A Political Affair

by Mary Whitney

  “Come to Megan’s office in five minutes.” He winked and left.

  Timing it just right, she walked to Megan’s office. Megan stood in the hall speaking on her phone. After Megan gave her a nod, Anne slid past and closed the door.

  A grinning Stephen pulled her into a long embrace. She chuckled afterward. “You brought me in here just for this?”

  “Hey, what do you mean ‘just for this’? I thought it was a pretty good kiss,” he said with a pout.

  “It was good.” She smoothed his tie and smiled. “This is the thing we try to avoid, though, right?”

  “Right, but I’m in a good mood.” He grinned.

  “Why? You have another long night.”

  “Not with the forecast. That’s why I brought you in here. Lillian McEvoy thinks it would be terrible for her friend, Anne Norwood, to be alone during the coming snowstorm. She’s extended an invitation to join her for the duration.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “What do you think?”

  She grinned wickedly at the possibility of spending what could be days with him. “At your house? I like it.”

  “Good. Come by as soon as you can after work.”

  “Okay.” She cocked her head as she considered what the sleepover would entail. “Not to be presumptuous, but I’m wondering what the sleeping arrangements will be. Will your mother expect us to be in separate beds?”

  “God, no. She’s not that way at all. We’re adults.” He laughed and swatted her butt. “I’m looking forward to being an adult with you.”

  “Are you sure you’re an adult?” She smirked and poked him in the arm.

  “Such a smartass,” he whispered, as he smiled adoringly.

  “You’re easy to tease.”

  His response was on the tip of his tongue, yet he caught himself. His gut response was to tell her, “And you’re easy to love.” The realization that he wanted to use the loaded word love made him stop and think.

  He stared at the woman he found compelling in every way, and his thought process took the emotion one step further. I do love her. I do. He grinned at the realization. The three words almost burst out of his mouth, but he kept them contained. Of all the places he might tell her he loved her, it certainly wouldn’t be at his job.

  Anne’s cab driver told her she was his last fare of the night and she was lucky to get the ride. As she looked at the thick, wet snow dumping on the empty streets, she agreed.

  Lillian let her in the house, saying, “Aren’t you glad you’re going home with us next week? They say the airports are going to be shut down for a few days. Your flight would never have left anyway.”

  “I am glad. Thank you. And if I ever have to explain why I went with you, I can also use the weather as an excuse.” She smiled anxiously. “I do wonder why Greg isn’t more concerned about me flying with all of you. It still makes me kind of nervous.”

  Wrapping her arm around her, Lillian led her through the foyer. “Anne, you haven’t grasped something yet,” she said. Her voice was equally sweet and sinister. “I’m Lillian McEvoy. I can get away with most anything.” She grinned and squeezed her. “Isn’t that fun?”

  “It must be very liberating,” Anne replied with an uneasy chuckle. “Aren’t you worried about Stephen, though?”

  “Certainly, I worry about my son, but I try to be constructive. I think of ways to avoid problems.” Lillian nodded. “And in the meantime, I’m glad you’re here spending what’s going to turn into a long weekend with us.”

  “Thanks. I’m happy to be here.”

  The next morning, Anne rolled over in bed to find Stephen staring at her from his pillow.

  “Morning, sweetheart,” he said without raising his head.

  “Morning. Why are you smiling?”

  “I was thinking about how happy I am having you here all the time.”

  She snuggled into the curve of his body. “I like it, too.”

  As Stephen pulled her in for a kiss, she felt his morning erection, and she responded at once. The kiss escalated into lovemaking to start the day. Something was different, though, as if an extra bit of electricity flowed between them.

  It wasn’t simply that the room was lit from the first sun in a few days. Nor was it the need to be quiet, which made their faces hold the expression of every touch and emotion. Everything physical was emotional, and everything emotional was physical.

  Afterward, Anne lay in his arms and stroked his chest, thinking of how safe and comfortable she felt with him. At ease in body, mind, and soul, she sighed in enjoyment. Since the weekend at the cabin, her feelings for Stephen had solidified. She was in love; she was sure of it.

