by Andrea Kane
A muscle worked in Stephen's jaw. "It always comes back to that, doesn't it?"
"You're damned right it does. What do you think we've been working for all these years? Your political future. So tell me, how do you expect to win on your platform as a loving family man when your family walked out on you?"
"Dad, you're overreacting," Connor interceded. "Nancy didn't walk out. She's under an unusual amount of pressure. Some of it's her own personal stuff." A bit of an exaggeration but a necessary one. "Things she's going through. And, yeah, some of it's political strain, campaign and otherwise. Cut her some slack. She'll be back."
Harrison pivoted, leveling his icy stare on Connor. "Ah, the voice of reason. Funny, a moment ago, I could have sworn you wanted to tear my head off for prying into your personal life. Yet now you're calmly trying to pacify me. All because I'm asking Stephen to account for his actions." He made a disgusted sound. "You and Henderson stand on either side of your brother like two goddamn bookends. Like if you move aside, he might collapse. Well, he won't." Pursing his lips, Harrison turned back to Stephen. "What political strain?"
"I run the city, Dad. Things come up."
"And more things will come up when you're in the state senate. You'll have to cope with that So will Nancy." Harrison's brows drew together, as if he were trying to determine what issues might be pulling at Stephen's marriage. "Your popularity rating's never been " higher. Leaf Brook is thriving. As for your visibility, it's ideal. Between that huge mall opening and the upcoming vote on that municipal parking contract you're haggling over, you've got it made."
A flash of irony glittered in Stephen's eyes. "I take it we're talking about the power of the press again."
"Damned right we are. They're the ones who are going to send you to the senate. And they love controversy. Issues like a divided city council—they gobble those up. They also love heroes. Which is just what you'll be after you make the right fiduciary decision for your constituents. The articles will be glowing."
"Glad to oblige." Stephen snapped off a mock salute. "Although I had the crazy idea it was voters who elected their senators. I guess I was off base on that one."
Harrison's gaze narrowed. "Is it the press that's causing problems in your marriage?"
"I can handle the press."
"Good. Now handle your wife."
Connor snorted. This whole inquisition was becoming extreme, even for their father. "You're in rare form today, Dad. What's got you so pissed off—the fact that Nancy's hiatus might hurt the election or the fact that something's happened that's outside your control?"
"Both." Harrison didn't look the slightest bit put off by his son's barb. "That high-visibility mall opening, it's this Saturday."
"I'm aware of that," Stephen responded. "I'm also aware that Nancy and Brian are normally with me at those kinds of events. That's why I came up with a family crisis as Nancy's excuse for being away. The public can empathize with a woman who wants to be there for her injured sister. It sure takes precedence over making a token appearance at your husband's side."
"Maybe, maybe not." Harrison waved away the sentiment. "The public might feel compassion for Nancy's situation, but they still want to see the ail-American family you three represent. Your showing up solo won't make them happy."
"I agree," Connor said, cluing their father in on a decision he and Stephen had made last night. "Which is why I'm going to be there. I'm not as pretty as Nancy, but I am Stephen's brother. Family support will be the pitch of the day."
"No," Harrison corrected swiftly. "Family rallying will. Because I'll be there, too. The media will applaud the Stratford unity, our show of strength." A pleased nod. "Your idea was good. Mine's better."
If he was expecting an argument, he didn't get one.
"Yeah, it is." Connor's wheels were turning. "What's more, why stop with just us? If we're going for the whole family unity thing, Mom should be there, too." Picturing his stylish, diplomatic mother—a seasoned vet when it came to playing the corporate wife—Connor knew this was the right move. "She'd make the whole thing feel more natural, sort of balance out the overabundance of testosterone. And just like that..." Connor snapped his fingers. "We'd have a different version of the ail-American family. Not a wife and child but a brother and parents."
"Not bad," Stephen murmured, rubbing his chin. "It would make a strong show of family unity, and it would sure as hell take everyone's mind off Nancy and Brian not being there. Is Mom free?"
