"Everything okay here?" Susannah asked as she came back with her wrap over her arm.
Heather looked at Matt.
He nodded.
"Did she ask your advice about her legal problem?"
"Suse!"
"What legal problem?" Matt asked warily. There was no end of legal trouble a teenager could get into these days, especially one with a go-to-hell attitude and no discernible parental influence.
"I've got it covered," Heather said, shooting a fulminating look at Susannah. "Legal Aid assigned me a lawyer yesterday afternoon. I forgot to tell you, is all."
"A lawyer?" Susannah huffed delicately. "Some first-year law student, right?"
"Second year," Heather said. "And all he has to do is, like, file some stupid papers is all. It's no big deal."
"What legal problem?" Matt demanded in a quiet tone that nevertheless had both females turning their heads to look at him.
"I'm petitioning the court to be declared an emancipated minor," Heather told him.
"That involves more than just filing a few papers," he said.
"Yeah, well..." Heather shrugged again, as if she really didn't care.
Both adults could see clearly that she did.
Matt sighed. "All right, look. I haven't got time to go into it with you right now, but later in the week the three of us can get together and talk about it."
"What's to talk about?" Heather mumbled.
"Before I can help you, I need to know what I'm helping you with. You answer a few questions for me and I'll check into it and see what I can do. Maybe light a fire under your lawyer at Legal Aid. Maybe something more. Okay? But only if I think your case warrants it," he added sternly, trying to avoid raising false hopes. "The courts grant emancipated-minor status only in very rare cases," he warned, "and I'm not about to add to an already overburdened system just because you don't get along with your parents. Is that clear?"
"Yeah, sure," Heather said with another unconcerned shrug, but her eyes were shining with hope.
Matt glanced at Susannah, expecting her to reinforce his statement of caution. She smiled back at him as if he were St. George about to slay the dragon. He sighed again, knowing when he was licked.
"Come on, Cinderella," he said, reaching for the wrap over her arm. He shook the deep-wine-colored velvet cape out and swirled it behind her, settling it on her shoulders. "Time to go to the ball."
Chapter 6
A dark-eyed, balding man with an affable smile and an intense manner swooped down on them the minute they entered the Peacock Court of the Mark Hopkins hotel. Or swooped down on Matt, rather. He didn't appear to notice Susannah at all.
"Where in hell have you been?" he said to Matt. "You're about to give me a heart attack. Councilman Leeland was asking about you a few minutes ago. And Mr. Hoi Lung Kwong wants to discuss your opinions on the recent court rulings regarding illegal immigration from China. Hell of a thing," he grumbled, "when the man of the hour is late."
"Susannah, this extremely rude man is Harry Gasparini, my campaign manager," Matt said calmly, unperturbed by the older man's air of impending doom. "Harry, this is Susannah Bennington. My date. And we are not late." He glanced pointedly at his watch. "It's barely seven-thirty."
"Your date?" Harry's expression grew even more disapproving as he turned to stare at Susannah.
She smiled sweetly, showing lots of perfect white teeth.
"Bennington? Of Bennington Plastics?"
"My father is Roger Bennington, yes," she admitted.
"Then your mother must be Audrey Stanhope Bennington Harper?"
"Yes," Susannah said, surprised he'd made the connection that quickly. Not many people did.
Harry shook his head. "Never would have guessed it," he said, looking her up and down. His expression was not admiring.
"Thank you," Susannah said with another sugary-sweet smile. Her sarcasm was wasted. Harry had already turned his attention back to Matt.
"Come on over and say hello to the councilman," he said. "He's got some people he wants you to meet."
"Go on," Susannah said, clearly reading Matt's reluctance to leave her on her own in a room full of strangers. "I'll get myself a glass of champagne—" she summoned a passing waiter with the lift of an eyebrow "—and mingle. Maybe I'll run into your mother or Mr. Elliott."
"Wouldn't you like to meet the councilman?"
