"Unless you're hell-bent on destroying any chances Matt has, you'll make yourself scarce until we've had a chance to assess our options and define our strategy," Luke said harshly. "Go back to Washington and practise your skulduggery there. We don't want or need you here!"
It sounded so much Hke something Matt himself might say. Had already said? Kayla tried to swallow around the sudden lump that tightened her throat. She watched Luke snatch the photos and shove them back into the envelope with barely concealed fury. He stalked off without another word, leaving the twins sitting stunned and bereft at their table.
"He had no right to speak to you that way," Kristina wailed. "And to imply that you're somehow at fault for this mess is as vicious and malicious as anything that scoundrel Dave Wilson could ever say."
"Do you think Luke's speaking for Matt?" Kayla whispered. "Delivering a message from him?"
That possibility had also occurred to Kristina. Kayla could see it in her eyes.
''I—-I don't want to believe that, Kayla," Kristina said sadly. '*Not two days after your wedding."
"My wedding," Kayla echoed. "Despite the traditional trappings and the presence of all the Minteers and their good wishes, it was still, ultimately, a shotgun wedding, Kristina. Damage control, as we in the business say."
And despite Matt's insistence to the contrary, a wedding resulting from political damage control rather than true love, did not portend a lasting, loving marriage. The sisters gazed at each other, as the potent forces of distrust, disbelief, disappointment and disillusionment swept over them in overlapping waves.
"You can't say Penny didn't prepare us for something like this," Kristina said glumly. "She's always encouraged us to brace ourselves for probable misery. I called her yesterday to tell her about your wedding, by the way."
"Let me guess—-she said the marriage would never last," Kayla intoned flatly, taking a bolstering sip of ice water, i "But things are falling apart at a rate that would surprise even Penny."
"She's sending you a wedding card with a check made out only to you," Kristina said, sighing. "Says you're going to need every cent you can get to support yourself and a child, i No mention was made of Matt, of course, because she doesn't believe he'll be around long."
As Kayla headed back to Matt's tiny apartment to get her things, she sadly acknowledged that she shared Penny's dark view. She didn't believe Matt would be around long, either, not after Luke's news.
She steadfastly blinked back the rush of tears that filled her eyes. Crying was useless; control was everything. She needed to remember that.
Kayla numbly tossed her clothes into her suitcase. She'd certainly done a lot of packing these past few days. She re-
membered her swift and sleepy packing job Saturday morning, when she'd scarcely been awake. She'd had no idea of the plans Matt had made for later that day—plans for their wedding!
She had been in an altogether different frame of mind yesterday when she'd repacked at the Keystone Inn after their wedding night. A heated flush warmed her as a kaleidoscope of memories shifted before her mind's eye: sensual scenes of her and Matt passionately making love and then lying in each other's arms afterward, talking softly, even laughing together in intimate camaraderie. She'd been so happy, more confident and optimistic about the future than she had ever been in her Ufe.
For better or for worse. The words from the marriage vows she'd taken suddenly resounded in her ears. Kay la inhaled on a sob. Yesterday had been "for better." Who would have guessed that the ''for worse" would occur so heartbreakingly soon?
But it had. Kay la snapped her suitcase shut. And now she was leaving. Being run out of town, actually. She frowned, picked up the case and walked to the door. She paused, her hand on the knob.
After two days of marriage she was leaving her husband? Why, even Penny's marriages lasted longer than that! Something deep inside her seemed to snap.
''There are two paths you can follow and the choice is yours/' That was the standard opening statement she made to her clients. ''One leads to winning, the other to losing/* She would always urge them to choose the winning path, even though it invariably meant there would be obstacles to overcome. Ironically, she was about to choose the losing path for herself, to give up without even trying.
Kayla set down her suitcase. "I'm not going," she said aloud. Just the sound of her own voice strengthened her resolve. Hadn't she already decided that she was going to work at making her marriage succeed? She knew what work
involved: staying power, making an effort, accepting a challenge, trying different approaches until achieving success.
