First Lady

by Philips, Susan Elizabeth

  Her head had begun to throb. What if it were true? What if he really did love her? Could this just be another example of Mat's predictable clumsiness around the mysterious minefield of his own deeper emotions? Or were his feelings for the girls so strong that he was willing to marry someone he liked, but didn't love, just so he could keep them in his life?

  Only one thing was certain . . . despite the months she'd spent hugging his stupid T-shirt and whimpering over Whitney Houston, she was no longer the emotionally needy woman who'd wed Dennis Case. In the past year, she'd learned that she deserved better, and nothing was going to make her question another man's love. If Mat Jorik burned for her, he'd have to find a better way than this to make her feel the flames.

  “Nealy, I know I've done this badly, but...”

  “Badly doesn't begin to describe it.” She glanced at her watch, rose from the chair, and strode toward the hallway. “Sorry, but I'm out of time.”

  Mat had no choice but to follow her. “How about if I ride along with you today? Some insider press coverage wouldn't hurt.”

  She didn't need any more coverage, and they both knew it. She opened the door and stepped outside, making him follow. “I'm afraid that's not possible.”

  “Let me have your phone number. We need to talk again.”

  “I'm sure if you try hard enough, you can find a way to get it.”

  She slipped back inside before he could stop her and closed the door. Then she drew the baby closer and tried to decide whether she wanted to cry or scream.

  * * *

  Mat knew he'd blown it. He'd spent so many years erecting a privacy barrier between himself and his sisters that he hadn't been able to pull it down when he most needed to. He sat behind the wheel of the car without turning on the ignition and stared blindly through the windshield. If only he'd had the guts to take her in his arms the moment he'd seen her and tell her everything that was in his heart. Instead, he'd bumbled around like an idiot.

  Now he had nothing. No date to see her again. No phone number. Nothing.

  He was so angry v/ith himself that he nearly missed the flash of yellow jutting out from behind the garage as he began to pull away. He looked more closely and realized it was the rear end of a battered Winnebago.

  He couldn't believe it. Just before he'd left Iowa he'd sold Mabel to a dealer and sent the check to Nealy's attorney for the girls. Why had she gone to all the trouble of buying it herself? He felt a faint spark of hope. Not much to hold on to, but it was all he had.

  He pulled up the name of Lucy's new school from his memory bank and phoned for directions. After he arrived, he established his credentials with the principal and was shown into an empty office. Just before the walls finished closing in on him, the door opened and Lucy was standing there.

  A smile took possession of his face. He felt only a momentary pang of nostalgia for the hooker makeup and purple hair. She looked wonderful—all scrubbed up, shiny, and pretty. Had Nealy smoothed away her rough edges or did Lucy not need them anymore?

  He itched to wrap his arms around her, but the conflicting emotions he saw on her face made him hesitate. He'd hurt her badly when he'd let her walk away, and she wasn't going to forgive him easily.

  “What d'you want?”

  He hesitated, then decided he couldn't afford any more fumbles. “I want my family back.”

  “Your family?” She hadn't lost her street smarts, and she bristled with suspicion. “What do you mean?”

  “You and Button and Nealy.”

  She gave him her familiar bullheaded look. “We're not your family.”

  “Who says?” He took a step closer, only to watch her withdraw. “You're still mad at me, aren't you?”

  She shrugged, then, true to her nature, looked him right in the eye. “Why are you here?”

  He thought that one over. How much could he tell her and still be fair to Nealy?

  To hell with fairness. “I'm here because I found out I couldn't stand not having all of you in my life.”

  She leaned against the corner of the desk, her posture awkward and unsure. “So?”

  “So, I'm back.”

  “Big deal.”

  The hurt she was trying so hard to hide cut into his heart. “It is for me. I've been pretty lonely. Plus I've been kicking myself for taking so long to figure out what's important to me.”

  She looked down at her thumbnail, brought it to her mouth, then seemed to realize what she was doing and pulled it away. “Yeah, I guess you missed Button a lot.”

