The Politics of Love (A Romantic Comedy)

by Ines Saint

  * * *

  Kayla had hitched a ride with Jess, who'd told her to wait outside so she could gauge Jake's mood. Kayla listened, relieved to learn that although Jake seemed to be in a bad mood, everyone else thought the video wouldn't do any harm.

  Thinking it all right to go in now, she smoothed down the front of her pleated grey skirt and fitted, matching blazer, and stepped in. Her sister had lent her one of her outfits and Kayla felt empowered in it. She'd gone for a no-nonsense look today, wearing her hair in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Knowing she looked put together and professionally made her feel better prepared to deal with Jake.

  "Good morning!" Kayla walked in and greeted everyone with excessive cheer. She pointed to the television screen. "Oh, good, you saw that. Isn't it great this nice blogger only wanted to learn the truth? I just, um, didn't think he was so popular!"

  "Do you know Tess from She Said, She Said?" Marcus asked, and Kayla nodded. "Well, your friend Pete there is Tess's son. She plugged his blog just once a few years back, and it turned out he was a really interesting blogger, so it's now the highest ranking blog about Chicago on every major search engine."

  "Oh, well." Kayla didn't know what else to say and was almost grateful to be interrupted by Jake.

  "Do you have to be anywhere else in the next four hours?" he asked.

  "Let me look at my schedule today," Kayla said, keeping her peppy act up. "Let's see... I have practice with the string quartet near the Loop at 2:30, and I was going to meet my sister for lunch there at around 1:00, so I'd have to leave at... sure, I can stay."

  "Good, then let's make this our last meeting. I think we can have everything hammered out today if we work double time, don't you?"

  "Yes! Definitely," Kayla agreed. Jake's voice was cold and polite, but his eyes were smoldering. And she was supposed to be the overemotional one!

  Jess turned to Jake. "But you have a meeting with—"

  "Cancel it," Jake interrupted.

  "But you never cancel—"

  "Cancel it, please," Jake repeated, more firmly this time.

  "Don't worry Mr. Kelly, after today, you'll probably never see me again." Kayla felt the need to reassure him.

  "Except for The Endowment for the Arts Ebony and Ivory Charity Dinner the Friday after next. Don't forget; it's part of your contract," Marcus reminded her.

  "Right. Except for that."

  "Don't worry about it. You don't have to go," Jake said.

  "Actually, I do. The presence of every member of the Second City Symphony is mandatory. Also, I want to volunteer for the program, to tutor students, and I’ll recruit others. If you win. Which you will! But that wouldn't be through you, would it?" Why couldn't she stop talking?

  Marcus and Jess left, and Jake held out a chair. "Have a seat," he instructed; his lips tight, his expression glacial. He waited for her to sit before immediately picking up where they'd left off the week before. "I've been thinking it through, and I decided to meet you halfway. We can lower the instrument fee further to make it more of a symbolic fee." He slid a sheet of paper with amounts for each instrument to her.

  Kayla looked at him, surprised, before looking down at the sheet. "Jake, this is good! I also thought it through, and some of what you said made sense. I wondered if we could meet somewhere in the middle. These symbolic fees are low enough that a concerned adult or—or maybe a community grant can cover them if a child has an apathetic guardian, but the child will know someone believes in them and is investing in them, either way."

  Jake put his pen down and stared at her. "You thought it through, you agreed, and you're telling me I made sense?"

  "Yes," she replied, amused by his air of disbelief. It was time to really blow his mind. "And I also think it's pretty amazing that you're taking so much time on what has to be a very small part of your platform, especially when most candidates only produce outlines and wait to win before working on the details. But this, and the sports program, and the parenting classes... if you win, and they're implemented, the effects won't be seen for years to come, and probably long after you're out of office, but they can be significant."