"For this? She'll make herself free." Harrison dismissed what he knew to be a nonissue. Lynette Stratford was as eager as he for their son to reach the White House. "My driver's bringing her down to Manhattan on Friday evening for a command-performance cocktail parry we've been invited to. She was planning on spending Saturday visiting the new exhibit at the Met. She'll change her plans. I'll arrange for my driver to take us to Leaf Brook first thing Saturday morning."
"You're staying in the city till then?" Stephen asked. Their parents had an enormous penthouse suite on Central Park West, in addition to their estate in Connecticut.
"Yes. I've got back-to-back meetings there this afternoon and all day tomorrow. No point going home just to sleep. This works out well. The mall's grand opening is ten a.m. on Saturday. We'll all drive over there together, make a big showing." A hard stare at Stephen. "In the meantime, I expect you'll have heard from your wife and that she and your son will be on their way home. And whatever the hell your problems are, fix them. Now"
Stephen looked as if he was biting back a few choice words. But, under the circumstances, it was better they remained unsaid. The sooner this confrontation ended, the better. With Harrison due for an afternoon meeting in Manhattan, he'd have to blow out of there soon. After which, Stephen and Connor could get back to digging up dirt on Walker.
As if on cue, Harrison glanced at his watch. "Let's get Henderson back in here. We've got some campaign strategizing to do, and I want to look over the most recent contributions. I've got to be on the road by noon." He lowered himself back into the chair, his body language proclaiming this portion of the meeting over.
"I'll have Celeste send Cliff in." Stephen reached for the phone.
His father leaned forward, gripping Stephen's wrist firmly. "I won't say this again, certainly not in front of Henderson, but for the sake of your senate seat, get your wife and son back under your roof."
11:45 am
Stephen peered out the window, heaving a sigh of relief as he watched his father's town car roll out of the parking lot and onto the main road. "Thank God that's over."
"Not terribly pleasant, was it?" Connor returned dryly. He unfolded himself from the chair, standing up and stretching. "No wonder my clients don't faze me. A morning with Dad makes the average CEO look like a newborn kitten."
"One that's declawed," Stephen amended, rubbing the back of his neck. He slanted a look at Cliff. "Sorry about that abrupt dismissal earlier on. My father's not known for his tact."
Sliding the last of his campaign files away, Cliff gave an offhanded shrug. 'To tell you the truth, I barely noticed. And I wasn't offended. That's your father. You either accept him or you don't. It wasn't a personal slap. He had something on his mind that related to family. He wanted to talk to you alone. That's his prerogative."
A corner of Stephen's mouth lifted. "Maybe you're the real politician here."
"Well, I've known you for almost twenty years. So I guess some of it must have rubbed off." Cliff gave a tired smile. "If it's okay with you guys, I'm going to cut out. I've been burning the candle at every end, and I'm beat. I had no idea how long your father planned on staying, so I cleared my entire afternoon calendar. Which gives me a block of much-needed time for myself. So I think I'll take advantage of the situation, go home, and get some rest"
"No problem." Stephen was watching Cliff with quiet intensity. "Anything special making you run on overdrive? You usually thrive when your workload's heavy. A new woman, maybe?"
"Nope." If S
tephen's question made Cliff squirm, he hid it well. Then again, his poker face was as good as Stephen's.
He snapped his briefcase shut and swung it off the desk. "No new woman. Just a lot of crucial things coming to a head at once."
"Anything you can talk about?"
"Unfortunately, no. The details are privileged. Most of it's the usual—two major litigations, a corporate merger, and that acquisition I'm working on for your father. Just a lot of balls to juggle at once. I'll handle it, with a little rest." Cliff headed for the door. "I'll be home if you need to reach me. If you get my machine, just leave a message. That means I turned off the ringer so I could sleep."
"Right," Stephen muttered once the door had shut behind Cliff. "Or it means you took off to be with my wife."
