Love Is Elected

by Alyssa Howard

  "This tree could fall at any minute," he rasped. "Let's get out of here." Lifting her effortlessly in his arms, he carried her into the living room where he sat down and cradled her gently on the blanket still spread in front of the fire.

  Kara clung to his strong body like a frightened child, shaking as another bolt of lightning hit close to the house.

  "It was horrible," she sobbed.

  "It's all right; you're safe now," he soothed, gently stroking her hair as he rocked her back and forth in his arms. His strong hands were amazingly gentle as they massaged the back of her neck and her shoulders, easing the tension from her body. Gradually she relaxed in his arms.

  "Please, don't leave me alone," she murmured as she snuggled closer to his protective presence. For an answer he drew the circle of his arms tighter.

  Her last thought before she drifted into a peaceful sleep was that his embrace was like a calm harbor in the storm. She was unaware when he gently lowered her to the blanket, lay down beside her, and covered them both with the quilt he had pulled from the arm of the couch.

  Chapter Three

  Kara awoke with a start. She was suddenly aware of several very disturbing sensations. Her shoulders were cold, for the blanket had slipped away in the night leaving her upper body covered only by the silky nightgown. A muscular arm was wrapped around her waist and her hip was pinned beneath a hard, unyielding male thigh. And she could hear sounds of car doors slamming outside and crunching footsteps approaching the house.

  "The roads were so muddy I wasn't sure we were going to make it," a disgruntled voice said.

  "Oh, come on, you'd go barefoot through a monsoon to get an interview like this," an answering voice jibed. "Just be glad this place is on high ground and Jordan didn't have to swim for it last night."

  "Good heavens, look at that tree," a female exclaimed. "It's gone right through the roof. I wonder if Jordan's all right."

  In the next instant the cabin door was flung open and several people crowded into the room. The chattering of the intruders stopped abruptly as they took in the still entwined twosome on the floor in front of the huge stone fireplace. Kara stared in horror as realization dawned.

  "Oh no!" She shuddered, noting the shocked expressions in the seven pairs of eyes looking down at her. It was obvious what they were thinking. Expressions of astonishment, anger, chagrin and sly amusement crossed their faces as they gazed at her almost naked body pinned beneath Matt Jordan's powerful sleeping form.

  "Well now, doesn't that make a pretty picture," one man commented wryly, grinning and lifting the camera hung around his neck to his face. A flash bulb popped, and in the next instant Matt Jordan sat up.

  "What the hell is going on?" he exclaimed, brushing back a lock of dark hair that had slipped over his forehead and glaring at the crowd of reporters and cameramen confronting them.

  "Shouldn't we be the ones asking that question?" snapped a female voice. Kara looked up at the tall redheaded woman in the finely tailored wool suit who had made the remark. The redhead's hard green eyes swerved to Uncle James' still astonished face.

  "I see you provide your politicians with fringe benefits," she observed cattily. A dull red flush crept over the older man's wrinkled visage. His heavy eyebrows snapped together in anger as he took in her meaning.

  "Wait until they see this one on the six o'clock news," she added. "Matt Jordan won't look like a knight in shining armor when the voters see what his extracurricular activities consist of."

  A TV cameraman had already aimed his minicam at the startled couple in front of the fireplace. But Uncle James interposed his short, rotund form between them.

  "Just a minute here," he said, wiping beads of perspiration from his brow. "You can be sued for invasion of privacy if you publish…" he sought for words, "if you photograph an intimate scene of a honeymoon couple without their permission. Jordan and my niece obviously didn't realize that we'd be coming so early—the roads were under water last night you know," he said, thinking quickly.

  Kara's jaw dropped open. She gasped and crossed her bare arms protectively in front of her breasts. Expressions of surprise from the intruders mixed with nervous laughter greeted her ears. She blushed.

  "Oh no," exclaimed Kara, "we were… I mean I was," she stammered. But her explanation was quickly stifled by Matt Jordan who had seized her upper arm, wrapping his hard fingers around it tightly. She flinched.

