Love Is Elected

by Alyssa Howard

  Kara gave her mother-in-law a quick hug. "I'll see you at the election party tonight," she promised before running upstairs to get her purse.

  Moments later she was in her car, heading for Matt's town house in Columbia. As she neared the entrance she wondered if he would be at home. But his car wasn't in the driveway. He must be out for a final campaign swing.

  Inside, Kara changed into a flowered silk shirtwaist she had purchased at White Flint Mall. Then she carefully fixed her hair in a sophisticated upsweep and meticulously applied her makeup. Her first stop was Matt's campaign headquarters in nearby Ellicott City, where she scooped up an armload of his literature. Although she hadn't been allowed to help with the campaign up till now, there was no way Frank Adams could stop her. Today she could do the same job as any campaign worker. Determined, she headed for the nearest polling place, where she spent the afternoon passing out flyers and talking about Matt to incoming voters.

  She barely noticed when a TV camera crew appeared to record the voter turnout for the six o'clock news. Dinner was a doughnut and coffee brought in by one of the young campaign workers.

  "When are you leaving for the victory party at the Kittamaqundi room?" the worker asked conversationally as Kara took a few moments out to eat.

  She had been so caught up in campaigning that she had almost forgotten that she would be seeing Matt there that evening.

  "I thought I'd wait till the polls closed," she told the worker.

  He glanced at his watch. "Listen, it's already seven o'clock. Why don't you let me give out the rest of your literature and you go on over, Mrs. Jordan," he urged.

  Kara smiled. "Thank you. I think I'll take you up on the offer."

  But when she got in her car, a queasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. How would Matt receive her? Would she be able to carry through her role as politician's wife? Maybe if she went home and changed she could delay the moment of truth a little longer. But she vetoed the idea. If she went back to Matt's town house, she might not have the courage to show up at the reception at all.

  Arriving at the stunning modern office building whose top floor reception room had been reserved for Matt's election party, Kara eased her hatchback into a parking space. The building overlooked Columbia's downtown lake, and she glanced toward the serene blue water before pulling open the door to the lobby.

  "I'm with the Jordan campaign," she told the sleekly coiffed receptionist.

  "Oh, yes. You can go right up to the fourth floor."

  "I'd like to stop in the powder room and freshen my makeup," Kara told her.

  "Right around the corner," the woman gestured.

  After patting a few loose strands of hair into place and putting on fresh lipstick, Kara drew in a nervous breath. It's now or never, she told herself and headed toward the elevator.

  The elegant Kittamaqundi room with its floor to ceiling windows overlooking the lake was already half full. Kara searched the crowd for Matt. Finally she spotted him in a corner, head to head with Frank Adams. As she made her way toward them, Matt glanced up. A startled expression crossed his face. It was quickly replaced with a smile that didn't quite reach his steely eyes.

  "Ah, here's Kara now," he said, giving her a searching look and drawing her to his side. "You will excuse us, won't you, Frank. We have a few personal matters to discuss."

  Kara felt Matt's iron grip on her arm, as he led her to a small room at the side of the large hall. "Where in the hell have you been?" he rasped.

  Kara blanched. "As a matter of fact, I've been at Windy Willow Farm," she countered.

  "Do you expect me to believe that my own mother wouldn't tell me where you were?" he snapped, his voice acid.

  "I don't care what you believe; it's the truth," Kara insisted. This was not the reaction she had hoped for from Matt. Maybe she had made a mistake. Maybe she should never have come here at all. "Are you trying to make me leave?" she quavered.

  But he shook his head, smiling cynically. "I didn't mean to give that impression, Kara. I don't know what your reasons are for showing up tonight. But I am grateful for small favors. And I certainly hope you're not going to run out on me again."

  Kara mustered all of her dwindling stock of courage. "Matt, I've got to talk to you about why I came back," she began. But a loud knock on the door cut her short.

  "Mr. Jordan, a reporter from one of the local TV stations is here. He wants to interview you right away."

  Matt gave Kara a comprehending look. "You're right, we do have to talk. But we can't do it here or now. Can I count on you to stay this evening and see the election through?"

  Unable to trust herself to speak, Kara nodded. She wasn't sure anymore what the two of them had to talk about; but now that she was here, she realized how bad it would look if she simply vanished again.

