“I just wanted to let you know that I’ve asked Blain to be my campaign manager.”
Grace wiggled her toes for relief within her chic but painful red shoe. “I know. Can I go home now?”
The senator aimed a thumb in her direction. “She’s mad at me, this one. She thinks I’m too old. That I’m going to keel over, any minute. If she had her way, she’d have me locked up in a nursing home.”
“That’s not true,” Grace protested.
At least, the part about wanting to have him locked up in a nursing home wasn’t.
Blain put a pen down on a stack of legal pads in front of him. “I smell a primary challenge from Nancy Jackson.”
The senator’s grandson thought he could actually scent political change in the air, but Grace was pretty sure his nose was on the fritz. Sure, up-and-comers always threatened primary challenges, but nobody in the party would dare run against Kip Halloway. It would be crazy, not to mention ungrateful and disloyal.
Okay, so the senator wasn’t in his prime anymore and his gaffes were starting to become a problem, but Grace couldn’t imagine anyone having the temerity to challenge him. Certainly not Nancy Jackson, the first female African-American comptroller in the state’s history, a sure bet for higher office if she waited her turn.
“Jackson is cautious,” Grace said. “She’s not one to stick her neck out.”
“Just in case,” Senator Halloway said, “I’d like to bring in some outside talent.”
Outside talent? That sounded ominous. She wondered what Blain thought about it, but his face revealed nothing. Grace asked, “Are you thinking of bringing in a big gun from the national committee?”
“Those guys are clowns,” the senator said. “What we need is a hotshot consultant like Ethan Castle.”
The name thudded into her.
The senator continued, oblivious to her distress. “I was telling Blain that I saw Castle at the Crab Fest the other day. It got me thinking…should we hire him on?”
Grace thought about that for all of two seconds. “No!”
An awkward silence descended.
“No?” the senator asked, raising one bushy gray eyebrow.
Grace pulled her lips together, trying to think on her feet. “Ethan Castle is a mercenary. He only works on campaigns for the money or for the challenge.”
Senator Halloway crowed. “Exactly. I like his style.”
Grace gave Blain a look that could have frozen him into a block of ice. If this was his doing, she’d never forgive him, no matter how white his smile. Under her withering glare, Blain leaped into the fray in a bungling attempt to help. “It could be awkward for Grace. She knew him in law school…”
The senator shrugged. “They can catch up on old times.”
That’s when Grace realized this was an ambush. “Wait. A few minutes ago, you just casually mentioned Ethan’s name as a possibility. Now you’re talking about this like it’s a done deal. Senator, did you ask Ethan Castle to come work for you?”
“No, Grace. I want you to do it.”
Chapter Three
Grace was still sputtering when the senator ambled out of the office, leaving her with Blain, who cornered her by the door. “Come on, Grace. You’re the one with the personal connection. That’s why he wants you to make the call. Why are you having a meltdown over this?”
Her mouth fell open in indignation. She tried to speak and a little squeak came out. She tried again. Then it came out in a rush. “You know exactly why! I worry every single day that what happened with me and Ethan will come back to bite me.”
Blain rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. You don’t have to worry about sick peepers like Dale Delmont and his camera phone anymore. I took care of that, didn’t I?”
Given what happened, Grace would always be worried about sick peepers with camera phones. Still, in her darkest hour of humiliation, she’d turned to Blain and he’d kept her secret. He’d taken care of her blackmailer, too. And they’d never spoken of it again. Until now. “I can’t call Ethan Castle and ask him to work here. What if your grandfather finds out what we did?”
Seeing that she was on the verge of tears, Blain said, “Oh, hell. You were always such a nervous kid. Why would he find out? And even if he did, I’m the one he’d be pissed at for how I handled it. But you? Grace, I’ve told you before, even if Grandpa knew about those pictures, he wouldn’t care.”
“Yes, he would,” Grace insisted. “He would absolutely care. He’s old-fashioned. He’d call me a trollop because he’s too old-fashioned to use the word slut.”