She was good at working at her career, but she'd never applied all her energies and instincts and strengths to her personal life. She fought for her clients all the time, but sjie'd never fought on her own behalf. She had quietly ceded Scott Ceres to Victoria Dillon with nary a protesting word. Because she hadn't cared enough to fight for him?
Kayla frowned thoughtfully. Whatever had happened in the past for whatever reason, things were totally different when it came to Matt. She loved him. She was going to fight for him and work for him and salvage his career and their marriage.
She sank down into the enormous beanbag chair and opened the folder that Elena had returned to her. Being enveloped in the cushiony softness was surprisingly comfortable. Maybe she wouldn't insist on pitching out the giant beanbag when they moved into Kristina's place. // they did...
Kayla determinedly squelched that negative thought, uncapped her pen, pulled out a stack of papers and went to work.
An hour later, she was so deeply absorbed in her task that she didn't hear the door open, didn't see Matt standing on the threshold.
"You're still here." His deep voice, low and urgent, resounded through the room.
Kayla gave a startled little gasp and dropped her pen. "Matt!" She stood up quickly and the papers went flying all over the floor. "I—wasn't expecting you," she said breathlessly. "I'd planned to go to your office later this afternoon, after today's session was adjourned. I guess I lost track of the time."
She stared at him, standing there in his dark suit, looking so vital and vibrantly male. Her pulse began to race. His
blue eyes were glittering, his expression as serious and intense as usual. But she couldn't for the life of her tell whether he was glad she was still here ... or not.
Her heart in her throat, she took a hesitant step toward him. ''Matt, I talked to Luke today and—''
''I know," Matt interrupted, striding toward her. ''I just talked to him myself. I went directly to my office from the senate floor and my idiot brother told me that he'd seen you earlier."
Idiot brother? That sounded promising, but she wasn't assuming anything. *'Matt, I'm sorry Dave Wilson double-crossed you and I know how shocked you must be but—"
'*Dave Wilson is the biggest double-crossing backstabber in Harrisburg. I'm never shocked when he acts in character." Matt stopped to stand directly in front of her. ''What did shock me was that my own brother told me he blamed you for Wilson's actions. That he told you to get lost. I could only imagine how you'd react to that!" His fingers curved around her upper arms. "I rushed back here, expecting to find you gone."
Her lips twisted into a small, nervous smile. "Well, I'm still here. Are you angry or—" she swallowed "—relieved?"
"Ah, Kayla, how can you even ask me that?" He pulled her roughly into his arms.
Kayla felt a wild impulse to burst into tears and laugh out loud, both at the same time. "How could I not ask?" she whispered hoarsely. "Luke does have a valid point in that none of this—from Wilson's quitting the race against Elena to his threatening to use those pictures of us—would've happened if I didn't exist."
He brushed his mouth against her ear. "I'm damn glad that you do exist, Kayla. And that we found each other, no matter how unorthodox our meeting was. I'm even gladder that we skipped all those stupid prerequisite dating rituals and jumped directly into marriage. Dating is make-be
lieve
and marriage is real life and Tve always opted for reality over fantasy."
She clung to him, staring up at him with tear-jeweled eyes, wanting to believe him with all her heart. Finding that she was beginning to believe him. "But what about the campaign?" she had to ask.
He shrugged impatiently. '*What about it? I'll run and win. I don't know why Luke is so hyper. Now let's forget about politics and everybody connected with it and concentrate on us."
He cupped the nape of her neck with one hand and pressed his other hand against the small of her back, locking her to him as he clamped his mouth possessively, passionately over hers.
Thdr mutual desire and the fierce emotional tension served as a hghtning rod for the passion that flared between them. They never made it as far as the bedroom. Hastily discarding the clothes they impatiently tore off themselves and each other, Kayla and Matt sank into the inviting, enveloping comfort of the big beanbag chair.
