The afternoon was a repeat of the morning, with Kara adding a dozen more outfits to her political wife's wardrobe. By the end of this second shopping session she was truly exhausted and felt the beginnings of an unaccustomed headache.
"I'm afraid I've really worn you out," Mrs. Jordan remarked solicitously, noticing the slump to Kara's shoulders. "Why don't you step into the powder room, change into your new outfit, and fix your makeup. It's almost time to meet Matt."
The saleswoman showed Kara to a gilt and marble dressing area and lavatory where the young woman unfolded the blue linen suit from its box. Then she quickly changed her clothes, fixed her lipstick and eye shadow, and ran a comb through her dark curls.
Changing her outfit and renewing her makeup helped to lift her spirits. Despite her earlier cynicism, she had to admit she was pleased by her new image. "Matt won't have any reason to criticize my clothes now," she said aloud, eyeing her reflection with satisfaction. "That is, until he gets the bills," she added impishly.
With a lightened step she went out to rejoin Mrs. Jordan, but stopped short when she saw Matt, dressed in a dark blue blazer and gray slacks, lounging against the white plaster arch that led into the salon.
He looked at her with approval, his smoky eyes making a detailed survey of her changed appearance.
"Very nice, very nice indeed," he drawled. "And did you also buy something sexy?" he added suggestively. A vivid image of Matt looking at her, clad only in one of the low-cut, sheer nightgowns Mrs.
Jordan had insisted she buy, flashed through her mind, bringing a flush to her cheeks.
"I take that to mean the answer is yes," he teased, observing her heightened color.
"There's nothing sexy that you're likely to see," she shot back, trying to keep the quiver from her voice.
"We'll see about that," he challenged dryly.
Ignoring Matt's taunts, Kara walked back into the salon. Mrs. Jordan was just finishing a conversation with the saleswoman, but she turned to greet Kara and then Matt as he too entered the room.
"We've just finished up," she told her son. "And it has been a long day. I know you said something about having dinner with the two of you, but all I really want to do is go home, prop my feet up and have a hot cup of spiced tea."
"Are you sure?" Matt asked solicitously.
Mrs. Jordan nodded. "Stop trying to pressure me, Matt. You young people need some time alone. You don't require your mother as a chaperone."
Matt chuckled, shooting a surreptitious look at Kara through half-closed eyes. "All right, you've convinced me. But maybe my wife doesn't agree with you."
Kara wanted to protest, but thought better of it. Anything she said under the circumstances would be wrong.
After Mrs. Jordan had kissed them both goodbye, Matt led Kara quickly through Bloomingdale's toward another section of the mall. "There's this terrific little Mexican restaurant I want to take you to," he explained, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. Kara couldn't keep herself from smiling back at him.
Just then they passed in front of a cloth-covered table piled with stacks of political literature. Two well dressed, middle-aged women sat behind the table answering questions for a group of interested bystanders.
"We don't care which party you belong to," one of the women was saying. "But we do want you to consider consumer protection when you vote in the upcoming primary. Would you like a list of the candidates' voting records on consumer issues?"
Kara recognized the speaker. It was Alice O'Neal, an officer in a local women's political action group whom Kara had consulted several times over the toy safety bill.
She put a detaining hand on her husband's arm. "Wait a minute, Matt," she urged. "I want to say hello to these people."
Just then Alice looked up, her eyes warm with recognition. "Why, Kara," she exclaimed. "Congratulations. I heard about your wedding on television."
Kara blushed. "Thank you," she replied. Then an idea struck her. Suddenly she remembered a position paper of Matt's on consumer safety that had crossed her desk. "I'd like you to meet my husband, Matthew Jordan," she said, feeling a surge of pride as she drew the tall, handsome politician toward the table.
Matt gave the women his most charming smile.
"I'm so glad to meet you," Alice bubbled, her eyes wide with admiration.
"Are you familiar with Matt's stand on consumer protection?" Kara asked.
"I know something about it, but I'd really like to have more current literature," Alice replied.
Matt opened his mouth to answer, but Kara rushed ahead. "His support for consumer protection is very strong. You might even want to include his position paper with your handouts."
Matt shot her an amused and curious glance. He was obviously surprised to find her so knowledgeable about his political thinking.
In the next instant he had turned to Alice. "My campaign manager will send you the brochure tomorrow," he promised smoothly. "Actually consumer protection is an issue I'm very interested in. I'd be glad to speak to your group about it sometime soon."
"Well," the woman ventured boldly, glancing at her watch, "we happen to be having a short program here this afternoon. It begins in fifteen minutes. I realize this is awfully short notice, but would you be willing to join the other speakers?"
To Kara's dismay, Matt smiled broadly and accepted without hesitation. She felt a wave of fatigue sweep over her. Attending a long meeting was the last thing she felt like doing now. Maybe she shouldn't have been so quick with her political assistance. She felt a dart of irritation toward Matt. He hadn't even consulted her before accepting the impromptu invitation. But she plastered a politician's wife's smile on her face as she hurried to catch up with Matt, who was already being led toward a cordoned off area at the end of the Mall. There, waiting on the platform, were candidates running for various offices in next month's primary. But, once the program started, Matt's stark good looks and charismatic assurance quickly won the largely female audience's favor.
