The Candidate's Wife (2 page)

Which was precisely the problem, unfortunately. He had no one but himself to blame for his current, undeniably awkward position. Adam gritted his teeth in annoyance as he gestured to a burgundy leather wingback chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat, Ms. Moore."

Her eyes were wide and frightened as she settled onto the edge of the chair. "T-thank you, Senator. I just want to tell you how much -- I mean, your welfare reform bill was one of the most -- I really believe that the future of this state belongs in your hands."

As color flooded her creamy skin and emphasized her high cheekbones, Adam chuckled in disbelief. She was actually blushing, and it made her look more than passably attractive. Adam was touched. His cynicism didn't run so deep that he couldn't appreciate her admiration. "Thank you," he said. "It's not often I hear such enthusiasm from a campaign worker. Most people in your profession are already pretty jaded. Now from a college student, maybe. . . ."

She flushed again and squirmed in her chair. "Maybe I do sound naive, Senator, but I thought you should know that I believe in what you're trying to do."

"I didn't mean to insult you." Adam treated her to his trademark grin, the slow, sexy smile that regularly melted hearts, won votes, and drew women like a half-price sale at a shoe store. His head still buzzed with anger and resentment, but he was more than adept at hiding his true feelings. "I find your enthusiasm refreshing. I really do." He glanced at his oldest friend and most trusted adviser. "I think you'd better drop the blinds, Phil. We've got a lot to discuss, and I'd like to do it without providing any further entertainment for my staff."

Julia's delicate brows shot up. She shifted her gaze from Adam's face to Phil's and then back again "What's this all about, Senator Carmichael? If I've done something wrong -- "

Again, he gave her his most dazzling smile as he struggled to keep his frustration in check. He could still hardly believe what he was about to do. "Call me Adam, please, and try to relax. Let's get to know each other a little better, shall we? I'll get to the point soon enough, I promise."

Julia nodded and slid back in her chair, but her expression remained wary. As she used her front teeth to worry her lower lip, Adam suddenly wondered what it would feel like to take her heart-shaped face in his hands and kiss that generous mouth until she relaxed enough to kiss him back. The impulse surprised him. Julia wasn't as plain as he'd first thought, but it was clear that he'd been working too hard. He picked up a gold pen from his otherwise empty desk and struggled to concentrate on the task at hand. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about your background? Phil says you have a political science degree from State."

"Yes, that's right. Two, actually -- a bachelor's and
masters
." She was twisting her fingers in her lap, her knuckles bleached white with anxiety.

Phil finished drawing the blinds, then settled down on one of the adjustable, wheeled chairs set around the office's glass-topped conference table. "As a matter of fact," Phil said, "Professor Manley recommended Julia for the research position. I called him when Georgia Allen resigned three weeks ago."

Adam frowned and quickly rifled through his mental files. He prided himself on his ability to recall names and faces, and his extraordinary memory rarely failed him. It was one of the traits that helped him excel in the political arena. Georgia Allen. Mid-forties, brown hair, glasses -- "Oh, yes. A family emergency, wasn't it? Georgia's mother was ill."

Phil nodded. "Julia's done a great job as her replacement. Remember those unemployment figures you needed last week, at the very last minute?"

Adam glanced at Julia with new respect. He considered himself a tough boss, with little tolerance for incompetence, but he was fair, too, and he admired brilliance. "You found those for me?" Julia nodded. "That was quick work. Those numbers made Governor Norris look like a fool."

Julia shrugged. "That was entirely his own fault. Norris pulled his figures out of thin air, and you caught him. If he'd done his homework, it never would have happened."

She spoke primly, but Adam couldn't miss the pleasure that lit her vivid blue eyes, and he sensed a certain fierce pride in her words. He smiled, sensing a passion for politics that matched his own. "Or if he'd had you on his staff. What other campaigns have you worked for, Julia?"

From the tight angle of Julia's shoulders, Adam could tell she was still nervous, but she answered him confidently. "This is my first job in politics."

