Winning It All

by Catherine Mann

  “Stop comparing me with other men you’ve known.”

  His hand was warm against hers, reassuring somehow, his gaze steady and confident. There was nothing sexual about the way he looked at her, but still, she felt a shiver of something heated and dark go through her.

  Yes, she should definitely stop comparing him with other men. The other men would always come up short. And she had the uncanny sensation that would always be true. That for the rest of her life, no man she ever met would measure up.

  One summer with Connor Stone had ruined her for other men.

  Brittney’s delicate hand felt good in his. And for an instant, he nearly forgot that he didn’t really have the right to hold it. If they weren’t in public, she might not even allow him to touch her.

  He took comfort in the fact that she’d obviously forgotten, too. Her expression shifted from one of doubt to delightfully befuddled confusion. She looked slightly shell-shocked. Well, good. He liked her off balance, and he thought it probably did her a world of good to have someone in her life who didn’t do exactly what she expected.

  She half-heartedly attempted to pull her hand from his, but he didn’t let go, and she quickly gave in. Whether because her resistance was weak or because she didn’t want to cause a scene, he didn’t know.

  It only bothered him a little that he didn’t want to know. That he wanted to pretend it was because she wanted to hold his hand. To distract them both, he asked, “What brought this on anyway?”

  “You seem tense,” she answered after a minute. “Angry, almost. I thought maybe you were mad about having to keep up the facade for so long.”

  “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to this.”

  She was certainly perceptive. Which wasn’t surprising, given her experience in politics. He’d always thought of himself as being good at hiding his emotions. But you probably had to be pretty good at reading people to work on a political campaign.

  “If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong, it’s fine,” she said.

  But her hand had tensed in his and he knew it wasn’t really fine. Saying nothing would widen the gap between them.

  He wasn’t the kind of guy who opened up and shared his feelings very often—bonding just wasn’t his thing. Maybe it was his solidly stoic, middle-American background. To his way of thinking, if you couldn’t say it with a sports analogy or show it with car care, it wasn’t worth saying. But as far as he knew, Brittney had a full-time driver in the city who took damn good care of her car and she didn’t watch football.

  He stared at the polo players galloping across the field, their horses gleaming and massive, their movements a ballet of aggressive grace, their strikes at the ball borderline violent. Yet the sport oozed elegance. Wealth and privilege. It was a world he worked and flirted with. But it wasn’t the world he was born to. He’d been reminded of that spending these last few weeks with Brittney.

  His blue-collar upbringing didn’t bother him. But apparently it bothered her. Why else would she balk at introducing him to her father, the senator? And that did bother him. He didn’t care what ninety-nine percent of the world thought of him. But her opinion mattered.

  How the hell could he put that into words?

  He tried. “I’m football and you’re polo.”

  “You don’t like watching polo?” She frowned, her forehead furrowing in that cute, confused way. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to come out for every match.”

  “No. That’s not it. It’s a great sport. But I didn’t grow up watching it. I was probably twenty before I knew it was sport, not just a logo on T-shirts.”

  “Oh,” she nodded in understanding. Then she leaned forward. “Okay, look at that player on the sorrel pony. That horse is Maximo. He’s ridden by Nicolas Valera. He’s—”

  He laughed, cutting her off. “No, I get the sport. I understand what they’re doing.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Again she was frowning.

  Man, she did not let things go.

  “We’re from different worlds. And it shouldn’t be an issue. But—” He rolled his shoulders trying to release some of the tension that had taken up residence there. When had this gotten so complicated? “Look, I know why you’d be hesitant, but people will start wondering what’s going on if I don’t at least meet your father.”

  She twisted sharply in her seat to stare at him. “What? Meet my…what are you talking about?”

  “Your father? The senator? The guy whose house you invited me to stay in because there’s no way he’ll come out to the Hamptons this season? That guy. That ring any bells for you?”

  After another moment of doe-eyed gaping during which he wondered if he would have to spell it out for her more clearly, she grinned.

  “That’s what this is about? You think I’m embarrassed of you?”

  He turned his attention back to the polo field. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Oh, no. You didn’t, did you?” She laughed. “Sheesh. Men.” She faked a deep voice. “I’m football, you’re polo. I don’t have conversations about my feelings, so I’ll just use a sports analogy. Maybe if I go long, she’ll be able to hit a home run.”

  He wanted to be annoyed by her teasing. Really he did—and, damn it, how did she see right through him?—but he couldn’t resist chuckling at her fumbled analogy. “Are you talking about football or baseball?”

  “You know, you haven’t exactly invited me to meet your family, either.”

  “Good point.” He nodded. “Any time you want to experience the torture of driving out to Pennsylvania so my mom can throw a barbecue and introduce you to my brothers, their families, a dozen aunts and uncles and probably thirty or so cousins—plus neighbors—you just tell me and I’ll set that up.”

  She looked baffled, like she’d been doing his family math in her head and had crossed over into the triple digits. “I…”

  “I’m joking. I already called my mom and told her the truth. Don’t worry, I swore her to secrecy and she’d drink hemlock before betraying the trust of one of her kids.”

