Private Indiscretions (13 page)

“Yes, of course,” she answered. “I'd love to have dinner with you, but I have to fly back to Sacramento tonight to file my report. I'm free now for lunch, however. As long as we don't discuss the audit. You understand, don't you?”

Sam chuckled. She'd nailed J.J. to the wall. She would lead the conversation, and by the end of the afternoon Jordan James would go home hornier than a soldier at the end of boot camp but drained only of information deftly culled over a simple lunch.

A lethal weapon, Arianna Alvarado. He was glad she was on his side.

A
t eight o'clock that evening Sam half listened as Arianna related the day's events to Nate over a glass of Fumé Blanc and a tray of imported cheese and sourdough baguettes. The paperwork provided by Randall's accountant and lawyer was stacked on Dana's library table to be returned. Although a more complete analysis would be necessary to be a hundred percent positive, in their best judgment they could eliminate finances as a cause for blackmail.

Unless Randall had secret bank accounts, which seemed unrealistic, given his net worth.

Sam stared into his wineglass. He believed the man was squeaky clean, a rare quality. In the course of investigating someone, Sam usually found a bit of information the subject wouldn't want revealed. He could dig further into Randall's life but what would it accomplish? Private indiscretions? He doubted it, and time was too short for Sam to spin his wheels.

The focus had to be on Dana alone. Someone didn't want her reelected. But why?

The door opened, interrupting Arianna's dramatic reenactment of J.J.'s moves to lure her back to his house and into his bed. Nate was laughing. Arianna looked haughty.

“Oh,” Dana said, stopping in the doorway. “I didn't know you were back.” If there was an accusation in the words, Sam didn't hear it, but she moved her left shoulder in that way she had, making him pay attention to what was behind the words.

“Hilda said you were working and not to disturb you,” Sam said, rising and pulling out another chair. “Join us?”

“Thank you,” she said as she sat, her dark eyes studying him.

He resisted kissing her, which he ached to do. Once again she looked fragile. Lack of sleep? Worry? Him? He wanted—needed—to see her strength again.

“How did it go?” she asked as Nate passed her a glass of wine.

“We think he's all talk,” Arianna answered.

“And hands,” Nate added.

Arianna shoved him. Dana looked puzzled.

“J.J. got amorous,” Sam explained to Dana.

“Tried to. I don't think he's your guy,” Arianna said. “He's pretty straightforward. If he wanted you out of the race he would've come to you with whatever information he had. He knows how the game is played. He would have tried to convince you to drop out for the good of the party or the state or the country. Whatever. I don't get any sense at all that he's playing games with you. He misses the cachet he had as Randall's friend and campaign manager. His life stinks at the moment. That's all, I believe.”

Dana spun her glass around and around by its stem but her focus was on Sam. “Now what? You must have plans or Arianna wouldn't have returned with you.”

“She and Nate are going to stay in town through tomorrow, just in case. But I don't know what else we can
do at this point except wait and see what happens. I'd rather be proactive than reactive, but there doesn't seem to be a new avenue. Unless there's something else you've thought of?”

Hopelessness flickered in her eyes for just a moment. “No.”

Arianna stood, draining her glass as she did. “I'm getting a good night's sleep,” she said. “Can you give me a ride to the hotel?” she asked Nate, who was never slow on the uptake.

“Sure.” He tucked some bread and cheese into a napkin to go.

“You're not staying here?” Dana asked.

“We've imposed enough.” Arianna hugged her. “You've got the banquet tomorrow night, right? We'll be there. And before then, if you need us.”

Nate said good-night as he passed by. Then they were alone.

She said nothing.

“What were you working on?” Sam asked.

“What? Oh, my speech for tomorrow. I'm presenting an award to Lilith.” She sipped her wine. Her color was coming back.

Sam leaned toward her. “What happens if there hasn't been a resolution to this mess by the banquet? Do you want to skip it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Even if this person shows up there?”

“I'm not giving in to blackmail.”

“Even if what he or she has to say wipes out all the good you've accomplished?”

“Even if.”

He admired her guts.

She rubbed at a spot on the table. Curious, Sam waited. She seemed to be building up to something.