"I've met him," she said, lifting a glass of champagne off the waiter's tray. "We had a slight disagreement a few years back." She'd been part of a committee that had lobbied the councilman's office in support of a bill for increased funding for battered women's shelters and police-sensitivity training in handling domestic-violence cases. The bill had been defeated, with Councilman Leeland heading up the opposition. She took a sip of her champagne. "You go do your political duty," she said to Matt. "I'll meet up with you when it's time for dinner."
Susannah wandered around the edges of the crowd for the next half hour or so, deliberately keeping to the fringes of the groups that formed and reformed, listening in as people discussed politics, social change, the latest tabloid headlines, restaurants, movies, gay rights, their friends' affairs and what should be done about San Francisco's growing homeless problem.
"I think they should make those wretched people stay out of Union Square," said a voice Susannah recognized as Barbara Filbert's. "It's bad for the tourist trade. And it makes shopping so unpleasant."
Stupid cow, Susannah thought, edging away from that particular group before Mrs. Filbert noticed her.
"Did you see that latest Tom Cruise movie? I read he and his wife are going to—"
"He pleaded nolo contendere. I heard the judge threw the book at him anyway, though, so..."
"It's ridiculous to think that everyone can be covered by the same health plan. What about..."
"I heard that she caught him in the act. In flagrante delicto," the speaker said with relish. "Wouldn't you just love to have been a fly on the wall?"
"Some of those gay activists are going too far. Imagine, them wanting to marry each other!"
"God, isn't Matthew Ryan just the hunkiest thing you ever saw?" one young female politico said to another. "He makes you think about straying from the straight and narrow just so you could have him as a lawyer."
Susannah edged a little closer to listen to the conversation.
"He's a prosecuting attorney," her friend said. "He goes after criminals. He doesn't defend them."
"Well, he can come after me, anytime."
Me, too, Susannah thought. Anytime at all.
"My goodness. Susannah," said an all-too-familiar voice from behind her, "is that you?"
She turned around. "Hello, Mother." She leaned in for the obligatory kiss on the cheek. "How are you?"
"I'm fine." Which you'd know if you came to visit more often.
The words weren't spoken but Susannah heard them. "You look more than fine," she said, meaning it sincerely. Her mother was a beautiful woman. "I like what you've done with your hair. It's very attractive."
Audrey lifted a hand to smooth the coiffure that hadn't changed since Susannah was a child. "I had my hairdresser add a little drabber to the color this time. It was getting too brassy." She reached out and touched Susannah's springing corkscrew curls, trying to brush them back from her face. "You might want to try it on your hair next time you go in."
"I don't use anything on my hair but shampoo and conditioner, Mother," Susannah said dryly. Audrey was always trying to get her to use something to tone down her color. "You know that."
"Well..." Audrey looked her over consideringly. "Perhaps if you didn't insist on wearing such unsuitable colors your hair might not be so noticeable. There's a reason redheads shouldn't wear pink, you know."
"How's Brian?" Susannah asked. Brian was Audrey's husband. "Is he here tonight?"
"Oh, he's around here somewhere." She waved her hand languidly. "Talking business, as usual. He loves this sort of function." She gave her dau
ghter a searching look. "I wouldn't have thought it would be your type of affair, though."
"No, it isn't," Susannah agreed. "I came with a friend."
"Oh?" Audrey gave her daughter an arch, inquiring look. "Anyone I know?"
Meaning, Susannah thought, anyone worth knowing? "No, I don't think you know him, Mother. Although I'm sure you've heard of his family. He's—"
She felt a hand at her back, on the bare skin just above the waistline of her dress. She started slightly but she didn't pull away. She knew exactly who it was. "They're going to start serving dinner in just few minutes, Susannah," Matt said into her ear. "We should find our table."
Susannah didn't know whether to be grateful he'd rescued her or appalled that her mother now knew who her friend was. Audrey would consider Matthew Ryan a bigger, better catch than that guy from three years ago—not that Susannah could blame her exactly. He was a better catch. But she wasn't trying to catch him.