  “I’m not worried,” she reassured him.

  “I didn’t want her to get too excited. She generally ignores social gossip, but she salivates at the thought of grandchildren.”

  “Oh.” Her tone sounded almost wistful. “No, I don’t need to meet your family. But they sound nice.”

  He did a double take. “Nice? Crazy and overwhelming is how they sound.” He studied her face, taking in the way her attempt at a smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why? What did your father say?”

  “Oh, all the normal things you’d expect. He couldn’t wait to welcome you to the family personally. He’s impressed by you and thinks you’re a shining example of how hard work and education can help the ambitious rise above their humble beginnings.” Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “Didn’t you watch his press conference?”

  “Actually, I did. My secretary sent me the link on Hulu.” He noticed that Brittney hadn’t mentioned anything her father hadn’t covered in the press conference. “You did actually talk to your father, didn’t you?”

  Brittney didn’t meet his gaze but stared out at the polo field as if engrossed. “He’s been very busy.”

  Connor did a quick scan of the field. Nope, none of the players had sprouted wings. “You just got engaged. Didn’t he call to ask a few questions? Doesn’t he want to know anything about me, the man who is supposed to marry his little girl?”

  “I’ve talked to his senior staffer a lot. Of course we talk almost every day anyway. She forwarded me your file.”

  “My file?” he asked.

  She cringed. “You probably don’t want to know more than that. I don’t ask where he gets his information. Sorry.” She softened the news with a rueful smile. “If it makes you feel any better, there was a Post-It note with the words, ‘Seems like a good choice’ on it.”

  “Yeah. That’s much better.”

  “I’m sorry about the file
thing. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “Forget it,” he said gently, taking her hand again.

  What was she apologizing for? Her father was total jerk and she was sorry?

  He felt like he was the one who should apologize. His family actually cared about him. Her father couldn’t find the time to pick up the phone and call. What an idiot.

  Connor gave her hand a squeeze. “Does he know what a great daughter he has?”

  “I’m a valuable asset to his political team. I hear that all the time.” But did she hear it from her father or from his staff? And did it matter? Being a valuable asset was not the same thing as being loved.

  He was about to comment on exactly that when she changed the subject. “So, will you come stay at my father’s place? I know money isn’t an object for you—” she held up a hand as if to ward off his protests “—but I’d feel better knowing you’re not in a hotel room every weekend. Besides, I live in the guest cottage so the main house is empty. Surely you’d be more comfortable having a place of your own instead of hauling things back and forth. And—”

  She broke off, seeming hesitant.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Zoe, dad’s staffer, has been talking about wanting him to throw us an engagement party at the end of the season. But don’t worry. I’ll convince her to call it off.”

  “Don’t.” Connor had trouble keeping his dislike from his voice, but he tried, for her. “Let your dad do his worst. It’s only money, right? Just don’t let him serve those little wieners on sticks. Make him pay for fancy appetizers.”

  She grinned. “Okay. I’ll let Zoe know.”

  “I will come stay at the house. If it’ll make you feel better.”

  “It will,” she reassured him. “This whole thing has been enough of a mess as it is. I hate the thought of being even more of an inconvenience to you.”

  She made the comment in an offhand manner, turning her attention to the playing field as she said it. This time she really was watching the game, relaxing into the match.

  Yet her words stuck with him. He could read between the lines. Because of the circumstances of her birth, she had been inconvenient to Senator Hannon’s career. But instead of finding a way to look past that, it had affected his relationship with his daughter. Instead of seeing Brittney for the bright and wonderful woman she was, he saw her as a burden, despite the fact that she’d lived her whole life seeking his approval. By her own admission, she’d done a little boundary pushing in high school. But apparently she’d quickly realized that the affections of high school boys didn’t make up for a father’s love—thank God for that. Some women never made that intellectual leap. Since then, she’d been a model daughter. Every decision—personal and professional—had benefited her father’s career. And the man was too much of a jerk to see it or appreciate it.

  In that moment, Connor hoped he never did meet Senator Hannon. He just might punch the man.

  He didn’t think of himself as a violent person, but here he was, ready to coldcock someone for hurting Brittney. Again. First he’d been ready to trample some reporter, and now her father.

  Where had these protective instincts come from? And what was it about her that stirred them up so easily?

  Seven

  The few remaining weeks of the polo season passed in a blur of social events. Even though she’d spent every summer in the Hamptons since she was a child, she’d never before been so busy. Connor was by her side the whole time, but she was rarely alone with him. And though he flirted outrageously with her, he never again pressed her to revisit the physical side of their relationship. But she knew she was in trouble. She was starting to fall for him. Her only consolation was in knowing that the summer would soon be over and her life would return to normal.

  Before she knew it, the date of her engagement party had arrived. Decorators and caterers hired by her father’s staff descended on the house three days before the party. During what would be the last few days of their relationship, she barely saw Connor at all. Which was probably for the best. What could come of it? Either she’d break down and beg him to make love to her one last time, or she’d do something really stupid like tell him she was falling in love with him.

