Bishop (Political Royalty Book 3) (11 page)

“Where to this morning?” she asked, sliding into the backseat beside him.

The screen was already up between them and the driver and he barely waited for the door to close before he reached for her hand. It was the only physical contact they’d allowed themselves since they arrived in South Carolina and then only in the safety of his car, behind the tinted windows. But just the touch of his hand on hers, his fingertips rubbing circles over her palm, was enough to send her heart racing the way it had when she was a teenager and making out was everything.

“Morning, beautiful,” said Walker, the melted caramel of his rich Southern drawl warming her. “I thought we’d stick with the classics. IHOP, if it’s okay with you.”

“Dessert that counts as breakfast? Absolutely.”

He shifted on the smooth leather seat until his thigh rested against hers. They’d spend the rest of the day going in a thousand different directions but here in the back of his car, his body created a warm, steady presence, anchoring her in the midst of the crazy. Later, when everything went to shit, which it inevitably did over the course of the campaign, she’d have this time—these few stolen moments—to draw on. She felt the warmth of his hand, so different from hers, fingers twined as they built a sanctuary for each other, one moment at a time.

Too soon the black SUV pulled into the parking lot of the IHOP and she let go of Walker’s hand. They’d never talked about it and she knew his security detail would keep their secret, but he never pushed it. He never gave them an excuse to think she was anything other than his campaign manager—no matter what they might suspect. She knew without asking it was part of the promise he’d made to protect her. His detail wouldn’t talk, but if they knew she’d slept with their boss, they’d think less of her. Walker made sure it never became an issue.

The driver opened her side, while the other security guy opened the senator’s. The parking lot was still mostly empty, the glow of the halogen streetlights competing with the early dawn light. By the time they finished breakfast, it would be full light, but for now the cool, gray morning wrapped around them as if it were somehow part of creating the space that was just for the two of them. In an abundance of caution she still had trouble getting used to, one of Walker’s guys led the way into the restaurant while the other held the door and followed behind.

She felt Walker’s presence behind her, urging her through the door, but he wouldn’t touch her, not even something as benign as a hand on the small of her back. They’d had breakfast in public, the candidate and his campaign manager, every morning since they arrived in South Carolina. They shuttled their breaking dawn meeting between the few places open that early and they never crossed a line. They never even got close. Anyone watching them would assume they were planning and talking business. They couldn’t know they never spoke about the campaign and that this short hour alone together was the best part of Haven’s day, the thing she looked forward to the most every single day.

The hostess gave Walker a surprisingly warm smile considering the hour—but not considering the man—and ushered them to a booth. The security guys took a table a few rows away, but with the exception of a couple of people propped up at the counter sucking back coffee, there was no one in the restaurant to protect them from.

Haven ordered some kind of pancake concoction that came stuffed with bananas and chocolate chips and covered with whipped cream, and a cup of hot tea. When she glanced from the waitress to Walker, she caught him smiling at her with a warmth that tightened her chest and made it hard to breathe for a moment.

“Did you ever see that chipmunk movie?” he asked after he’d ordered bacon, eggs, and a stack of plain pancakes.

“On cable,” she said, reluctant to admit she’d watched an hour and a half of the singing furry rats without the excuse of children to absolve her.

“I keep expecting you to go off some day like those chipmunks did when the bad guy got them hopped up on sugar and caffeine.” He laughed a rich, deep sound, and she could tell he was picturing the scene in his head but with her in the place of the rats.

“I’m not sure how to feel about that,” she said, eyeing him while he continued to laugh. “But I’m pretty sure offended has a place in there somewhere.”

“No, I like it. It gives everything a slight edge. Like is this the final bit of sugar that will set you off kind of thing.”

“Shut up.” She reached for the sugar dispenser to sweeten her tea and hesitated.

