The Candidate's Wife (9 page)

Adam's eyes widened and his jaw tensed. He shot her a look of outrage, but, there in front of an audience, he could do nothing except force a smile and turn calmly back to his cheering audience. "My wife," he said, and Julia suspected she was the only one who caught the hint of irony in his tone. "Isn't she wonderful?"

Julia managed to nod, smile, and lead Danny back to their table. Her son dug into the
crème
brulee, but Julia sat stunned as Adam launched into his speech. She barely heard the words of the speech she'd helped Adam prepare. Her blood still roared in her ears. Perhaps she'd gone too far, but he'd pushed the boundaries, too. Of course, Adam's kiss had been pure performance, without an ounce of real affection or desire. But it had felt genuine enough.

Julia sighed and struggled to concentrate on Adam's words. It wasn't difficult, actually. He was one of the most accomplished speakers she'd ever heard, even better now as he drew on the crowd's energy. Julia had watched clips of his televised speeches, but seeing Adam in person lent an extra dimension to his skill.

She wondered how he would do at the two debates scheduled before the election. Julia suspected Adam would tear Governor Norris to shreds. In fact, Adam might need to tone down his quick, sometimes brutal wit, or he'd turn Norris into an object of sympathy. . . .

The end of Adam's speech and the crowd's thunderous standing ovation cut into Julia's thoughts. Danny bounced up from his seat. "Mom? Can I go talk to Mr. Green?"

Julia nodded. Her son had struck up an instant friendship with the senator's campaign manager. She watched Danny go, then settled back in her chair with
a
sigh. She wasn't looking forward to her next encounter with Adam.

"Mrs. Carmichael?"

Julia turned around in her seat. A pudgy, pasty-faced man in his mid-twenties stood behind her. He wore a press badge clipped to his breast pocket and clutched a skinny notebook.

Immediately wary, Julia crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes?"

"I'm Howard Jenkins, of the Times. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Julia frowned and shook her head. Even she wasn't green enough to make the error of speaking to a reporter. "I'm sorry, that's not possible. You'll have to contact Tom Brannon, our communications director."

The reporter's eyes narrowed unpleasantly. "Tom's pretty close-mouthed when I mention your name."

Julia shrugged. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I can't help you."

Jenkins lowered his voice. His tone was confiding, but also slightly confrontational. "Mrs. Carmichael, there's some talk that your marriage is -- well, rather nontraditional. Some of my sources say you didn't even know the senator before last week. Is that true?"

Julia struggled to keep her expression bland, but her insides twisted nervously. "No comment. Now, if you don't mind --"

He leaned closer. "Mrs. Carmichael, you'd better believe I'm going to find out what's going on here. I'll be watching every move you and your 'husband' make. I think I understand your game, and when I can prove it --"

"Mr. Jenkins. How nice to see you again." Adam materialized behind Julia and caught her arm in a vise-like grip. He spoke with a smile on his face, but his silky-smooth voice failed to conceal a dangerous edge. "I hope you're not bothering my wife."

The reporter blanched and took a step back. "No, sir, of course not. Just trying to get my questions answered."

"In that case, you can call my office tomorrow." Adam pulled Julia tight against him. She felt the coiled anger in his body, and hoped it was aimed at the reporter rather than at her.

Incongruously, Adam flashed
his
most charming smile. Before she could protest, his lips brushed her cheek. Confusion and desire coursed through her veins. "I hope you'll excuse us, Mr. Jenkins," Adam said. "My bride and I are eager to spend some time alone, as you can well imagine."

"Sure, I understand," the reporter said. He looked flustered and intimidated by Adam's towering presence, but he watched them go with a sullen expression. Julia felt certain that she hadn't seen the last of him.

Adam pulled her away to a semi-private corner of the room. Again, his fingers tightened on her upper arm. "Where's Danny?" he demanded.

"He's with Phil, over there by the podium. Adam, you're hurting me."

