Authors: Barbara Delinsky
“Tell me about yourself, Dr.—it’s Daran, isn’t it?”
While she would have preferred a less personal and more relevant topic of discussion, she was in no mood to fight. “Yes.” The formal appellation did seem strange. Much as she had earned the title, she had never quite been able to see herself as a doctor, albeit of philosophy.
“How did you get such an unusual name?” For a lean man, he ate quickly and heartily. Now, as he sat back to watch her pick at her salad, she wondered whether he had skipped breakfast or whether he had simply been too busy showering smiles on an adoring gathering to indulge in the fare offered.
With a deep breath to rid herself of this persistent cynicism, she explained. “My mother wanted Karen, my father Donna. Somehow Daran was the end result.” It was a frequently asked question, one whose answer invariably led to others, as was the case now.
“Did your parents settle every difference as satisfactorily?” The strange phrasing, or perhaps it was the very subtle edge to his words, made an impression on her. But that analysis was for another time. For now he had asked a question and deserved an answer.
“I don’t really know. My father died in an accident when I was a small child. I don’t remember him very clearly.”
Sharp silver eyes studied her closely. “Does it bother you to talk about it?”
Blushing under his scrutiny, she shrugged. “No. But there’s not much to say. My mother remarried soon after and my father became a very vague memory.”
“You’re from Cleveland, aren’t you?”
A dark eyebrow arched. “So you did check up on me.”
There was mischief on his face when he grinned, as well as a touch of guilt that she felt, against her will, was endearing. “It’s part of my job. I have to know the kind of people with whom I’m dealing. You appear to have led a relatively stable life—no great traumas, nothing approaching the scandalous, everything coming up roses.” The gist of the conversation made her choke on her lettuce. A small cough and a sip of water later, she struggled to still the shaking of her knees. Obviously his researchers had not dug deep enough, though, Lord knows, everything had been done at the time to ensure silence. Did she have Bill to thank for that? she wondered spitefully. To her chagrin, her face reflected these innermost thoughts.
“Are you all right?” he asked, strangely concerned. “You look as though you pricked yourself on one of those roses.”
“Very perceptive,” she mumbled beneath her breath, suddenly all appetite having vanished. “But we didn’t come here to discuss roses, did we?” It would be much safer to discuss the Child Advocacy Project, she reasoned, as she put down her fork and sat back in her seat, feigning a relaxation she was far from feeling.
“Do you enjoy living in Connecticut?” Strong, bronze fingers twirled the stem of an empty wineglass, as his own state of relaxation appeared to be maddeningly genuine.
“Yes. It’s a beautiful state.”
“What brought you here from San Francisco?”
Jolted again by the span of his knowledge of her, Daran sensed that he was testing her. Poise under fire was the key, if such was the case. Assuming that he was ignorant of her time with Bill, he could do absolutely nothing to intimidate her.
“A job.”
“Did you need the work?”
“Now,” she chided in a voice laden with mock sternness, “weren’t you the one who said I was loaded?”
He cleared his throat in amusement. “That was before I saw your car. It’s quite a collector’s item.”
“It runs.” He could mock most anything but her car; it had seen her through many things and it got her where she wanted to go.
“But you didn’t need the money, since you live in Simsbury. Your address has a fine ring about it.”
Suddenly defensive, she explained. “It belonged to a friend of the family. When I decided to move east, I was given the use of the place. I’m actually renting it.”
With a slight shake of his sandy head and a short wave of his hand, the senator dismissed her explanation. “That’s not my business. But I would like to know why you work as hard as you do. I’m told that you have irrepressible energy. Actually—” he grinned “—you’d make an excellent politician’s wife, if that is the case.”
“
Never!
” The force of her denial took the senator completely off guard, wiping the grin from his lips. Then, as quickly as the explosion fused, it fizzled. Biting her lip, her composure was negligible. Mercifully the waiter brought coffee at that moment, giving her the extra time to recover. Why the discussion had centered on herself, she could not fathom; but she vowed to remedy the situation.
