Sam took the garbage bag full of cards to the home she shared with Nick, three doors down Ninth Street from her dad’s place. She had, finally, moved the majority of her clothes and a good chunk of her prized shoe collection into the spare bedroom Nick’s builder friend had made into a closet for her.
The items currently crammed into a storage unit—including the other two-thirds of her shoe collection—would be delivered at a later date. She figured she needed to do this in stages so she wouldn’t overwhelm Nick’s anal-retentive sensibilities with her utter disregard for order.
Celia had saved Sam a ton of time and aggravation by packing up the room she’d occupied at her dad’s since he was shot. No doubt her stepmother was right—without her help, Sam probably would’ve still been living between the two houses years from now.
Approaching the ramp that led to her front door, she glanced back at her dad’s place, wondering if she should’ve stayed to help Celia in case he worsened during the night.
The front door swung open. “Hey, babe,” Nick said. “You coming in?”
Celia had promised to call if she needed help, so Sam tore her eyes off the house down the street and let her husband usher her into their home, a renovated double-sized townhouse he’d bought so she could be near her dad and work. Of course its Capitol Hill location put him in close proximity to his office too.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, taking her coat and hanging it in the closet when Sam would’ve tossed it over the sofa. Why hang it when she’d need it again in the morning?
“I think my dad is sick. He’s all congested and wheezy sounding, and he has a fever.”
“What did Celia say?”
“She’s on it, but I’m worried about pneumonia.”
“And what’s this?” Nick asked, gesturing to the garbage bag full of wedding cards that sat on the floor next to her.
“More well wishes that went to Dad’s house—at least I hope they’re well wishes.”
Nick kissed her forehead and then her lips. “My poor wife’s first day back to work was far more stressful than it should’ve been, wasn’t it?”
She nodded. “And now this with my dad. Maybe I should go back over there. Just in case.”
“If that’s what you want to do, I’ll go with you. We can sleep over there tonight.”
“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”
“I’d rather have you there where you can be near him than watch you wear out a path in the carpet over here worrying about him.”
Sam hadn’t realized she’d been pacing as they talked. She stopped and looped her fingers together, filled with nervous energy. “Sorry. Anything with him totally freaks me out. We’ve been so lucky to get two pretty good years since the shooting. All that time we’ve known how precarious his health is now. A simple cold is anything but for him.”
Nick came to her and put his arms around her. He unclipped her long hair and combed his fingers through her curls. Breathing in the scent of Nick, the scent of home, Sam closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. At times like this, she could no longer remember what it had been like to live without him.
“Sometimes I feel guilty because I’m so grateful he survived the shooting even if I hate the way he has to live now,” she said.
“I think he’s come to terms with it. In his own way.”
“Yeah, but it still sucks.” What really sucked was the case remained unsolved more than two years later, despite ongoing effort by Sam and all of Skip’s former colleagues at the Metropolitan Police Department. “I’m beginning to give up on ever solving his case.”
“You will.”
Sam drew back to look up at him. “You sound awfully sure of that.”
“I’m awfully sure of you.” Keeping his eyes firmly on hers, he lowered his head and captured her mouth.
Sam linked her hands around his neck and teased him with her tongue, making him groan.
“This was the
longest
day,” he said. “I spent most of it missing you and daydreaming about Bora Bora.”
She kept her lips close to his. “Me too.”
His hands found their way to her bottom and squeezed. “How soon until we can go back?”
Sam laughed. “Not soon enough.”
He surprised her when he suddenly lifted her and arranged her legs around his waist. “No reason we can’t relive some of the magic right here at home.”
“Is that so?”
“Mmm-hmm.” His kisses became more urgent as he lowered them to the sofa. “I feel like I’m going through withdrawal or something.”
“Just think,” she said, running her fingers through his hair, “we get to stay on this drug for the rest of our lives.”
“Do you promise the same number of daily doses I received in Bora Bora?”