  Her insecurities were still so close to the surface they made him ache. “How's the little rug rat doing these days?”

  “Pretty good. She says lots more words now. She calls Squid Skid.” She shot him a glare filled with reproach. “But she never says Da anymore. Not ever.”

  “I miss her a lot.” He paused, then moved closer again. “But I miss you even more.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded. “I love Button, but she's still a baby. You know how that is. I can't really talk to her about anything interesting or play basketball with her. And don't look so surprised. You and I have understood each other from the beginning.” He paused. “Did you ever hear of a soul mate?”

  She nodded warily “I think the two of us might be soul mates.”

  “You do?”

  “Don't you?”

  “Yeah, but I didn't think you—”

  “You're such a jerk.” He smiled at her. “When are you going to figure out what a great kid you are?”

  She stared at him and then her face crumpled. “I didn't think you ever wanted to see us again.”

  He no longer cared whether she wanted to be hugged or not. He grabbed her and pulled her tight against his chest. “I'm a lot bigger jerk than you. I missed you, Luce. I missed you so much.”

  One hand crept tentatively around his waist. He rubbed her back and blinked. How could he ever have walked away from these females? “I love you, Lucy.” It should have been hard to say, but it wasn't. In fact, it was so easy that he said it again. “I love you so much.”

  She buried her face in his shirt. Although her words were muffled, he didn't have any trouble hearing them. “Loveyousomuchtoo.”

  They stood that way for a while, both of them embarrassed, but neither of them willing to let the other go. When they finally parted, she looked vulnerable and scared. “You're not going to try to take us away from her, are you?”

  “I'd never do anything like that! Thanks a lot.”

  Her shoulders sagged in relief. “I had to make sure.”

  “No, you didn't. The fact is, I need some help, and you're the only one who can give it to me.”

  She instantly responded. “What do you want?”

  Now he was the one who had to look away. “I saw Nealy this morning, but I got nervous and screwed everything up.”

  “For only the millionth time.”

  “You don't need to rub it in. Anyway, she's even madder at me now than she was before. Sooner or later, she might talk to me again, but I can't stand to wait. That's why I need help.”

  He explained what he wanted, and when he was done, a cagey smile curled her mouth. He congratulated himself on his strategy. There was nothing a good woman liked more than meddling in other people's business, and this daughter of his heart was definitely a good woman.

  * * *

  Some of Nealy's tension eased as she sat on the floor cuddling Button and listening to Lucy chatter about her day. The scents of roasted chicken and garlic coming from the kitchen reminded her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast.

  It had been an awful day. Instead of concentrating on her meetings, she'd kept thinking about Mat and wondering what was going on in his head.

  Her housekeeper stepped into the family room. “If your hands aren't clean, wash up. Dinner'11 be on the table in five minutes.”

  “Thanks, Tina.”

  The doorbell rang and Lucy leaped up. “I'll get it! I told Cliff it was okay.”
/>
  Cliff was on duty monitoring the gate, which explained why the intercom hadn't buzzed.

  Lucy raced for the hallway. “I invited a friend for dinner. Tina said I could.”

  Nealy regarded her curiously. It wasn't the first time Lucy had invited someone over, but she'd always let Nealy know in advance. Still, Nealy was so grateful she was making new friends that she didn't object.

  She straightened the cuff on Button's lavender jeans.

  “Okay, messy bessy, let's pick up some of these toys before we eat.”

  “Hi, sweetheart.”

  Nealy froze as Mat's voice boomed from the entrance hall.

  Button's eyes widened, and she dropped the plastic turtle she'd been carrying around. “DA!” Moving as fast as her chubby legs would carry her, she scurried toward the sound of that familiar voice.

  In the hallway Mat was giving Lucy her second hug of the day when he heard Button's high-pitched squeal followed by the thud of tiny sneakers. He looked up just as his pint-sized beauty queen came waddling around the corner.

  “Daaaaa!”