  "Be quiet. You got us into this. Don't make it any worse," he murmured through clenched teeth. "My career is at stake."

  Futilely she tried to jerk her arm free from his iron grasp. Looking to her uncle for help, she met only his frowning stare. His stern expression told her to be silent. Dimly Kara was aware of a blonde young woman directly behind her uncle. The woman stepped forward to touch James' arm in a fruitless attempt to calm him. But the irate politician shook her off.

  She must be one of his new girlfriends, Kara thought fleetingly. But her uncle's meaningful gaze brought her quickly back to the situation at hand.

  Adroitly the aging politician announced to the curious onlookers, "We hadn't planned to make this public until the end of the press conference, but now is as good a time as any—my niece Kara Barnett and Matt Jordan were married in a private ceremony yesterday. They came here to honeymoon before Mr. Jordan's press conference."

  Excited chatter and nervous laughter filled the room.

  "You can sure keep a secret, Frank," Kara heard a reporter needle a tall, thin man with colorless hair.

  "Well, even a campaign manager doesn't have to tell everything," he responded weakly.

  "How long have they been engaged?" the reporter persisted. But before the campaign manager could answer, a loud voice in the crowd asserted itself.

  "What county did you get married in?" the redheaded television reporter inquired sharply of Matt Jordan. "I'm sure our viewers will be fascinated and would love to know all the details." She emphasized the word "love," but the expression on her face was anything but warm. "Matt—aren't you the sly one-running off with this little girl," she shot Kara a look of amused condescension. "You're full of surprises —but then so am I."

  The reporter turned to face Kara, her brilliant crimson lipstick outlining a tight smile. "I've been working very closely with Matt, and I'm interested in making sure he gets good press," she purred. "So naturally I'm fascinated by this terribly romantic development." Her appraising green eyes raked over Kara's flimsy blue nightdress. "I'm Vera Caldwell," she continued. "I'm sure you've seen me on the Channel 12 news. I specialize in political stories."

  Kara felt ridiculous—like some foolish secretary caught on the boss' lap with her blouse undone. But she hadn't spent years in a girls' boarding school where verbal duels were a daily occurrence without learning a tactic or two to defend herself. Mustering her strength, she looked back at the smartly dressed television reporter.

  "No, I don't think so, but then I only have time to watch the more important local stations," Kara shot back. An unattractive flush of anger crossed the reporter's carefully made up face, but before she had an opportunity to retaliate, Kara, determined to keep her dignity, stood up and walked resolutely to the half-open bedroom door. But she was forced to stop abruptly when she remembered the tree. Quickly she recrossed the room, acutely conscious of everyone's eyes upon her partially clad body and disappeared into the guest bedroom. As soon as she had closed the door behind her, she collapsed on the bed, confused, angry and tearful.

  She was just trying to pull herself together a few minutes later when Matt Jordan, toting his carryall and her overnight bag, joined her.

  "How could you?" she flared at him angrily, looking up from where she still huddled on the bed. "How could you agree that we were married?"

  "What the hell else could I do?" he retorted, setting down the luggage and grasping her bare shoulders in his strong, warm hands. "Now listen to me. You got me into this and you're going to get me out. We'll have to get married."

&n
bsp; "Married!" Kara shrieked, almost beside herself. "Are you crazy?" Instantly Jordan clapped his forceful hand over her mouth and held it there despite Kara's struggles to free herself.

  "Quiet," he hissed. "Do you want them to hear you out there? Now listen to me. You'll do as I say. We're going to be married. As soon as possible—this afternoon, if it can be managed."

  Tearing herself away from him, she fled to the other side of the room, putting the distance of the bed between them. Her hands clutched the edge of the large mahogany bureau for support.

  "This is intolerable," she moaned. "What am I going to do?" But even as she uttered those words, a series of images flashed seductively through her mind. She saw her friends and co-workers looking astonished and envious as they heard the announcement of her marriage to the handsome congressional candidate—and Wayne's chagrin and mortification upon hearing the news. She saw the redheaded reporter's green-eyed jealousy as Matt Jordan smiled down at his new raven-haired bride. And finally, she saw her soft, yielding body swept up in Matt Jordan's powerful embrace. With a shiver she admitted to herself that this final image was the most appealing of all.