  Kara followed Matt's disappearing form through the door back into the main room. Almost immediately one of the campaign workers stopped her.

  "The first returns have started coming in," the woman announced.

  "How's Matt doing?" Kara asked, trying at least to act the part of the proud politician's wife.

  "It looks good," the woman assured her. "Matt's taken an early lead in the part of the district that we thought would be his weakest area."

  Kara smiled. Despite her mixed feelings about Matt, she was pleased that he was doing well.

  High expectations ran through the crowd. The reception was beginning to take on a definite party atmosphere. Someone pressed a glass of white wine into Kara's hand. And someone else handed her a plate with a corned beef sandwich. Not knowing how to manage both at the same time, she headed for one of the tables at the side of the room. Settling down, she saw that she was sitting next to the campaign worker she had met at the polls earlier that afternoon.

  "After dessert, I see you've found the entree," he joked as they were joined by Frank Adams.

  "Hey, I saw you two on the six o'clock news," he said with the first trace of friendliness he'd shown toward Kara since they'd met. Looking surprised, the young woman nodded warily.

  "If I'd known we were going to be on TV, I'd have worn a coat and tie," the worker kidded. It was just then that Matt appeared at the table.

  "Were you campaigning for me this afternoon?" he questioned, giving Kara a quizzical look.

  "Oh, she was there all afternoon, Mr. Jordan," the young worker answered for her. "She's quite a trouper. You're lucky to have her on your side."

  Kara felt herself flush. And Matt looked puzzled. But before he could say anything else, a messenger appeared at his side.

  "Telephone for you, Mr. Jordan."

  Matt excused himself, and the little group broke up. Kara finished her sandwich and took a few sips of wine. I'd better not drink much of this, she thought. I'm so tired now it might just put me to sleep. Maybe I can get a cola at the bar.

  She was on her way across the broad expanse of floor when Vera Caldwell, a fierce expression on her face, accosted her.

  "I think we have something to discuss," she said pointedly.

  "I don't have anything to discuss with you," Kara retorted.

  "I think you do. And if you don't want to make a scene, I suggest you come out into the hall," the redhead insisted maliciously.

  Feeling trapped, Kara allowed herself to be led out.

  "What are you doing here?" Vera hissed when they were out of range of the partygoers.

  "I have every right to be here at my husband's side," Kara parried.

  "Even when you know your husband doesn't love you?"

  Kara winced at the verbal thrust. But she remembered Mrs. Jordan's words.

  "All I have is your word that Matt doesn't care for me," she countered. "And I'll have to hear it from him before I believe it."

  Vera's face twisted in anger. "Why, the timid little mouse has claws. But they aren't long enough to scratch me. I suggest you crawl back in your hole before Wayne and I let loose a scandal that will really rock this city."


  "But there's absolutely nothing between me and Wayne," Kara protested. "And there never will be. I can't stand the sight of him."

  "Oh I don't doubt that," Vera soothed, "but I don't care what kind of story I have to use to get Matt away from your clutches. Admit it Kara, I'm a lot more suitable wife for Matt than you are."

  Kara felt her knees turn to jelly. She had come here with such resolution. But she found herself no match for the redheaded reporter's vicious tongue.

  She was casting around for a verbal weapon to hurl back when a harsh male voice intervened.

  "Suppose you let the man in question pick his own partner," Matt suggested tersely as he stepped around the corner from the telephone room.

  Vera gasped. But her recovery was almost instantaneous. "Why, Matt darling. We were just talking about you," she purred.

  "I know you were," he replied evenly. "I heard most of it."

  Coming up behind Kara, Matt put his strong arm protectively around her. "It seems to me, Vera, that your interest in my affairs has gone well beyond that of a reporter. And I would appreciate it if in the future you would restrict yourself to news coverage."

  "I don't have to take that from you," Vera flung back. "I can ruin you, Matt Jordan."

  For an answer he threw back his head and laughed. "I think you have a rather inflated opinion of your influence, Miss Caldwell. I have nothing to hide." Dismissing Vera with icy disdain, he turned his attention back to his wife. "I think we should go out and join the celebration."

  Gently he propelled Kara down the hall, leaving the reporter clenching her fists.

  As they neared the main room, Matt leaned over and murmured in Kara's ear, "I think I see things more clearly now—including the effects of Vera's lies." He looked down at his wife with a new warmth in his gray eyes. But before he could say more, a crowd of workers had swarmed around them.