When she glanced up to see if he was still watching, he arched an eyebrow at her over the rim of his thick, white coffee mug. His dark eyes crinkled at the edge with the grin he wasn’t working that hard to hide. In his gaze, she could see his kindness, his intelligence, his desire to serve. His desire for her. She loved him. It was as indisputable as the tides. It would be easier for all of them if she didn’t and if he didn’t love her back, but she could see the truth of it reflected in his eyes. Since she couldn’t say half the things she wanted to, she settled for rolling her eyes and spooning sugar into her tea.

“I bet I could get Travis to put money on it.”

“God, you must have been a pain in the ass as a kid.”

“You have no idea.” He took a swallow of coffee and smiled more to himself than to her. “My brother and I were hellions. Independently, either of us was a handful, but together we were evil geniuses with an empire to rule. Drove my poor momma crazy.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said, taking a sip of her tea.

It was hard to imagine Emmaline Walker having the patience to chase after two dirty, rambunctious little boys. She’d read the background research on Anderson Walker, but that had been for the campaign. She knew Walker’s younger brother had gotten in more than his fair share of trouble, but she’d been looking at him in the context of what could come crawling out of the woodwork to bite them in the ass, not as the brother of the man she loved.

“Anderson was the worst.”

It was her turn to arch an eyebrow.

“He was, but he was also the baby, so he mostly got a free pass.”

He paused as the waitress approached, waiting until she set their plates in front of them and offered to get them anything else they needed. Her expression made it clear the offer extended much farther in Walker’s direction than Haven’s. Haven took a forkful of whipped cream drizzled with chocolate syrup and popped it in her mouth, closing her eyes in pleasure as the rich sweetness melted on her tongue.
It really was wrong to call something that tasted so good breakfast. Dessert at dawn made more sense.
She glanced up, intending to explain it to Walker, but the heat in his expression stopped her in her place.

“What?” she asked, taking a swallow of tea to mask the tremor in her voice.

His gaze raked over her as demanding as a touch, and her breath hitched in anticipation. He shook his head and she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Walker cut off a chunk of pancake with his fork and turned his attention to his food. The lure of chocolate chips made it easy for her to follow his lead and for a few moments, they concentrated on breakfast, ignoring the heat arcing between them.

“Are you and Anderson still close?”

They hadn’t played the get-to-know each other games most couples started with when they began dating. Instead, they’d skipped dating altogether and jumped straight to the skeletons in the closet conversation. The only things she knew about his family were in the context of how they related to the campaign. She wanted to know everything about him. What it was like growing up in politics. How often he saw his brother and sister. It’s not like she ever expected to be invited to a Walker family get-together, but for an hour in the morning, she wanted to replace the candidate she’d studied with the man she loved.

“Close enough, I guess,” he said, continuing to make a sizable dent in his breakfast. “He’s got his thing—mostly racing cars and chasing women—and I’ve got mine.” He made an encompassing motion with his hand, and she smiled at the understatement. “We don’t really get together to hang out, but I love it when I get to see him. Him and my sister.”

Haven’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She fought the temptation to ignore the interruption, but they were already forty-five minutes into an hour neither of them could really afford.

“Go ahead,” said Walker, reading her dilemma.

She pulled the phone out of her bag and glanced down to see Justin’s face smiling back at her. Ignoring the sliver of guilt that ripped through her, she answered.

“Are you watching this?” He jumped in without preamble.

“Watching what?”

“The news. Turn it on. Where are you? You weren’t asleep,” he said rapid-fire, an edge of uncertainty creeping into his voice.

“I’m at IHOP. There’s no TV.”

“God, I love those stuffed pancakes.”

“What’s going on, Justin?” she asked, her concern morphing into frustration.

“It’s Jenson. He’s suspending.”

“It’s about damn time. Jenson’s tapping out,” she said to Walker.

“Is the senator with you?”

She ignored the recrimination in his voice. They’d earned it.

“Yes.”

The other end of the line went quiet and she decided to wait him out. She wasn’t about to make excuses for having breakfast, and she didn’t need to justify her feelings to Justin. He already knew.