  Jake studied her, his gaze softening, and though Kayla was sincere, she wasn't expecting or wanting, that soft, appreciative glow trained on her. "I'm trying to make the race about what's right for Chicago, and not about cut-and-dried ideology down party lines. Or about fear, or about blame... It's hard to solve the here and now while also thinking about the future, but we have to find a way. Chicago has so many issues. Criminal justice reform and Education being the most important and most difficult." He was serious for a moment, but then shook his head and gave her the bright, spontaneous smile she'd come to think of his real smile. "Sorry. I'll get off my soapbox now. It’s just I think about all this constantly." He held her gaze, his eyes friendly, and Kayla's pulse raced. The sentiment behind his words made him too human when she would rather think of him as cold. She looked away.

  Signs of virility had always made her nervous, and they were surrounding her now, along with signs of vulnerability and caring. The feelings in her were potent. She and Jake were sitting a little too close this time, in the two chairs at the curved end of the conference table. The spicy scent, the hairs on his arms, his low voice... and yet all that was easier to deal with than his warmth.

  * * *

  Kayla looked away, but not before Jake had seen the warmth in her eyes. It made him forget what they were supposed to tackle next. He looked down at his papers, but couldn't seem to read. Damn her for being so thoughtful and understanding. It had him in an unfamiliar tizzy. Physical attraction was easier to dismiss than... this. Whatever this was.

  And damn her saying there was no chemistry between them. And damn the prim look she was wearing today. Her hair was up, revealing a smooth, elegant neck. It was hard to ignore the wisps of hair that were caressing her neck. Vampire instincts he never would've guessed he possessed begged him to take action. Maybe he could ask her to let her hair loose, for her own good? But a slow-motion mental video of her letting her hair down and shaking it about her soon had him shooting the idea down.

  "Jake, are you okay?" Kayla asked.

  "I'm fine."

  "Are you sure you don't have a fever or something? You look a little flushed." Her eyes showed concern.

  "The room's a little hot," he lied, pushing some papers her way.

  Finally, they got down to business and had a surprisingly productive first hour. But productivity soon went downhill when Kayla leaned a little too close, rereading a few details on a piece of paper closer to him, and the scent of her skin invaded Jake's personal space, making him stare at her and think of warm, summer days, strolling along the shore of Lake Michigan. The thoughts irritated him. "Why do you smell like coconuts and sunscreen? It's autumn."

  "My body lotion is coconut scented, and I always use sunscreen; even in winter."

  He swallowed. "Well, it's distracting."

  "Well, I've never gotten any complaints."

  "I wasn't complaining. It was merely an observation." He pushed his chair back to get away from her. He was supposed to be thinking about music education, not picturing Kayla in a bikini at the beach.

  Kayla continued to read the information before her. "I'm glad the program will include voice lessons," she remarked distractedly. "It's my favorite instrument, and I'm positive some talented young singers will be discovered."

  "What's your favorite instrument?" he asked, confused.

  "The human voice. Some people don't consider it an instrument, but when you see people train and do amazing things... I mean, I cherish the violin, of course, but no instrument comes close to expressing such a range of raw emotions as the human voice. Don't you think?"

  "I've never really thought about it."

  "Don't you ever feel overwhelmed with one particular feeling?" she asked. He didn't answer. He couldn't, really. Why would he want to open himself up to her like that? "Well, I do, sometimes," she continued.
"And nothing comes close to making me feel understood than the right lyrics and the right voice."

  "Do you feel everything so deeply?" he couldn't help asking.

  "Only the things that matter. What about you? How deeply do you feel the things that matter to you?"

  Again, Jake didn't answer. He simply looked at her, and, for some reason, she didn't look away this time. And even though he was still irrationally irked at her over her little speech to the blogger, her presence made him feel high, too.

  The moment stretched, and unusual energy began to flow, as if alive, between them. Until she disconnected her gaze and said, "I hate that, no matter how hard I try, I can't figure you out."

  "You feel absolutely no connection to me whatsoever," Jake cited part of her recorded speech, his eyebrow raised. "But you try hard to figure me out?"

  "I think about many people, and I try hard to figure out lots of things," she explained.

  Jake shook his head and made a real push to get them back on track. Little by little, they drew each other back to the subject at hand, with tangents along the way, and harmony reigned.

