by Pat Warren
The last piece she’d been working on was a bust of Sara. Liz unwrapped the head and studied it critically. Not bad, but the mouth needed work. She hadn’t precisely captured that dimple in the left corner. Sighing, she covered it back up. Not today. She wasn’t in the mood.
Wandering over to the storage cabinet, she pulled out a couple of old sketch pads and sat down in the window seat to look through them. Often, before beginning a new piece, she made half a dozen or so sketches from various angles as a sort of guide. Perhaps she’d spot something that would inspire her to start a different project. Turning the pages of the first pad, she realized this book went way back.
A much younger Adam McKenzie smiled back at her from several, while in others he was serious, with that determined, dedicated look the voters saw. Even then there’d been that strength of purpose in his eyes, his manner.
Would it be terrible if I told you I miss you, that I wish we were together? he’d asked in their last phone conversation. She’d longed to say that it was no more terrible than her feeling the same way.
Caught. They were caught in an impossible situation. Adam wasn’t able to walk away from his political ambitions. Diane wasn’t willing to let go of him. And Liz wouldn’t have an affair with a married man, even though she ached for him.
Enough. She slammed shut the book and rose. She needed to get busy and stay busy. This nostalgic daydreaming was counterproductive. All kinds of people needed help, and right now she needed to give. Quickly she put away the books and walked to the phone.
Liz had approached her mother about organizing a fund raising luncheon for Helping Hands, the shelter where she and Molly had been volunteering their time. It would not only help the battered women, but it would get Katherine’s mind off her loss. She’d even coaxed Nancy to work a few hours at the center, a move that had helped strengthen her sister’s resolve to get her own life on track.
Dialing the Townsend house, Liz reflected that this would be a perfect day for all three of them to visit Helping Hands. The simple fact was that assisting others in greater need usually made your own troubles seem less worrisome.
“We need you to make this trip to California, son,” Palmer Ames told Adam. “The support of West Coast big business is crucial to our campaign.”
“Just what will it involve?” Adam asked, juggling the phone against his shoulder as he slipped off his suit coat. He’d arrived at his Georgetown apartment minutes ago after a day of back-to-back meetings. It was ten o’clock, and he was hot, tired, and short-tempered after two weeks of being on the campaign trail, seldom sleeping in the same bed two nights in a row. He’d been looking forward to a few days at home and was annoyed at Palmer’s heavy-handed request, which sounded suspiciously like an order.
“I think you should wine and dine the top executives at McCaffrey-Davis Aeronautics and Lyon Aircraft. I don’t have to tell you that not only are they heavy contributors, but other California businesses usually follow their lead. The candidate they endorse will get the nod, which will help us carry your great big state.”
Tossing aside his jacket, Adam loosened his tie. There were several reasons he didn’t particularly want to go to California right now, but he couldn’t list any of them to Palmer. He resigned himself to the trip. “Got some names for me?”
“That’s my boy,” Palmer praised him, his southern drawl thickening. “I’ll have someone at your place with the whole file in less than an hour. You can read it on the plane. Your flight leaves at eight in the morning.”
The fact that Palmer had been so certain of his response that he’d made reservations for him didn’t sit well with Adam. Just part of the game, he told himself. It’d be different after the election. “All right.”
“I’d go myself since I know Jim McCaffrey and Len Davis personally, but you’re much better working the West Coast. They’ll listen more closely to one of their own.” Besides, Palmer didn’t want his close ties to Jim and Len made more public than they already were. “Check back with me when you’ve got ‘em wrapped.”
When not if, as though it were a foregone conclusion. Adam said good-bye and hung up, then walked to the kitchen and popped open a can of Coke. He drank thirstily. Maybe it was a good idea for him to leave the Washington area at that. The humidity in August was stifling, the air conditioner hardly able to cool the heavy air.
