Hidden in the Heart (3 page)

Robert stopped outside a small office at the far end of the corridor. He kicked the door with his black boot and it swung open. He walked in, checked out the room and glanced her way. “Take a seat. Nobody will bother you. Unless I tell them to.”

Claire’s feet wouldn’t move. “Look, I can just call a cab…I…”

“Nope. You’ll stay right here until you sober up.”

She shook her head and marched to the desk, threw her purse down and turned on him. “You can’t just shove me in here, Robert! I know my rights! Which you haven’t even read me by the way, and…”

“Claire.” He breathed out her name, sounding tired and beyond reasoning. “Sit down, and for the last time, shut up.” Fury ran across his face. “I told you, I’m not arresting you. But I should be. You should be thanking me, not yelling at me like you haven’t done anything wrong.” Robert stood near the door, his eyes softening. “You’ve got to start dealing with life, Claire. You can’t go on like this.”

She pushed hair off her face and pinched her lips together. “Where do you get off telling me how to ‘deal with it’?” Familiar anger coiled inside her stomach and the dull ache returned. She sank into the chair behind the desk. “First my mother dies, then I have a miscarriage. My third, by the way, but who’s counting? But everybody expect me to just forget it, get over it?” Claire leaned back and closed her eyes.

“That’s not what I meant.” He sounded a little sad. “But it’d be nice if you started acting more like a mature adult instead of a spoiled, out-of-control teenager.”

“Are you done?” She put her head in hands.

“I’ll be back in a while.”

“Fine.” Claire gazed up at him, unsmiling. “Thank you.”

“Sure. Whatever.” He turned and slammed the door behind him. The noise reverberated around the small room and pierced through her skull.

Claire rubbed her temples and wondered if she could down a couple of Tylenol without water. Robert was probably enjoying every minute of this. He’d hold court later at his favorite watering hole and regale his buddies of how he finally one-upped his wayward sister-in-law.

It wasn’t fair. Since Mom’s death, things just seemed to go from bad to worse. Her family, her husband, the whole world was against her. Every single day she had to endure some trial.

She slumped down, put her head on the desk and took a deep breath.

Robert was right though. This time.

She should have known better than to drink and drive. Shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Once she got started, it was so easy to keep them coming. She just wanted to get rid of the pain. But whatever the amount she’d consumed today, it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

Chapter Two

Michelle Hart listened with one ear as her secretary took yet another call.

“Ms. Hart’s office. No, sir, she’s still not available. Yes, I do realize she’s the mayor’s Press Secretary…no…we have no statement at this time. No…I don’t believe Mayor Harrison is in the building at the moment.” There was an audible sigh. “Yes, I will tell Ms. Hart you called. Have a good night.”

Sharlene marched into Michelle’s office a minute later, her cheeks puffed out like two apples on the way to ripening. Silver-rimmed spectacles were just about to slip off her nose. “That nasty newspaper reporter called again,” she huffed, pushing up her glasses. “For the fifth time. I turned on the answering machine. I will not tolerate profanity.”

Sharlene picked up a stack of files from the desk and glanced at the broadcast coming from the flat-screen on the wall. Her expression changed from anger to pity. “That poor woman.” She rubbed a Kleenex over her bifocals and put them back on, squinting at the screen. “I mean, it’s bad enough to find out your husband’s cheating, but to have it splashed all over the six o’clock news…and right before the holidays. Don’t they have little kids?”

Michelle worked hard not to let out a sigh of frustration. Her aging secretary wasn’t cut out for this job. “I thought you were headed home.” She turned up the volume. Sharlene meant well, but she’d never understand politics. They should discuss her retirement again. Soon.

“On my way.” Sharlene moved to the door. “It’s been a long day.”

“Did I miss it?” Kevin Harrison strode into the office, striped tie askew, his long black coat flapping open.

“Evening, Mr. Harrison. Goodnight to you both.” Sharlene scurried out, closing the door behind her.

“Oh good, it’s still on.” Kevin’s eyes went straight to the broadcast. His face blazed from the cold and his obvious excitement.

Michelle smiled, a familiar rush of heat racing through her at the sight of him. Blond hair slightly mussed by the wind, his blue eyes sparkled brighter than ever. He was as handsome as the day they’d met five years ago. Maybe even more so. She lifted her chin and waited for him to approach, but he was already absorbed in the broadcast.

