The Candidate's Wife (12 page)

"Adam, what is it? You're scaring me."

"Nothing's wrong, except --" He paused, and cleared his throat, but his voice still came out husky. "Julia, remember what I said on our wedding night? About sharing a bed not being part of our bargain?"

Julia lifted her eyes to his. He saw a glimmer hurt there, and unmistakable anger, before she abruptly turned her back on him. "I remember," she threw back at him, over her shoulder. "And you also said I wasn't your type."

"Julia, Julia, I'm so sorry." He stepped toward her until her back nearly touched his chest. He rested his palms on her shoulders. She flinched from his touch, and pain suddenly squeezed at his heart. "Sweetheart, I take that back. There's real chemistry between us. I know you feel it."

She began to draw away, to shake her head, and he tightened his grip to stop her. Slowly, without turning to face him, Julia nodded. "But so what?" she whispered. "That's all it is, chemistry. It doesn't mean anything."

Adam wrapped his right arm around her and pressed his cheek against hers. With his left hand, he tucked a loose lock behind one of her pale ears. Oh, but her hair was soft under his palm -- like a length of cool satin, and black as a raven's wing. She smelled like vanilla and roses, an innocent scent that affected him more deeply than any heavy, expensive perfume ever could. The dark ache in his groin overpowered his common sense. Gently, so as not to frighten her, he brushed his lips over her earlobe. "Sweetheart, why fight it? You're my wife. I'm your husband."

Julia turned around. Tears beaded her dark lashes and trembled in her eyes. "What about the. . .the terms of our deal?"

Adam wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. She placed her palms against his chest, but she didn't push him away. "We could make a new deal," he said softly. He lowered his head to inhale each sweet breath she released. His breathing quickened to match her rhythm. "Couldn't we do that, Julia?"

"I -- I don't know." But she closed her eyes, and the pink tip of her tongue darted out to moisten the heart-shaped bow of her upper lip. That was all the invitation Adam needed.

In a heartbeat, he closed the remaining quarter inch between them as he possessed her mouth with a fierce hunger. Adam groaned deep in his throat and pulled her closer, until he could feel ever inch of her softness along the length of his body. With his tongue, he traced the fullness of her mouth, tasting her, claiming her. Her lips were warm and tender against his. Her skin felt fevered to his touch.

Adam burned with a flame no mere kisses could quench. He brushed his lips over her neck, her collarbone, and then unfastened the top button of her silk blouse with clumsy, anxious fingers. Julia threw back her head and made a sound of pleasure deep in her throat, a sound that only inflamed his desire.

He straightened and searched her face. Her eyes were smoky with desire. But as he bent to kiss her again, a knock on the office door interrupted them. Julia's cheeks flamed again. Adam grinned at her as she hurried to button her shirt. Damn, but she was beautiful.

He waited while she patted her hair, then strode to the door, frowning. "Whatever it is," he said over his shoulder, "it can wait until tomorrow."

The moment he opened the door, however, he knew it couldn't. Phil's mouth drooped and his shoulders slumped in defeat as he stepped into Adam's office. "Adam, we have a problem," he said.

Julia massaged her temples, but her head still ached and throbbed in tune to Adam's furious voice. They'd been over the situation a hundred times and were no closer to the answers Adam demanded.

"So, how the hell did Howard Jenkins get hold of this stuff?" Adam asked. His burning gaze swept over the faces of the five people seated around the conference table: Julia, Phil, Tom Brannon, Beverly West, and Ted Okimoto.

Adam's slim, strong fingers splayed over a pile of faxes from the Times reporter. The documents were ostensibly an attempt to solicit comment from Adam, but in reality they appeared to be a taunting preview of the next day's front page. "Jenkins has got memos, polling data, strategy documents. . . ." Adam broke off and shook his head in disbelief. "All of this is confidential, and all of it available only to the people in this room!"

Tom, a short, muscular bullet of a man in his late twenties, made a placating gesture. "Adam, none of this information is particularly damaging. We've done nothing wrong."