  At her shriek of joy, he dashed forward, swept her up into his arms, and started planting kisses on those rosy little cheeks. She was already taller, he noticed. Her hair was longer and didn't look as much like dandelion fuzz. Someone had tied a piece of ribbon around a lock on top and it stuck straight up in a little fountain. She was wearing purple sneakers, lavender jeans, and a bright red T-shirt that said hot stuff.

  The fact that she hadn't forgotten him made his eyes sting for the third time that day. She wriggled and caught him in the stomach with one of her sneakers, but he didn't care. She smelled of baby shampoo, orange juice, and Nealy.

  “Da!” Button drew back her head, puckered her lips, and gave him her familiar mulish look. It was a new trick, but he caught on right away and planted a kiss on the exact middle of that rosebud mouth. “Hey, stinker.”

  “Tink! Tint'”

  “That's right.” With one arm around the baby and his other around Lucy, he prayed he was two-thirds of the way home.

  The final third appeared at the back of the hallway, and the accusation in her beautiful eyes told him he wasn't even close.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I invited him,” Lucy piped up. “I knew you wouldn't mind.”

  Nealy turned on him. “When did you see her?”

  Lucy didn't give him a chance to answer. “He came to my school today.”

  That legendary self-control couldn't hide how much she wanted to take him apart for approaching Lucy without her permission, but she wouldn't attack in front of the girls.

  Her restraint made him even more aware of the perilous ground he was treading. Although he was prepared to fight to his last breath convincing Nealy he loved her, he'd live the rest of his life alone before he'd hurt the girls.

  “I told the principal who I was. She let me talk to Lucy for a few minutes.”

  “I see.” Icicles dripped from her words.

  “I have presents for everybody out in the car,” he said quickly, “but the Service wanted to go through them before 1 brought them in.” He gazed at Nealy. “I didn't know what color roses you liked, so I brought you an assortment.” An assortment of six dozen roses, in shades ranging from vermilion to a peach-tipped white. He'd hoped to use them as a distraction when he'd walked in the door, but the Secret Service had spoiled that.

  Her lips barely moved. “How thoughtful.”

  A ginger-haired woman in her forties poked her head around the corner. “Dinner's on.” She regarded Mat curiously.

  “This is the friend I told you 1 invited to eat with us tonight,” Lucy told her.

  The woman smiled. “You high school kids get bigger every day.”

  He smiled back. “Hope I didn't disrupt anything.”

  She flushed. “No. .. no, of course not. Come on, everybody, before the chicken gets cold.”

  Lucy grabbed his arm and steered him past Nealy toward the kitchen. “Wait till you taste Tina's chicken. She cooks it with all this garlic.”

  “I love garlic.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Did you ever eat jalapenos?”

  “Plain?”

  “Yeah, plain. What are you, some kind of a wimp?”

  Nealy listened to their chatter as Mat disappeared through the family room with an arm around each of her daughters. Both of them were looking at him as if he'd hung the moon and stars just to entertain them. She realized she was shaking and drew a deep breath before she headed for the kitchen.

  He was lowering Button into her high chair as she came in. He looked completely at home in the cozy kitchen with its cherry cabinets, shiny copper, and collection of bright orange pumpkins on the counter. The round table sat in a bay overlooking the garden at the side of the house. It was set with pottery plates, chunky green goblets, and Button's special Alice in Wonderland dishes.

  “Sit here, Mat!” Lucy indicated her own chair, directly to Nealy's right. “Usually Andre and Tamarah eat with us, but Andre got his shots this afternoon, so he's cranky, and Tamarah's trying to study for a math test.”

  “I've got a hockey stick for Andre out in the car,” he said. “And some skates.”

  Nealy stared at him. He'd bought a six-month-old baby hockey equipment?

  “Cool.” Lucy sat on the other side of Button's high chair, safely out of spill range. “Since Button's so messy, we don't eat in the dining room unless we have important company.” She pulled a face. “Like you-know-who.”

  “No, I don't.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “Graaaandfather Liiiitchfield. He calls me Lucille. Doesn't that blow? And he calls Button Beatrice, even though she hates it. She threw up on him once. It was hysterical, wasn't it, Mom?”