He relaxed his grip, but his eyes still flashed dangerously as he moved closer and nuzzled her cheek. Julia shivered as his mouth approached her ear and his warm breath teased the strands of hair that fell forward onto her face. But his words were not the words of a lover. "What did you tell that reporter?"

Julia pulled away. "Nothing!" The single, furious word drew stares. She took a deep breath, pasted on a smile, and lowered her voice. "I didn't tell him anything."

Adam glowered at her. "Don't lie to me, Julia. I saw the two of you talking. You looked pretty cozy for a minute there."

Although his distrust made her blood boil, Julia forced herself to remain calm. "I said 'No comment,' Adam. That's all."

He relaxed a fraction, but he kept hold of her arm. "Do me a favor. Stay away from reporters altogether, will you?"

Again, Julia forced herself to speak calmly. "All right, Adam. On one condition."

His brows made a questioning arch. "It's a little late to impose new conditions on this deal, but I'll see what I can do. Let's hear it."

"I want you to stop kissing me. I -- I hate it!"

Adam stared down at her for a long moment. Hurt and disillusionment flitted so quickly across his face that she thought she must have imagined them. Adam's expression settled into anger. "I'm sorry that you find my kisses so distasteful, sweetheart, but I don't have a choice," he snapped. "Didn't you
hear that reporter? We're being watched every moment. I'm fighting for my political life here. So I'll keep on kissing you, Julia, because I have to, not because I want to. And don't you ever -- ever -- bite me again!"

Julia rolled her lower lip between her teeth as she fought back tears of rage. She could no longer control her emotions, or the angry retort that slipped from her mouth. "You'll do what you have to do, then. But I'm warning you, Adam. Don't threaten me, and don't push me too far, or else I'll make sure you regret it."

Adam's cold glare made her almost wish she could take the harsh words back, but pride prevented her from doing so. Instead she whirled and stalked away, still trembling with fury.

It was nearly midnight before Adam, having shaken the last hand and accepted the last campaign contribution, slipped quietly into his darkened hotel room. Phil had booked two connecting rooms, one for Danny and the other for Adam and Julia to share. Adam was grateful to see double beds this time. His back still ached from his night on the couch in the honeymoon suite.

Julia slept in the far bed, leaving the other for Adam. He'd be glad to get back to his private apartment in the city. Julia could take the bedroom next to his, and no one would be the wiser.

Adam tiptoed past the door to Danny's room, which stood ajar. He couldn't contain a smile as he noted that the boy still slept with a Mickey Mouse nightlight. In the light's faint golden glow, Adam could just make out a dark head burrowed into a pillow. As Adam watched, Danny stirred, then rolled over, flinging one pajama-clad arm to hang over the side of the bed. The boy's mouth fell open and he mumbled something unintelligible.

Adam felt an unexpected jolt of tenderness as he watched the sleeping child. He would have to try harder to befriend the boy, maybe even buy him a few surprise gifts to supplement the video game machine. A puppy, a telescope. . .what did 10-year-old boys like these days? At Danny's age, Adam had wanted -- what?

He scowled suddenly as unwelcome memories flooded back. At 10, he'd wanted a father -- not the stiff, distant, preoccupied Governor Carmichael, but a real father who would teach him to fish or help him with his school work or even reprimand him for failing to eat his vegetables. Now, nearly three decades later, Adam still felt the haunting ache of old loneliness, the pain of a child who has never known his father. He clenched his fists at his side. Angrily, he fought down the surging tide of emotion. He had no time for trips down memory lane, not with two speeches in the morning and his mother's party the next night.

"Adam? Is that you?"

Julia's whispered words drew Adam's attention away from the doorway and the slumbering boy. "It's me. Go back to sleep."

Instead, she propped herself up on her elbows and snapped on the lamp above her head. Her clean-scrubbed face glowed in the soft light. Her lips were an inviting pink as they curved into a tentative smile. She'd either forgotten their argument or hoped for a reconciliation. "How did it go tonight?" she asked.

