A blue-eyed blonde wearing blue. Safe, predictable, and boring.
Tom deserved better than that.
Kenny’s wife was blond, too, but her hair was longer and fluffier to suit her rounder shape. She wore a full-skirted strapless dress that was black on the top and white on the bottom. It would have suited her better if the colors were the other way around. Kenny was saying something to her that was making her laugh. Her hand curled possessively around his arm.
Marsden had a glint in his eye and a curl to his lips as he watched her and his father approach. Ronnie knew what he thought of her; knew, too, that he’d like to get her into bed.
There was about as much chance of that happening as there was of aliens taking over the earth. She despised Marsden as much as he despised her. No, more, because she felt not the slightest degree of lust for him.
Marsden’s wife, Evangeline, at one with her husband in all things (or so she thought), was wrinkling her little pug nose as Ronnie drew near, as if she smelled a bad smell.
Syd’s gaze was frankly admiring, while Joanie’s was both envious and speculative as it touched on Ronnie, then moved beyond her to Tom. Ronnie remembered that Joanie had once been all but engaged to Tom; she wondered if Lewis’s daughter still had particularly sensitive radar where he was concerned. She wouldn’t be surprised if Joanie was picking up on the tension between them. It seemed to arc from Tom to her like an electric current, hot enough to scorch the air.
Lewis caught up with her as she stopped before the group, sliding an arm around her waist. Smiling, Ronnie fought the urge to shrug it off.
It was getting so that she could barely tolerate Lewis’s slightest touch.
“Hi, Daddy.” Joanie greeted her father, placing a hand on Lewis’s arm and standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry I missed out on seeing you cut your birthday cake. Happy birthday, though.”
“Thank you, baby. Where were you?”
Whatever his faults as a husband, Lewis was an affectionate parent, Ronnie had to admit. He loved his three children, and they were devoted to him.
“Oh, Carter came down with another ear infection this afternoon. You know how they go.”
Carter was Joanie’s four-year-old daughter.
“Poor little girl.”
“Have you all met Mrs. Hilley?” Tom asked as the pair joined them. He stepped past Ronnie, moving easily to his girlfriend’s side. Only a few paces away, he stood facing her but not looking at her, his hand on Diane’s elbow.
Ronnie was surprised by how much she didn’t like that.
They all greeted Mrs. Hilley.
“Diane, Ann, you haven’t met Senator and Mrs. Honneker. This is Diane Albright, and Kenny’s wife Ann Goodman,” Tom continued the introductions.
“Hello.” Smiling, Ronnie shook hands with them both.
“So this is your woman.” After shaking hands with Ann, Lewis turned to Diane, looking her up and down. To Tom he added, “I see you still have good taste.”
“Why, thank you, Senator,” Diane said with a laugh. Tom merely smiled.
Ronnie, pricked by what she knew was a totally unworthy jealousy, turned to Ann and said, “I’ve enjoyed working with your husband.”
Kenny chuckled. “She just says that ’cause I’m a marshmallow. I admit it.”
Ronnie grinned at him. “A very nice marshmallow.”
Lewis glanced at Tom. “I hear Tom here’s the hard-ass.”
“That’s why we hired him, Daddy,” Marsden put in.
“I don’t think I’d describe myself in quite that way,” Tom said.
“Let’s ask Ronnie.” Joanie turned to her stepmother. “She’s the one who ought to know. What do you think? Is Tom a hard-ass?”
There was an air of mischief making about Joanie, Ronnie thought, and she wondered again if Lewis’s daughter had picked up on something between Tom and her.
Ronnie glanced at Tom, as if considering Joanie’s question. It was hard to keep her manner casual. He looked mouthwateringly handsome in his black tux, she thought, with his blond hair shining in the lantern light and his eyes so very blue. His face was impassive, his expression just a little guarded as she met his gaze.
She fought the urge to smile at him.
“Definitely,” she pronounced, knowing that too cautious a reply would be a mistake.
