Knight (Political Royalty Book 1) (17 page)

He hadn’t meant to spend the night, but after they’d made love for the last time, she curled her body into his, her eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure. There hadn’t been a thing in the world he wanted more than to hold Haven in his arms while she drifted off to sleep. He couldn’t bring himself to leave her so he stayed. The sun coming up changed everything. Sandra and the girls were arriving in a couple of hours and he had to be ready for the debate. It didn’t matter that he wanted to stay in bed with the woman who’d fallen asleep in his arms. He rarely got to do what he wanted. Obligation always won out. Except where Haven was concerned. She broke all his rules, knocked them down like dominos.

Her brow crinkled in her sleep, and he reached out to smooth his thumb over the crease. He watched her blink herself awake, smiling as she seemed to come back to herself from wherever her mind had been wandering.

“Morning, beautiful.”

“What time is it?” she asked, scrambling to sit up.

She slipped from sated lover into fully awake competent campaign manager as quickly as others might don a coat. He couldn’t help but feel disappointment at the loss of the woman he’d held in his arms as he moved inside her even as he admired the way she dove into her day.

“Relax. It’s still early.”

“You have to go before everyone wakes up and there are people in the hall. If someone sees you wearing the same clothes as yesterday, it’ll be a disaster.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and he reached out to grab her arm. He wasn’t ready for their time together to end. He still needed her.

“I know. I’ll be careful. Come here,” he said, tugging her gently toward him. “I need to know that we’re okay.” He felt her stiffen and realized she’d misunderstood him. She thought he regretted what they’d done and was trying to put some distance between them. Nothing could be further from the truth. “The next couple of days are going to be hard. It’s going to kill me not to be with you.” He didn’t add because
my shrew of a wife will be around,
but the reason hung in the air between them anyway. “I can do the things I need to do if I know you’ll be waiting for me when I’m done.”

“Walker,” she said, and he could feel the protest coming.

“Wait,” he said, stopping her before she could go any farther. “I’m not asking you for anything you aren’t willing to give. Neither of us have any idea how this is going to play out. I know the cost. I just need to know that when I kiss you good-bye this morning that it’s temporary. Just for now until we can figure things out. I’m not ready for this to be over. I need to know that you aren’t either.”

He waited, everything that happened next hanging on her answer.

“Okay.” She nodded, her hazel eyes clear and intent.

Grinning, he tumbled her into his arms and kissed her, squeezing her until she squealed.

“Good,” he said.

S
HEP KNEW WAKING UP WITH Haven in his arms would be the best part of his day. Everything that came after was a series of obligations and nerves, punctuated by people who consistently took more from him than they gave. It didn’t mean he had a choice about it, or even that he expected one. He’d started down this path. He couldn’t complain when it headed in the direction he wanted to go.

Sandra and the girls showed up after lunch and with her came a team of stylists and demands. The last few polls had shown the race tightening, with him closing the distance on Collins. It was enough to bring out Sandra’s cloyingly sweet side. She stood beside him at every possible photo op, smiling and clinging to his arm like the supportive wife she wasn’t, and he was forced to play the dutiful husband, glad to see his family after a long absence.

His girls were the only bright spots. He didn’t have to pretend to be glad to see them and they hovered around him, genuinely eager for his attention. They might be excited about the cameras and their new dresses, but they weren’t consumed by how they looked. At least not yet.

Justin talked him through the logistics of the debate and went over the rules for the tenth or twelfth time. Haven made herself scarce, which was just as well. The contrast between the woman who owned his body and his wife was obvious enough. He didn’t think he could take it if they were in the same room. He had no idea how to look at his campaign manager and not have his feelings show. What the fuck was he thinking?

He couldn’t see anything but heartbreak ahead, but that didn’t change his mind about anything. Being inside Haven, having her trust him with her body was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time and he wasn’t about to give her up.

“It’s time to go, Senator. Haven’s going to meet us onsite.” Justin touched his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. He’d figure out what to do about the woman who’d knocked his priorities sideways, but first he had a state to win and his share of delegates to earn.

“I’m ready.”

He turned to look for his wife and children. Sandra still had a team of people fussing over her hair and makeup, adjusting things only she could see. They’d taken over the adjoining sitting room, setting up lights and mirrors and turning a chunk of the hotel room into a private salon. Abby and his girls sat on the couch in front of the TV turned to cartoons instead of a news network for a change. His daughters were playing some kind of games on their tablets. Their blonde hair was pulled back in ribbons that matched their dresses and they wore shoes with flat heels, something he knew from previous experience was an arguing point between his oldest daughter and his wife. Claire wanted shoes with a heel, but Sandra held the line, insisting the girls stay children as long as possible.

When he felt uncharitable, he thought it might be because Sandra didn’t want the competition. His daughters were beautiful petite copies of his wife but without the pinched expression and subtle lines. Even though they were just girls, a vain woman couldn’t help but see the young women they would be in just a few years and how old she must look in comparison. Sandra was a vain woman.

But she was also a good mother. She’d always made sure the girls had what they needed. She had an abundance of faults but neglecting their children or mistreating them wasn’t one of them. They were a reflection on her and she took every bit as good care of them as she did the one she saw in the mirror.

“Give me a kiss for luck,” he said, planting himself between his daughters and the dancing teenage witches on the TV. Abby looked up before the girls did, hitting him with a nervous smile.

“You’ll do great,” she said, nodding her head. “I know you will.”

“Thank you,” he said, bending down so his children couldn’t ignore him. “Girls.”

The tone of his voice must have cut through whatever was on their tablets because two pairs of blue eyes met his at the same time.

