No Way Out

by Andrea Kane

  "Nothing."

  "It didn't look like nothing to me. It also didn't look like business. It looked personal. Cliff didn't figure out what was going on with the missing money, did he?"

  "No." Stephen slapped his hands on the desk, pushing himself to his feet and pacing around. "If you must know, Cliff's worried about Nancy. He thinks she's depressed. He just doesn't know why."

  "But we do." Connor gripped the back of a heavy leather chair, leaning forward to brace himself. "Stephen, your home life's falling apart. Why? I gave you the half-million dollars. So why are you still so freaked out?"

  Stephen paused, shoving his hands in his pockets and gazing at Connor. He looked like hell—drawn and haggard, as if he'd aged ten years. And there were dark circles under his eyes, the kind that aren't caused by lack of sleep alone.

  "I'm freaked out about a deadlock in the city council that I can't break. I'm freaked out about the increase in car thefts that won't do a whole lot for my credibility as mayor or for my chances at a senate seat. And I'm freaked out because I'm expecting Dad to barge in sometime later this week for one of his periodic checks on my campaign progress. Is that enough?"

  Knowing Harrison Stratford? More than enough.

  Connor studied his brother, sensing the frazzled state his nerves were in, wondering for the hundredth time if all this was worth it. He doubted that even Stephen himself knew what he wanted at this point or if a career in politics was truly the right path for him to be taking. If he was this stressed out from a finite campaign, what would happen to his emotional state when their father aimed him at Washington and lit the fuse?

  Now wasn't the time for that particular heart-to-heart. Not when Stephen was this close to the edge. Connor wasn't sure when the right time would be. Maybe after this election was over and Stephen's mind was free of the burdens of campaigning. Maybe then he could assess if the current track he was heading on—their father's track—would make him happy on a long-term basis.

  In the meantime, at least what he was freaking out about wasn't more gambling debts. Connor was grateful for that much.

  "Yeah," he told his brother quietly. 'That's enough. Especially the part about Dad." He inclined his head quizzically. "Anything I can do?"

  "You can start by not lecturing me, which I'm sure is why you barged in here. I'll beat you to the punch. Yes, I realize I've neglected my family today. What am I going to do about it? I'm going to have a stiff drink, wash up, and head for the kitchen, where I intend to spend the rest of the evening with all of you. Okay?"

  Connor nodded. "Except I won't be there. I've got a date." He glanced at his watch. "Which I'm going to be late for if I don't get a move on. I'm supposed to pick her up at seven."

  That diverted Stephen. His brows rose in surprise. "Someone local? I didn't know you were seeing anyone in Leaf Brook."

  "I wasn't. I'm still not. It's our first date."

  "Do I know her?"

  "You sure do." Connor's expression never changed. "Julia Talbot."

  Stephen's jaw dropped. "Julia . . . when the hell did that happen?"

  "Yesterday when I picked Brian up. I asked. She said yes. We're having dinner."

  "Does Greg know?"

  Connor shrugged. "I didn't get the feeling they were too involved—at least, not from Julia's perspective."

  "So much for your thinking she was too good to be true for your taste." A shadow of a grin. "Then again, I never really believed you. You couldn't keep your eyes off her at any of Brian's games."

  "Brian's the reason I'm seeing her."

  "Brian is." Stephen sounded as if he'd just been told the earth was flat. "Right."

  "I'm not joking."

  "Really? What did my son do, set you two up?" Stephen looked genuinely amused. "Actually, now that I think about it, that's not so unlikely. You two are his greatest heroes. So, is that it? Did Brian push you together on the playground?"

  "Cute." Connor didn't smile. "No, it was my idea. Julia's fixated on Brian's state of mind. She's worried that he's hurting emotionally—and she's right. She's also damned close to figuring out why." He paused, then went on with the more upsetting news. "When I got to school to pick Brian up, guess which slimy journalist was cornering Julia, asking for her perspective on why you were so uptight when she grilled you at the game last week?"

  All the color drained from Stephen's face. "Shit."

  "Yeah, you could call her that."