“Did our making love mean anything to you?” she asked.

Only everything.
He held the words inside, protecting both her and himself. He still had a job to do. A critical job. She was interfering just by being there, because she distracted him. “Of course it did.”

“You haven't even kissed me hello.”

He hesitated too long as he tried to figure out her mood. She pulled back just as he leaned toward her. “Not out of some sense of obligation, okay?” She pushed herself up, moved away from the table. “When did this get so serious, Sam? Thursday night we laughed together, kidded each other. I liked that. Now you hardly look at me.”

“I look at you, but I've got a lot on my mind, Senator.”

“Senator,” she repeated. “I used to like how you called me that, in a playful kind of way.”

“Playful? Are you sure you're talking about me?” he asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Her mouth curved slightly. “Fun. Challenging. Intense.”

“You make me sound much more interesting than I am.”

“I left out sexy,” she said, coming toward him. “I like how competent you are. I admire how you keep your promises. I love your protectiveness.” She tugged on his shirt. “Feel free to chime in here with reciprocal comments anytime.”

Her nerves were showing. Put her on the Senate floor and she took command. But here, with him, insecurity continued to haunt her.

Maybe because he wasn't giving her any reason to feel secure? Maybe because he couldn't? The relationship would end when the threat was resolved. It might as well be sooner rather than later, before they were in any deeper than their moment stolen out of time yesterday.

He wasn't one to sugarcoat anything. This relationship had been born out of a particular need and fueled by old dreams. It wasn't a combination that promised staying power.

“I've always admired you,” he said finally, knowing it
wasn't what she wanted to hear. “I find you exhaustingly sexy, and I don't know how you could doubt that after yesterday.”

“Exhaustingly?”

He smiled. “Yeah.”

“Stay with me tonight.”

“I can't.”

She looked away, her retreat more powerful because it wasn't physical but emotional.

“I need to work,” he said. “I've got to review what I know and figure out what I've missed.”

“I can help with that.”

“Not this time.”

A tap on the door prevented her response. Dana took a step back. “Come in.”

“Ma'am,” Hilda said, her hand still on the doorknob. “Dinner is ready.”

“Thank you. Please don't delay your trip any longer, Hilda. I'll take care of the dishes.”

“I'm not driving to Stockton tonight, ma'am.”

Sam felt Dana's surprise. “You aren't?”

“My daughter and son-in-law took the children to Disneyland.”

“So, you're just going to hang around here?”

“Is that a problem, Senator?”

“No. It's fine. You can serve dinner, thank you.”

“None for me, Hilda,” Sam said quickly. “Sorry. I'll be leaving in a few minutes.”

“Very good, sir.”

The door closed with a quiet click.

“You can't even stay for dinner?”

He only recognized this woman from television, the woman who asked and answered tough questions on camera, whether witnesses at committee hearings or reporters.

Sam understood her better than she thought. Understood why she was drawn to him. He'd rescued her in the past, and even though they hadn't seen each other in years, he
was familiar. He was also the first man to make love to her after years of loneliness. It was natural that she would form a strong attachment to him. Natural, but not real. Not for the long haul. She would find out soon how many men were interested in pursuing a relationship with her, that she would have choices.

“I'll call you in the morning,” he said and watched her eyes become banked coals.

“I'll be at the office.”

“Will you have to field questions about our newspaper photo?”

“I'll handle it.”

While he was glad to see the fire in her eyes, he hated parting like this. “Okay.” When she said nothing, he grabbed his briefcase and headed to the door.

“So, was it sympathy sex or carpe diem?” she asked before he turned the knob.

“Don't do this, Dana.”

“I've been away from the dating scene a long time. I'm just trying to figure out what my expectations should be.”

“It just happened, okay? No plan. No ulterior motive.”

“No future?”

“I can't give you answers right now.” God, he had to get out of here. Her hurt was a living thing, breathing like dragon's breath between them, so he left rather than get into a battle of words with her. He took long strides to the front door, then jogged to his car.

Didn't she know he couldn't let his feelings interfere with his job—and his job was to protect her?