  But quickly she dismissed the last picture from her mind. She simply could not allow herself to be attracted to this overbearing political opportunist. Marriage was too important to Kara. She knew that when she married it would be for love. Matt Jordan was a stranger who didn't love or even care about her. She sighed. I couldn't live with that kind of relationship, she told herself. She had felt alone and unloved for too long. No, marriage was too important to be taken so lightly.

  Suddenly she became aware of Matt Jordan's assessing gaze. She looked up and blushed. His eyes were wandering speculatively over her scantily clad form.

  "Maybe marriage between us wouldn't be so bad, at least for a while," he mused aloud. His suggestive gaze lingered on her breasts, barely concealed beneath the thin material of her nightdress.

  Lifting his eyes to hers, he stalked across the room. To Kara he looked like some predatory beast after his helpless prey. Confused by the purpose she read in his eyes, she stepped back only to find herself trapped in the corner between the bed and the massive mahogany dresser.

  She raised her hands futilely to ward off his determined advances, but he merely seized her wrists in a strong viselike grip and smiling, lifted her hands above her head, pinning her helplessly between his overwhelming maleness and the wall. His cool gray eyes slid speculatively over her fine features, finally resting on her soft, half-parted lips. Slowly he bent his dark head, and his mouth moved to take possession of hers. Snapping to, Kara quickly closed her mouth in a hard line of defense, but undeterred, Matt continued to probe her lips, his kiss insistently demanding.

  Helplessly she tried to twist her body from his relentless assault. But her efforts only seemed to heighten his desire. He pressed his hard thighs and hips against her vulnerable form.

  Against her will, she felt her mouth betray her and her moist lips parted, welcoming his probing tongue. A warm surge of desire flickered through her, and she felt her hips mold themselves to his in response.

  Lifting his head, Matt Jordan smiled tauntingly into her deep, violet eyes. "See what I mean," he drawled. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if you had something like this in mind last night when you begged me not to leave you. It wouldn't be the first time that an enterprising young miss trapped an eligible bachelor into marriage."

  His words enveloped her like cold wind, sweeping away her earlier fevered passion. Wide-eyed, she stared incredulously at him. He was actually suggesting that she had deliberately trapped him into this unwanted contract. The conceit of such an assumption made her furious. Her pale skin went white with rage and her eyes gleamed with anger. If he's arrogant enough to think I would trick him into a loveless marriage, she thought perversely, then maybe that's just the kind of marriage he deserves.

  "Yes," she replied between gritted teeth, "I will marry you!"

  "I thought so," he commented wryly, his eyes glittering dangerously. He pulled away from her and gave her body a last marauding glance.

  But suddenly his gaze was broken by the sound of an urgent rapping at the door. "You better get out here," boomed the voice of his campaign manager, Frank Adams. "These reporters are getting restless."

  Cursing softly, Matt Jordan turned from his still seething prospective bride. Moments later he had dressed and left the room while Kara watched in silent fury.

  It wasn't long before her anger subsided though, and she began to have second thoughts about her impetuous decision. Outside the door the press conference had started, and she could hear the voices of Matt, Uncle James, Adams and the questioning reporters. Her hands flew to her head as her mind began to clear.

  "Oh, what am I doing?" she almost wailed aloud. Quickly she pulled her white overnight bag off the plaid lounge chair and began feverishly emptying it. In a minute she had found fresh underwear, her hairbrush, clean blue jeans and a burgundy pullover. Anxiously she fumbled with the zipper on her jeans and had trouble maneuvering her arms through the sweater. Dressed at last, she opened the door, firmly intent on interrupting the press conference and setting the record straight.