Adam crossed his arms over his chest and glared around the room. "True, but it's not the documents themselves that bother me. It's pretty clear that we've got a leak. Someone I trusted has conspired with the press, damn it, and I'm going to find out who it was."

Behind Adam's rage, Julia sensed a terrible sadness. Her heart ached for him. She knew that Adam had known all of his senior staff members for years. They'd worked on his senate campaign, and he trusted them implicitly. Yet, somehow, someone had betrayed him. The conclusion was inescapable.

Adam leaned against the table and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "All right," he said, in a more resigned tone. "It's nearly midnight. We won't get to the bottom of this now." He lifted his head, and Julia shuddered at the fierceness of his expression. "But we will get to the bottom of it. I promise you that."

Fifteen minutes later, when Julia climbed into the back of the Mercedes for the ride home, Adam stared straight ahead. He barely even noticed her presence next to him. His coldness frightened Julia,
especially after their passionate interlude earlier that evening. She touched his arm. "Adam? Are you all right?"

He turned to stare at her with cold, suspicious eyes. "Howard Jenkins. That's the reporter you talked to at the fundraiser the other day, isn't it?"

With dawning horror, Julia realized that Adam suspected her of leaking the documents. She gasped and frowned at him. "Adam, I didn't tell him anything, and I haven't spoken to him since that night."

"You sure about that?"

She'd never heard his voice sound so impersonal, so flinty with anger. An answering rage blazed up in her chest at the unfairness of the accusation. "This is ridiculous. How -- how dare you even question me in that tone of voice!"

He glared back at her. "Why won't you answer the question, Julia? Do you have something to hide?"

"No, of course not! I swear I had nothing to do with your news leak."

Adam sighed. Some of the anger seemed to ebb from his expression. His jaw relaxed, but his eyes didn't soften. "I want to believe you, Julia."

"But you don't, do you?"

As he answered her, his voice sounded equally flat and devoid of emotion. "No, I don't."

For Julia, the next two days were among the most miserable of her life. Adam kept his distance. When he did chance to cross her path, his cold, distrustful expression never softened. Despite a four-point jump in the polls, the mood in campaign headquarters was equally dismal. Adam now trailed Norris by just 11 percent*, but news of a traitor in the ranks served to dampen any high spirits.

On Thursday, Julia dragged herself into campaign headquarters. Unable to face Adam, she had avoided the early-morning staff meeting, but as soon as she arrived one of his senior speech writers asked her whether she would mind tracking down some crime statistics.

Glad for the distraction, Julia settled down in front of her computer. She quickly accessed a government database on the Web, entered her login and password, and began her search. Just as she located a batch of relevant documents, Valerie materialized next to her desk. "Hey, Julia, what's new?"

Julia gritted her teeth in reaction to Valerie's cheerful exuberance. The bouncy redhead grated on her nerves. Still, she knew it wasn't fair to take her own frustration out on Valerie. She saved her search results and swiveled around in her chair. "Not much new here, Valerie. How are you?"

She heaved a sigh. "Bored. Seriously bored. I'm not allowed to do anything around here except make photocopies and answer the phones."

"Why the rush? You're still in college."

"Yeah." Valerie shrugged. "I just hate being so unimportant, you know? Anyway, can I ask you a question?" She rushed ahead without waiting for Julia's reply. "Do you know if, like, they found out who gave all that stuff to Howard?"

"Do I know who leaked those documents to the Times? No." Julia sighed. "I wish I did. Adam and Phil are working on it."

"But they don't have any ideas?"

Julia shot Valerie a hard look. "Why do you ask?"

The intern laughed. "Just curious, I guess. Hey, I'd better get back to work. See ya."

Valerie disappeared in the direction of the communications director's office. Julia turned back to her computer screen. Before she could refine her search, her phone buzzed. As she picked up the
receiver, she rolled her eyes at the second interruption in just a few minutes. At this rate, she would never get any work done.

"Julia Moore?" A rough male voice, slightly overeager. "Though it's Julia Carmichael now, isn't it?"