“How about you, Senator. Have you been a lifelong resident of Connecticut? You’ll have to excuse me,” she tacked on another thought, “but I don’t have the staff for research that you do, and since I haven’t been here that long, I haven’t followed your family history.” Praying that her words did not hold the hint of disdain that shadowed her thoughts, she awaited his response.
For a moment it appeared that he would refuse to answer. His eye held a lazy glint, his mouth a harder line. He studied her for something, yet she could not, for the life of her, know what. Eventually he straightened, added milk and sugar to his coffee with a hand whose blond hairs sparkled, then eyed her with full sincerity. There was neither mockery nor humor. As she had been warned, the eye contact was direct; she would believe anything he told her.
“My family goes back several generations in this state. Politics seems to be inbred. My grandfather was in the House of Representatives, my father in the Governor’s chair. The Senate is a first for the family.” As he spoke, inner concentration seemed to take him from her to some distant place.
Her own words surprised her. “You must feel proud of your own accomplishments.”
Slowly he returned to the present. “There is always something else to do. It may seem a very glamorous job to the outsider, but I’ve never worked as hard in my life. But, yes, there is that inner reward when something you work for becomes law.”
“Are your parents here in the state?” For some reason she found herself curious about the man. Perhaps it was the psychologist in her; perhaps it was the memory of that kiss that the man within the senator had bestowed. Regardless, the question popped out.
Drew’s voice grew softer. “My father still lives here. My mother died many years ago. Politics did not agree with her.” It was a simple statement, but one which carried a wealth of meaning. Daran was frankly surprised that he had made it to her, a relative stranger. It was as though, in the intimacy of this small restaurant, all would be sealed within when lunch was over. This was an isolated interlude, a change of pace for them both. As she looked now at the face across the narrow table, the wear and tear of ten years of public life was clearly visible. There were laugh lines aplenty radiating from the corners of his eyes, shadows of the ever-present smile around his mouth. And the forehead which nobly bore that boyish swath of sandy-brown hair also bore its share of worry lines. For a fleeting moment she felt unexpected sympathy, for him—until she caught herself and staggered back to reality. No one had drafted him; he had enlisted, then fought hard to land the job. There were more than enough side benefits of his position to compensate for the headaches it entailed. The truly sad thing was what it could do to others in its wake.
“Your reputation is a fine one, from what I hear. Several of my neighbors have raved about the work you did in the House on that hazardous waste-disposal bill. How many terms were you a representative?” Her return to a more formal discussion succeeded in recharging the conversation as it sidestepped a potentially delicate matter.
His eyes acknowledged her tactic; his smile approved of it. “I served three terms—six years in all.”
“What made you decide to run for the Senate?” Unconsciously she licked her dry lower lip. His gaze flickered toward her tongue for a split second before returning to her amber eyes.
“The Senate is the upper house,” he shrugged. “It seemed the natural thing to do.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” she accused softly, impulsively. “Your reputation is based on your sense of conviction, not any tendency to go along for the ride.” Realizing her impertinence, she lowered her eyes apologetically.
Perked up by her challenge, he sat forward, his voice gentle. “Please don’t hesitate to say what’s on your mind. This is perhaps the most candid discussion I’ve had along these lines in … too long. And as for your sentiment, you are right.” Conviction, that very thing she had dangled before him, placed an indelible mark on his words. “I ran for the Senate because I felt that there were broader matters, matters relating to laws which affected the entire country, to which I could make a viable contribution. The responsibility was greater; rather than being one of six representatives, I would be one of two senators. Rather than being up for reelection every two years, I could spend more time
doing
and less time campaigning.” He looked sharply off to the side, again in a daydream. “I’ve long been in favor of a six-year, single-term presidency for that very reason. A man has to be free of that ever-present tug-of-war between conscience and constituent if he is to accomplish anything.”
Daran had gotten more than she’d bargained for, and she was fascinated. The unbridled intrigue suffused in her expression must have struck a humorous chord in Drew, for, as quickly as he had grown serious, once again he slipped into easy banter.