"Aren't you going to introduce us, Susannah?"
"Yes, of course. Mother, this is Matthew Ryan. Matt, my mother, Audrey Stanhope Bennington Harper." Unlike most women who'd been divorced and remarried, Audrey had continued to use her first husband's name along with that of her new husband. She said it was because she wanted the connection with her daughter. Susannah thought it was because she didn't want anyone to forget her connection with Bennington Plastics.
"Mrs. Harper," Matt said politely. "It's a pleasure. I hope we get a chance to talk more after dinner. Susannah?" he said, indicating the direction she was to take with the hand on her back. "We're up near the podium."
"Of course." She hesitated long enough to lean forward and gave her mother another kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later, Mother."
"Now I know who you were trying to imitate the other night," Matt whispered from behind her.
She glanced back over her shoulder at him. "Imitate?"
"The prim little black dress. The bun. You were playing dress-up with your mommy's clothes."
She stopped between the tables to turn around and confront him more directly. "Dress-up?" she said indignantly. "I'll have you know I dressed that way to put your mother at ease. It's my Nob Hill, society-matron disguise."
"Dress-up," Matt said. "But we can argue about it later." He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, then kept them there, steering her through the close-packed tables to the one nearest the podium.
"My, don't you look lovely, Susannah," Millicent Ryan said by way of greeting. "That's a stunning dress." She gazed up at her son. "Don't you think she looks stunning, Matthew?"
Matt surreptitiously ran a finger down Susannah's spine as he seated her. "Stunning," he said to his mother as he slipped into the seat between the two women.
Susannah pointedly ignored him, looking instead across both him and Millicent to the man sitting on the older woman's other side. "Mr. Elliott," she said warmly. "I'm glad you could make it."
"Do you two know each other?" Millicent asked.
"I meet this lovely young lady not long after I moved here from Iowa," Carlisle Elliott said with a twinkling smile.
Matt thought he looked a bit like Cesar Romero, as Susannah had said, only Anglo and not so tall. His hair was thick and almost pure white. His skin was weathered and deeply tanned. His tuxedo looked custom-made and his brightly patterned bow tie and cummerbund were of designer quality. Matt decided to run a background check on him the first thing in the morning.
"Susannah's been helping me get acquainted with my new city. Introducing me to people," Mr. Elliott said. "And I keep telling her to call me Carly."
"Carly," Susannah repeated obediently. "I take it you've already met Mrs. Ryan?"
"Oh, my, yes," said Millicent. "We've been sitting here having the nicest chat. Carly used to own a nursery in Iowa," she said to her son, "and you'll never guess what his specialty was. Roses!" she said, not waiting for him to guess. "Can you believe that?"
"Sounds like you two have a lot in common," Matt said. He reached around behind his mother and offered his hand to the older man. "I'm Matt Ryan, by the way. Millicent's son."
"Carlisle Elliott."
* * *
The talk at the table became general after that. There were eight other people seated with them, mostly the captains of industry and political bigwigs Susannah had once accused Matt of knowing. One of them was Councilman Leeland. He looked at Susannah searchingly once or twice but never seemed able to place her. Fortunately, he was seated far enough away that conversation between them was impractical. The hotel kitchen proved more than equal to its reputation for fine French food, making for a superb meal. And then, finally, the dishes were cleared away and the real purpose of the evening was at hand.
Councilman Leeland spoke first, thanking everyone for coming and contributing so generously to the campaign coffers. He craftily pontificated on his own career and achievements first. He praised Matt's father next, extolling his record and his rulings, his political savvy and know-how, his ability to get out there and get out the vote.
Then, finally, he got to the reason they were all there.
He started with Matt's outstanding scholastic record, his beginnings with the DA.'s office, his rapid rise and many successes, his most recent convictions. He touched on his fine legal mind, his spotless integrity, his dedication, his ferocity and tenacity when it came to prosecuting society's worst criminals, comparing it favorably with that of his father, who'd been known as a stern but fair judge.