  "Did Julia talk to her?"

  "Nope. She pretty much told Ms. Lager to go to hell. I did the rest. She won't be around for a while, not until she's had some time to rethink her strategy. I threatened her with a lawsuit."

  "Son of a bitch." Stephen rubbed his forehead vigorously, as if whatever hurt was buried too deep to reach. "You obviously spoke alone with Julia. What did she say?"

  "She fired questions at me. She's not stupid, Stephen. She knows something's not right. She assumes it's the pressure of the campaign or, at worst, that you're feeling guilty because Dad and I are bankrolling you. But she flat-out told me she's not going to leave this alone. Not unless she sees some improvement in Brian."

  Stephen's arm dropped to his side, and he looked as if he'd been punched. "So what is it you plan to do?"

  'Two things. Stick around here until things get back to normal and Brian is better. And keep Julia Talbot's tree time filled with something other than worrying about her students, particularly Brian."

  "I see." A slow, painful breath. "Connor, I don't know what to say. I've been a real prick to you lately. I just feel like a cornered rat and..." He broke off. "It doesn't matter. That's no excuse. You've really come through for me, and I don't just mean financially. I realize you're doing a lot of this for Brian, but I want you to know how much I..."

  "Hey," Connor interrupted, waving away his brother's thanks. The last thing he wanted was to bring Stephen down another notch. That shaky self-esteem was what had started this downhill spiral. "Don't thank me. First of all, you're my brother, and Brian's my nephew. Second, I know Dad as well as you do. I know the part he's played in screwing up your life. And third .. ." He strove for a light note. "You're right. I can't take my eyes off Julia Talbot. So let's not make this out to be such a sacrifice, okay?'

  "Yeah, okay." Stephen shot his brother a speculative look. "I'm not sure how much of what you just said was to make me feel better and how much was true."

  "Me, either. Guess it's time to find out." Connor headed for the door. "You guys have a good night. And don't wait up."

  * * *

  12

  7:50 P.M.

  Julia glanced around the restaurant, wishing she could lose herself in its understated charm. The wood-paneled room was warm and cozy, its ambience that of an Italian bistro. Soft music played in the background, and the waiters moved about in an unhurried fashion, as if inviting their patrons to savor the meal and the company.

  She and Connor had been escorted to a private table tucked away in an alcove that was banked by windows overlooking the Hudson River. In the distance, a hazy glow illuminated the Tappan Zee Bridge, enhancing but not intruding upon the leisurely pace of the dining experience.

  Turning her attention to her wine glass, Julia sipped at the chardonnay, wishing it wouid calm her nerves. She'd been nervous all day—changing her clothes three times before settling on brown wool slacks and a cream-colored sweater. She'd never been this jittery on a date, .not even a first one. Then again, she'd never been so blindly drawn to a man before—a man she wasn't sure she had a single thing in common with, other than their mutual affection for his nephew.

  "You look far away," Connor noted, fingering the stem of his own wine glass. "Is this place not what you expected?"

  "The restaurant is lovely." Julia set down her glass. "If I look far away, it's probably because I'm wondering whether you and I will have anything to talk about once we wear out the subject of Brian."

  "I think we'll manage." That unsettling stare delved deep inside her. "Bu
t look on the bright side. You won't have to wonder for long."

  "I suppose not" She tried to ignore the butterflies that were having a field day in her stomach.

  "Finish your appetizer," Connor suggested, pointing at the stuffed portobella mushroom that was nestled, half-eaten, on her plate. "It's the chef's pride and joy. He'll be crushed if you leave any."

  Julia gave him a rueful smile. "Then maybe you should take half of what's left." She gestured for him to do so. "Much as I love portobella mushrooms, I can't eat this whole thing and save room for a main course and that tiramisu you raved about."

  "Sounds good." Connor polished off the last of his mussels. Then he helped Julia transfer a portion of her mushroom to his plate.

  For a brief instant, their fingers brushed, and Julia felt a jolt of heat shoot through her. She did the best she could to hide her reaction, keeping her gaze on the plate in front of her. She had no idea how successful she was, nor did she intend to look at Connor to find out. Instead, she concentrated on finishing her appetizer and getting her heightened senses back under control.

