“I got Noelle a certificate for a day at the spa, a garnet heart necklace she’s been admiring, a couple of books, and chocolate.”
“And Jeff?”
Edward brought a tomato to his face to smell it for ripeness. “Noelle takes care of that.”
Noelle takes care of everything. “Didn’t you pick anything yourself?”
“Are you kidding? I was lucky to get my shopping for Noelle done.” Ed placed the tomatoes in the seat of the cart where they wouldn’t get crushed, stopped, and stared at Mark. “What? What’s with the look?”
It’s none of your business Dutton. Mark kept silent.
“Spit it out.”
“You only have one kid.”
“So?”
“One kid, Ed. I would have thought you could pick out one thing for him yourself.” To let Jeff know you care.
Mark noticed the way Jeff searched the stands at his hockey games and the auditorium during award ceremonies, brightening and becoming more animated the few times his dad had been able to attend. Though Mark tried to fill in for Ed, he knew his godson craved his dad’s attention, but he showed it less so these days. That worried Mark.
Edward’s muscles eased. “I didn’t have time. I did see this one cool game for his Xbox, but they were out of it at Target, then I ran out of time. I’m sure Noelle’s got him plenty of stuff.”
“Probably.” Mark took charge of the cart. Turning the corner, he stopped in front of the chips and peanuts. “Where’s the popcorn seasoning?”
“Popcorn seasoning? You think they’re going to have something that specialized here?”
“Skye loves white cheddar seasoning.” Mark scanned the shelves near the boxes of popcorn. He pushed the cart down the frozen food aisle. “I’ll get Heath Candy Crunch ice cream instead.”
“Shopping for her favorite food?” Ed grinned and shook his head. “Man you’ve got it bad. You never went to this much trouble for a woman before.”
Mark had never invited another woman on vacation, either—never cared enough about one to want to share a vacation with her. He did have it bad, but somehow that didn’t bother him half as much as it seemed to bother Ed. “You’re cooking dinner for your wife and kid.”
Ed raised his eyebrows. “Wife and son. You’ve been dating Skylar for how long?”
“She’s special. And I want her to have a good time with us. I can’t wait to take her to the Crystal Palace.”
“We’re going to the Crystal Palace? I thought it closed last year.” He and Noelle had always enjoyed the famous dinner theater in Aspen.
“It did. It sold last summer and the new owners reopened it for the ski season. I hear the show’s better than ever.”
“Great. Looking forward to it.”
Mark cast him a dirty look. “I’m taking Skye to the Crystal Palace. You’re staying home to bond with your family.”
They all weren’t going? Edward affected a hurt look, then glanced sideways at him. “I hope you have reservations; they book up weeks in advance.”
“Oh, I do.” Mark smirked. “Noelle gave me yours. Thanks.”
Well, hell. He was definitely going to have a word with his wife. “What’d you get Skye for Christmas? And, please don’t say, ‘me.’”
Mark shrugged. “Nothing. We agreed the trip would be our gift.”
“Really? A trip with the three of us for chaperones. How romantic.”
“Hey, the no-gifts was her idea, not mine.”
Edward had been surprised and a little resentful when Mark asked if Skye could join them for Christmas. He and Noelle were protective of their family time, and Skye was a reporter—a hostile one, at that—but Noelle seemed enthusiastic about the idea, so he’d reluctantly agreed.
Besides, when they’d met at the airport, he’d made it clear to Skye that he strictly separated his private and public lives, and he’d seen the recognition in her eyes. She understood his unspoken warning. The second she stepped off that plane and was welcomed into their home, everything was off the record.
“When’s she coming in?”
“Tomorrow. After snowmobiling.”
After another ten minutes of shopping, they lined up behind a couple that looked to be in their mid-fifties, waiting to check out. The man bent over to retrieve a case of soda from under the cart and bumped into Edward.
“Excuse me,” they said simultaneously exchanging quick, polite smiles. Then the guy whipped around to study him more carefully, in a classic double take. A wide grin split his face, the way it often did when people recognized Edward.
