A Second Chance at Love: A Hometown Hero Series Novel

by Connelly, Clare

  “Don’t you?” He asked quietly, his words darker than he’d intended. He turned from her and ran a hand through his hair, focussing on the map of the state as though he could find some kind of emotional salvation in the cartographic.

  Madeline looked around for some tissues and saw a box in the corner of his desk. She crossed to it and lifted one out, so that she could gently pat the skin beneath her eyes.

  “When did it happen?” Harrison asked, turning around to look at her.

  Something strange throbbed inside of him, at the sight of Madeline trying so hard to return herself to her usual state of cool command. She was blinking furiously, to keep tears at bay, and the tissue was a crumpled mess. He made a soft noise of impatience and moved to stand in front of her, then lifted a thumb to chase one of her tears away. Her big blue eyes lifted to his face, and the strength of emotion he saw in them gave him the distinct impression he’d been hit by a hefty piece of timber.

  “Just now. About an hour ago.”

  A frown pulled at his lips. “How’s your mother?”

  “Devastated.” She shook her head. Her words trembled with the burden of self-recriminations. “I couldn’t stay there. They were all so upset. Even KB seemed shocked to realise that Kenneth had actually died.”

  “And you?”

  She shook her head. “Numb. I just needed to see you.” Her laugh was weak and faint. “That’s crazy, right?”

  “Where’s your husband?” The words hung between them like a thinly veiled accusation.

  “Dean had to go back to DC.” She saw the way his face flashed with anger and immediately she went on the defensive of her friend. “He’s been working two years on this one major piece of legislation. He would have stayed if he could.” She felt her heart step it up a notch, struggling to pump the blood that was rushing through her overexcited body. “But even if he’d stayed, I still would have come here.”

  Harrison closed his eyes for a second. “Jesus, Maddie. Don’t do this.”

  She lifted a hand to his face, her fingers lightly caressing the stubble of his jaw. “Don’t do what?”

  “I’m not interested in being your something on the side while you’re in town.” He squared his shoulders and tried desperately to harden his heart.

  She was torn. She wanted to challenge him. Oh, it would be smarter to respect his wishes. Only what he said he wanted simply didn’t fit with the way he behaved. He was lying to her, and maybe even to himself too. “Aren’t you?” She pressed her fingers flat, so that her hand caressed his cheek. Even in heels, she could just reach his mouth. She ran her lips over them lightly, kissing him gently, inquisitively.

  Harrison hated the power she had over him, but he was only human. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his body, deepening the kiss and taking back the control for himself. Damn it to hell if she thought she could come waltzing into his office and expect a pity fuck. She was married, for God’s sake.

  So why was he still kissing her? Why was he running his hands impatiently over the flimsy dress, seeking a zip? He let out a guttural sound of impatience and pushed her away, as though her very body was alive with flames. For she was the devil herself; a temptress sent to drive him wild. “I’m not going to be some guy you cheat with, Madeline May Bartlett.” He swore. “Howard.” He shook his head and spoke more emphatically. “I’m not going to be that guy.”

  “You already are,” she pointed out stoically, though her nerves were simmering from heat and thwarted desire. His breathing was ragged and she knew he felt the same. That he wanted her.

  “I would do anything to take back that night,” he said angrily. “I can’t believe we did that. I’m not that person, Madeline, but you turn me into… God knows what. I’ve always felt that I would do anything for you. And even though I hate who you are now, apparently that instinct hasn’t gone away.”

  She wrapped her arms around her slender waist. He had to pull on all his strengths not to go to her and comfort her. She didn’t deserve it.

  “Did you even think about me? You’ve swanned into town and you’re using me to make sense of something big – losing Kenneth. But you’re going to go away again. And you’ll forget me all over, but I won’t forget you.” He moved towards his door, his body emanating raw tension. “I think you should go. Your family must be worried about you.”

  She was sucking in air like a fish out of water. Her eyes were wide. “Harrison… please.” She fluttered down her lashes, obscuring her blue gaze from him, and kept her feet planted.

  “I’d prefer you to go under your own steam, but I will march you the hell out of my office, if that’s what it takes.”

  One foot in front of the other, she managed to make her way across the room. She realised that she was cold, and frowned, looking over her shoulder to Harrison’s window. A flurry of sleet was in the air, and the sky was bleak. Where was her coat? She frowned. She hadn’t brought one. No wonder her arms felt like icicles.

  Harrison pressed the door shut and held his hand on it, his eyes fixed on the timber frame. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “Why him?”

  His words were so rich with emotion. Madeline stopped walking, and stared at him. She was shivering again. From shock, or from the cold, she couldn’t say.

  “Him?”

  “Dean.” He spat the word as though it physically hurt him to say it.

  Because it had been the guarantee she’d needed. Appearing to fall for the man her father had suggested she spend time with had been her insurance policy. For surely Kenneth would have no reason for ruining Diana’s life if he thought the issue of the Samsons was totally in Madeline’s past.

  Besides. Harrison had moved on.

  “It made sense,” she said quietly, her teeth chattering together. It caught Harrison’s attention and he unhooked his jacket from the coat stand and draped it around her shoulders, zipping it from waist to neck.