His mouth quirked at her. “Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome.” For a few seconds their gazes locked. Then Tom turned his attention to Mrs. Hilley, courteously inquiring about her family.
Ronnie looked at Ann Goodman. “And your husband is not a marshmallow. He’s just very much the gentleman.”
“He got us the darndest dog,” Lewis put in.
“He got you a dog?” Ann sounded surprised.
“Big dog. Named Davis. Ronnie here likes him, though.”
Ronnie laughed at the horrified expression on Ann’s face. “Actually I’m very grateful to Kenny for bringing us Davis. I like Davis. He’s around here somewhere.”
“I shut him in the basement,” Marsden said. “Selma said he was after the buffet.”
“He probably was.” All the while Ronnie smiled and chatted she was burningly conscious of Tom standing not three feet away. His gaze slid her way from time to time as she spoke; Ronnie could feel the heat of it before it snapped back to Mrs. Hilley, who was talking to him.
His hand still curved around Diane’s elbow. But then, Lewis’s arm was around her waist.
Ronnie wondered if Tom hated Lewis’s hands on her as much as she hated his hand on Diane.
“Actually the dog was Tom’s idea. He just made me do the dirty work,” Kenny said.
“He always was good at getting other people to do his dirty work,” Joanie said, with the air of one reminiscing. She looked at Marsden with a grin. “Do you remember when he lost his chemistry notes the night before the final and got you to call the professor and say he had to go home because his mother had been hit by a car and was dying?”
Marsden laughed. “I sure do.”
Tom said warningly, “Don’t start telling tales out of school, guys, unless you want me to reciprocate.”
The three of them exchanged measuring looks, then grins. Ronnie reminded herself that Marsden and Joanie were old friends of Tom’s. It was something she tended to forget.
Actually it was something she would rather forget.
“Have you known Tom long?” she asked Diane politely.
“About ten years. I was a colleague of—” Here Diane broke off, glancing apologetically up at Tom.
“Sandra’s,” Tom finished dryly. “It’s okay, Diane. You can mention my ex-wife.”
Ronnie hadn’t know her name was Sandra. She was suddenly curious. “A colleague of hers? What do you do?”
“I’m a teacher. Fourth grade.”
“That sounds fascinating.” So Tom’s sleep-around ex-wife had been a teacher. She flicked a glance at him.
“Not really. Twenty-three ten-year-olds can get pretty wearing. I’m hoping to retire soon.”
“Oh, really?” Like when you marry Tom? was the question that hovered on the tip of Ronnie’s tongue, but she bit it back. She wondered if Diane expected to marry him.
A glance at Tom’s hand still curved with accustomed ease around the other woman’s elbow answered that question: Of course she did. They’d been going together a long time.
The band struck up again.
“Lucy, you feel like dancing?” Lewis turned to Mrs. Hilley.
“Thank you, I believe I do. Lovely to meet you all.” Mrs. Hilley smiled at them, then let Lewis lead her onto the patio
“You know, I hate to break this up, but you and Joanie and Ronnie should really be circulating,” Tom said to Marsden. “This is a work night for you guys.”
“You’re right.” Marsden glanced at his sister briefly, then turned to his wife. “Come on, Evangeline, let’s go see if we can fill a few more campaign coffers.” He took his wif
e’s hand and started pulling her away. “See you all later.”
“This party has gotten to be hard work.” Joanie sighed. “Fun time’s over, Syd, let’s go circulate.”
Ronnie was left with her political consultants and their dates. Ann was humming along with the band.
“Let’s dance, sweetie,” Kenny said to her, and with a quick “excuse us” they headed onto the floor.
Tom looked at Ronnie over Diane’s head. She could read his thoughts in his eyes as plainly as if he’d said them aloud.
He wanted to dance with her. But he was going to dance with Diane.
Coward, she told him silently. Then she dropped her gaze to smile at Diane.
“You two enjoy yourselves. I think I’m going to go up to the house for a while. I’ve got just a smidgen of a headache.”