“Hey, aren’t you George Clooney?”
Edward smiled and stopped mid nod. Clooney? “Nope. Sorry.”
A deep frown quickly replaced his open smile. “Really? I could have sworn—you look so familiar.”
“Sorry.” Edward mentally laughed at his own arrogance. Obviously a mere senator didn’t compare to George Clooney. He’d become so used to being recognized and meeting strangers that he had to stop the automatic instinct to shake the man’s hand. He wasn’t campaigning. Vacationing people didn’t go around introducing themselves to strangers they bumped into in the grocery store.
The man’s wife finished lining up their groceries on the conveyer belt and turned to face them. She looked at Edward and reached past her husband to hold out a slim hand. “Senator Hastings, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Courtney Webster, and this is my husband, Ted. We’re from Bloomfield Hills.”
Edward smiled warmly and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” He turned to Mark. “And this is my friend, Mark.”
At first, the knowing looks the couple exchanged puzzled him, but then he inwardly groaned. Great, now it’ll be all over the tabloids that I’m gay. Edward could see the headlines: “Michigan senator vacationing with gay lover in romantic mountain getaway.”
“We’re giving my wife a treat and cooking Christmas dinner,” Edward explained. “For her. And my son. He’s fourteen. My...son.” Smooth, Ed. I’m sure that convinced them. He took the frozen pie Mark handed him and placed it on the conveyer belt.
“That’s so sweet.” Courtney squeezed past her husband, so he could pay for their stuff. “Well, Merry Christmas.” Courtney hurried after her waiting husband and then turned back. “Oh, by the way. You really do look a lot like George Clooney.” She winked and moved on.
Edward smiled a little and raised a hand in a halfhearted wave, then felt a nudge from the metal shopping cart.
“Give us a kiss, George, and step aside,” Mark quipped.
Glancing at the waiting cashier, who wasn’t even trying to disguise her interest in their conversation, Edward bit back a vulgar retort and reached for his wallet.
As they left the market, they walked by the drugstore. Edward stopped and pointed at a football player-packaged Xbox game in the display widow. “Madden NFL 12. That’s the one.”
He abandoned the cart and approached the counter. “Do you have any left?”
The tall, thin man wearing wire-rimmed glasses looked more like a librarian or scholar than clerk in a resort town, despite his checked flannel shirt. “No, sir. Sorry. Only Call of Duty Black Ops or Halo.”
“What about the display?”
“It’s on hold.” He pushed the glasses back up the bridge of his nose.
“Are you sure?” Mark asked. “Senator Hastings has been searching for weeks for one for his son.”
Edward glared at Mark. “I’ll take the Call of Duty.”
The young guy straightened, and a familiar eye-opening look of sudden interest covered his face. “Are you sure, Senator? I can double check with my manager.”
Edward hated personalities who took advantage of their fame. There was no way that he was going to buy that damned game from this store now. He pulled out his credit card. “Call of Duty will be perfect. Thanks. Can you gift wrap it?”
“Sure thing.” The clerk’s head bobbed, as he bent to retrieve the box. “It’ll just be a minute.”
As
the clerk hurried away, Edward leaned into Mark. “What was that?”
He shrugged. “I thought you wanted the game.”
Mark knew Edward had an unspoken policy against using his position for personal gain—not even for his son or wife. What the hell was he thinking? “Not that way.”
Mark backed away and playfully punched his arm. “Well, I considered calling you George Clooney, but you’re really not as good looking.”
Funny. Ed accepted the wrapped package, thanked the clerk, and walked away without a backward glance.
Chapter 15
Skye closed her book and tucked it in the airplane’s seat pocket in front of her. She sat back, and glanced at the newspaper the older gentleman beside her was reading. A small picture of Carl Levinson and his wife caught her attention.
GLORIA LEVINSON FILES FOR DIVORCE
After having to withdraw from last month’s Michigan senatorial election due to health concerns, Carl Levinson’s problems keep mounting. His wife of thirty years has filed for divorce amid allegations that he used a DC escort service.