Adam pulled out his suitcase and carried it into the bedroom, tossing it onto the bed. As he unpacked he saw that there was a light on in the bathroom, which meant Diane was in there. She’d undoubtedly heard him come in yet hadn’t stepped out to greet him. He didn’t especially care. He hadn’t seen her in nearly a week, though they’d spoken on the phone. He hoped she was in a decent mood since he didn’t feel like tangling with her tonight.
He’d just finished repacking his bag with clean clothes when she drifted out, wearing a filmy pink negligee with very little on underneath. Adam looked up and stared for a brief moment, wondering if he was losing his sex drive altogether. At the sight of her lush body and the womanly scent of her drifting to him, his body should be reacting, considering he hadn’t made love to her in weeks. What the hell was wrong with him? Adam slammed shut the suitcase and set it on the floor.
Diane stood in the backlight from the bathroom, knowing full well that he could see through her flimsy robe. She took in the bag he’d apparently readied for still another trip and the disinterest painfully clear in his eyes. She swallowed the hurt and put on a smile. “Welcome home, sugar.”
He decided he’d tell her about his trip right off so if she was going to throw a fit, they could get it over with. “Hi. Sorry to be so late.” He shed his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Palmer just called. I have to catch a flight to California first thing in the morning.”
Don’t react badly, Diane commanded herself, strolling to him. She had a plan for tonight, and no matter what he might say to irritate her, she was going to follow through on it. She stretched on tiptoe to kiss him briefly. “You look tired. I hate to see you working so hard.”
Up close, he inhaled Shalimar and fought to control a shudder. “Yeah, well, that’s how it is these days.” He moved past her to his closet, shrugging off his shirt and stepping out of his shoes.
“Maybe I could go with you?” she suggested hopefully. It wasn’t that she particularly wanted to go to California, but far too many of the Washington wives she lunched with often were implying in their pseudosubtle way that it seemed as if Diane and Adam were seldom together. One had even dared suggest there might be trouble in her marriage. Diane was determined to present a more loving facade, at least to the general public. And the place to begin was on the home front.
“Not this time,” Adam said, removing his pants. “You’d be bored stiff. Nothing but business meetings.” He turned and headed for the bath. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”
When he came out with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp, she was waiting in their king-size bed, curled on her side, an inviting smile on her lips. Adam chose to ignore it. He snapped off the bedside lamp and lay down.
Diane moved closer, her hand slithering through the hair on his chest. “It’s been a long time, sugar,” she purred. Slowly her fingers inched lower, then gripped the knot of the towel at his waist.
Adam caught her hand and removed it. “Look, Diane, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but this isn’t a good time. I’m beat.” That was as good an excuse as any and one he wished he believed.
Not to be deterred, she shifted so her head was on his shoulder. “Then you just lie still and I’ll do the work.” Men liked to be seduced, she knew. She wasn’t crazy about what she was about to do, but she’d learned a long time ago that you had to do what you had to do. In a quick move she leaned over him and whipped open the towel, her mouth trailing hot kisses along his flat stomach, moving south.
Adam grabbed her shoulders and set her away from him. “I told you, I’m tired.” In all their years together s
he’d never initiated making love to him in that way, and he was darkly suspicious about why she was now.
She’d never felt quite so hurt at a rejection, but she wouldn’t let him see. “I can make you feel awfully good, sugar,” she drawled, giving it one more shot.
“Some other time.” Adam tossed aside the towel, pulled up the sheet, and turned his back to her.
Rolling onto her back, Diane lay alongside her husband, a worried frown on her face. Something was wrong, seriously wrong. Tomorrow she’d call Harlan again. Adam was headed for California, where Harlan’s best contacts were. Perhaps he’d missed something. It wasn’t normal for a man to never want sex. Her dear husband had to be up to something.
She would not rest until she found out exactly what.