Kicking off her shoes, Kara took a seat in the back. Although she was tired, Matt's hastily marshaled speech held her attention. She had to admire the way he pulled together his arguments and spun them out in polished sentences.
During the question-and-answer period, he fielded a variety of queries with knowing expertise. He seemed to relish the give and take with the crowd.
The program lasted well over an hour. When the crowd finally began to break up, Kara hastily pulled on her shoes and stood up. In the row in front of her, two women reached for their jackets. One, a short blonde, leaned over and confided to her companion, "I really liked that Matt Jordan. If he were in my district, he'd have my vote and anything else he wanted." Her friend giggled in agreement.
It was a full twenty minutes later before Matt had extricated himself from a group of potential voters and autograph seekers and begun to look around for Kara.
"Oh, there you are," he said at last. "Why didn't you sit in front where you could be seen? I would have introduced you to the crowd."
His criticism sparked her annoyance. "This isn't even your district," she reminded her husband. "Why do you have to be so obliging here?"
"People from my district—like my mother—come shopping here. Besides, it's important to cultivate support all over the state. I thought you realized that when you brought up the consumer safety issue. But I guess you've got a lot to learn about how politics works."
"I thought I was helping you make a contact, not trading my dinner for a political rally," Kara snapped petulantly. But Matt ignored the challenge in her voice.
By this time they were in the covered parking garage. Matt steered her toward the Porsche. Then he opened the door and helped her in. When he had lowered himself into the plush bucket seat on the driver's side, he turned to Kara.
"A politician has a certain responsibility to the people," he told her. "And I take that responsibility seriously. It means I not only have to look out for their best interests in the legislature,
but I also have to be accessible. But that doesn't mean I can't have a private life, too. I've just learned to make the most of every minute when I'm not in the public eye. So let's stop wasting time. We're going to put this incident behind us and have a pleasant dinner together." And then his face broke into a sardonic grin. "Even if it kills us."
Kara couldn't help responding to the absurdity of his last statement. And she grinned back. "Is the food at your Mexican hideout that spicy?" she asked teasingly.
"You'll soon find out," he replied as he began to back out of the parking space.
The restaurant was only a few miles down the road, in an old house set well back from a busy highway. Entering through the enclosed front porch, they were greeted in the hall by the maitre d'.
"My wife and I would like some privacy," Matt told him. "So could you give us a table in the corner of the back room, Jorge."
"Si, Seňor Jordan. Follow me," the man replied, shooting Kara a brief, admiring glance.
Jorge led the way through the living room and dining room to a corner table in what must have been a former back bedroom. Kara looked around. The restaurant was decorated in red and black, with hanging wrought iron lamps and bullfighter posters adorning the walls.
"We'll have Margaritas to start with," Matt told the waiter. Jorge nodded, and they were left alone.
"When do we get the menus," Kara inquired. "I'm starving."
"We don't. The food here is served family style, and you get whatever the chef has fixed for today. But don't worry, it's always delicious, whatever it is."
After Matt and Kara had finished their Margaritas, a waitress came around with a tray of guacamole salads and a side dish of triangular tortilla chips. This was followed by a spicy chicken dish with seasoned rice, cheese enchiladas, soft beef-filled burritos with green chili sauce, and a simple but elegant custard with burnt sugar sauce for dessert.
Kara tried each new dish cautiously. But each was so delicious that she found it hard not to ask for the second helpings she saw some of the other diners requesting.
While they ate they talked.
"It was Lew who introduced me to Mexican food, you know," Matt told Kara. "But the Tex-Mex chili he fed me that first time almost did me in." He smiled at the memory and continued. "I pitched his chili pot in the duck pond, and he pitched me in after it."
The image of a surprised young Matt hitting the water flashed into Kara's mind, and she laughed aloud.
"Well it doesn't seem to have done you any harm," she told him, smiling.
"My mother found out about it, of course. She didn't say anything to me or Lew, but she made the cook spend six weeks learning Mexican dishes. Then she invited me and Lew to a special dinner. And it's a good thing she did too, or I might have thought I hated the stuff."
"And look what you would have missed," Kara told him. "This is all so good, I'd like more of everything. But I've already eaten so much, I'm afraid I won't fit into all those new clothes I got today."
"Tell me about what you bought," Matt questioned, his eyes resting warmly on her face.
"Oh no. I'm not going to," Kara countered playfully. "You'll just have to wait and see as I wear them."
"Well, if you look as good in everything as you do in this outfit, it will be a real treat," Matt assured her.
Kara smiled with pleasure. Matt was being charming. And it was so nice to be able to relax and enjoy his company.
"Would you like an after-dinner liqueur?" he questioned when the waitress had cleared the table.
"Yes," Kara answered, not because she really wanted the drink, but because she wanted to prolong the pleasure of this dinner together.
"I think amaretto would be just the thing," Matt told her, turning to the waitress. "We'll have two."
As they sipped the sweet, almond-flavored drink from tiny liqueur glasses, Kara felt a warmth steal through her that had nothing to do with the effect of the alcoholic beverage.