Connor's brows rose. "My, isn't our imagination working overtime? The guy looks like hell, he's going home to bed, and you assume he's shacking up with Nancy somewhere. That sounds likely. Especially with my miss-nothing-and-report-all nephew there. Yup. Sounds like a plan."
"Okay, fine, I'm overreacting," Stephen snapped, running both hands through his hair. "But I'm losing my mind. Why doesn't Nancy call, even if it's just to say she and Brian are all right?"
"Because she needs to regain perspective and get her emotions under control. That package freaked her out. She's in shock. She'll come around. She'll call." Connor stared thoughtfully at the door. "And I don't think you're losing your mind. Overreacting, yes, but not completely off base."
Stephen's head snapped around. "What does that mean?"
"It means I don't believe Cliff and Nancy are, or ever have been, lovers. But they are tight. And my gut tells me Cliff knows where she is. He's a mess. Cliff doesn't get that way from overwork. My guess is, he feels caught in the middle of two people he cares about. If he tells you anything, he's betraying Nancy and risking pushing her over the edge to the point where she really will take Brian and vanish. On the other hand, you're his best friend. Keeping this from you, especially knowing what you're probably going through, I'd say he's torn in half."
"And I'd say you're right." Stephen's laugh was humorless. "I don't know whether to choke him until he tells me where Nancy and Brian are, then beat the crap out of him for loving my wife, or thank him for being there for Nancy when I wasn't, then heave a sigh of relief that he'll make sure she and my son stay safe."
"Don't do anything. If you force Cliff's hand, it'll only antagonize the situation and alienate Nancy even more. She already feels betrayed and manipulated. Don't add to it. That's not the way to get her to come home. She'll make that decision on her own, after you've eliminated the threat to Brian's safety." Connor was still gazing at the door, his eyes narrowed pensively. "If Nancy asked for Cliff's help, she must have told him about the baseball cap and about Walker's threats."
"And about my gambling, you mean." Stephen sounded more weary than angry. "Maybe. It doesn't matter. If she did confide in Cliff, I doubt it would come as a surprise. The guy's been my friend since college. He's not an idiot." A hard swallow. "I'm the idiot. Connor, what the hell have I done to my life?"
Connor walked over, clapped a hard hand on his brother's shoulder. "Just the fact that you can ask that question means you've turned a corner. You'll get your life back. You finally want it badly enough to fight for it. And one thing I know for sure: the Stratfords might be screwed up in lots of ways, but we're damn good fighters. We don't give up until we win. The problem is, we've spent too much time fighting for the wrong things. But all that's about to change. We're about to get it right."
Stephen eyed his brother. "We? Why don't I think 'we're just talking about Nancy and me?"
"Because we're not."
Stephen's intercom buzzed, and he walked over and pressed the button. "Yes, Celeste?"
"Mr. Henderson said your meeting was over. I know you said to hold your messages. Did you want them before I leave for lunch?"
"Anything pressing?"
A rustling sound as Celeste shuffled through the messages. "Two of them. The chief of police called. He wants to discuss how much added security you want at the mall opening on Saturday. I told him you'd get back to him this afternoon. And a Mr. Harry Shaw called. He said it was important and that you were expecting to hear from him."
Stephen had tensed at the mention of his PI's name. "I was. What's the message?"
"He said he's got some of the information you requested. He's out of cell range until this afternoon. He wants to meet you for a drink around four. If that works, leave the specifics on his voice mail. He'll pick it up when he's back in range."
"Thanks, Celeste. Go ahead to lunch." Stephen punched the button again, raising his head to look at Connor. "He must have something on Walker."
Connor's lips tightened into a grim line. "I hope so."
* * *
23
3:35 P.M.
Julia let herself into her apartment. She'd waited all day long for this solitude, and now that it was here, she felt too out of sorts to enjoy it and too restless to sit still.
Inadvertently, her gaze fell on the answering machine. The unblinking light told her no one had called.
Damn the surge of disappointment she felt.
She dropped onto a stool in the kitchen, folding her arms on the counter and resting her head on them.