Adam was having trouble keeping his mind on the conversation. Jim McCaffrey was a big man with a bulbous nose and a penchant for loud ties, Jack Daniel’s, and smelly cigars. Jim’s breath was foul enough to knock over an elephant, Adam thought as he took another step back. On a boredom scale of one to ten, these fund-raisers he had to attend with contributors were easily a ten in his book.
This one was being held at the Del Coronado, and the monied crowd, each of whom had paid a thousand dollars a plate for the privilege of dining with him as a representative of the Democratic ticket, was dressed to the nines. The dinner must have been worth it, for everyone seemed in a jolly mood afterward as they mingled and talked, some sipping coffee, others after-dinner drinks. Adam couldn’t help but think back to a much simpler time and a less elaborate meal the evening he and Fitz had rented one of the smaller banquet rooms when he’d been running for attorney general seventeen years ago. It seemed a lifetime ago.
McCaffrey drained his glass, then turned to Adam. “Can I get you another drink, Senator? Only way to handle one of these soirees is by keeping your whistle good and wet.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”
“Be right back, then.”
Adam watched him walk away with a sense of relief. The man had probably been a dynamo thirty years ago when he and his partner, Len Davis, had started their aeronautical firm. But he’d turned over the running of the company to others a while back and now spent most of his time golfing and boozing. Both he and Davis contributed heavily, however, and as Palmer had pointed out, the ticket needed their support. Still, it rubbed Adam the wrong way to have to cozy up to the likes of Jim McCaffrey.
Setting down his unfinished brandy, he swung his gaze around the large room, searching for Fitz, wondering if he were making more headway with Davis than Adam was with McCaffrey. They were a crafty twosome, noncommittal still, playing the Democrats against the Republicans, seeking the best possible deal. Everyone’s out for himself, Adam thought cynically.
He’d sat next to Fred Lyon at dinner and had found the owner of Lyon Aircraft to be a possible exception, an astute, knowledgeable, seemingly honest businessman. Unfortunately Fred had left early because his wife was in the hospital.
Adam’s gaze fell on Diane and he cocked his head, trying to view her as an outsider might. Her hair looked good today, and her face was animated as she talked with an older couple he didn’t recognize. She was wearing bright blue, and Adam couldn’t help thinking a paler shade would be kinder to her complexion. All in all she wasn’t badly put together, though. A born politician’s wife, the media often labeled her, and he agreed.
Why, then, couldn’t he get hard lying next to her nearly nude body?
The question had plagued him since that night in Georgetown. Perhaps that was why he’d phoned and asked her to join him here for this weekend event. Guilt was a powerful motivator. He hadn’t been fair to Diane, not from day one. Oh, she’d gotten what she wanted and more. So had he. Then why couldn’t he at least be kind to her?
Adam looked around the room, hoping Jesse Conroy would have stopped in. Jesse was now California’s attorney general, a position he seemed made for. Adam would have enjoyed talking with him, but apparently Jesse hadn’t made it down.
He turned to check the opposite side of the room—and stopped short. Was he dreaming? No, there she was, walking in with Tom Nelson, the lawyer who’d been Richard Fairchild’s partner. Adam made his way through the crowd toward them, his eyes never leaving Liz.
He came up behind her just as she smiled at something Tom said and turned; her eyes widened as she recognized him. “Liz. Good to see you.”
“Adam. I… I didn’t know you’d be here.” She turned questioning eyes on Tom, curious as to whether he’d known.
Tom Nelson reached to shake Adam’s hand. “We’ve just had dinner in the dining room, and I noticed as we walked through the lobby that there was some sort of Democratic shindig going on, so I persuaded Liz to wander in with me. Hope it’s all right.”
“Certainly,” Adam said, his eyes back on Liz. She was wearing an emerald-green suit that brought out the red in her dark hair. He pocketed his hands as the urge to touch her took over. “You look wonderful.”
“Thank you.” Deliberately she looked past and around him. “Is Diane with you?”
“She’s around here somewhere. How have you been?”