Matt leaned across the table and stroked her hand lightly, rubbing the sensitive inside of her wrist with his thumb. Tantalizing sensations began to flicker through her body.
"It's time to go home now," he murmured, looking at his watch and frowning. Not noticing the frown, Kara nodded in agreement, feeling that his words had a special meaning tonight.
In the car on the way home, Matt tuned in some relaxing music. And Kara felt herself becoming drowsy. She settled back in the bucket seat and closed her eyes for just a minute.
"There's something I have to tell you," Matt began. But when he glanced at his bride he stopped in mid-sentence. She was fast asleep.
The next thing Kara knew Matt was shaking her gently. She opened her eyes and looked up. Her head had fallen on his shoulder.
"Come on in the house, sleepy head," he told her gently. But she felt reluctant to move away from the warmth of his strong body and made no effort to straighten up.
"You don't want to sleep out here, do you?" he asked, opening the car door. In a moment he had come around to her side and was helping her out. With an arm across her shoulder, he led her inside.
Automatically she headed up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. She had removed the jacket of her new linen suit and was beginning to fumble with the top button on the blouse, when there was a light tap at the door.
Did she want Matt here in her bedroom? she asked herself. The answer was yes.
"Come in," she called softly.
Matt entered, his own jacket off and his tie loosened at the neck of his blue oxford cloth shirt. He looked disturbingly masculine and appealing as he came toward her.
"Kara, I really enjoyed our evening together," he told her.
"I did too," she agreed, feeling a kind of joy she had never allowed herself to experience with Matt before. In a few quick strides, he had crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. This time when his lips took possession of hers, they met no resistance. She felt her body molding itself to his, clamoring for complete union with her husband.
"Matt, oh Matt," she murmured, as his lips brushed her hair.
"Kara, there's something I have to tell you," he responded thickly.
"Darling, whatever it is, it doesn't matter," she whispered, her lips caressing his enticingly as she spoke.
Matt groaned. "Kara you're making this harder for me. But you must listen. Frank Adams has booked me on the eleven p.m. commuter flight to Cumberland. I'm committed to a breakfast speaking engagement at the businessmen's association. I have to leave tonight."
Even though his words were gentle, it was as though he had slapped Kara in the face.
"You mean you're leaving now?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes. My bags are all packed. And Frank will be here to pick me up in a few minutes. The keys to the Porsche and the house will be on the sideboard in the hall."
"Bags?" she asked, stunned.
"It's a week-long campaign trip, Kara. Frank has been telling me how important it is, and I agree."
"But what about us?"
"We'll have to sort that out when I get back. Remember, I tried to explain it to you back in the parking lot. I have my public duties too."
"And they always come first," Kara accused, her violet eyes flashing.
"Not always. But I'm in the middle of a campaign, remember? And these commitments were made before I even knew you existed. Don't make things more difficult for me than they are already. Don't you think I want to stay here with you tonight?"
"I don't know anymore," Kara flung at him.
His eyes hardened as he stared down at her furious face. Without replying he turned on his heels and left her standing in the middle of the room. A few minutes later she heard him descending the stairs. Then the front door slammed, and he was gone.
Like a robot, Kara took off her clothes and got ready for bed. But when her head touched the pillow the reaction from her last emotion-charged scene with Matt enveloped her. She had offered herself to him, and he had spurned her. She felt humiliation and
anger at herself.
Why was she leaving herself open to this kind of abuse? She should be cool and able to play the games that Matt wanted without letting him affect her. But she knew that she could never be cool where Matt was concerned. Just being near him aroused a special longing within her—a longing to be loved and to give love in return.
She sat up suddenly as realization dawned on her. Love—that was the key to the whole thing. She was falling in love with Matt Jordan. She knew it now. But this evening just proved the point that he didn't love her. The kind of intimate, sharing relationship she had always imagined marriage to be could never be possible with a man like Matt.
It can never work, she told herself brokenly as she began to sob at the hopelessness of the situation. It was a long time before the sobs subsided and she fell into a restless sleep.
Chapter Seven
After a night of tossing and turning, Kara awoke feeling even more exhausted. Her disappointment and humiliation at Matt's desertion of her for his campaign trip had made it impossible to sleep.
Kara looked over at the vacant pillow beside her and then laid her hand on it. The cloth was cold to the touch. Would Matt have warmed it if he hadn't gone away? She had a pang of longing for him and remembered back to the night before when she had felt so comforted and protected in his arms. Now she found herself longing to have them around her once more.
Her overwhelming and bittersweet desire shocked her. At first she had feared and despised Matt, but now her heart leapt at the mere thought of him. She really was falling in love with him.
The thought brought her up short. Kara sat up in bed, shivering again and pulling the covers protectively around her slender body. She thought back, remembering vividly the way Matt had manhandled her in the cabin, the arrogant way he'd snatched her necklace from her throat and later instructed her to clean up the bathroom. And then there were his other women. She was sure he was still seeing them. Why, he'd spent their wedding night with Vera Caldwell and was probably in the redhead's company right now—using his campaign as a convenient excuse. She could not, would not, allow herself to love this infuriating man.
Love Is Elected Page 8