Sam laughed and brought him down for more of those heated kisses he was doling out.
“So that’s a ‘yes’?”
“You’re rather persistent this evening, Senator.”
His hands were busy divesting them of clothes. “I’m rather horny too.”
Normally, he was the epitome of finesse, but tonight he was all about urgency. The moment they were both naked, he surged into her and dropped his head to her chest. “God, I needed this.”
She loved watching his legendary control waver and then break as he took fierce possession of her. Sweat dampened his back and brow. Sam gave herself over to him, loving him more than she’d ever imagined possible.
“Babe,” he whispered. “Can’t…” He moaned and tightened his hold on her.
“It’s okay.” She ran her hands down his back and clutched his backside, which seemed to send him careening completely out of control.
His face was tight with tension as he came hard. His fingers gripped her arm and shoulder so tightly she suspected there would be bruises, not that she cared.
“Sorry,” he said, breathing hard.
“For what?” She brushed the damp hair off his brow.
“You didn’t come.”
“You can make it up to me next time.”
“And I will. I promise.” He ran his hand down her arm and linked their fingers. “I wish we’d never had to leave Bora Bora.”
“Is that so?”
“They were the best days of my life. I could’ve stayed there with you forever.”
“You would’ve missed work and your friends and your life here after a while.”
“I had everything I needed right there with me.”
“You would’ve gotten fat and lazy and slovenly.”
He chuckled and brushed his lips over the side of her breast, sending a shiver of sensation rippling through her. “We found a good way to burn off calories.”
“We certainly did.”
“More than anything, I liked having you all to myself.”
“You’ll have me all to yourself every night.”
“Not the same. Not nearly enough.”
Sam placed her free hand on his face, urging him to look at her. “What’s this all about?”
Hesitating, he looked away for a moment before he brought his gaze back to meet hers. “Having you all to myself showed me how little time together we get at home.”
“It’ll be better now that we’re officially living together.”
“It won’t be better. We’ll always be competing against a million other demands for time to ourselves.”
“True, but as long as we make our relationship the top priority we’ll work it out.”
“I told Christina today that from now on I’m only giving two nights a week and one weekend day to the campaign.”
“Can you do that?”
“I have a sixty-five-point lead over my Republican opponent, so I’m willing to risk it.”
“Is that an unusually high lead?”
“I guess so,” he said modestly. “We got a nice bump out of the wedding.”
“Glad to be of assistance.”
That sexy grin of his made her go weak in the knees even when she wasn’t lying naked in his arms. “Anyway, since we’ve got a pretty solid lead, I don’t see the need to spend so much time campaigning. Especially,” he added, kissing her, “when I have so many other things I’d rather be doing.”
“You won’t get any argument from me.”
“I had a feeling you might approve.” He propped his chin on her chest. “So do you want to go over to your dad’s?”
Sam thought about that for a minute. “Celia said she’d call if anything changes, so I guess we can stay here.”
“Want some help going through the cards?”
“Sure. The faster I get that done, the faster I can go to bed.”
“Why do you think I offered to help?”
“And here I thought your offer was entirely unselfish.”
“Oh no, babe. Not entirely.”
Terry O’Connor paced on the sidewalk outside Lindsey McNamara’s stylish townhouse in the Adams Morgan neighborhood, working up the nerve to take the next step. They’d met at Sam and Nick’s shower and engaged in some harmless flirtation. At the wedding, they’d danced the night away. After a couple of weeks of exchanging texts and emails and more than a few multiple-hour phone calls, tonight was supposed to be their first official date. Except she’d been detained at work, so here it was close to eleven and he’d been invited over for a glass of wine.
Which was why he was pacing. He had to tell her. His sponsor had helped him see that waiting any longer would be unfair to both of them. The sponsor had also warned him, repeatedly, that he was endangering his recovery by becoming involved with someone so soon after leaving rehab. Terry had agreed to proceed carefully, and being honest with her was an important first step.
