with his very confident smile in place.
Now she was past cooked. She was charred meat. To think she had to be careful what she said was a mild understatement. She couldn’t afford to be her genuine self, but she was not used to self-censorship, either. That was, in fact, her biggest weakness, and they both knew it.
Peter sauntered across the stage, passing in front of her with his neutral smile and a nod to take Jay’s hand. He was in his element. He could put on his Cary Grant persona and handle this like the pro he was. She could only sit and attempt to look pleased, or at least not perturbed. This kind of pretense was not her strong suit. She must actually try to feel pleased, or at least not perturbed.
That was impossible and so she gave it up. So what if she came off in a maternal scolding way? At least that was honest, not to mention appropriate. But wasn’t she smarter and more under control than that? And wasn’t that what she expected from herself? To be able to deal with anything they could throw at her? She’d give it a shot.
She stood and embraced Peter. The crowd responded with more hoots and renewed their thunderous applause. This certainly was a lively audience, she thought. Peter was only slightly taken aback at her response, but he was naturally smooth, after all. Whatever bumps, ups and downs he went through on the inside, Peter was always smooth and easy on the outside. Madeline calmed the little spurt of anger and adrenaline she experienced from just thinking about it. Or was it from the physical experience of embracing him? Either way, she must calm her jumping nerves and make herself cool so that she could sound cool. Or at least redirect her suddenly heightened anxiety into something useful, like cutting wit.
“You two know each other,” Jay said in lieu of introductions, with his brows wiggling comically.
Peter laughed. “Now remember, Jay, we agreed you wouldn’t try to goad me into behaving like anything but a perfect gentleman. After all, Madeline Grace is the quintessential lady.” Peter nodded deferentially toward her, playing the knight in shining armor. She smiled demurely. What else could she do? It was up to Jay to rescue his own show from the saccharine swamp of ennui into which they were about to sink.
Instead it was Peter who came to the rescue, in a manner of speaking.
“Now, is it true that your campaign platforms are distinguished by the notion that Madeline, you’re the political outsider and Peter, you’re a political insider?”
“Yes, that’s right, Jay. I’m definitely on the inside.” Peter gazed at her with bedroom eyes in a smoldering look of pure sex that turned the otherwise meaningless comment into a very racy double entendre. The raucous reaction said the audience got it, because they only needed half a brain and two eyes.
Jay raised his brows. The drummer in the band did a da-dum. And Peter, he jus
t continued to give her that look.
Madeline knew she turned red, more from the look than the comment or the audience reaction. Under the circumstances, it was hard to imagine being more mortified.
“So much for the perfect gentleman,” she said when the audience finally quieted.
Peter knew he was in trouble. It was good to be amusing, but not at her expense. Time to reform, he thought. He turned to the audience.
“You have a hair trigger audience, Jay. I was talking purely about politics.” He gave a look of pure apology to Mad. Total redemption at this moment was too much to go for. He’d have to work his way back.
“Yes, folks, and here’s that famous sincerity that politicians are so well known for,” Jay quipped.
“Ouch. I deserved that.” Peter nodded.
“Seriously now, if I may be serious for a moment with you two.” Jay’s eyebrows were lowered in an ironically comical attempt to be serious. Peter played along, gave him a studious stare and tented his fingers. “When do you find the time? In between all the campaigning with the people, the press.” They laughed.
Peter let a small smile escape and decided this was his chance. “Exactly, Jay. I know you were joking about that, but in reality, not only would we have to be crazy to be having an affair at the same time as we’re running against each other, we would also have to be magicians.” He looked at the audience, not wanting to be too serious for too long. “It ain’t too damn likely. And I got to tell you.” He looked at Madeline longingly. “It ain’t because I wouldn’t want to.” He gave her a very appreciative look, without leering, and acknowledged her with a nod. The applause was loud and polite and Jay announced it was time for a break.
When it was over, Peter followed her into the green room and cornered her. They were by themselves, a rarity. Enough so that he couldn’t let the opportunity go by. He walked up behind her, knowing she wasn’t really mad. He got close enough to brush his lips against her hair. She didn’t pull away when he wrapped his arm around her and cupped her breast underneath the buttons of her suit.
“No blouse, I see. Living dangerously.” She turned in his arms to face him and he saw he was right. There was more passion of the warm and sensual kind than the cold and angry kind. He was the one living dangerously. He bent his head to kiss her. He pressed his lips to hers and felt such a hot jolt that he had to have more. She responded, licking his mouth, then his teeth, sucking and nibbling, her hands moving and pressing against his back.
“Why can’t we be lovers? There are no rules if we don’t make them.” He moved against her in mindless motion, heedless of the wisdom of his actions. Only his growing desire mattered.
She pushed back. Madeline was breathing in almost a whimper. He lifted her chin to look at her eyes. What he saw caused him instant concern. Her eyes glistened with tears, and he doubted they were tears of joy.
“I hope this room isn’t monitored.” He attempted humor as he stepped back from her.
“Not a good time or place, Peter.” She still looked distressed. He wanted to undo the look in her eyes that screamed with tortured confusion.
“You could fix all that. Be with me; make it official. Run with me and marry me. We could both have it all. Help me.” He allowed himself to plead with her down to his soul. This was why she was so dangerous. He was making rash propositions that didn’t seem so rash any more.