“He’d never call you that,” Blain said with an air of amusement. “You’re making a bigger deal of what happened than anybody else would. It’s not like you broke any laws.”
“Just the ones about public decency,” Grace said, pressing her hands to her cheeks. It was bad enough having to tell Blain about what happened the first time. Discussing it again now was a fresh horror. “Besides, it’s easy for you to say. Nobody has pictures of you—”
“Having sex?”
“I wasn’t!” At least, it wasn’t the Bill Clinton definition of sex. And was there any higher authority on such matters than former presidents?
“Hey, it’s the age of Facebook. Everybody’s got pictures of themselves out there doing something questionable. You say Grandpa is old-fashioned, but you’re like a relic from the early nineteenth century. Maybe you should just tell him all about it and let it go!”
Grace bit her lower lip. He made it sound so simple. Reasonable. “I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble, Blain. And Ethan is in those pictures, too. How awkward would that be to reveal now? Besides, if I told your grandfather, it’d change how he feels about me. I couldn’t take it. I really couldn’t.”
Blain sighed. “Then just pretend it never happened and call Castle first thing in the morning.”
It was an order, and she was used to doing what she was told. But this time, a spark of defiance lit up inside her. “You call him. If you wanna hire him so bad, you do it.”
“Given how hot and heavy you two were, I’m guessing he won’t say no to you.”
Her mouth fell slightly agape. “So you’re willing to use my past for political gain?” It wasn’t fair, and given how she’d adored Blain for half her life, it hurt.
“That’s how the game is played, Grace, and if you want to play, you’d better get used to it.”
She knew politics could be a harsh business; she also knew that Blain’s cool assessment meant he’d be a fantastic campaign manager. Maybe she ought to take the fact that he didn’t sugarcoat it for her as a compliment. Still, something inside her railed against the injustice of it. “I’m not twelve anymore. You can’t just promise me ice cream then send me to the polls wearing a Halloway for Senate T-shirt.”
“Are you kidding? I’d send you to the polls with ‘Halloway for Senate’ tattooed on your forehead if it’d help us win. Grace, don’t you think you owe me?”
It was a low blow, using the guilt card. And it stung because Blain didn’t have to remind her of how he’d endangered his own career to help her. She knew perfectly well that she owed everything she had and everything she was to the Halloway family.
And in the end, she really was loyal as a hound.
“Fine. You win. I’ll call Ethan Castle.”
…
When he saw HALLOWAY FOR SENATE on his cell phone he hoped it would be her. “This is Grace Santiago,” she said, and Ethan smiled with unexpected relief.
“So, Grace, you might have mentioned that EZ-Clean is a franchise. Do you know how many laundry facilities in the greater metro area I visited last Sunday?”
“You actually tried to meet me at the EZ-Clean?”
Toweling sweat off the back of his neck from his morning in the hotel gym, he said, “We had a date.”
“You went looking for me at random launderers?”
“You know I can’t turn down a challenge.”
“And you know tha
t’s not normal, right?”
He laughed, grabbing some chilled mineral water from the suite’s fridge. “It was good fieldwork. These days, people are ridiculously easy to find with an Internet search, but your information is on such lockdown that I’m wondering whether you’re really a senate staffer or if that’s just your secret cover…”
“Most people would take that as a hint,” she said, but he heard amusement in her voice.
“I’m not most people. I didn’t have your phone number or your address. But there are twelve EZ-Cleans in the area, so I figured it was just a process of elimination. Unfortunately, it took quite a while and you don’t even want to know my hourly rate. So if you’re calling to scold me for standing you up—”
“I’m calling on behalf of Senator Halloway.”
Even when she was all business, that velvety voice of hers was dead sexy. His thoughts meandered to how she’d looked when he last saw her. Wicked Latin curves, generous hips, ample breasts. At the memory, his cock stirred.