“Call me after you have a chance to see it,” he finally said. “I’m still not sure why he thought the ass-crack of dawn was a good time to make the announcement.”

“You’re an hour earlier. The sun’s already up here. This way he’ll own the morning shows and maybe the day if nothing else comes up.” If it was a slow news cycle, they’d replay clips of the announcement all day long.

“Find a TV and call me, please. When you’re alone.” He hung up without waiting for a response.

By the time she ended the call, Walker had already signaled for the check. He dropped some bills on the table and stood, waiting for her to scoot out of the booth.

“It’s about time the crazy old bastard got out,” he said when they were back in the privacy of the SUV.

He’d taken her hand in his, but it was impossible to ignore the world around them when it was pounding on the door.

“It makes my job easier,” she said. Even with
Babygate
, the governor had never really been a viable threat, but she was glad to be able to narrow her focus.

The trip back to the office went faster than she wanted. Half of her brain raced ahead, plotting strategy for the new set of variables in the race. The other half clung to the last few remaining minutes with Walker, not ready for their time alone together to be over. She squeezed his hand and he smiled at her. The driver pulled the car into the parking garage and Haven felt the outside world start to press in on them.

“I love you,” said Walker.

“I love you, too.”

Letting go of his hand, she got out of the car and headed toward the elevator and her office upstairs, grabbing the baton in the race for the presidency.

––––––––

S
ITTING IN THE narrow chair just outside his editor’s office, Matt caught himself as he bounced his crossed leg. The meeting was going to be bad enough. No reason to give Jen the additional ammunition of realizing how nervous he was. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. While Becca flew across the country with the campaign he was supposed to be covering, he’d been called to the
Tribune
’s Washington office for what he expected would be a come-to-Jesus meeting.

Walker’s people got the assault charges dropped, but thanks to a phone call while he was laid up in the hospital to find out his in case of emergency person, he knew the paper knew something happened. Anything they didn’t already know, Jen would do her best to ferret out of him. He smoothed a hand over his pants, shifting in the chair so they wouldn’t wrinkle. Lack of clean laundry and a desire to soften up his editor led to the gray dress pants and white, polished cotton shirt. He’d almost gone for a tie, but she’d never buy that. He’d opted instead for leaving his collar button open and cuffing the sleeves. Professional but approachable. Just the kind of guy she’d want to keep working for the paper. Although keeping him waiting outside her office instead of in it the way she usually did sent a decidedly different message.

The door opened and he hurried to his feet. A pretty blonde came out of the door, pausing just long enough to shake Jen’s hand. He didn’t recognize her and under other circumstances, he’d have put some energy into his smile. Instead, all he could do was hope she wasn’t his replacement.

“Come on in, Matt.” The corner of Jen’s lips turned up in the faintest of smiles and she nodded, acknowledging the effort he’d made. “Close the door and sit down.” She motioned to his customary seat beside her desk. The seat where he normally waited for her to acknowledge him when he was tight on a deadline or wanted something.

“It’s good to see you. The trip home makes a nice break before I have to get back on that bus.” It was a lie but if he kept talking about the campaign as if he were still covering it, hopefully it would be true. “I actually slept in my own bed last night.” That part was true. He’d gotten in too late to go looking for company, but her expression told him she didn’t believe it.

“Looks like you need to do some laundry too,” she said, glancing at his clothes.

Damn.
He’d known she’d see through him but hopefully she could still appreciate the effort. He gave her a grin and relaxed a fraction of an inch when she returned his smile.

“What happened in Arizona?”

He opened his mouth and then closed it again, trying to figure out the best way to answer her. An outright lie wouldn’t work, but there was no way he’d tell her the whole truth. He needed to thread the needle somewhere between.

“I ran into a little bit of trouble,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if it were no big deal.

She arched an eyebrow and waited for him to hang himself. She might be an editor now, but she started as a beat reporter. She had her own arsenal of tools to use to get someone to talk.