“We do have chemistry. I’ll give you that. But the rest…” Madeline waved her hand in dismissal, and gone was any notion of confusion or distress. She looked at him with her usual clear-eyed gaze and shook her head.
“You know I hate lying. I hate being a hypocrite. We just told everyone in the country that there was nothing between us. I really believed that. Why couldn’t you leave it alone? This campaign is a very difficult one for both of us on a personal level—please don’t make it any worse or even impossible. It could shatter us. And I don’t mean our careers. I mean us, our souls,” she said.
He knew she was perfectly serious. But he scoffed anyway.
“You saw them. They loved this. They would forgive us anything because we entertain them—and we’re not evil. I’ll give credit to people for that—for knowing when pols are really deep down good or bad. The rest they don’t seem to care about, even though they should because it matters.”
“You’re not listening to me. I’m not worried about our careers. I meant us personally.”
“They can’t do anything to ‘us.’ Only we can. If you want to make it an issue then it is.” He paused. “I guess you do want to make it an issue.” Goddamn, she was a frustrating woman. Why hadn’t he learned? Why did he care any more? He turned from her and walked toward the door. Just as he reached for the handle, it was opened from the other side and Jay Leno walked in.
“Hey, you guys, you know there is a monitor in here, right? I’ll sell you the tapes.”
Peter’s blood drained to his toes before he had a chance to put his guard back in place. That was another slip he could not afford. His concentration and his vaunted inscrutability never failed him like this. He couldn’t lose that in the middle of an election when he most needed to be impeccable.
Jay snorted a laugh.
“Just kidding, just kidding, pal. Take it easy.” Jay slapped him on the back. Peter shook his head, realizing that it really was more complicated than he wished.
“Hell, you should have seen the looks on your faces. I knew my hunch was right. There is something between you two, something very hot, I’d say.” Jay looked from face to face as neither of them spoke.
“Hey, I like you two, but if I can tell something’s up, then almost anyone else can too—especially the press. Those tabloid people are relentless. You’ll have to either watch yourselves or fess up.” Jay put out his hand and Peter took it, nodding at the goodwill gesture of the man. Then they all left without another word.
They only had two days to get out of town and get their ducks in a row before the show aired.
Chapter 10
The television blared, no longer background noise in the study. “The polls are yielding very unusual results, but that’s because the poll questions themselves are very unusual. Not only that, but they’re national polls now. The race for governor between Mad Madeline and Peter the Rock is no longer merely a Massachusetts political campaign interest,” Mary Porter said from the television. Rick turned the volume up even louder, probably to torture him, Peter thought.
Porter went on. “The interest is larger than Massachusetts politics and larger than who gets to be governor. It is a battle between the sexes—of the most intimate kind. It is a battle between romance and career ambition. It is a battle between cool and controlled sophistication and wild-edged dynamic intelligence. It is a battle between cynical experience and optimistic creativity.” She framed the race for her TV audience in terms meant to heighten the entertainment factor. Madeline would probably be thoroughly disgusted with her favorite news anchor. That thought made Peter smile.
“This is damn exciting—going national I mean,” Rick said. “All the Sunday morning political talking heads are weighing in on the campaign too.”
Peter clicked off the television and looked at his watch. He had to be somewhere soon. “The polls are showing we’re way down with the women. After that Tonight Show interview, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. My mother even gave me flak. I’m on thin ice. I wanted to look human—not like an animal,” he said.
Shaking his head, Rick got up from the chair he had pulled up close to the TV in the study and walked to the door. “I’ll get us some coffee to go.”
Peter got up from his chair and went to the desk where he left the exhaustive supply of press clippings in response to their recent foray into late-night TV.
The phone on the desk rang. It was his private line. No one called that line. If they wanted him, they called his cell.
“That has to be your father. Good luck.” Rick smirked as he left the room.
His fath
er hadn’t tolerated the notion of The Tonight Show appearance well, either. Now that the show had aired, Peter winced at what his father’s reaction might be to the heightened coverage in the fallout. He sat back in his chair and put his feet up on the old mahogany desk, picking up the phone after the fourth ring.
“Judge.”
“Are you running for office or are you out to become notorious?” His father’s voice was calm as usual, but an idiot could tell his father was more annoyed than amused. Peter was afraid he was starting to qualify as an idiot.
“Both, it would seem. Hopefully one will lead to the other. Rick says The Tonight Show spot solved the problem that I was seen as too distant and inscrutable.” He tried to pay attention to his father on the other end of the line, but it was tempting to tune him out.
“Goddamn, Peter.” His father paused, and Peter thought he could not remember the last time he’d heard his father swear. He took his feet down from the desk and sat up.
His father’s voice returned to the inscrutable tone he always used. “This is getting to be more like a soap opera than a political campaign for governor. No one is going to take you seriously, even if you do get the votes of the masses. The people who take power seriously are not going to take you seriously after this.”
“I am serious, Judge. The appearance helped the people identify with me—outside our circle. That had been a real problem. People thought of me as being from another world, apart from the everyday problems of life, and that I wouldn’t be able to understand them. This change in attitude will help me cut into the huge blue-collar pie in this state—which is an absolute necessity for a serious candidate for governor and you know it. And all the power people know it.
The Scotland Yard Exchange Series Page 14