“Ethan? Are you listening? The senator would like to hire you. He believes you’d be a real asset to the campaign…”
Ethan shook himself to attention, then nearly snorted at her words. He wasn’t the slightest bit interested in working on a campaign to reelect a fossil like Kip Halloway. It would be the final fucking snowflake in the winter of his professional discontent.
But he had to admit, the idea of spending time with Grace was sufficiently tempting to lure him into a brief fantasy. “So I’d be working under you, every day, long hours, late nights…?”
Grace cleared her throat, ignoring his innuendo. “The campaign manager is the senator’s grandson, Blain Halloway. You’d be working for him.”
That put the nail in the coffin on that idea; Ethan avoided neophytes and nepotism like the plague. There was no way he’d accept this job offer, but if it got him what he wanted, he was willing to pretend to be interested. “Why don’t we talk about it in person? I’m leaving town tonight, but I’ll be back in a few weeks.”
“When do you get back?”
“The thirty-first. I can take you to dinner that night. We can talk about Senator Halloway’s campaign…and a lot of other things.”
He’d get the truth out of her one way or another. He needed answers a lot more than he needed a job working for a dinosaur who just might keel over in the Senate chamber halfway through his next term.
He thought he actually heard her biting her lip on the other end of the line. “That’s Halloween night…I’ve, um, got other plans.”
“Break ’em,” he said.
“I—I’m meeting Blain that night.”
Something about the way she said it made him ask, “Business or pleasure?”
When she didn’t answer, jealousy hit him straight between the eyes.
Bam.
Not that he had any right to be jealous, but nothing on earth got Ethan’s blood up faster than competition. So, this was the guy she was seeing, but not really seeing, eh? A senator’s grandson? Ethan was struck with the sudden impulse to dig up every bit of dirt he could find on the guy and bury him. “Let me make something clear. I’m not going to work for Blain Halloway no matter what the offer is.”
“Why not?”
He threw his feet up onto the hotel desk and tried to keep his tone light. “Because I’m a jealous ex-boyfriend and I don’t play second fiddle to anybody. Not in business and not in bed.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath. “Oh.”
“That’s right, Grace. I said ex-boyfriend. Because we were together. And I liked you. I liked you a lot.”
“Oh,” she said again, this time more softly. And after a few moments, she added, “I—I liked you, too.”
He had her on the ropes. It was time for the knockout. “I think you still like me.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath and fought the urge to buff his nails on his shirt. “Ethan,” she finally said, “Please don’t let me be the reason you’re not taking this job.”
Either she really wanted him to take the job or someone was putting the screws to her. Either way, that gave him the advantage. “What are you doing right now?”
The question seemed to cut through her anxiety. “Laundry.”
“Laundry, again? You must have a lot of clothes.”
“I do it every week and today is Laundry Day.”
“Laundry Day? What happens if you skip it and meet me at the airport for coffee?”
“Um. I’m not sure. There are cosmic forces I dare not upset.”
Was she neurotic, or playing hard to get? Either way, he found it adorable. “Tell you what. You give me the address of your laundry and I’ll give you one last chance to convince me to campaign for Kip Halloway.”
…
Grace had just started the wash cycle when her boss called to say he wanted to cancel his appointments on the Eastern Shore. There was no reason for the senator to be telling her this, of course. He had a scheduler for just this kind of thing. Grace was pretty sure Senator Halloway was only calling her to vent. It was the family dynamic. He was frustrated with Blain but didn’t want to bad-mouth his campaign manager to the rest of the staff; Grace was somewhere between employee and family, so she was a safe outlet.
Senator Halloway complained, “They hate me on the Eastern Shore!”
Grace put the cap back on the detergent and cradled the phone on her shoulder. “Sir, they hate you on the Eastern Shore because you called it the Outhouse of Maryland.”
“And I meant it! I’m better off focusing on urban centers, don’t you think?”
Grace wasn’t going to get in the middle. “I don’t have an opinion.”