Her gaze flickered to Tom again. “It’s funny, but when we have a party going on, the only place I seem able to get any peace and quiet is my office.”
Tom got the message. She knew he did. She could see it in his eyes. The question was, Would he act on it? He would, if he wanted to be alone with her as badly as she wanted to be alone with him.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Honneker,” Diane said.
“Please call me Ronnie.” Ronnie corrected her with a smile. “And it was a pleasure to meet you too. Any friend of Tom’s, you know …”
She let her voice trail off. With a handshake and a smile for Diane, and one more unsmiling glance for Tom, she headed for the house.
In the kitchen she spoke briefly to the caterers, who were frantically refilling platters under Selma’s eagle-eyed supervision, and poured herself a glass of water.
“Party’s going great, Mrs. Lewis,” Selma said with a smile. “That band’s really good.”
“You ought to go out there and dance some yourself, Selma,” Ronnie said.
“I already have. And I’ll be out there again. Just as soon as I make sure the shrimp is cold and the biscuits is hot. Fools got the platters switched last time out and had the shrimp sittin’ on top of a hot plate.”
“Oh, dear. Well, I’m glad you were there to catch it,” Ronnie said, finishing her water and setting the glass down.
“I’ll keep on top of things, don’t you worry.” Selma spoke with grim determination. Ronnie smiled, and left her to it.
Once out of the kitchen, she didn’t see another soul. Humming to herself as she mounted the stairs, she felt the butterflies settle in her stomach again.
What would she do if Tom didn’t come?
She heard the front door open, and the sound of men’s voices. Glancing down, she saw Lewis and Beau Hilley coming into the front hall and heading in the direction of Lewis’s office, in the east wing of the house. They seemed to be deep in a serious discussion, but she didn’t try to listen because she wasn’t interested in anything they had to say to each other. Picking up her skirt, she ran lightly up the rest of the stairs.
“Ronnie, honey, is that you?” Lewis called.
Knowing she was well and truly caught, Ronnie paused on the top stair and turned to smile down at the two men, who had stopped to look up at her.
“I just ran in to take care of a few things, Lewis. Are you having a good time, Senator Hilley?”
“Beau,” Hilley corrected, a slow grin splitting his face as his gaze met hers. Ronnie knew what that expression on a man’s face meant, and she didn’t like it. But she kept on smiling. He was drunk, he was lecherous, but he was a powerful, important senator and a friend of her husband’s. As long as he just looked without touching, they’d get along fine.
“Beau,” she repeated.
“Like I was telling Lewis here, it was the damnedest thing: When I got up to the house, there wasn’t any phone call. Nobody knew anything about it. Your man out there’s got some explainin’ to do.”
“He must have been mistaken,” Ronnie said. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you two gentlemen to finish your discussion.”
“We won’t be but a few minutes. Then why don’t you come on back out to the party with us? That band’s mighty good,” Hilley coaxed. Glancing at Lewis, he said, “You ever tell your wife that all work and no play makes Ronnie a dull girl?”
“Many times,” Lewis said.
“You are sweet to worry about me, Beau,” Ronnie said, shaking her head at him. In truth she thought he was an idiot, but maybe that was so only when he drank. For the sake of the country she hoped so. “I’ll probably be a little while. There are a few things I need to see to. But suppose I meet you in, say, an hour? On the dance floor. Where we were before?”
“It’s a date,” said Hilley, beaming, and glanced at his watch. “Twelve-thirty, then. Don’t you forget, now!”
“I won’t!” Ronnie promised over her shoulder as she took the last step up into the upstairs hall. Lewis and Hilley proceeded toward Lewis’s office. She listened to their voices dying away as she walked in the opposite direction.
Great, she thought, when Tom comes we’ll have to go someplace else. It wouldn’t do to risk Beau Hilley—or Lewis—coming to look for her—and finding her with Tom.
Reaching her office, she closed the door and leaned against it, shutting her eyes. She was tired, wired, happy, nervous.