  Until it didn't. And Jake was almost glad for it because he didn't welcome the feelings harmony with Kayla awakened. The tangents were full of either too many smiles, too much laughter, or too much seriousness in too many thoughts, opinions, and anecdotes.

  Kayla was leaning in and looking determined. "I don't think their progress should be evaluated until they reach fifth grade. We should go to attendance instead."

  Jake disagreed. "We need to evaluate progress at every grade level because we can't continue to allocating funds to students who aren't showing interest."

  "If they're showing up, they're showing interest, don't you think?" Kayla replied, her eyes flashing.

  "No. If they're getting better, it means they're practicing, and that means they're showing interest."

  "Not necessarily. Some students take longer to develop their fine motor skills, and they may be practicing, but aren't yet mature enough to show signs of improvement." She began to click her pen obsessively.

  "I understand what you're saying about the development of fine motor skills, but improvement is an individual thing, and they have to show signs of improvement to remain in the program." Jake gathered his things in one quick sweep and stood up.

  She pushed her chair back, "I don't appreciate this Darwinist view of little kids, where only the strongest survive."

  "You're spinning the meaning of what I said, and while I appreciate the intentions of your tender, idealistic heart, you have to admit some kids may wish to remain in the program to avoid other electives, and not because they're interested." Jake turned his back to her and walked toward his desk, hearing her promptly get up and walk after him. He turned and leaned against his desk, crossing his arms to calmly and quietly face her. He would not let her get to him this time.

  "At least—"

  "At least you have a heart. Right. Very original," he interrupted.

  The yellow in her eyes flared. "You want to talk unoriginal, Jake? Then let's talk about your tie. Your standard uniform, unoriginal tie." She took a step toward him. "Let's talk about how, if you loosened it just a little, oxygen could reach your brain and help you understand that out of the two of us, only I have been part of a public school music program with other kids, and only I have worked in a public school music program teaching kids." She flicked at his tie.

  And without thinking, he took hold of her hand just as she was withdrawing it from his tie. He was about to say that what he was proposing had worked in numerous schools. But the moment he felt her warm, soft hand in his own, and her gaze flew up to meet his, he forgot what he was going to say. In one instant, irritation was replaced with acute awareness of everything that made Kayla, Kayla. It was beyond physical. When her gaze slid to his lips and then immediately back to his eyes, it took every smidgen of willpower in Jake's possession not to touch his lips to hers, and let the chemistry she denied take over.

  "Jake!" A voice called from the door. They both jumped. "You told me to interrupt you at twelve-thirty." Marcus ran a finger around his shirt collar. "And open a window, will you? It's nice outside, and it's way too hot in here. Or is it me?"

  "It's you," they answered in unison.

  Kayla breathed out forcefully before looking up at him again, her eyes pleading. "Please promise you'll look into it again, and read the information I'll email you about it before you make a final decision."

  It took a moment for Jake to remember what she was talking about. "Yes," he agreed with a tired sigh. "I'll think it through. It's the only point left to decide before we're done here."

  * * *

  Kayla barely nodded at his tired words. They were done here. And she was relieved, truly she was. Nothing had ever made her as uneasy as Jake pinning her with those amazing eyes, while breathing hard, and looking primitive as if he wanted to drag her back to his cave. Because she wasn't quite sure why he wanted to drag her back to his cave, and she wasn't so sure he'd have to drag her. She'd never in her life experienced anything like the primal pull he had over her, and her body was beginning to demand to know what came next.

  She walked back to the conference table and tried to make sense of it all. Her instincts told her their attraction was mutual, but her logical brain knew it could be her vanity coloring things. After all, nobody ever wanted to believe they were alone in their feelings. She could easily be reading attraction to her into Jake's exasperation and annoyance with her.

  As she finished placing every sheet into its correct folder in her briefcase, she asked herself what she would do if Jake did want her. The answer was a quick nothing; because she was too smart and too much of a goody-two-shoes for anything else. She zipped her case shut.