“You’re not taking notes on this, are you?” A tawny brow lifted to offset the twist of his lips in amusement. “Is there a reporter lurking beneath that lovely cascade of chocolate curls, or an incipient psychoanalytical genius waiting in the wings to study the loathsome legislative mind?” There was a note of truth in his teasing; he must have sensed her disdain for the political breed. With every attempt to cover her lapse, she laughed aloud, shaking those same curls of which he had spoken.
“No, I’m just me, the intelligent, dedicated, and sometimes nosy child psychologist.” Actually, at that point, Daran began to wonder exactly which me was sitting so comfortably and complacently over this leisurely lunch, when so many critical issues were running out of time. What had happened to her cause? As a spokeswoman, she had bottomed out. Where was the sharp tongue that had brought the senator here in the first place?
The long arm across from her flexed as the gold watch made a menacing appearance. Again her thoughts were on the table. “It looks like we’ve got to be running. John won’t be able to hold those men off for too much longer.” As he spoke, he motioned to the owner with his hand, extracted a sum of money from his pocket—to her surprise—and paid the bill in full, leaving a generous tip for the waiter before escorting Daran back to her car. Once inside, he headed for the headquarters where the insurance seminar was to be held.
“I thought you didn’t have any money on you.” She cast a sidelong glance at the features, rugged now in profile as he drove.
“It’s a standard joke between John and me. There are those legislators who never carry a dime. For some reason they have the gall to expect others to pick up the tab. But then, one finds strange personalities in Washington, D.C., let me tell you.”
In a moment of flashback, her “I can imagine” was an understatement. Bill was the strangest, most unpredictable, most irresponsible, most despicable … the list went on and on. But to what point? It was over and done. Washington could have him!
All too soon, though she couldn’t understand why, the car pulled up before a large granite structure that dominated the western fringe of downtown Hartford.
“Well, Daran.” He turned in his seat, with the little leeway the small foreign car allowed, and faced her. “Thank you for a very enjoyable meeting.”
“Meeting?” she coughed out incredulously, overrun with guilt at how unlike a meeting it had been. What was she ever going to say to the advisory board of the Project when it met next week? “We didn’t get much of a chance to discuss your bill, or my project, for that matter.”
“It was still a very productive meeting.”
“Is that what you people call it—very productive?”
“Now, now,” he scolded with a teasing half-smile. “That cynicism is showing again. The least you could do is to go into this with an open mind.”
Amber eyes widened in bemusement. “Into what?”
But her query went unheeded. With a glance over her shoulder and out the window, Drew climbed fluidly from the car and guided her around to the driver’s side. Then, leaning down to talk for a moment longer, he was all business, the smooth-talking senator from Connecticut. “We’ll discuss it more another time.” He shot a second glance toward the building, then went quickly on. “Do me a favor? Between now and then, write out everything you think is wrong with the bill. List the pluses too. I want everything in fine detail. I’ll get back to you within the next week.” The orders flew fast from the tongue of this imperial commander. Knowingly he stemmed her imminent protest with an unexpected and seemingly irrelevant question. “When is commencement this year?”
Frowning in puzzlement, she searched her jumbled mind for the date. “The twenty-third of May, I think.”
“Good. Plan to be in Washington the following week.”
“But I can’t go to Washington!”
“The first trip will be an introductory one. I want you to meet the staff,” he continued, ignoring her outcry. “Then we can plot the rest of the summer.”
“I won’t go to Washington!” The slight change in her choice of words was an honest one. Yes, she
could
certainly go to Washington if she wished. With the semester over, the time would be open. But she did not wish it, therefore she
would
not go.
The gray eyes that bore into her carried a deliberate challenge as he leaned closer and lowered his voice to a more intimate drawl. “You’ll be there.” Then he rounded the front of the car and bounded up the steps of the building.
“I’m not going to Washington!” she yelled, leaning across the seat to the open window on the curb side. But the broad back receded and the senatorial ears never heard. At the top of the steps three other men waited to envelop this central figure and usher him into the building to face the roomful of eager constituents, his public.