"Speaking," she said warily.

"Jules, my love, you've forgotten my voice. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Julia sat stunned for a long moment. She felt as if she'd received an actual, physical blow, and her blood seemed to freeze in her veins. Finally, with great effort, she managed to speak. "What do you want, Frank?" she asked.

"Just checking in, Jules. You sound tense. Doesn't marriage agree with you?"

Julia's nails bit into her palms as she tightened her hand around the receiver. "Not always," she said coldly.

Her ex-husband chuckled. "Oh, come on, babe, let's not dig up the past. Let's talk about the future, instead."

"What do you want?" Julia repeated. "I'm very busy, Frank."

"Well, the truth is," and he let out a bleat of nervous laughter, "the truth is, I've had a run of hard luck lately. I thought maybe you could help me out, now that you've tied the knot with one of the richest men in the state."

Julia's throat closed up at this confirmation of her worst fears. She closed her eyes and counted to three before she answered. "I'm sorry, Frank," she half-whispered. "I'm sorry. I can't do anything for you."

His voice hardened. "Oh, I think you can."

"Why should I? You left us --"

"Jules, honey." He tried a whining, wheedling tone. "It's in your best interests. You know I could take you to court, get custody of Danny. . . ."

She choked back a cry of outrage. "You -- you wouldn't! You'd never win."

"Maybe not, but it'd make a hell of a lot of publicity, wouldn't it? 'Candidate's wife keeps man from his only son'. I can see the headlines now."

"Don't you dare --" Julia broke off, too angry and afraid to think straight. Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear Frank's voice above the roar of her own blood.

"Calm down, Jules. All I'm asking is that you meet with me somewhere. One meeting. That's all."

She hesitated, and bit her lower lip so hard it hurt. This was a nightmare. She felt weak and shaky, unsure of what to do. She glanced up and discovered that, to make matters worse, Adam had just emerged from his office. His quick, confident strides carried him toward her desk.

In a moment, he would overhear her end of the conversation. He would question her in that harsh, lawyerly tone, and she would have to stare into his glacial eyes and answer his questions. . . . She made up her mind.

"All right, Frank," she said. "When and where?"

"The park at Third and Washington. There's a bench by the fountain. Half an hour." His voice took on a threatening cast. "And don't tell your new hubby, Jules, or I'll give you reason to regret it."

Adam loomed above her. Julia swallowed hard and averted her eyes from his face. "Fine. I'll be there." She set the phone down as quickly as she could.

Adam frowned. "Is everything all right? Danny --"

"Everything's fine. Really."

"Who was that on the phone just now?"

For a brief moment, Julia considered telling Adam the truth. She would make him listen, make him understand. Adam would know how to handle Frank's threats. He'd tell her not to worry. He'd --

But Adam had already sensed her hesitation, and his mouth firmed into a grim line. Julia saw the suspicion in his eyes and knew she couldn't confide in him. "Wrong number," she lied.

Adam nodded, but his jaw tensed and the muscle in his cheek flickered angrily. Julia knew he didn't believe her. In the painful silence that followed, he cleared his throat. "We're having a meeting about the new direct-mail campaign. Would you like to join us?" he asked.

"No, I -- I have something else I have to do."

Again, Adam nodded. His eyes narrowed as he regarded her coldly. "Fine."

Desperate to defuse his suspicions, Julia forced a smile. "But I want to hear about your strategy. Will Danny and I see you tonight, for dinner? I'll cook. . . ."

"No, I'll be busy here. Don't wait up."

With that, he turned his back on her and stalked away.

The park was a small one, just a patch of grass and four stone benches. Julia saw her ex-husband before he saw her. He sat on one of the benches, tossing crumbs to eager pigeons. In ten years, he'd aged about two decades. Julia noted the tell-tale ravages of alcohol in the dirty creases etched into his forehead and the yellowish-brown bags under his eyes. He wore a clean suit, at least, but the cuffs were frayed and his shoes scuffed.