  His eyes sought hers; quizzical and loaded with disbelief. “More sense than us?”

  She looked away from him. He was so close she could smell his masculine scent; a woodsy aftershave and a no-nonsense soap. It reminded her of his shower, and she shuddered with a full body convulsion as sensual memories flooded her tired mind.

  “I can’t explain it,” she said honestly.

  “Why not?” His words were demanding. Insistent. “Why can’t you explain something as simple as your marriage? You left Whitegate and fell in love straight away. It happens. You obviously didn’t love me, or you would have stayed.”

  “I left because I loved you!” She denied fiercely and then bitterly regretted the words. She could not tell Harrison what she knew about Diana. The position it would put him in – to turn over his own mother to authorities – was impossibly cruel.

  “Bullshit,” he snapped. But he didn’t move away from her. His hands were on the zip of the jacket, close to her face. “I’ve had a long time to think about this, and I came to the conclusion, about a year after you went, that you just didn’t want a future with me.” He shook his head in rueful frustration at his naïve self. “Your present, yes. When you were still young, and we were just caught up in that haze of long days and God, those nights together… You were fine with that. But marry someone like me? Utterly beneath you.”

  “Don’t.” She shook her head. “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s the truth, Maddie. It’s the only truth that makes sense. You fooled around with me knowing how I felt about you, and not caring. But when it got ‘real’, you bolted faster than you could even say, ‘you’re just not good enough’.”

  Madeline shook her head, and her eyes sought his. But the rejection she saw there filled her with a mix of terror and grief, for he was stubborn, and he’d made his mind up about her. It was obvious. “You were too good.”

  His laugh was ironic. “Oh, is that your story now? That I was too good for you?”

  “Not just you. You and Diana. You were too good for me, and Kenneth,
and the whole messed up Bartlett family.”

  “Are you kidding me?” He actually laughed. “My mom had nothing to do with us. And your father shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have let him.” He expelled a harsh breath of frustration. “So he disapproved. So what? So damn what? He would have got over it.”

  “You don’t know him, Harrison. He would never have let the wedding go ahead.”

  “You really think that? You actually believe your father could have stopped two people from living their lives? Was he going to chain us in his basement, Madeline? For an incredibly intelligent person, you sure are stupid.”

  “Don’t,” she snapped, rubbing her temples. “Don’t be rude to me. It just doesn’t suit you. You’re angry. I get it. The situation is a mess. But I don’t deserve to be spoken to like that.”

  A muscle flecked in his jaw. He looked at her for a long time before nodding. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re not stupid. I just don’t get why you would use our families as an excuse. My mom loved you about as much as I did. And your dad would have come around. And if he didn’t?” He said, talking over the objection he could see she was about to make. “If he didn’t, we would have still been happy and in love. We would have had each other, and that was all I wanted.”

  Her heart turned over in her chest. The desire to confide in him was so strong, it felt like a physical yearning pressing against her chest. But the danger to Diana hadn’t passed. It never would. Worst case scenario, Diana would end up serving time in prison. Best case? Well, even with a lawyer like Madeline, she’d still likely have a felony conviction against her name. And it would be because Harrison, her own son, had followed his ethical code and dobbed her in.

  “But you got scared off, huh? And married a man who ticked all the boxes.”

  Not quite all the boxes, she couldn’t help thinking. She shook her head. Another secret she had to hold tight. Someone else’s privacy that she was protecting, to her own detriment. “It’s complicated.”

  “You know what’s not complicated?” He asked with a quiet earnestness to his voice.

  “What?”

  “You and me. If what we are wasn’t enough for you, even back then, it never will be. No matter how much you like it when I kiss you, and how much you want me to make love to you, it’s not enough. You want your cake and to eat it too. Marriage to the sensible guy you’re proud to call your husband, and me, the man who can drive you crazy in bed, on the side.”

  Madeline knew this conversation couldn’t resolve itself. Not without telling him more than she was able to. She took a step away from him, and reached for the door. “You’re wrong about one thing, Harrison.”

  “Am I?” He asked, without looking at her.

  She opened the door a little. “The thing that would have made me most proud of all would have been calling you my husband. I did what I had to do. I had very little choice. But I have regretted the necessity of leaving you every single day of my life since then. If things had been different, I would have married you, and it would have been the best day of my life.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A long time ago, in almost another world, Kenneth Bartlett had served in the military. It had been a calculated decision to make him a more popular politician. He wanted to avoid the appearance of toughness simply because he talked the talk. Kenneth had understood he also needed to at least walk the walk.

  His tenure had been short, but his time in political office had been lengthy, and full military honors were accorded to him at the time of his passing. Madeline jumped as a gun was fired into the air, and then another, and another, on the cold, bleak afternoon when Kenneth’s life was being farewelled.

  The small but determined pack of photographers was being kept at bay by a combination of secret service personnel and local police. Including Harrison. Madeline, from behind the safety of her enormous dark glasses, found her eyes drawn to him almost the entire time.

  He was dressed in uniform, which was unusual for him. The dark blue suited him, flattering his honey skin tone. And even at that distance, she could see the glowing blue of his eyes. His body was built for battle, she thought distractedly, admiring the way he was tall and lithe, but shaped with a lean muscular strength.