He rubbed damp palms over his jeans, summoning the courage he’d need to get through this. At the end of it, she’d either want to take a chance on him or she wouldn’t. All he could do was share the truth. The rest was up to her. Putting it off wouldn’t change the outcome. This was the story of his life now—and forever.
As the district’s chief medical examiner, he figured she probably knew he’d briefly been a suspect in his brother’s death, but she probably didn’t know the details about his years-long battle with alcohol.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said to himself. Stepping through the gate, he walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the door. While he waited for her, he took a series of deep breaths to calm his nerves.
And then there she was—all long legs and that lithe dancer’s body she’d wowed him with at the wedding. She had coiled her long red hair into a bun, and her green eyes danced with the mischief he was coming to expect from her. In typical Lindsey style, she took his hand and all but dragged him inside.
“This has been the longest day!” She led him into a contemporary living space that was warm, welcoming and entirely
her.
The open floor plan allowed him to see her in the kitchen uncorking a bottle of wine. “What’s your pleasure? Red or white?”
“None for me, thanks.”
As she spun around to maybe gauge whether he was serious, he thought,
here it comes.
They’d been so busy dancing at the wedding she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t drinking.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded and took a seat on the sofa.
She joined him, curling those endless legs under her.
Terry made an effort to keep his eyes on her face and not on the creamy expanse of skin above her pale pink tank top.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes. Of course.”
“Then why are you so tense?”
“Am I?”
She nodded.
Terry sat back and released a deep breath. “I have something I need to tell you.”
“Okay.”
Here goes nothing.
“I recently spent two months in rehab.”
The statement hung in the air between them for what felt like an hour.
“Say something. Please.”
She put her wineglass on the coffee table. “What were you treated for?”
“Alcoholism.”
Her face had lost all expression. “How long have you been sober?”
“Eighty-six days.”
She blew out a long deep breath.
“That part of my life is over, Lindsey. I swear to you. I nearly lost everything, and now… The senator has given me a chance at a whole new life, and I’d never risk that.” He still couldn’t get over Nick asking him to be his deputy chief of staff. Terry was loving every minute of being back in the game of politics.
“I, um… It’s a lot to take in.”
His heart beat wildly as he slid closer to her on the sofa, took her hand and linked their fingers. “On the night my brother was murdered, I was so drunk I couldn’t remember who I’d been with. Because of that, the investigation focused on me for a time. Sam actually thought it was possible I’d
killed
my brother. And the worst part was I couldn’t say for sure I hadn’t, because I didn’t remember.”
“I don’t know all the details, but I knew she looked hard at you. Murders often involve family members.”
“The only reason John was a senator was because I blew my chance before I could even declare my candidacy.”
She eyed him tentatively. “What happened?”
“I got a DUI days before I was due to declare. All those years of preparing and planning down the tubes. My little brother, who didn’t even
want
the job, was suddenly the golden one, and I was the disappointment.” He dared to look directly at her and noticed her eyes had lost the animation he so enjoyed. “Do you know what it’s like to be a disappointment to Graham O’Connor?” His father had served forty years in the Senate. All his life, Terry had prepared for the day he would run for his father’s seat. But one big night out had changed everything—for him and his brother.
Lindsey remained quiet, so Terry kept talking. “Sometimes I wonder if what happened to John was sort of my fault.”
That got her attention. “How in the world could that be your fault?”
“If he hadn’t been forced to run for the Senate, maybe he would’ve moved to Chicago to live with the woman he loved and their son.”
“How old was he when he was elected to take your father’s place?”
“Just thirty. He barely qualified to run.” That was another galling fact of Terry’s life.
“So he was thirty years old and hadn’t yet moved to live with his son and the woman he supposedly loved, right?”
“My father put a lot of pressure on him to keep a lid on that situation. In those days, the fifteen-year-old son of a United States senator fathering a child would’ve been a huge scandal.”