Still smarting from their angry exchange in the reception hall, Adam gave her a frown and a curt shrug. "Phil was pleased. Our money worries aren't over, but we've chased the wolf from the door for another week or so. "

Julia sat up. As she did so, the bedspread fell away. The nightgown she wore was new, cut from pale shimmering silk, and it dipped low enough to reveal the enticing shadow between her breasts. She'd washed her hair, which now hung in dark, damp waves around her bare shoulders. With her heart-shaped face, widow's peak, and pale, almost translucent skin, Julia reminded him of the women in a Pre-
Raphaelite painting: romantic, dreamy, ethereal, like a sensual angel come to earth. His heart slammed against his ribcage. Why had he ever thought her plain? She was beautiful beyond words.

She was also strictly off limits.

She'd made that perfectly clear after his speech, when -- with fire in her eyes and grim distaste twisting pretty mouth -- she'd told him how much she hated his kisses. Adam disliked their public kisses, too, but only because they stirred his body and made him ache for more. All day, he'd longed to feel Julia's lips part under the pressure of his as he tasted the silken recesses of her mouth. It was obvious, however, that Julia nursed no such hot-blooded fantasies. Her final words had also shattered any illusion that he could trust her. As he remembered her threat about "making him regret it", his frown deepened.

Julia seemed to read his mind. "Adam, what I said tonight -- I didn't mean -- I wouldn't do anything to damage your campaign." Remorse shone in her indigo eyes, which suddenly brimmed with tears. "I was angry, that's all."

He tore his eyes from her all-too-tempting body. "Fine. Apology accepted." He cleared his throat. "Maybe I got carried away, too. Let's just forget it." Without meeting her eyes, he headed for the bathroom. "Good night, Julia. No need to keep the light on. I can find my way around just fine without it."

"All right," she said softly, as she reached out and turned off the lamp. "Good night, Adam."

He switched on the bathroom light, then glanced back at Julia. She lay with her luxurious dark hair spread across her pillow, her cheeks flushed, her exquisite curves clearly defined by her silk gown. As he watched, she rolled onto her side, so he could see only her back, and squirmed to get more comfortable. Damn, but her innocent movements were distracting!

He glanced away and firmly closed the bathroom door behind himself. He found he couldn't get that final image of Julia out of his mind. It felt burned into his brain: her slender shoulders, nipped-in waist, and the sensuous curve of her hip under the thin bedspread. As he began to undress, the picture tormented him. He ached to join her on the bed, to reveal more of the creamy skin under that sexy nightgown, to claim her and hear her sounds of pleasure. Would she remain prim and proper, or let herself go, moaning and crying out as he made love to her?

Adam let out a low, ironic chuckle of amusement and discomfort as he unknotted his tie. He wanted his wife, more than he'd ever wanted any woman, and yet he couldn't have her.

He'd desired plenty of women in his life, and found the majority of them willing to spend a night in his bed. Once he claimed a woman's body, however, she invariably lost whatever hold she'd had over him. He rarely went back for a second night of pleasure. He wasn't proud of his track record, but, on the other hand, he never made promises he couldn't keep.

He loosened his tie and pulled it free from his collar. Would a night with Julia help him put her out of his mind? But he didn't dare play his usual games with Julia. She held too much power over him now, and he couldn't afford to alienate her. Besides, she didn't seem the type to be satisfied with a little fun, no strings attached. Julia would want more. Adam had never given his heart to any woman, ever. He wasn't about to start now.

Adam unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. He needed a shower, and preferably a long, cold one. Even that age-old masculine remedy for lust, he suspected, wouldn't help him fall asleep so near a woman who ignited a fire in his groin and made his body throb with longing.

If it was more than that -- more than plain, old-fashioned lust he felt for Julia -- he sure as hell didn't want to think about it.

Three days passed, three days during which Adam barely spoke to Julia. In fact, he barely saw her. With the campaign entering its final three weeks, Adam buried himself in work. He kept his head stuffed full of focus groups, campaign commercials, slogans, bank balances, and voting records. He made speeches, granted interviews, and raised money with a ferocious energy that surprised even his campaign staff. Every ounce of his strength, meanwhile, went into the task of forgetting how much he wanted Julia.