“Fine.” Nerves skittered along her spine at the way he was looking at her, as if trying to see inside her. She touched Tom’s sleeve. “Maybe we shouldn’t stay.”
A slight, balding man approached from behind Tom before he could answer. “Tom Nelson! Where’ve you been keeping yourself?”
Tom greeted the newcomer, then introduced him as Ray Spheres, an attorney from Fresno. “Ray and I go back a long way,” Tom added.
“Yes, we do.” He raised his shaggy brows at Liz. “May I borrow Tom a moment? My partners are over by the bar, and I know they’d like to say hello.”
Adam placed his hand on Liz’s elbow. “No problem. I’ll keep Liz company,” he told Tom. As soon as they walked off, he guided her over to a small alcove alongside a huge potted fern. “Must be fate, bumping into each other like this.”
Liz turned to face him. “Actually I’ve been thinking of calling you.”
Warmth spread through him. “Really?”
“Yes. About Helping Hands.” She smiled at his perplexed frown. “I could use some of your famous clout. Helping Hands is a shelter for battered women and children.” Not only a safe topic, but she really could use his connections.
“I think Diane’s mentioned helping out there, too.”
“Yes. I’ve been volunteering there for some time, and so has Molly. I’ve even got my mother and sister involved. Right now we’re in an old storefront on Broadway, near where your first campaign headquarters used to be. The building sold recently, and the new owner wants us out. We badly need a new place, larger, centrally located.”
Adam enjoyed talking with her about anything, but this conversation was a little puzzling. “You want me to find you a new building?”
“Of course not. I realize how busy you must be campaigning. But perhaps one of your California friends might want to donate a building. And I was hoping you could get some legislation introduced to assist these women. You are still one of the senators from our state, at least until November.”
“Right.” He ran a hand along the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I go back to D.C. in the morning. I’ve been tied up for days with meetings, McCaffrey-Davis Aeronautics, Lyon Aircraft. Palmer’s wooing business for support and contributions.”
“I’m sure that’s all very important. But Adam, these people are, too. And they also vote. This is just the sort of project you used to really sink your teeth into. Have you forgotten?”
He shifted his feet. More guilt. “No, of course not.” Why were they discussing business when there were so many other things he’d rather talk about? “Could we table this for now? We so seldom get a chance to talk alone.” Hand on herelbow, he maneuvered her so their backs were to the room alongside the palm. “How have you been?”
Liz felt a flash of disappointment at his quick dismissal. “
Keeping busy. Listen, I know you’re pressed for time. If you could give me a couple of names to call or if one of your aides could call me and—”
Adam felt frustrated and impatient. “Damn it, Liz, can you forget all that for tonight? I just want to be with you, to talk with you.” Taking hold of her arm, he glanced toward the terrace doors. “Let’s go outside for a few minutes, where it’s more private.” He started to walk away with her.
She pulled back. He hadn’t paid attention to a word she’d said, dismissing her request breezily, intent on some clandestine private conversation. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Looking over her shoulder, she spotted Tom. “I think it’s time we left.”
“Wait, Liz.” He searched for the right words. “We so seldom have a chance to… to just visit.”
“I know and I’m sorry.” Of course she knew that as vice-presidential candidate he must have a million things on his mind. But it seemed to Liz that he’d changed, gotten caught up in the political machinery. It happened to most everyone, probably. “Good-bye, Adam.” She hurried across the room.
He watched her make her way toward Tom, wondering why every time they were together, Liz wound up either walking or running away from him.
Liz opened the door to the ladies’ room, relieved to find the outer room was deserted. She sat down on a padded stool in front of a bank of mirrors and pulled out her compact. Had she been wrong all this time about Adam? Or had Washington changed him?
He’d been indifferent, distracted, almost annoyed at her request. Perhaps helping obtain and fund a shelter for needy women was no longer politically correct for the wonder boy who’d soon be second in command. She felt a little as if she’d lost him a second time.