And they say men are dense about the opposite sex.

 

Dana found the table blindly with her hand and lowered herself into a chair. She was so confused by him. They'd made love. To her that was a step forward. To him, back, apparently.

Hilda knocked then entered at Dana's call.

“Dinner, ma'am?”

“I'm not hungry after all, thanks. I'm sorry for your trouble.”

The older woman started to back out, but Dana stopped her.

“In all the time I've known you, you've only missed taking your days off one time—the week that Randall died.”

“I'm taking my days off. I'm just taking them here.”

Dana studied her. Sam had planted the idea that Hilda could be involved in the blackmail and Dana had disregarded the possibility. Maybe she shouldn't have.

“I'd be happy to pay for a trip down the coast,” Dana said. “You've worked extra hard the past couple of days.”

“If I wanted to go, I'd pay for it myself. Ma'am.” She left without waiting to be dismissed.

Out of character, Dana thought. Even her tone carried an edge of belligerence, unusual for Hilda. Combined with her not leaving the house, it made Dana suspicious.

No. It was crazy. What could Hilda gain by Dana not being reelected?

She rested her head in her hands. She was so tired she couldn't think straight. She'd thought the demands of her job were exhausting, but they were nothing compared to this emotional roller coaster. Maybe she shouldn't give up her career. Maybe she should just stick to the job and forget having a personal relationship. They were too painful. Too confusing. People die or walk away. Either way it hurt too much.

Which was ridiculous, of course. She wanted to get married again. She wanted children. One of the reasons she wasn't running for reelection was so that she could have a family and not be flying coast to coast all the time.

Forcing herself to climb the stairs to her bedroom, she took a long, hot bath, then slipped into her robe. She closed the closet door on the new negligee hanging on the inside hook, a sheer red number with lace appliqués in the critical spots.

She opened the double doors to her balcony and stepped outside into the cool evening. The breeze from the bay lifted her hair, chilling her bath-warm skin. Below her was the courtyard where she'd shared her first kiss with Sam. She shivered. Rubbing her arms, she turned around to go back into the bedroom. Directly in her line of sight was the mask Sam had given her. She'd taken down her wedding picture and put Zo-onna in its place.

Drawn to it, she lifted it down from the wall and sat on the bed, laying the mask in her lap, running her fingers over it. A century old. How had he found it? Did he buy it specifically for her or did he already own it? If so, why would he give her such a treasure? It was too much payment for her keeping his medal all those years, which cost her nothing.

His generosity continued to surprise her, especially since he'd grown up in a house where generosity was nonexistent after his mother's death. His most precious gift, however, was sharing his past with her. She didn't know if she was the only person other than the Gianninis that he'd confided in, but she knew it had taken a lot for him to—

Dana sat up straight. He'd confided in her, told her the worst about his past.

He trusted her, and, in a way, that seemed more intimate than sex.

What did it mean?

What did he fear most? Rejection? His father had a hand in that. Abandonment? His mother, through no fault of her own, played a part there.

Dana had kept her love for Sam to herself, hoping he would come to love her as well. But maybe he was just waiting for her to say it first.

Maybe he
needed
for her to say it first.

What time was it? After midnight. She shivered again, but this time from anticipation. From her closet she grabbed jeans, a T-shirt, baggy pullover and a knit cap. She examined her image in the mirror when she was dressed. Would
anyone recognize her? Her hair was down around her face and held in place by the cap pulled low on her forehead. No makeup. She couldn't find her sunglasses anywhere so she added ultracontemporary, dark-framed reading glasses that no one had seen her wear in public. So what if her vision blurred? She only needed to get from the car to an elevator to his room.

She grabbed her wallet and keys and hurried out of the room, down the stairs and out to the garage. Instead of the Lincoln, she drove her Mustang convertible, a treasured leftover from her Cal days, her high-school graduation gift from her parents. In no time she arrived at his hotel. She gave up trying to find parking and turned the car over to a valet attendant, who let her know she had to be a hotel guest to park there. She gave Sam's room number, hoping the valet didn't recognize her. He was too young to care about politicians, she supposed, and she did look different.