Escort service? Skye stared out the window at the snowy valley below as they banked to the south. So maybe Levinson wasn’t a truly worthy candidate for Hastings after all. Skye had read about rumors of a long-standing affair with an aide; perhaps they weren’t purely gossip. This latest accusation must have been the last straw if his wife was finally kicking him out—heart attack or no.
The plane popped up then jerked to the side, driving thoughts of unfaithful politicians from Skye’s mind. Passengers collectively gasped at air currents buffeting the small jet, but Skye found the turbulence fun. They smoothly landed at the Aspen airstrip. As they taxied toward the one-story building, she turned her cell on and called Mark, hoping he’d be happy she’d caught an earlier flight.
“Hello,” a female voice answered Mark’s phone.
“Uh, hi. I was looking for Mark.”
“Skye?” The voice warmed. “This is Noelle. The boys went snowmobiling and Mark forgot his cell. Where are you?”
“Aspen. I caught an earlier flight. We’re just pulling into the gate.” Shoot. She should have waited.
“I’m on my way. I’ll meet you at baggage claim in twenty.”
She didn’t want to put Noelle out by asking for a ride. “No, that’s—” But she’d already hung up.
Skye had no trouble recognizing Noelle at the baggage claim area and was a little surprised at the warm smile and hug she received. They walked out into the crisp mountain air and climbed into the navy minivan parked nearby. She wondered if they’d run out of luxury SUVs or if the Hastings chose the minivan to keep a low profile.
Noelle turned to her. “Actually, I’m really glad you came in early. Now we have a chance to get to know each other. Have you been to Aspen before?”
“Nope. I worked at Crested Butte years ago but never made it to Aspen.”
“Would you like to wander around?” Noelle looked at her watch. “The guys will be out for another couple of hours. We could do a little window shopping.”
“Sounds like fun.” Skye threw her carry-on in the trunk and walked around to the front seat. They pulled out of the parking area and headed into town.
“So, I have to know.” Noelle glanced at her before returning her attention to the road. “How’d you and Mark meet?”
Skye told her about his running the pesky guy off and buying her dinner. “Is that his standard pickup? ’Cause it was good. I was totally hooked—but if you tell him, I’ll deny it.”
“Mark doesn’t have a standard pick up. But he’s always been gallant. It doesn’t surprise me he’d do that.”
“Surprised me. Mark makes a habit of surprising me.”
“He really likes you. I’ve never seen him this interested in another woman—they usually do all the pursuing.”
“So that’s what he likes about me—the chase.”
Noelle laughed as she swung the car into a diagonal parking space. “I’m sure there’s more.”
They climbed out of the car and Noelle went to a blue box two cars down and swiped a credit card to pay for parking. They moved down the street. “Mark’s really looking forward to your visit.”
“Me, too.” Skye paused and looked at the towering mountains. The snowy white slopes stood out in stark relief as they bisected dark pine tree stands. Here and there she spotted colorful figures sliding down the mountains. “To be honest, this is a good distraction for me. It’s been a rather stressful year. My niece died recently and now her mother—my sister, Faith—is in the hospital recuperating from a Cesarean section and a stroke. The twins are still in NICU.”
Noelle’s dark eyes softened in sympathy. “I’m so sorry. Jeff was a preemie. He spent a couple of weeks in NICU after he was born. It’s tough.”
“It is, and I don’t know what to do to help.” She stepped around a guy carrying his snowboard. “The babies are fine right now, but they have a ways to go before they can go home and... I guess I feel guilty.” Uncomfortable with confession, Skye was grateful for the dark sunglasses. “I’m used to looking after myself. I’m not very domestic and nurturing.”
“That’s hard. Do your parents live close? Can they help?”