  She thought he felt the same way. Of course, she wasn’t certain, but she sensed something had changed between them. She kept hoping he’d acknowledge it because she wasn’t going to say it first. No way in hell am I doing that. It was one thing to tell her high school boyfriend she loved him. They were childhood friends-turned-lovers; everything had flowed easily between them.

  With Stephen, though, she was in a predicament. Their relationship was out of balance in age and power, and she needed him to say it first. If she put her heart out there before he did, she put herself at emotional risk.

  Gazing at him, she smiled, with the intention of reminding him how good things were. “This is nice.”

  “Really nice.” His lips curled into a small smile, and he touched her cheek. She opened her mouth in anticipation, hoping he might add something. With an adoring gaze, he said, “I love you, Anne.”

  She gasped and joyfully declared, “I love you.”

  As his smile grew, she giggled, and he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was one of a familiar discovery, as if they had happily found something they’d thought lost, but actually was within them all along.

  The following week, there was another late evening in the Senate. Long hours of energy bill negotiations kept senators working far into the night as they awaited potential votes on the matter. Some senators even slept in their offices rather than heading home.

  Senator Helen Sanders thought it the perfect night to reunite with Stephen. When she walked into his office reception area, the place was dead quiet; the average person walking in would scurry right back out. Only those who belonged would cross the threshold. Of course, Senator Helen Sanders wasn’t the average person, nor did she pay heed to unspoken boundaries. She strode right to the door of the main office and walked inside.

  Marching through the empty office quickly, she passed both his chief of staff and sister without saying hello. When she entered Stephen’s office, she expected to see him at his desk, but instead, she found him sitting on the sofa laughing and talking with a young woman. They were so engrossed in one another, neither noticed her.

  She sized up the cozy scene at once. The girl sat comfortably, her pumps on the floor and her stocking-clad feet tucked underneath her. It was obvious she was completely at ease sitting alone with Stephen, and his body language was that of a man engrossed in the conversation. He was turned toward the girl, with one ankle resting on his knee in the most casual of positions. His other arm was stretched across the sofa, and he could easily touch the girl’s face if he wanted.

  Anyone who walked into the room would agree on one thing—the two people sitting on the sofa not only enjoyed each other’s company, but were familiar, as well. Whether or not they were romantically involved was open to debate, although a savvy person would assume it. Helen waited a second before speaking, as she considered the situation. So Stephen likes this young thing.

  “Hey Anne,” said a voice from behind Helen. She turned to see Stephen’s chief of staff barging into the room. He sounded out of breath. “I just got off the phone with my dad. He says he saw your father today. He said to tell you hi.”

  “Oh, Senator Sanders,” he said in surprise. “I apologize for not seeing you. Good evening.”

  Stephen sprang from the sofa and didn’t even give the girl a backward glance as he lavished atte
ntion on Helen. He came to her side and grinned. “Helen, what brings you here so late?”

  Helen naturally assumed the girl’s look of grave concern was one of rejection. To Helen, it was the look of a woman dropped from a man’s radar screen as soon as someone better showed up.

  Helen smiled coyly at Stephen. “I’m just here to talk things over. We should return to some ideas we kicked around in the past . . . get things started again.”

  “Why? I don’t think our positions have changed.” His smile didn’t falter, and his voice became firm.

  “Well, let’s talk privately. I’ve got some new thoughts on the matter.”

  “Hello, Senator Sanders.”

  Helen turned to Megan and acknowledged her with a nod.

  “Stephen, I think there’s going to be a vote,” Megan announced.

  Only a second passed before the blaring ring, which notified senators of a vote, came through the speaker by the senate clock on the office wall.

  “Shall we walk together, Helen?” Stephen gestured to the door.

  “Certainly.”

  “I’m going to follow you two, in case there’s some press outside the cloakroom,” Megan called out.