He frowned and scanned her face again. Late twenties or early thirties, he guessed, though her severe suit and hairstyle made it hard to tell. "How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I'm 31. I -- I took some time off from college, and then went back part time. I just finished graduate school last spring." Her voice steadied as she continued, and her eyes flashed. "I wrote my thesis on current trends in statewide legislation. I may not have much experience, but I promise you that I'm well qualified for my position."

Adam chuckled at her defensive tone. She looked as if she were ready to take on a grizzly with her bare hands. "Take it easy, Julia. I'm not questioning your qualifications. I just need to know a little more about you. You have a 10-year-old son, is that right?"

Julia threw Phil a startled glance, then turned back to Adam. "Yes, but what does that have to do --"

"And he lives with your mother in a town called Cypress Point?"

Julia nodded. "I couldn't afford -- I mean, my mother's retired. She agreed to look after Danny so that I could take this job. I hope to go home on weekends, when I can."

"A three-hour drive. You must miss him."

Julia simply nodded, but Adam glimpsed the fleeting pain in her eyes, and he'd noticed the hitch in her voice when she said her son's name. She obviously found it difficult to leave her son behind, a fact he would file away for possible future use. He hurried on to his next question. "What about Danny's father?"

This time, Julia scowled openly. "I really don't see what this has to do with --"

Phil scooted his chair forward and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Julia, please. There is a point, I promise."

Slowly, she relaxed. "We're divorced. I have full custody, and Danny's father is -- he's not in the picture."

Adam shifted in his seat. He didn't like children very much, at least not the few spoiled brats he'd met. Still, Phil was right. Julia sounded just about ideal for their purposes. "Tell me about the kid. Is he reasonably photogenic?"

Confusion mixed with surprise on Julia's face. "Is he what?"

Phil laughed and shook his head. "He's adorable, Adam. Julia showed me pictures. Shouldn't we get on with this?"

Yes, it was time to forge ahead, but Adam knew he had to handle things just right. Though, truthfully, he almost hoped she would refuse him. He wasn't sure he could go through with this. It took all of his willpower to go on.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Julia, can I count on your discretion? And your absolute loyalty?" He fixed her with the penetrating stare he used to intimidate annoying lobbyists and members of the opposing party. "If I can't, tell me now."

Julia stared right back and answered with surprising calm. "Yes, you can count on me."

"Good. Phil, show her the video."

Julia watched the television monitor as Phil inserted the videotape and hit the play button. Governor Norris's newest campaign ad flickered to life. The ad featured one montage after another: the governor with his wife and four children, the governor at his daughter's piano recital, the governor tossing a baseball to one of his sons. "Re-elect Governor Jim Norris, The Choice for Families" appeared in huge white letters at the end. Phil hit a button on the remote and the words froze on the screen.

Adam cleared his throat. "Take a look at this," he said, and drew a sheet of paper from the top drawer of his desk. He handed the paper to Julia. Their fingertips brushed. Julia swallowed convulsively and nearly dropped the document. Her hands felt cold and numb. Her mind, meanwhile, worked furiously to figure out Adam's game.

In the arenas of academics and research, Julia had always excelled. Scholarly tomes, footnotes, obscure government documents -- her nimble brain untangled the mysteries of language and politics with ease. But now she felt out of her depth, outmaneuvered, like a pawn in a chess match. She didn't like this new role. She didn't like it at all.

She didn't much like her physical reaction to Adam, either. Despite the fact that she was on her guard, his handshake and welcoming smile had left her breathless. She could still feel his palm as it slid over hers, strong and unexpectedly hardened. His calluses surprised her until she remembered that the Carmichaels raised racehorses, and that Adam loved to ride. His gold-flecked eyes, too, were harder than she'd expected. She saw cool intelligence in his gaze, but little warmth.

"Well? What do you think?" Adam asked. Impatience colored his deep, richly masculine voice.