“Then why are you calling me about it?”
Grace sputtered. “You called me!”
He paused in momentary confusion, then his voice lowered with brusqueness. “Your mother is making her famous seafood paella for dinner, so I’ve got to go.”
Grace snapped her phone shut and took a big swig from her Starbucks latte, wishing it was spiked with something a little stronger than hazelnut. Then she reached for the thick binder of materials she had to read for the environmental bill while the EZ-Clean attendant watched a Ravens game on a small-screen television.
Rule #87 of Grace’s Personal Life Handbook strictly prohibited television distractions while reading complex legislation, but she was really more of a Redskins fan and she had to do something to keep herself busy while waiting for Ethan Castle to walk in the door.
Their phone conversation had her insides so jumbled she couldn’t think straight. And she realized that in spite of all the reasons she could recite to herself about why she never wanted to see the guy again, excitement coursed through her at the prospect of being up close and personal with him.
The door swung open, setting off a little chime, and he walked in wearing a blue suit, white shirt, and red tie hanging loose from his open collar like a noose he’d just escaped. “My flight leaves in two hours,” Ethan said, striding past a few noisy machines and dropping his trademark backpack with a thud.
Grace took another sip of her latte to hide her grin. “Can’t you afford a briefcase?”
“That’s not the political statement I wanna make.” Ethan glanced down at her neat piles of whites, darks, and bright colors and Grace was glad she’d folded everything so precisely that he couldn’t get a glimpse of her underthings. “Don’t you have a washer and dryer at home, Grace?”
She winced. He may have amassed a fortune as a political consultant and television network star, but her federal salary barely paid the bills. “The machines in my apartment building are always busted or on the fritz and I can’t afford to move. You have no idea what housing prices are like out here.”
“Can’t you send your stuff to the dry cleaners?”
“They won’t do it right,” Grace insisted. “Besides, I’m thrifty.”
Grace’s deadbeat dad had never been good about child support, so she remembered th
e hard times. Of course, frugality wasn’t the whole story either. If she’d been really thrifty she could have taken her laundry to the Halloway House and her mother would wash it. But the EZ-Clean gave her a peaceful two-hour window each week to herself. Usually.
“So, lemme hear your pitch,” Ethan said. “Why should I campaign for your boss?”
Because her boss was Kip Halloway! Grace felt that everyone should love the senator as much as she did, but that likely wasn’t a winning argument. “First tell me your reservations about the job. Other than the jealous ex-boyfriend thing, I mean.”
It didn’t take him any time at all to muster up his objections. “Your boss is the very definition of an incumbent. He’s a lifer. They’d have to pry him out of his Senate seat with a crowbar. He doesn’t need me. Frankly, I’d be bored out of my mind.”
“Oh, right. Because you’re all about the exciting grassroots campaigns these days…”
“Maybe I am.”
Grace smirked. “Says the guy wearing Armani whose last client was a six-term congressman and chairman of the Ways and Means Committee.”
Ethan looked a little abashed, but his grin widened. “Are you calling me a sellout?”
She found herself grinning right back at him. “I’m saying Senator Halloway has fat campaign coffers and is prepared to make you a very nice offer.”
“In order for me to even consider working for him, I’d have two conditions, and neither are negotiable.”
“Shoot,” she said, trying to keep herself steady, something that was decidedly difficult to do when in the presence of his star wattage.
“First, I’d need your solemn vow that after we’re done talking business, you’ll answer my questions about why we broke up in law school. You’re a riddle I intend to solve.”
Oh, God. If there were any conversation in the world she didn’t want to have, it was that one. But learning he’d thought of himself as an aggrieved ex-boyfriend had turned Grace’s worldview upside down. When she left him, she’d been too messed up to think about anybody’s feelings but her own. Once it was over, she felt too guilty to answer his calls. She’d even set up a special filter to delete his e-mails. In retrospect, she’d behaved badly. Really badly.
In Bed With the Opposition Page 3