“What’s he saying?” He shrugged out of his coat, took off his gloves and flung everything on a chair by the wall.

“Shh…sit.” Michelle clasped her hands behind her head and watched New York Senator Barry Whiting walk to the podium and tap on the microphone. A few minutes later he was finished. Literally. And the senate seat was up for grabs.

Kevin smacked his palms together and gave a low chuckle. Victory danced in his eyes and around the room and filled the air with anticipation. Michelle pressed the off switch and the screen went black.

She stared at him a moment. “Well done, Kev. How does it feel to be God?”

Kevin gave a short laugh, strode across the rug, flung open the antique mahogany cabinet and poured a couple of drinks. He handed her a crystal tumbler and sank into one of the chairs opposite her desk. He polished off his drink in two gulps and met her eyes, a sly smile tugging his lips upward. “Not fair. Whiting made his own mistakes and now he’s paying for them. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Not directly, of course.” Michelle sipped the dark liquid, made a face and coughed. She hated bourbon. He knew it of course, but her needs were never high on Kevin’s list of things to remember. She put her glass down. “But I’m pretty sure you had a lunch meeting a couple of days ago with your buddy Skip, from the
Times
. And if I’m not mistaken, that’s who broke the story.”

Kevin waved a hand and went back to the bar. “So what? Rumors have been flying all over town for months. I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.” He kicked the office door shut as he passed it. “So how do we play this? I assume you’ve been fielding calls?”

“For the last three hours.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Everybody knows you’re going to run for Barry’s seat. The question of the day is when will you confirm it?” Michelle reached for her Blackberry. “Next Saturday night you’ll host a private dinner at
Le Bernardin
. Sharlene will send out invitations tomorrow. I’ve planned for fifty, you can go through the list, if there’s anyone—”

“The Governor?”

“Of course. I talked to his wife this afternoon. They were going to Nantucket for a little R & R, but she’ll put it off a day.”

“Excellent. We’ll make the announcement then.” The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled as his face softened with a rare genuine smile. “What would I do without you?”

Michelle grinned and lifted an eyebrow. “Probably still be practicing law in Queens.”

His jaw tightened and the light fled from his eyes. She broke his hard stare, ran her tongue over her bottom lip and checked her email. Her inbox was flooded again. “You should call Barry. Say something supportive.” She looked up and put on a conciliatory smile.

“Right.” Kevin mussed his hair and fiddled with the thick gold band of his watch. “Maybe he’ll back me, what do you think?”

“He doesn’t have a lot of choice.” Michelle put down her phone and massaged her temples. For some ridiculous reason, the image of a bedraggled Louise Whiting holding a child by each hand as they exited their home yesterday, hounded by the press, rankled her. “Do you think his wife will stay with him?”

“Why should I care?” Kevin undid the top button of his navy shirt and turned his attention to checking his phone. “Listen to you, getting all melodramatic.”

Melodramatic? No. Michelle fingered the strand of pearls around her neck. She’d met Louise a few times. Nice girl. Whiting was definitely an idiot. But she suspected Louise had been trained to turn a blind eye. The perfect politician’s wife.

“I do feel sorry for her and their children. It’s not fair that they have to pay for his mistakes.”

“Oh, please.” Kevin looked up. “He’s getting what he deserves. Infidelity is still a mortal sin in the eyes of the public. At least this year.”

A wan smile crossed her face. “A little hypocritical coming from you, Kev.”

“What?” His innocent expression sent a chill down her spine.

Michelle rubbed her arms and looked away.

“Did you get hold of Felicity?” He put his phone down and glanced at his watch again. “I can’t have the kids hanging around this weekend. Too much going on.” There was no sign of regret in his eyes as he talked of his estranged wife and children, only a keen glint of what the future now held.

Michelle nodded, checking the calendar. “I talked to her this afternoon. The kids were disappointed. I told them you’d make it up to them, so you’d better come up with something pretty cool. Felicity sends you her best regards.”

“I’m sure she does.” He rose and pushed up the knot of his tie. “I should get going. Sorry, but dinner won’t work tonight. I ran into John Fortin earlier today and we’re going to
meet for drinks. I’ve promised him an exclusive. Make sure to sit him at a good table on Saturday. Come by later?”