Susannah sat next to Matt, listening to the accolades being heaped upon him, and wondered if the man Councilman Leeland was praising, this ruthless crusader for truth and justice, this dedicated public servant he spoke of could possibly be the man who sat beside her, playing with her fingers under the table.
Oh, she had no doubt he could be ruthless. He'd have to be to have attained the position he held. She knew he could be judgmental, skeptical and suspicious because she'd seen it in his reaction to Judy's past. But she also knew he was capable of compassion and tenderness because she'd seen that, too, in the way he'd dealt with Heather. And with her.
She wondered if any of the political pundits and society bigwigs saw him as she did. Did they see his compassion? His humor? His sexiness. His simple humanness? Or did they even consider those things important in the political scheme of things?
Her musings were interrupted when Councilman Leeland introduced the man of the hour, bringing him to the podium on a rousing swell of applause. Matt squeezed her hand under the table and rose to his feet, striding toward his destiny with firm, unhurried steps.
His speech was short and to the point. If elected, he promised to do his best to justify their faith in him and to execute his judicial responsibilities with as much fairness and impartiality as humanly possible. And then he thanked them all for their support and quit the podium.
The audience was a little stunned at the brevity of his speech but none could doubt its sincerity. And, as an added bonus, they all got to go home a little earlier.
It took another forty-five minutes for the crowd to disperse and the room to empty. Everyone wanted to come up and exchange a word or two with the candidate, some to express their support and their hopes for his success, some to lobby for future goodwill. Matt was unfailingly polite and gracious to everyone, but Susannah could sense his eagerness to be gone.
She wondered if it was simply too many hours in a crowded room that made him feel so restless, or whether it was something more serious and long-lasting. She wondered whether he was feeling the weight of everyone's expectations, perhaps, or the burden of his father's legacy bearing down on him? Despite what he said, she still wasn't entirely convinced Matt wanted to be a judge.
He nudged her lightly with his elbow, jogging her out of her abstraction. "Ready to go?"
Susannah looked around the room. It was empty except for the two of them and half a dozen hotel staffers busily dismantling tables and stacking chairs. "Where's your mother?"
Susannah grinned back. "See what a little one-on-one can accomplish?"
He held out his hand. "Let's go get your cape," he said, thinking about a little one-on-one he was going to pursue as soon as he got her back to his apartment.
* * *
There was no attendant in the coatroom, an unusual occurrence at the Mark Hopkins. They waited for a moment or two, in case the attendant came back from wherever he had gone.
"Keep a lookout," Matt said playfully. "I'm going in."
Susannah waited for a few seconds, then a few seconds more, wondering what was taking him so long. How difficult could it be to find a velvet cape? Especially when the coatroom had to be very nearly empty. She leaned over the counter, trying to see. "Matt? Can't you find it?"
"What color is it?"
"Dark wine-red."
There was a second or two of silence.
"I can't find it," he said. "You'd better come and look."
Susannah sighed with amused exasperation. Men! They all had some sort of hereditary, gender-specific blindness when it came to things that were right in front of them. She saw the cape as soon as she entered the coatroom. "For goodness' sake, it's right—"
Her words were abruptly cut off as Matt yanked her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers. Susannah forgot all about her cape. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, just as fiercely as he was kissing her.
"God, I've been wanting to do that all night long," Matt breathed when he finally raised his head. "I couldn't wait another minute to taste you. Not another second."
"Kiss me again," Susannah demanded fiercely. She threaded her hands through his hair and pulled his head down to hers.
Matt kissed her again. And then again. And again. He ran his hands over the bodice of her dress, lightly, aware of its delicacy, but fervently, too, looking for a way under the heavily beaded chiffon. He settled, finally, for easing one of the fragile beaded straps down to her biceps, nudging it gently until, finally, he could ease his hand up under her arm and slide it inside the bodice of her dress.
All Night Long Page 9