“Are you nervous?” asked Sarah, his youngest.

“A little.”

“Well, don’t screw it up this time,” said Claire, in the matter of fact way only a nine-year-old could get away with. “Mommy said you really messed everything up last time.”

Of course she did.
Sandra wouldn’t see any reason to pull punches about his performance in front of their daughters. It sure as hell wouldn’t occur to her to be supportive or try to help.

“Thanks, sweetie. I’ll try not to screw it up.”

“Sometimes before dance recitals, I get so nervous, I have to throw up. Do you have to throw up?” Sarah looked up at him, her blue eyes serious and owlish.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, wondering if he’d let Sandra put too much pressure on the girls. He wanted them to do well and have the extracurricular activities they needed to get into the more competitive schools, but not if the stress made them sick.

“Good,” said Sarah, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve got this.” She repeated back the words he’d told her before the handful of recitals he hadn’t been too busy to make. He really had no business judging Sandra’s parenting, not when he’d been absent so much.

“I’ll see you girls after I’m finished. Be good for Miss Abby. Sandra, I’m leaving. Don’t be late,” he called out on his way to the door. If his wife bothered to react, he didn’t see it. He closed the door without bothering to look back.

When he and Justin arrived at the college auditorium, Travis hurried out to meet them. Shep couldn’t help but look around for Haven, but she’d made herself scarce. He didn’t doubt for a moment that she was around somewhere. She’d want to make sure everything was set for the night and he couldn’t imagine her leaving that to anyone else, not even Justin. She was taking care of him even if he couldn’t see her. He wanted to see her. He didn’t trust himself to spend time alone with her. Not with his nerves on edge and Sandra reminding him every time she got in front of a camera why he didn’t want to be married to her. But he’d feel better if he could see her.

Travis led them through the auditorium to the stage area. Five podiums stood in front of a wall of American flags. General Collins and her people were gathered around the center podium. Travis led them past the one on the right, pitching his voice low as they passed to point out Jensen’s spot.

“You’re over here, Senator,” he said, guiding Shep to the center left podium.

At least he still warranted a spot near the center of the stage, unlike those poor bastards clinging to the fringe, waiting for the one poll or primary that would move them closer to the prime real estate or bump them off the stage altogether.

He didn’t expect to win New Hampshire. He’d worked his ass off, and Haven had orchestrated the campaign beautifully, making the most of every chance he had to get in front of the voters, but with Collins’s resume and ties to New England, Shep didn’t have any delusions of unseating the new favorite. At this point, he’d be happy to hold the geriatric governor at bay. He couldn’t stomach another third-place finish.

“Water’s here if you need it. There’s a tablet and space for your notes. You should have everything you need.” Travis channeled his inner Vanna, showing off the merits of the podium like a game show pro.

“Let’s get you touched up,” said Justin. “I want to get the good makeup person and not the one who made Bush look like the Church Lady.”

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T
HERE WERE TWO more questions to go, and he hadn’t done anything to screw it up yet. In fact, he’d had what felt like a few good moments against Collins. He wouldn’t know, of course, until he heard how it played in the press or even better, until Haven told him how he’d done. As soon as the candidates started their opening statements, he’d glanced over and seen her standing in the shadows of the curtains. She’d stayed in that spot through the whole debate, like his own personal touchstone. Seeing her reassured him more than it should. Just knowing she was watching calmed his nerves. The exact opposite effect being close to her and not touching her had on him.

The moderator made her way down the line of candidates, giving all of them a chance to answer the questions without rambling too far off subject. They made their closing arguments, each an impassioned plea for why they should get the voters’ support and then it was over. The crowd applauded and the families flowed out onto the stage. Sandra and the girls hurried to him. He barely skimmed his wife’s cheek: a kiss that should play well for the cameras but that didn’t mean he had to touch her more than necessary. He bent down to scoop his daughters into his arms. Sarah pressed her small palms to his cheeks, demanding his attention.

“Everybody’s clapping, Daddy,” she said. “I think that means you didn’t screw up.”

“I think you’re right, baby.” He took a chance and stole a glance to where Haven had been standing, wondering if her opinion matched his daughter’s, but she was already gone.

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W
ITH HALF THE PRECINCTS reporting, we’re confident calling the race for retired Army General Miranda Collins. Not a surprise really, but the big news is what appears to be a very close second place for Senator Shepherd Walker.

Whatever else the anchor had been about to say was drowned out by the cheers of the campaign staffers crowded around the television in Walker’s suite. There were fist bumps and even a few hugs. Shep looked over in time to see Justin press a kiss to the top of Haven’s head and then Sandra swooped in to wrap her arms around him.

“Much better than last time,” she said, her lips hovering over his ear.

He shrugged out of her grip, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t congratulate the woman who made possible the second-place finish that felt like a victory. Not without giving away what he felt for her. Instead, he opted for thanking everyone in the room, letting his gaze rest for a few moments longer on her beautiful face.

“Is it time to make your speech, Shep, darling?” Sandra only called him darling when she either wanted something and was determined to get it or felt like she needed something extra to close the deal. Either way, it grated on his nerves.

“We wait for Collins. I already sent the senator’s concession, but we’re not going to put him on camera until the general speaks. I want him to be what people hear before they go to bed,” said Haven, keeping her gaze locked on the poll figures rolling across the bottom of the screen. “There.” She grabbed Justin’s knee and pointed to the TV. “Rockingham County. I knew we’d made the right decision there. Winning that county paid big dividends. Remind me to call the captain in the morning before we leave for South Carolina. We owe her big-time for doing such a great job getting the canvassing teams out.”