  By the time their plates were cleared and their wine glasses refilled, she'd succeeded.

  "How's Brian today?" she asked, folding her hands on the table.

  Connor ripped off a piece of warm bread. "Fine, other than hating the fact that baseball practice was rained out. We went to a movie instead."

  "Just the two of you?"

  One dark brow rose. "Um-hum. Is that a problem?"

  "Of course not. I'm sure the mayor was bogged down."

  "Fishing, are we?" Connor drizzled some olive oil onto his plate to dip his bread in. "As it happens, Stephen was dealing with the aftermath of that car theft last night. I'm sure you caught the story in the paper and saw that the victim was a city councilman."

  "I didn't have to catch it in the paper. I saw it on the eleven o'clock news." Julia ignored her own bread. "I knew something serious had happened in that municipal lot last night. I got stuck in the traffic jam there on my way home from Poughkeepsie. I flicked on the news as soon as I walked in. When I saw that a car had been stolen and that it had belonged to Councilman Kirson, I realized Mayor Stratford would have his hands full this weekend. So, no, I wasn't fishing; I was stating a fact. I'm glad you were there to spend time with Brian."

  Her chin came up a notch. "Not everything I say is meant as an attack. Nor am I big on ulterior motives. If I had something to say, I'd say it. I teach elementary school, remember? I lack one of those personal agendas you were spouting about."

  'True." Connor ripped off an edge of his bread and dipped it in olive oil, his manner deceptively calm. "You don't have an agenda, at least not a hidden one. But you did threaten to bypass me in this matter with Brian."

  "If I remember right, it was you who threatened me. You told me to stay out of it. I told you I can't. I also said I'd try handling things your way first. If Brian responds to your being here, if you can give him the stability he needs to bring back the old Brian, I'll be thrilled to leave it at that." Julia leaned forward. "I'm not Cheryl Lager. She's a vulture who feeds off people. I'm not. I'm a teacher, one of the good guys. I want only Brian's well-being."

  "I know that." Connor resumed munching. His tone and expression were guarded, the same way they always were when this subject came up. "As for Cheryl Lager, I'd hardly put you two in the same category. She's a self-serving bitch. You're anything but."

  "I can't believe that woman was actually thinking of approaching Brian directly," Julia muttered, remembering the speculative glint in Ms. Lager's eyes when she'd glanced Brian's way.

  "That's not going to happen."

  "No, it's not. She'd have to come through me first."

  A hint of amusement curved Connor's lips. "That sounds intimidating, if a bit far-fetched. I can't imagine you as the fistfighting type."

  "I'm normally not. With Cheryl Lager, I'd make an exception."

  "You mean that, don't you?"

  "For Brian, yes."

  Connor propped his elbow on the arm of his chair, regarding Julia intently, as if he wasn't sure if she was just venting or really serious about her threat. "I admire your loyalty. But I wouldn't suggest taking a swing at Cheryl Lager. First of all, you'd end up getting hurt. You're slight. She's solid. She outweighs you by at least twenty pounds. Second, you'd be smacked with a whopper of a lawsuit So would your school. And third, what kind of example would you be setting for your students if you pounded Cheryl Lager into the ground?"

  "You've got me with your second and third arguments. But you'd lose with your first. Solid or not, I doubt Ms. Lager could hold a candle to me in a fistfight. I had great trainers."

  "Trainers—you mean martial arts instructors?"

  "Better. The town of Poughkeepsie's Little League. They taught me to right when I was eight. I had lots of Lessons and lots of practice. I spent every free minute of my childhood with them."

  This time, Connor's amusement was genuine. "So that's where you perfected your curve ball. And here I thought you accomplished that during softball practice."

  Julia made a face. "My dad taught me to throw when I was younger than Brian. I couldn't wait to start school so I could join the Little League. I was crushed when I found out there was no girls' baseball team. Softball always seemed like a wimpy substitute. Oh, I played it, right through high school. But every chance I got, I went to the park and joined in with the boys."