Julia gave herself a mental shake and glanced at the paper in her hand. Her stomach did a backflip as she took in the latest, confidential polling numbers. Governor Norris suddenly had a lead of almost 15 percent. The last Times poll had showed the candidates evenly splitting the vote. To her relief, she felt her mind slip back into a familiar analytical mode, despite Adam's unsettling nearness.

"What do I think? I think you're in serious trouble," she said, as she scanned the numbers again. To measure the effect of her words, she raised her eyes to Adam's face.

For a moment, his jaw tensed, and a muscle twitched in his cheek. He schooled the sharp planes of his face into a stoic expression, then nodded. "Go on."

Julia took a deep, calming breath. "Well," she said, slowly, "for the past few weeks, Norris has hit the so-called family issues hard. Education, daycare, tax credits for dependents, and so on." Adam and Phil were nodding. She hurried on, more confident now. "With less than a month left until Election Day, Norris is desperate. This commercial tells me that he's about to get personal." Anger burned hotly in the pit of her stomach, and she fixed her gaze on Adam's face. "It doesn't matter that you sponsored the best education bill in decades, and that Norris went and vetoed it. Voters don't look at the record. They see pictures of Governor Norris with his wife and kids, and then they look at you. . . ."

She bit back her next words. An embarrassed flush heated her cheeks. She'd almost made reference to Adam's active social life, combined with his appetite for media publicity. His campaign staff liked to joke that the senator had never met a pretty woman or a press photographer he didn't like.

Phil jumped in to complete Julia's sentence. "They see him with his latest blond bimbo, is what they see." His voice remained as sweet as maple syrup, but Julia detected an expression of disappointment on his lined face.

Adam wheeled on his campaign manager with barely contained fury. "My personal life --"

"-- is everyone's business," Phil finished smoothly. He stood, crossed the room, and gripped the edges of Adam's desk. He leaned across the polished wooden surface to address Adam directly, in a serene but matter-of-fact tone. "Has politics changed since I was your age? Yes. Do you think I like it? No, but it's happened, and there's nothing we can do about it. Your father and grandfather got away with plenty, my boy, as you well know, but they lived in a different age."

He narrowed his eyes and fixed Adam with a wistful stare. "You've got so much potential, Adam. If you win this election there's no telling how far you'll go. I hate to see you throw it all away."

Julia watched the exchange with interest, though she couldn't imagine what it all had to do with her. Adam glowered at his mentor and friend. His blond brows drew together, and he pressed his full, firm mouth into a grim line. Julia shivered, but Phil showed no fear. He seemed to know that Adam posed no threat, despite his thunderous expression.

Phil turned back to Julia. "So, my dear, imagine you're in my shoes. Imagine you need to give your candidate the piece of advice that will turn this thing around. What would you say?"

Surprised by the question, Julia hesitated. It made no sense that Phil would ask her advice. Her expertise was academic, rather than practical. She shrugged and said the first thing that popped into her mind. "I guess -- well, in a hypothetical situation, I'd tell my candidate he ought to get married."

Phil let out a bark of laughter as he returned to his chair. Julia blushed and rushed on, hoping to repair the damage. "I mean, of course, in an ideal world where the candidate was already seeing someone seriously. Unless you're --" She shot Adam a questioning look. According to the tabloids and the office gossip, he had a different woman on his arm every weekend. But maybe. . . .

Adam chuckled, a bitter, sardonic sound. Again, he picked up the gold pen on his desk and toyed with it, his long, slender fingers betraying a restless energy otherwise perfectly contained. "Afraid not. No prospects in sight, and besides, Phil says my taste in women is 'unsuitable'. He has a better idea."

"Oh?" Julia turned to Phil and waited expectantly.

The old man's amused grin deepened the grooves framing his mouth. "I think Adam needs a woman who's mature, serious, and politically knowledgeable. Preferably a woman with a child -- a ready-made family -- and someone who's already loyal to the campaign."