“Our parents are dead. It’s just been me, Faith, Peter, and Niki for a long time.” Skye forced a bright smile. “So I feel a little guilty bailing on Faith around the holiday, but she understood. She probably needed the break from me, too. Faith’s the big sister who always had all the answers and looked out for me and now she can’t. This Christmas is going to be hard for them without Niki—and this way Faith doesn’t need to worry about me.” She glanced at Noelle. “What about your parents? Won’t you be missing the big holiday thing?”
They strolled down a brick walk with tall trees towering overhead and benches made of wood and iron brushed free of the snow mounding feet above and behind them. “My mom died five years ago from lung cancer, and my dad’s flying back to New York to be with his brothers and my cousins. They’ll do the big holiday thing there.”
“And your husband’s family?”
“Edward’s father passed away awhile ago, and his mom’s staying in Florida with her sister for the holidays. This year we’re looking forward to the quiet and rest.”
“I’m sure you all need it after the campaign.”
“It was exhausting.” Noelle pointed at a royal purple strapless gown in a boutique’s window. “Isn’t that beautiful?”
It was stunning. Though Skye had no use for it, she bet Noelle went to dozens of black tie events. The wistful expression on Noelle’s face intrigued Skye. Surely she wore gorgeous gowns like that all the time. “It’s stunning. Want to try it on?”
“I couldn’t wear that.”
“Sure you could. It’d look fabulous on you.”
Noelle shook her head. “It’s too low cut.”
“Don’t be silly. Come on.” Skye grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shop. After waving off the sales clerk, it only took Skye a few seconds to locate the dress hanging on the wall. She sifted through the rack, searching for the right size. “Six or eight?”
“Eight.” She lowered her voice. “But—”
“Try it on.” Skye looked around for a dressing room.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Noelle worried her lip and blushed. What’s the problem? Noelle cast furtive looks at the few other patrons and leaned close. “You won’t tell?”
Skye shook her head.
“You swear?”
Ah ha. The first test of their agreement. The way Noelle was acting, this was going to be juicy. “Swear.”
Noelle stared her down as if gauging if she should trust her. She lifted a hand to her neck and pulled aside her shirt. A white dove—smaller than a quarter, peaked out the top of her lacy bra, over her heart. Noelle quickly pulled her shirt back, whispering. “It would show.”
Skye beamed, whirled around, and tugged the waistband of he
r jeans down to reveal a pink, purple, and blue butterfly in the small of her back. “I’ve got one, too.”
Noelle bent over. “It’s darling. How’d you come to pick a butterfly?”
“I wanted something cute and sexy. You?”
“It reminds me that the Holy Spirit dwells within me.” Noelle paused and looked away. “I got it after I miscarried at five months.”
So Noelle knew the pain of a lost child, too. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, it’s very tasteful. Showing it wouldn’t cause a riot.” Then again, maybe Noelle didn’t want to share something so private—or prompt questions from the press. Though if she hadn’t said anything, Skye would have assumed she chose the dove as a symbol of her faith. The same faith that cost them Niki.
Noelle raised an eyebrow in mock haughtiness. “Senators wives do not have tattoos.”
“Oh, please.” Skye tsked and waved a hand as if shooing away a pesky fly. “It’s not as if it’s a skull and crossbones.”
“Edward’s opponents make up enough negative stuff to try and discredit him. I don’t need to give them ammunition.”
Well not much she could do to argue with that. Skye hung the dress up, and they wandered out of the shop and into the bright sunlight. She lowered her voice, conscious of other people walking by. Chances of the skiers and boarders overhearing and caring were slight, but Skye wanted to be discreet. “So is it really that repressive to be married to Edward?”
“Repressive?” Noelle looked surprised. “I wouldn’t say repressive, just... Different.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Her pace slowed. “Sure.”
“I’m curious. Since he’s handsome and something of a celebrity, do women throw themselves at Edward and do weird things?”
“Weird things?” Noelle chuckled. “Not really. Okay, sometimes. There have been a few awkward moments, but for the most part, no.”
Meandering down the street, they passed a leather store, a home store, and several art galleries. One gallery had intricately carved bronze statues of animals and children. Innocent, appealing subjects.
The Lives Between Us Page 17