  "I'm surprised they let you."

  "They more man let me. They were thrilled. I kept their skills sharp. I threw better than their star pitcher." An impish grin. "Of course, I had to promise them I'd shove every strand of hair under my cap so anyone watching would think I was a boy."

  "A boy?" Connor's gaze wandered leisurely over her, after which he shot her a skeptical look. "I can't imagine you pulling that one off."

  She flushed. ''Well, I did. At the time, I was a skinny little tomboy. So the masquerade wasn't all that tough to manage. Of course, once in a while, someone figured me out and gave the boys a hard time. That's where my fighting skills came in. I'm small, but I pack a powerful punch."

  "I'll try to remember that, in case I overstep my bounds." A deliberate pause. "Whatever bounds you intend to hold me to."

  There was something disturbingly intimate about that comment, or maybe it was just the way Julia took it. Not likely, though. Not with the tone of Connor's voice or the look in his eyes. No, he knew just what he was saying and how she was hearing it.

  She swallowed, wishing she had a clever comeback to dispel the tension.

  Her dilemma was resolved by the arrival of their entrees, and she turned her full attention to sampling her shrimp marechiara.

  "This is wonderful," she declared. "You were right about the food."

  "I'm right about a lot of things."

  He wasn't about to let her off the hook.

  Well, she was going to free herself, then, by steering this conversation back to safe ground.

  "You and Brian have a very special bond. Was it always like that?"

  The subtle lift of Connor's brows said he saw through her obvious change of subject. But he answered her question nonetheless. "Yup, right from the start. I was in the Far East on a business trip when Brian was born. I flew home as soon as I could break away and went straight to Stephen's house. Brian was two weeks old. I was scared to death that if I touched him, I'd break him. Nancy just put him in my arms, showed me how to support his head, and backed away. He and I stared at each other for a while. I think he was trying to figure me out. Whatever he decided must have made him happy, because he started pumping his arms and legs, and then he gave me a big toothless smile. I was hooked."

  Julia smiled, wondering if Connor knew how much of himself he revealed when he spoke about Brian. "What about your parents?"

  "What about them?"

  "Brian's their first, their only, grandchild. They must have been ecstatic when he was born."

  An offhanded shrug. "My m
other was delighted. That's as close to ecstatic as she gets. And my father was pleased. That's over the top for him."

  Julia toyed with her food, trying to decide how to respond. Not that she was stunned by Connor's reply. She'd had a pretty good idea that Harrison Stratford hadn't made his billions by attending PTA meetings. But her own values were so different, her home life so much the opposite of Connor's. Still, she had no right to judge his father and certainly no right to condemn him.

  The mayor and his wife are amazing parents," she said instead.

  "And coming from a household like mine, that's quite a coup," Connor correctly interpreted.

  "I didn't mean..."

  "Yes, you did. And based on your view of what parents should be, you're right." He laid down his fork. "Look, Julia, it doesn't take a genius to guess your opinion of my upbringing. The name Stratford is a regular on the business and political scenes. We probably seem like aliens to you. But to Stephen and me, growing up in that environment was business as usual. Our lifestyle seemed as normal to us as Little League did to you."

  "That's obvious. It's also obvious that you have a strong sense of family. You're very protective—of your family and your family name."

  "Both of those go with the territory. And just for the record, I was hardly a deprived child. Neither was Stephen. We had the best of everything, including opportunities that other people would kill for. As for personal attention, we had that, too. Okay, our house wasn't Leave it to Beaver. But it also wasn't the classic case of an absentee father and a socialite mother who didn't give a damn. My parents were involved in our lives. They just placed their emphasis in areas other than the ones you're used to. Their efforts went toward securing our futures. They didn't spend much time on psychological stroking. As a father, Stephen's philosophy is different. He's a much more hands-on dad."

  "I can't say I don't applaud that. I do. It's good for your brother—and for Brian."

  "I agree." One dark brow rose. "Now, are we finished psychoanalyzing my family?"