  Helen didn’t like the idea, but she didn’t object. As they walked to the senate floor, she glanced over her shoulder at Megan. Deciding she was far enough away, Helen turned to Stephen. “So who’s the pretty young thing in your office? Greg seems to know her well.”

  Stephen shrugged. “That’s Anne Norwood. Her father is a local D.A. from where Greg grew up. My father knew her dad.” His voice hardened. “She’s a family friend.”

  “Well, you two seem to be friendly.” She raised her eyebrows. “Is she a friend of yours?”

  “She’s a friend of my mother’s.” He rolled his eyes.

  Her mouth twitched in thought. Plausible. He’s a man. He’s going to flirt with someone like her. She abruptly switched topics. “Have you thought of my proposal? And don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “Helen, I don’t see married women . . . ever.” Despite the firm letdown, he spoke softly and with a smile.

  She wrinkled her nose in dismay. “But I’m not married.”

  “You’re engaged to be married—to a congressman, I might add.”

  “You’re no fun,” she answered petulantly. The image of him talking with Anne crept into her mind. She pushed him again. “But what if I wasn’t engaged? This wouldn’t be because of someone else, would it?”

  Megan’s voice rose from behind. “Stephen, I just got an e-mail—I need to talk to you now about that Rocky Mountain News article.”

  Stephen turned to his sister. “Walk with us. What’s the paper asking about?”

  “Humph,” Helen huffed. As Megan caught up, Helen muttered, “I’ll see you later, Stephen,” and walked on.

  Chapter 17

  A few days later, Anne walked down a hallway of the Hart Building, completely engrossed in a Government Accountability Office report on safe drinking water standards. She didn’t look as she turned a corner and ran straight into a hard body. When she looked up to apologize profusely to the stranger, she saw it was Senator Haddow’s handsome legislative director. “I’m so sorry! Excuse me.”

  “No problem.” He smiled and extended a hand, while he spoke in a smooth voice. “I’m Stacy Jones. We haven’t met, have we?”

  As Anne struck up a friendly conversation with Stacy, the vulture eyes of Senator Helen Sanders easily spotted them on the second level. From the floor of the Hart Building atrium, she spied them as she walked with Stephen from the senate chamber.

  Helen’s conversation with Stephen was frustrating. She’d tried to change the topic from the front page of The New York Times to a more prurient one, but he wouldn’t budge. She chuckled to herself at an opportunity to taunt him. “Isn’t that your little friend up there? Is that her boyfriend?”

  Stephen’s eyes flew above the massive Calder sculpture in front of them and landed on Stacy and Anne, casually talking and laughing on the second floor. His mouth set into a hard expression. “I have no idea.”

  Though they continued to walk, Helen noticed that his attention never strayed from the pair. “They make a very striking couple,” she slyly remarked.

  “Yes, they do.”

  She nodded at his emotionless reply, which confirmed her suspicions. She was certain something was going on, but she wasn’t sure what. Stephen was too smart to be involved with an intern. Yet he glared at the girl, looking as if he wanted to scale the wall.

  He turned to Helen with what looked to be a forced smile. “I need to run to a meeting. It’s quicker if I take the stairs.”

  “Of course. We can talk later,” she said, suppressing a giggle.

  As he sped up the stairs, she preened, proud of her intuition. So Stephen likes that girl, but he can’t do anything about it. Amused by his predicament, she chuckled to herself; she was confident he’d be back in her bed soon enough.

  On the second floor, Anne was telling Stacy she had a boyfriend when Stephen walked up.

  “Good morning, Stacy . . . Anne.”

  “Good morning, Senator McEvoy.” Stacy smiled at Anne. “I should be going. Nice meeting you. I hope to see you around.”

  “Yeah, nice meeting you.”

  As Stacy left them, Anne looked around furtively. Stephen had created the worst of all situations—they were alone for the entire world to see. She spoke at once in a hushed voice. “I was just going to get a Coke.”

  “Oh, yes. Go right ahead. And have a good Christmas if I don’t see you again.” He ended with a wink.

  She smiled, shaking her head. “Merry Christmas, Senator McEvoy.”