Would Tom come?
God, she wanted him to come.
Though the windows were closed, she could hear the band playing. The drapes were open, and the glitter of the party below drew her to a window. She had not turned on a light, so she could look out without being seen. The Japanese lanterns strung throughout the grounds turned the back lawn into a fairyland. Citronella torches planted in strategic places added their own flickering glow. Women in evening dresses and men in tuxes made their way along the crisscrossing pathways, or danced on the patios, or milled around the tents. Closer at hand, two waiters bearing large covered trays went down the last few steps leading to the lawn from the veranda. Seconds later Selma followed, her gait militant.
Ronnie smiled. With Selma to oversee the caterers, and Lewis and his mother and children to see to the guests, she wouldn’t be missed. She could do as she pleased all night.
The faint sound of footsteps coming along the hall caused her to turn away from the window. Clutching the curtain with one hand, she waited, her heartbeat speeding up in anticipation.
The footsteps grew louder, then stopped outside the door, which she had left unlocked. The knob turned. The door opened. A pie wedge of light spilled across her office floor. A man’s tall form was silhouetted against the hall light.
Ronnie smiled, let go of the curtain, and started to move into his arms.
The time for talking was past.
Chapter
28
WALKING UP TO THE HOUSE, Tom listened to the band striking up a new song and smiled wryly. He and the bandleader must have some sort of cosmic connection tonight, he thought.
It was a romantic ballad, lush and sensual. The lead singer crooned yearningly of love, and Tom felt his body responding to the urgent beat of the music.
He had succumbed, utterly, completely, thoroughly succumbed, to the hot need pulsing through his veins—and the magic of a warm wind, a star-studded night, and a woman.
Morals, scruples, good common sense be damned: Tonight he couldn’t help himself.
He was going to take what he wanted, and to hell with the consequences.
Just thinking of Ronnie brought a smile to his lips and an ache to his groin. He quickened his steps.
“Hey, Tom!” It was Thea, hailing him from the pathway leading down from the veranda. As he was on the walk leading to the front door, a distance of some thirty feet away, he was able to wave in reply without stopping.
Thea was wearing a tight black sequined dress with what looked like feathers around the hem, and was looking very hot.
Tom knew he could have her in bed in about twenty minutes flat with not much more than one snap of his fingers. No real moral implications, no potential life-
wrecking consequences, no strings.
Just plain, old-fashioned, have-a-good-time sex.
The only problem was he wasn’t interested. She didn’t move him. She never had. There was no enchantment there for him with Thea.
Or with Diane.
Or with anyone else but Ronnie.
Maybe he had a thing for red hair.
Or maybe it was big brown eyes, or luscious lips, or porcelain pale skin; maybe it was a body with curves in all the right places; hell, maybe it was too much eye makeup and three-inch heels.
Or maybe it was just Ronnie.
Whatever it was, he had it bad.
Worse than the chicken pox.
At least, Tom thought as he ran up the steps to the house, Thea was with somebody. She’d been hanging on to some guy’s arm even as she waved at him. That was a good thing. He wouldn’t want Ann to get wind of what had been going on between Thea and Kenny.
The irony of condemning his best friend for breaking his marriage vows while he was setting out to do some pretty thorough marriage-vow breaking of his own was not lost on Tom.
And he didn’t even try to tell himself that in his and Ronnie’s case it was different.
What it was, was a hunger as elemental as a force of nature, and as unstoppable.
He wanted her. She wanted him. When they were together, the air between them burned.
Call him morally bankrupt, but he wasn’t even going to try to fight that. Not any longer.
There wasn’t any point. He had already lost—or won—depending on how you looked at it. In either case he had discovered that he didn’t have what it took to walk away.
Entering the house through the front door, he looked around quickly and judged himself alone. He knew where her office was, and he climbed the main staircase swiftly.
He didn’t even feel like talking anymore. He was going to pull her into his arms and kiss her breathless and …
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