Eager and ready, they merged, rocking with a driving sensuous rhythm that consumed them both. The pleasure was so intense that they tried to prolong it, wanting it to go on and on, but inevitably, the white-hot firestorm reached its apex, bursting into a brilliant, rapturous release.
They lay together in a bhssful languor for a long time, cocooned in the sweet afterglow of fulfillment. The giant beanbag complied to their contours. Kayla ran her hand over the dark velour cover. '*When I first saw this thing, I thought it was the most hideous piece of junk I'd ever laid eyes on."
*'That seems to be a fairly common reaction," Matt murmured, running his hand over the silky skin of her stomach.
"But I've changed my mind. Now I think we'll have to take it with us, wherever we end up living."
**You know where we're going to live, baby. After I win the election in November, we'll divide our time between Washington and Johnstown."
''You're not at all worried about Dave Wilson running against you in the primary? Matt, he has those pictures of us. And Luke said he was going to lie about what really happened at the fund-raiser."
''I saw the pictures. Big deal. We look like a couple who happen to be madly in love with each other. The fact that we were married six weeks later confirms it."
''A couple in love?" Kayla said softly. She had viewed the pictures through the perspective of a political consultant and had seen them as damning; Matt saw them in an entirely different light.
''Which we were," he added firmly. "We just didn't realize it yet. And we are. In love, that is. I know it, even if you don't."
She went very still. "You love me?" she whispered.
"I love you." His straightforward declaration was pure Matt.
"Oh, Matt, I love you, too!" she cried, hugging him with all her might, her heart shining in her eyes. "And I was so afraid that it was going to be over before we really had a chance because Wilson—"
Matt made an exclamation of disbelief. "The day I let a twit like Wilson break up my marriage will be the day..." He paused, searching for a suitable analogy. And gave up the literary struggle. "Well, it'll never happen, Kayla. We're together forever. Don't ever forget that."
"I won't," she said, twining her arms around his neck to kiss him with all the love and passion she possessed.
It was a long time before they resumed their political discussion and when they did, they were dressed and eating Mexican take-out food, sitting in the beanbag chair and using the snack tray as a table.
*'I don't think you should discount Wilson so easily, Matt," Kayla said seriously, squirting picante sauce on her chicken taco. ''The man is evil and will do anything he can to win, no matter how unethical. I know all about him, I have a lot of information on him gathered by Elena Teslov-ic's staff."
"I won't sink to his level and run a smear campaign, Kayla," Matt warned.
*'You won't have to." She reached for the paper she'd been writing when Matt had arrived. ''I was drawing up a plan. Here it is. We use quotes from Wilson himself along with quotes others have made about him in juxtaposition with your quotes and statements that have been made about you. We interpret and compare his voting record, which is one of the most pathetic ones I've ever seen, with yours." She smiled. "I'm assuming that yours is as honest and excellent as any I'v^ ever seen?"
Matt laughed. "Never doubt it."
"I've outlined a few TV and radio ads and a couple of print ads, too. We'll blitz the area for two solid weeks before the primary. And I also think we should stress the Minteer family history, how you've been here for generations, how your family embodies the stick-to-it, never-say-die spirit of Johnstown after the flood. Your greatgrandfather's story can be told and retold in print and on the air. Everybody warms to a local son with strong roots who is loyal to the area. Dave Wilson isn't that. He moved here twelve years ago after losing an election in Ohio."
"Ah, the old poHtical opportunist-carpetbagger charge. Kayla, you know my feelings on manipulating the voters."
"I'm well aware of them," she retorted. "How could I not be? But how do you feel about saving the voters from the likes of a Dave Wilson? How do you feel about letting the public know the truth about you and your record and the truth about his?"
"Well, of course, I don't want Wilson to win. He's a greedy con artist who undermines people's faith in government."
"And we're going to make sure everybody in the congressional voting district knows it. The only thing that worries me is his threat to go to the press about what WINDS did at the fund-raiser."