  Nealy watched Mat's expression change as he heard Lucy call her Mom, but she couldn't identify exactly what she saw there. “It was definitely one of Button's finer moments,” she managed.

  Mat leaned back in his chair and gazed at her. Had he noticed how much they looked like a family?

  “How did your meetings go today? Did you jiggle any change loose from those corporate high rollers?”

  “A little.” She couldn't carry on casual conversation with him, so she turned to Button. “Do you like your potatoes?”

  The baby pulled a food-smeared fist from her mouth and pointed at her sister. “Woos!”

  Lucy giggled. “That's what she calls me. Woos. She just started it a couple weeks ago.”

  “Ma!”

  Nealy smiled. “You've got that one down pat, don't you, cupcake?”

  “Da!”

  Mat looked at Nealy instead of the baby. “She's got that right, too.”

  Nealy wouldn't let him do this. He couldn't worm his way into their lives because he'd finally decided he missed the girls. She might have to come to terms with letting him see them, but that didn't mean she had to accept those leftover, lukewarm feelings he was tossing at her and pretend they were something more.

  She folded her napkin, set it next to her plate, and stood. “I'm not feeling well. If you'll excuse me ... Tina, would you bring Button upstairs when she's done eating?”

  “Sure.”

  He rose. “Nealy . . .”

  “Good-bye, Mat. I'm sure Lucy will keep you entertained.” She turned her back on all of them and left the kitchen.

  First Lady

  24

  Nealy sealed herself away in her bedroom with her briefing book and a laptop computer, stopping work only long enough to read Button a bedtime story and tuck her in when Tina brought her upstairs. As she returned to her room, she heard Mat talking to Lucy downstairs. The low intensity of his voice made her want to strain to listen. Instead, she hurried into her room, put on some Chopin, and turned up the volume.

  Lucy came in an hour later. Her eyes were bright with excitement, but she must have known Nealy wouldn't appreciate hearing how happy she was to see Mat again, so she gave her a tierce good-night h
ug and disappeared.

  Now that Mat had left, Nealy felt even more depressed. She changed into her favorite baby blue flannel pajamas. They were printed with fluffy white clouds and smelled like fabric softener. She tried to return to work, but hunger pangs distracted her. It was nearly eleven o'clock, and she'd barely eaten all day.

  She set aside her laptop and padded downstairs barefoot.

  Tina had turned on the stove light before she'd left, and Tamarah and Andre were settled in for the night. Nealy went into the pantry and leaned down to pull a box of cereal from the shelf. As she straightened, a hand clamped over her mouth.

  Her eyes flew open. Her heart hammered.

  A muscular arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against a very hard, very familiar chest. “Just pretend I'm an enemy of the state,” he whispered, “and consider yourself kidnapped.”

  Only as she felt herself being dragged toward the back door did she realize Mat wasn't just messing around.

  He didn't even grunt when her bare heel caught him in the shin. Why hadn't she put on shoes before she came downstairs?

  Somehow he managed to maneuver the back door open. She felt his breath, warm against her cheek. “The only way I can talk to you is to get you away from this house, so that's where we're going. You can try to scream if you like, but if you get away with it, your friends in the Secret Service are going to come running, and they won't ask a single question before they shoot. Now, how bad do you want me dead?”

  He had no idea!

  She tried to bite his palm, but she couldn't sink her teeth in.

  “That's right, sweetheart. Fight all you want. Just, please, don't make too much noise while you're doing it because those buddies of yours play for keeps.”

  One of her feet made a furrow in the fallen leaves as he half carried, half dragged her across the terrace and through the grass without loosening his grip on her mouth. He was strong as an ox, and she was beside herself with frustration. She could probably manage to make some kind of noise, but she didn't dare try. Although she definitely wanted him to die a brutal and bloody death, she intended to do the job herself. She was even afraid to kick him again for fear one of her barefoot blows would inflict enough damage to make him cry out. Oh, this was impossible! What an infuriating, miserable, depraved man!