  On the night of the party, Brittney moved through the crowd with practiced ease. A lifetime of experience pretending to be the perfect senator’s daughter was serving her well. No one watching her would sense how conflicted she felt.

  From the first awkward introduction to her father and onward, Connor was by her side throughout the first part of the evening. If Connor felt any apprehension about meeting him, he didn’t show it. His presence alleviated the strain between her and her father, those quiet, clumsy moments when neither of them knew what to say to the other. Connor’s hand was warm and strong at her back.

  And once her father left to talk to people he thought more important, Connor stayed by her side as she chatted with other guests, his charm smoothing over awkward silences, his wit providing answers to questions she couldn’t anticipate.

  Under other circumstances, she might have been unnerved by how easily he lied, but for now she was just grateful.

  “Where did you meet?” people inevitably asked.

  “Standing in line, waiting to pick up takeout at Brit’s favourite Thai place. What’s the name of the place, honey?”

  “Topaz Thai,” she’d mumble awkwardly.

  “How long have you been together?” other people prodded.

  “Almost three months now,” he lied smoothly. “At first it was tough keeping our relationship secret. But I didn’t want Brit to worry about the stress of dating in the public eye. So we managed it.” Then he smiled ruefully, giving her shoulder a subtle squeeze. “Until we got caught.”

  Eventually, someone was bold enough to look pointedly at the bare ring finger of her left hand. “I do hope you’re not going to be one of those modern couples who don’t bother to have a ceremony in a church or even wear rings.”

  Connor just smiled at the nosy old biddy who made that comment. “No, ma’am,” he said. “I’m having a ring made. I wanted Brit to wear my grandmother’s ring. But I’m from a simple, working-class family. I knew Brit would love any ring I gave her, but I wanted her to be proud to wear it.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze for effect. “So I’m having a small diamond and lapis stones taken out and replaced with a larger diamond and sapphires.”

  By the time he finished describing the ring, the old lady had tears in her eyes. She wasn’t the only one. Brittney had to excuse herself before she welled up like an idiot.

  Alone, with her back propped against the bathroom door, she wiped furiously at her tears. Why was she crying over a ring she wasn’t ever going to get? The ring wasn’t real. It was just a story meant to placate curious busybodies. That guy who had carefully designed and crafted that ring to give to his fiancée? He wasn’t any more real than the ring.

  Oh, but more and more she wished he were. She wished Connor were not just handsome and charming, but sincere as well. What would it be like to be loved by that man, and not just seduced by the playboy?

  Connor was probably the first fiancé in the history of the world to hope for a if-you-hurt-my-little-girl-I’ll-kill-you speech. When Senator Hannon angled to talk to Connor alone for a few minutes midway through the party, Connor actually hoped that’s what he was in for. Until now, the senator had been blasé about their engagement. Connor knew her father’s disinterest hurt Brittney’s feelings. Why couldn’t the guy at least feign concern?

  But when the senator lead Connor from the party to the relative quiet of his study, Connor quickly realized that this meeting wasn’t going to involve any protective speeches.

  Senator Hannon poured Connor a Scotch and handed it over, saying, “As you’ve probably realized, my daughter can be a bit strong-willed.”

  Connor said nothing but clenched the tumbler of Scotch in his hand. The senator’s asinine opinions weren’t Connor’s pro
blem to deal with. In a few short days, they’d be back in the city. A few weeks after that, as he and Brittney had agreed, they’d quietly end their engagement. He’d never have to see Senator Hannon again.

  The fact that he’d never see Brittney again either was a matter he’d been studiously not thinking about.

  “I suppose,” the senator continued as he sat down behind the desk, “her intentions are good enough, but she has a tendency get the press riled up.” He chuckled. “As I’m sure you’ve seen.”

  Connor nodded noncommittally, resisting the urge to point out that if it hadn’t been for the senator’s own indiscretions years ago, no one would care what Brittney did.

  The senator cleared his throat. “The point is, it’s an election year and I’d appreciate it if you would do what you can to keep her from making any more social gaffes in the next couple of months.”

  Connor was torn between wanting to laugh at the irony and wanting to beat the guy to a pulp. He settled for plunking the untouched glass of Scotch down on the senator’s desk, propping his hands on the blotter and leaning forward.

  “With all due respect, Senator, you’re an idiot. If you cared half as much about your daughter as she does about your career, you’d be a better man. But since you don’t, let me tell you a few things about her. She would never consciously do anything to hurt your career.” He leaned ever closer, so the senator had to rock back in his chair. “And when we’re married, I’d appreciate it if you’d do what you can to stay out of our lives.”

  And with that, Connor turned and walked away, leaving the senator alone in stunned silence. It wasn’t until he was back in the bustle of the party that he realized what he’d done. He’d spoken to Brittney’s father as if they really were getting married. For a few minutes, he’d completely forgotten that their relationship was a lie. And that their ruse was about to come to an end.