Michelle swiveled her chair to face the window. The Manhattan skyline projected a yellow glow against the dark night. Large flakes of snow spiraled downward, a hint that the predicted winter storm might be on its way. She watched a few lights flicker off in the building opposite theirs.

“I think I’ll stay home tonight, Kev. I want to run through the menu for Saturday and do a few other things.”

Like ignore the fact that Christmas was just around the corner.

She swung round to face him and smiled at his look of chagrin. “You should try to get an early night for a change. You’re going to need all the rest you can get over the next few months. We’ll start working on your speech in the morning.”

Kevin grinned as he pulled on his coat, but his face clouded over as he moved toward her. “Look, since I’m going to be running now…we should probably cancel our cruise over New Year’s. I’ve been thinking maybe I should spend more time with the kids, you know…”

“I see.” Michelle’s heart thudded against her chest. The moment she’d heard of Whiting’s situation, she’d been expecting this, but still, after two years with Kevin, it stung.

“Hey.” Kevin leaned in, placing his hands on the arms of her chair, his eyes piercing. “Don’t give me that look. You know as well as I do how this has to go down. Let me handle things with Felicity. Once I’m elected, once the divorce is final, everything will be different.”

Michelle managed a nod and forced herself to respond when his lips met hers. His kiss grew more demanding and for a moment she gave in to the need to be held. Needed. But probably not loved.

She pushed him off and straightened her blouse. “You better go, Kev. Don’t want to keep Joe waiting. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“John.”

“What?” Michelle lifted her chin and caught a flash of anger in his eyes.

“It’s John. From The Post. Whatever you do, don’t get it wrong in front of him.” He turned on the heel of his shiny black loafers and stalked out of her office.

Michelle shook her head, moving her chair around to face the painting on the wall above the long bookcase. She studied the image of the lake, forgotten feelings stretching, daring to emerge from exile.

Life had been simple once. Life had been fun.

Life had been good.

Now it was just complicated.

“Knock, knock. Where’s the man of the hour?” Belinda Cassidy sauntered in, her olive skin glowing from the latest scrub she’d no doubt just had at Clarins. She wore her usual thousand-watt smile, and Michelle’s Emilio Pucci blouse.

Michelle scowled. “You just missed him. And I thought you were going to quit stealing my clothes. We’re not in college anymore. You can afford your own.”

Her old friend slipped out of her mink coat, lowered herself into the chair Kevin had vacated and swatted the air, diamonds on her fingers sparkling. “You left it in the closet when you spent Thanksgiving with us. I couldn’t bear to part with it. Call it an early Christmas present. I’ll buy you another one, darling. What are you still doing in the office?”

Michelle gave a snort and pulled a tortoise-shell clip from her hair, allowing it to fall against her neck. She twisted her finger around a thick strand. “Just waiting for my personal masseuse to show up, sweetie.”

“Sarcasm does not become you. You know, you shouldn’t be working here at all. Kevin should hire someone else, divorce what’s-her-name and marry you, is what he should do. Especially now.”

Michelle grinned. Belinda was in fine form and they hadn’t had drinks yet. “Unlike you, my dear friend, I happen to believe there is more to life than shopping and lunching at The Plaza. I find having a career fulfilling, not to mention necessary. Besides, I like my job.”

Belinda’s knowing smile inched upward and lit her eyes with mischief. “And you may be moving offices if things go the way Kevin hopes they will.”

Michelle opened the drawer to her desk and ignored her. “What’s going on out there?”

Her friend’s low laughter flooded the office. “As you would expect. The city’s buzzing, Shel. Word on the street is that Kevin’s going to run for Barry’s seat. And he’ll get it.”

“Of course he will.” Michelle slammed the drawer shut and gave her a pointed stare. “And you’ve lived in New York long enough to know where that leaves me.”

Belinda waved off the comment. “He’s not going to get back together with his wife. They’ve been separated for two years. They’re getting a divorce. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” Michelle shrugged, shutting down her computer. “I’m not being ridiculous. Just realistic. Felicity would take him back tomorrow. You and I both know it, Kevin knows it, half the city probably knows it.”