All day long, she'd relived those moments in the elevator. Her body still burned with the memory and ached with unfulfilled desire. Worse, her heart ached for all the things she knew she couldn't have with Connor but wanted nonetheless.
Damn, damn, damn—why did it have to be Connor Stratford she'd fallen in love with? Why couldn't it have been an uncomplicated man with a normal family, a man with values she could understand, who was capable of trusting and being trusted in return?
And why did she still want to believe Connor could be that man?
She raised her head, determined not to think about Connor for at least a few minutes. A distraction. That's what she needed. Someone with whom she could discuss something, anything, that didn't end in the name Stratford.
Someone who'd offered to be her friend and nothing more.
She dialed Greg's office number.
"Greg Matthews." He answered the phone himself, sounding busy and distracted.
"Greg? It's Juiia. I'm sorry. I obviously called at a bad time"
"Hmm? No, I'm just swamped, and my secretary's out sick." He blew out his breath, then laughed awkwardly. "Let's start again. Hi, Julia, good to hear from you."
Uncomplicated. Thank God. "It's good to talk to you." Julia felt herself relax a bit. "I got your message, but yesterday was crazy, and I had a killer migraine. I'd really enjoy getting together with you."
"Me, too. But tonight's out. I'll probably be working until midnight." A pause. "How about tomorrow night? I know you've got a workshop, but we could meet afterward. Even if it's only for a drink."
"I can do better than that. My workshop was canceled. I'll buy you dinner. But only if you promise we won't talk about work."
"Fine with me." Greg was quiet for another moment. "You sound really stressed yourself. You okay?"
"I'll be better after a glass of wine and some light conversation."
"Done." Rustling papers indicated he was ready to hang up and get back to whatever he'd been doing. "How about the steak house on Maple Street? Does that work?"
"Perfect." Julia felt more relief than pleasure. An enjoyable night out. It might not be the cure, but maybe it would be medicine enough to mask the symptoms. "How's seven o'clock?"
"Make it seven-thirty. I'd pick you up, but, unfortunately, I'll be slaving away on this budget right up till the last minute. In fact, the way it looks, I'll be in here on Saturday finishing up. Would it be okay if we met at the restaurant?"
"Of course. Are you sure you can take the time for dinner?"
"Very sure. See you then."
4:15 p.m.
Stephen had just left the office to meet his PI for a drink—and,
he hoped, to get some damning facts on Walker.
Connor was seated at his brother's desk, cell phone in hand, catching up on some business calls with clients he'd neglected all week.
The intercom buzzed.
Connor glanced over at the phone in surprise. Obviously, Celeste didn't know Stephen was gone. Either that, or it was Connor she was looking for.
Only one way to find out.
Putting down his cell phone, Connor leaned across Stephen's desk and punched the button. "Yes, Celeste?"
A brief pause before Celeste replied, "I'm sorry, Mr. Stratford, I was looking for the mayor."
"You just missed him. He must have walked by your cubicle five minutes ago."
"Oh, I was in with Mr. Matthews. His secretary's out sick, and he needed a few files. Five minutes ago, you said? That means he's probably in the parking lot. Okay, I'll tell the chief of police to wait a few minutes and then try him in the car."
"Wait." Connor spoke up quickly. Stephen had been tight as a drum when he'd left. He was totally focused on getting to that meeting, praying that Shaw would give him something he could nail Walker with. The last thing he needed was to chat with Martin Hart about extra security at the mall opening.
"Pardon me?" Celeste was waiting for clarification.
"Stephen's been playing phone tag with Marty all afternoon," Connor explained. That was a gross exaggeration. Stephen had returned the police chief's call once and was told he was taking a late lunch. Hardly enough to constitute an afternoon-long game of phone tag.
Fine. Connor would take full responsibility for his actions. He realized he was overstepping his bounds. He also realized it was necessary. He'd hold the police chief at bay for a-few hours, until Stephen could think straight. Their security arrangements could wait that long.