"Don't worry about it." Matt shrugged, clearly more interested in unwrapping his burrito than in Dave Wilson's threats. "Wilson's not going to say a word about that night. The intrepid photographer who snapped our picture also took a few of ol' Dave that night. With a very young, very sexy woman who was most definitely not his long-suffering wife. If Dave wants to play dueUng photos, he's going to lose. But if he doesn't mention that night, I won't, either."
"That's more than fair," Kayla said. "Because you could release that picture today and he'd be finished politically by tomorrow."
"I'd rather run a clean campaign and win honestly than rely on blackmail and scandal to take out my opponent."
"What a sound bite that would make!" Kayla sighed her admiration. "I really want to work with you to win this election. Matt. Won't you even consider letting me help?"
"Well, I do Hke your idea about incorporating the Min-teer history into the campaign. I'd Uke to honor my family that way."
Kayla smiled widely. "I'll start working on a piece right away."
Matt deliberately shifted in the chair, so that she rolled next to him. He caught her and held her to him, pinning her with his arms and legs and smiling down into her eyes. "After all I've said to the contrary, I end up with my own personal political handler. It's sort of ironic, isn't it?"
"And maybe—just maybe—you're wilHng to admit that everyone in the field isn't an aspiring devil incarnate?" She playfully tweaked his chin.
He laughed and captured her hand. *'The lady is a tough negotiator. But if you'll admit that not all politicians are as self-serving and corrupt as Dave Wilson, then I will admit that not all poHtical consultants are in the same league as Dillon and Ward."
"Consider it done!" She slipped her leg between his and moved sinuously against him. "The art of compromise is definitely one of your strengths, Matthew Minteer."
He nuzzled her neck, molding her intimately against him with his big, strong hands. "The art of loving is another. Shall I demonstrate, Michaela?"
"Please do," she whispered, holding him, needing him, loving him for all time.
Epilogue
Eight months later, U.S. Congressman Matthew Min-teer—who'd handily won the election by a landslide—arrived at his wife's hospital room with a dozen red roses in one arm and a giant pink teddy bear in the other. He smiled proudly as he strode into the room that was already well-stocked with flowers and balloons and gaily wrapped packages topped with pink ribbons.
Little Maura
Kathleen Minteer lay snoozing in her mother's arms, oblivious to everything. With wide wondrous eyes Kayla gazed down at her baby daughter. When she looked up, she saw Matt watching them, his dark blue eyes possessive and proud and just a tad misty. She held out her hand to him, and he quickly laid down the roses and the bear and crossed the room to take it and kiss her fingertips.
''It's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen," he said huskily. "My wife holding our child. I want to capture it in my mind and keep it there forever."
''And as a backup, you have those three rolls of film you've taken of us since yesterday," Kayla said dryly. But her heart melted as Matt lifted baby Maura and cuddled her against his chest.
The infant opened her enormous blue eyes and gazed solemnly up at her father. Then she made a small sound that might have been a sneeze.
Matt and Kayla laughed. *'The doctor said you and Maura can come home tomorrow," Matt said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He slipped his arm around Kay la's shoulder so that he could hold both his wife and daughter. *'I can't wait. It's lonely at home without you."
Six months ago, they'd bought a townhouse in a Washington subdivision loaded with young families. A nursery decorated in bright primary colors awaited its new Uttle occupant.
Kayla leaned into him. ''I can't wait to come home. I miss you."
''We're going to have company very soon. Kristina wants to come visit the moment you leave the hospital. She's crazy to see her new Uttle niece."
Kayla grinned. "She wants me to give her a crash course on baby care, with Maura serving as the demonstrator doll. Fortunately, her baby isn't due for another eight months so she and Boyd have plenty of time to practice."
"Wait until Penny hears she's going to be a grandma again!" Matt shook his head. He'd had the pleasure of meeting his stepmother-in-law once. It had been an experience he would long remember. "Excuse me, a stepgmnd-mother whose former stepdaughters are far too old to be hers."
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