  "My next meeting is up near the Gold Coast. I can give you a ride to the Loop," Jake's sedate voice cut through her thoughts, and his whole demeanor was now so formal and detached, she was certain her instincts were wrong, and her logical brain was right. But why the offer of a ride if he'd been annoyed with her a moment before? And what was it with him and rides?

  Then she remembered his whispered admission on Friday night, that he couldn't stand the idea of her lugging her stuff onto trains and buses all over town. Pity. Kayla turned to face him. "I don't need for you to give me a ride. I'm sorry that you can't stand the thought of me hauling my stuff onto buses and trains all over town, but I guess you'll just have to live with your pity."

  "Pity?" Jake repeated; his throat muscles visibly working.

  "I can give you a ride, Kayla," Marcus cut in. "I'm actually headed to City Hall, and I'd enjoy your company."

  "Thank you, Marcus, I accept and appreciate your offer," Kayla replied.

  "You'll accept a ride from Marcus, but you won't accept a ride from me," Jake stated, his arms now crossed.

  "Marcus and I have bonded," she said. "He apologized for not believing in me the first time we met, instead of just letting it slide, and he brought me food the night of your fundraiser when he kindly noticed I hadn't had the opportunity to eat."

  "Actually, the food was—" Marcus began, but a look from Jake cut him off.

  "Delicious," Jake interrupted. "It was delicious, and Marcus didn't want you to miss out." He turned away.

  As Marcus and Kayla walked to his car, Kayla struggled with gusts of unrelenting wind. Her skirt kept billowing up, and she pinned the front of it with her violin case. To her utter embarrassment, a sudden blast sent the back of her skirt flying up to her waist. She almost dropped her violin case trying to pull her skirt back down to cover her unfortunate choice of hot pink bikini panties.

  "Don't you dare look," she warned Marcus, who'd noticed her struggle and was trying not laugh. She placed both her violin case and briefcase on the sidewalk and quickly reached behind her. A loud honk told her she was too late. Her face felt aflame, and she could swear smoke was coming out of her ears when she turned to glare at the honking driver.

&nbs
p; It was Jake, shooting her an innocent look that further angered her because she couldn't even accuse him of harassing her with the honk. He'd merely say someone was about to cross the street or something. Marcus laughed harder, and Kayla turned, picked up her things with as dignified a posture as possible, and marched forward, cheeks blazing and thoughts murderous.

  A good twenty minutes of silence later, Kayla sat in Marcus's Toyota Camry, admiring his profile. Marcus was also the type of male she usually avoided because he too seemed too virile for his own good. But for some reason, he didn't make her uncomfortable, the way Jake Kelly did. Marcus didn't give her the tingles, and his presence didn't have her feeling edgy and nerve-racked.

  As if sensing the subject of her thoughts, Marcus said, "I know you and Jake are rubbing each other the wrong way, but he isn't the type to pity people."

  "I don't get him, that's all," Kayla said with a sigh. "One minute he can't wait to get away from me, and then he turns around and wants to do something nice that involves spending more time with me. It doesn't make sense."

  "Clueless," Marcus muttered under his breath.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Nothing. Listen, Kayla, I know Jake, and he respects and admires you. He sees how you go about your day, crisscrossing clear across Chicago, never complaining, never expecting anything from anyone, being genuinely grateful for the opportunities you have and giving them your absolute all."

  "Has he told you this?" Kayla asked, knowing the answer.

  "Well, no, but—"

  "Okay, then. I'm sure he knows I'm only doing what I'm thankfully able to do, the same as him. We're both lucky. Not everyone is as fortunate. Now let's talk about something else. Tell me how you got into working on political campaigns." He gave her a look but obliged her, and soon they were chatting away like old friends.

  The moment Marcus pulled up to Symphony Hall and Kayla saw Tania waiting for her, her spirits lifted. "Thank you for the ride. I'm sorry for making things uncomfortable for you in the office."

  "You can make it up to me by introducing me to your sister."