  But she had gone only a few paces when Uncle James swooped down on her and herded her into the kitchen. Over her shoulder she could see Matt Jordan showing the crowd of reporters out. As they exited, Frank Adams paused and whispered with him urgently. Matt shrugged and shook his head. Both men turned and cast quick glances at Kara— the campaign manager's hostile, the candidate's unreadable. Then Adams left to continue conciliating the reporters.

  The moment the front door closed Uncle James turned to Kara and demanded, "What the hell were you doing here? You've really made a fine mess of things, young lady!"

  "Ah… um…" Kara started to stammer, trying to formulate an answer, but her uncle's angry stare made her unable to continue. Again Kara noticed the blonde in the background who was shooting her condemning looks. She watched curiously as the woman turned solicitously to Uncle James.

  "Here, drink this," the woman insisted, thrusting a pill and a glass into the agitated man's hands.

  "I don't need that now, Monica," he said, firmly dismissing her offer and turning back to his niece. "The only solution to this mess is to get you two married—and quickly." He knit his brow, obviously deep in thought. Then his expression cleared. "Lucky for us, Maryland doesn't require a waiting period between getting a license and having the ceremony. We can have the whole thing arranged and taken care of before those reporters get back to Baltimore and Washington to make liars of us." Then casting a concerned look at Kara, James added, "You can divorce after the election if you want, but until then you'd better be the most convincing pair of lovebirds in political history."

  "But I don't love him. I hardly know him!" Kara cried. "This whole thing is a huge misunderstanding!" She wheeled around and pointed an accusing finger at Matt, whose lithe, muscular body was lounging indolently in the doorway.

  "She's right," he drawled, "but that doesn't change things. We'll still have to get married."

  "But I can't; I won't…" Kara sputtered.

  "You can and you must," her uncle stated firmly. He gave her a level look. "Kara, start thinking Straight. This doesn't just affect Jordan. It will have disastrous effects on your reputation as well. You have a budding career in public relations in Washington. But a scandal could wreck it before it got off the ground."

  Kara's eyes fell. Although her thoughts were in turmoil, she knew that her uncle's words had validity. She had only been working in the capital a few months, but she knew what the scandal sheets would do with a story like this.

  "And then there's Jordan's career," her uncle went on. "This congressional election could be just a stepping-stone to higher office—possibly the presidency—and a scandal could ruin everything."

  Kara looked over at Matt Jordan's dark, handsome figure in the doorway. Was it really true that he might someday be president? Did
she really hold the political future of the country in her hand? Would it be selfish and ridiculous to stand in his way? Torn between her warring emotions, she sank down weakly in the kitchen chair and put her head in her hands.

  "All right, go ahead and arrange the wedding," she capitulated in a barely audible voice.

  The next few hours were a blur of confused sensations. Once she had given in to Uncle James' arguments, the older man had immediately sprung to action, issuing staccato orders at his female companion and his driver. He made arrangements for a pre-dated marriage license and for a local justice of the peace from the village to come up and marry the reluctant couple.

  When Kara realized that her uncle meant to hold the ceremony almost immediately, she protested, "But I can't get married in blue jeans. You're making a mockery of this whole thing. It's nothing more than a charade," she cried, throwing up her hands in despair.

  But James brushed her objections aside. "Come on now, Kara," he chuckled, "your generation doesn't bother much with white satin nowadays. And if you wanted to march down the aisle in virgin white you should've thought twice about spending the night wrapped up with Jordan here," he teased. The fact that her uncle was getting his own way had put him in a good humor.

  But his light tone did not make Kara feel any better. Up until yesterday she had been in command of her life, but now she was being swept up in a flood of events over which she had no control. She blinked away the tears that were stinging the backs of her eyes.

  Unexpectedly, Matt Jordan, who had been watching the scene in silence, moved toward the small figure. Taking her cold hands in his, Matt searched her tear-filled eyes for a long moment and then said in a gentle voice, "Kara, I know this isn't what you wanted—it's not exactly what I had in mind either. But the circumstances have forced our hands. We have no choice. We have to be married as quickly as possible. You'll be a more beautiful bride in blue jeans than most women are in white satin." He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "And I promise you that after we're married your closet will be filled with silk and lace."