  Later that night, Stephen greeted his mother as she arrived at the house. She said she only popped in to pick up a few Christmas presents, so he left her alone and returned to chip away at his pile of work. Half an hour later, his head was down as he read the day’s press clippings when Lillian walked into his office.

  He looked up just as she placed on his desk a small piece of antique luggage made of crocodile leather and decorated with brass hardware. He eyed her warily. “What’s that?”

  “Grandma McEvoy’s jewelry case—the one she traveled with. Before she became bedridden, she went through all of her jewelry and put everything she thought worth keeping inside this case.”

  “So?”

  “When she died, she gave the case and its contents to your father.”

  He shrugged and stated what he thought was obvious. “And now it’s yours.”

  “Ha! You know she always hated me. I’m the last person in this family my mother-in-law would want her jewelry to go to. I’ve never worn a single piece of it.”

  “Are there things in there for Patty and Megan? They’d probably want something from it as a Christmas present.”

  “I’m not sure.” A mischievous smile brightened her face. “Have you found Anne a gift yet?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Thanks, Mom, but no. We’re not making a big deal of it. We made a pact we wouldn’t spend more than ten dollars on our gifts. I’m giving her a photo I took.”

  “Nothing in this case will cost you anything.”

  “True.” He wanted to give Anne something more—something special—though he doubted the jewelry case held the right gift. “But given Grandma McEvoy’s tastes, I can’t imagine there’s anything in there that’s right for Anne.”

  “Oh, I bet there is. She had a lot of jewelry—including some fine art deco pieces that were very simple, if I remember correctly.” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Let’s take a look.”

  While his mom had piqued his interest about the box’s contents, he didn’t want to investigate it with her. He downplayed his interest and shut the box. “I will later. I need to get a little more work in.”

  “Oh, all right.” She sighed. “Promise me you’ll look through it, though. I’m going home now. Don’t stay up too late. You need your slee
p.”

  “Sure. Night, Mom.”

  As she said good night and left the room, he went back to his reading until he heard the front door shut. He set his papers aside, moved the case closer, and opened it. The top velvety tray was filled with flashy baubles Anne wouldn’t like. Hoping his mother was right, he removed it to search for simpler pieces. He looked at the second tray and immediately spied what his mother intended him to find; after all, she never acted without a reason. A small ring box covered in frayed, black silk sat nestled amid pearl brooches and ruby earrings. Knowing what was inside the box, his gut reaction was swift. No . . . not yet.

  In the wee hours of the morning a few days before Christmas, Trey Johnson sat in the only open donut shop off Interstate 70 in Colorado. He didn’t have much family, and Langford had invited him to spend the holidays with his, but Trey declined. He wanted a week in Hawaii instead. Eating breakfast before his 5:00 a.m. flight, he picked at an apple fritter and drank mediocre coffee while he read the previous day’s paper.

  When a black Mercedes pulled up in front of the shop, he was curious, but his eyes widened when Stephen McEvoy’s chief of staff, Greg Miller, and a young woman got out of the car together. He’d met the man once at a candidate forum in Denver. He didn’t have a clue who the blonde was, and he wondered why she was with Greg, given the hour and location. Trey smiled, deciding he might need to taunt Greg—if just to see how his opposition would react.

  When the two walked in, Trey focused on reading his e-mail to give them enough time to get their coffee and food. After they paid and moved to a station of cream and sugar, Trey cleared his throat. “Greg, isn’t it?” Trey stood and extended his hand. “I’m Trey Johnson. We met back in the summer. I work for Dan Langford.”

  “Oh, hi,” Greg answered slowly, as if struggling to place him. He placed a plastic lid on his coffee and shook his hand. “Yes, I’m Greg Miller. I work for Senator McEvoy. Good to see you again.”

  Trey looked at the woman for a moment and smiled at Greg as a hint he hadn’t introduced them. Greg immediately said, “Uh, Trey, this is Anne Norwood. Anne, Trey Johnson.”