  Another gun fired. She jumped, and perhaps the subtle movement drew his attention, for he broke off his conversation and looked her way. His eyes landed on her, and held hers, even through the dark lens of her sunglasses.

  She was dressed head to toe in Elie Saab, a pantsuit that fit her trim figure as though it had been designed for her, and a dark grey coat belted at the waist. Her glasses covered half of her face, and her pale hair had been pinned into a perfect imitation of Grace Kelly’s signature chignon.

  She clasped her hands in her lap, and startled again, when a rifle exploded into the cold, grey air. A flock of birds gave flight, squawking over the proceedings with an irreverent degree of fuss. Madeline’s tips twitched at the corners, until Dean put a hand on her knee, and leaned closer to her to provide comfort.

  Harrison’s head jerked away, but she’d seen the expression on his face. The hurt, and the anger. She flicked her gaze to Dean and gave him a tight, small smile. He’d arrived only moments before they’d left the house, full of apologies for how finely he’d been obliged to cut the timing.

  She’d been strangely unworried. Though it would have sparked early speculation if he hadn’t been by her side at Kenneth’s burial, Madeline wasn’t offended. If she’d had any choice, she would have happily skipped the proceedings herself.

  The day her father had threatened Diana so that Madeline would be forced to terminate her relationship with Harrison was the day she said her final farewell. That day, she had accepted that he was little more than a tyrannical megalomaniac who would do anything to paint the picture of his perfect life. Never mind that flawed cracks ran deep into the foundations of his family.

  Her eyes drifted to Harrison again. His head was turned away, so that she could see his profile. Proud, implacable, and detached.

  The officers present began to fold the flag that had been draped over the casket, leaving only a highly glossed coffin on copper legs. They folded the flag with military precision, and marched it towards Arielle.

  Madeline frowned. Her mother looked so small, and completely broken. She’d dressed in the black dress and suit that Kenneth himself had selected for the occasion, and Emily had arranged her hair into a neat style. But her skin was whiter than paper, and very dry looking. Pinched. Her hands were covered by black satin gloves, but they shook in her lap as she received the flag.

  As the assembled mourners – perhaps three hundred in total – rose from the white seats on the South lawn of the Ranch, the photographers began to press forward, and Madeline again snuck a glance at Harrison. He was confidently controlling his troopers, keeping a respectful distance from the fence line, and making sure those who had come to pay their final respects to Senator Bartlett were able to do so without being harassed by the press.

  “Madeline?” She blinked behind her glasses and angled her head towards Dean. “Are you ready, darling?”

  She nodded, looping her hand over his arm. “Of course.”

  Together, they formed a pair at the back of the rest of the family, and moved slowly behind the coffin, as it was carried to the waiting hearse. Madeline felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She found it impossible not to risk a quick look over her shoulder, and she saw Harrison, watching her. A swift kick in her gut made her miss her step. Dean shot his arm around her waist and caught her, pulling her out of the procession and putting his arms around her waist. “You okay?”

  She knew Harrison was watching, and the last thing she wanted was to give him even more of the wrong idea about her marriage. She nodded thickly. “Fine. Just uneven grass there.”

  Dean did not seem to heed the silent message she was sending out. He pulled her into a hug, and whispered in her ear, “It’s okay to cry, Mads. I know he was a bas
tard, but he was still your dad.”

  She nodded. “I know.” She pulled back so that she could look in his eyes. “So many people are here. They all seem to feel it more than I do. Is there something wrong with me?”

  “With you?” He let out a short laugh of disbelief. “No, honey. There’s something wrong with them.” He put an arm around her waist and guided her back into the group of people, moving slowly behind the coffin. He dipped his head so he could speak sotto voce and be heard. “Most of these people are here to network. Look at them. Senators, donors, congressmen. It’s a who’s who of DC elite.”

  She looked around, with renewed interest. He was right. “Dean, did you say donors?”

  “Yeah. Some of your father’s biggest contributors are here.”

  “Is there… I mean… do you know anyone from Wyoming here?”

  He frowned, scanning the crowd. “That woman over there. She’s a District court judge, from Wyoming, I think.” His frown deepened. “Over there. Mitchell Harrison. He’s one of your dad’s biggest supporters.” The night she’d returned from Maine, eight years earlier, she’d been so distressed that she’d relayed the entirety of the truth to Dean. He stopped walking now and stared at Madeline. “Harrison. Mitchell Harrison.” He let out a small laugh of surprise. “You think that’s him?”

  She nodded, her cheeks flushed with shock at the discovery. “It’s got to be, right? Trust Diana to do something so sentimental as give her son his name.”

  “Foolish, more like,” Dean said with a shake of his head. “What are you going to do?”

  “Do?” She frowned. “I can’t do anything, can I?”

  Dean shrugged. “You’re a free woman, Madeline. These are your decisions to make.”

  “Not quite a free woman,” she couldn’t resist reminding him with a small smile.

  “Ah, yes. About that. I did manage to see our lawyer while I was in DC.”

  Her heart turned over. “You’ve got the papers?”