  "Quick, come over to the TV set. Bill Thorp is about to make his concession speech," someone shouted. Kara and Matt were swept along by a tide of well-wishers to the other side of the room.

  The rest of the party was a blur of smiling faces, warm congratulations, popping flashbulbs and bubbling champagne. The only conversation she really remembered was a brief one with Matt's mother who had come to congratulate her son on his victory. After Mrs. Jordan had greeted Matt, she kissed and hugged Kara.

  "Things seem to be working out the way you wanted, dear," she whispered, her blue eyes twinkling.

  "Maybe you're right," Kara responded, daring to hope for the first time that there might be a way to straighten things out between her and Matt.

  It wasn't until well after midnight that the young couple could make their escape from the room full of well-wishers and reporters.

  "What about my car?" Kara asked in the parking lot.

  "Oh, we'll get it later," her husband responded, putting his arm around her shoulder and guiding her toward the silver gray Porsche.

  Once alone in the car with Matt, Kara felt suddenly nervous, wondering what to expect. And her feelings of anxiety intensified when Matt failed to say anything on the short drive home. Why was he so silent? What was he thinking about?

  As they entered the foyer of the town house, the silence between them suddenly became unbearable. Kara put a tentative hand on her husband's arm. "Matt," she began, but the troubled look on his face brought back all her earlier doubts, and she didn't know how to break down the barrier.

  "Let's go into the living room," he suggested at last. "We have to talk."

  Apprehensively Kara sank down to the sofa. Matt joined her, sitting close enough for her to feel the overwhelming sensual awareness of his masculine presence even though he refrained from touching her.

  From under fringed eyelashes, Kara studied her husband's finely chiseled profile. She could feel the tension within him—or was it just inside herself— she wondered fleetingly as he turned to look imploringly at her.

  "Why did you come tonight, Kara?" Matt questioned intently as his strong hand took hers prisoner, keeping her from pulling away from his compelling gaze. He wasn't going to make this easy for her, Kara thought with dismay. He'd probably force her to confess her feelings for him then tell her that he was filing for a divorce.

  "Your mother made me realize how important today is," Kara began uncertainly.

  "So that's it," Matt said hoarsely, dropping her hands as a look of severe disappointment crossed his proud features. "You came out of a sense of duty," he added flatly. "You'll probably call me a fool. But Kara I'd hoped you had come back to me for another reason."

  "And what other reason were you hoping for Matt?" Kara prompted gently, the quivering butterflies in her stomach making it difficult to breathe, much less talk.

  Matt once again took her hands in his, and looked directly into her eyes. "You know I've been crazy with worry about you?" he began to explain, seemingly reluctant to answer her question directly. "I returned to your apartment that day—the day I behaved like a madman," he confessed. "When I had a chance to cool down, I was sick with shame over the way I'd treated you. And when you weren't there, I figured you'd left me for good."

  Kara stared wordlessly at him for a moment. Then, seeing the anguish etched on his hard face, she found she couldn't doubt the sincerity of his words.

  "I just had to get out of there," she explained in a low voice, unconsciously twisting her wedding ring on her cold finger. "I was sure after you left that you couldn't possibly love me."

  "Not love you! But Kara, I've been crazy about you from the moment I first saw you in the firelight in your uncle's cabin."

  Kara blushed when she thought of how she must have looked then, remembering their first stormy encounter.

  "I knew then that I wanted you—that I would do anything to get you. I wouldn't have pushed you into marriage otherwise. Those reporters with your uncle did me a favor."

  Kara gasped with surprise. "You mean you really did want to marry me?"

  Matt looked a little shamefaced. "Well, what I wanted at the time was to get you into my arms— marriage seemed the only way. I spent the next few days wondering how I was going to follow through on my plans." Matt laughed briefly, his mouth twisting in an ironic grimace. Then he turned serious as he looked into Kara's questioning eyes. "It wasn't until I had to leave on that campaign trip that I realized what I really felt for you was love."

  "Oh, Matt. That's when I knew too. And I felt so rejected when you left that night."

  "Darling, you don't know how hard it was for me to leave you," he groaned, pulling her closer against him and nuzzling her neck with gentle lips.

  "I thought of nothing but you all that week." He paused. "I can't say much for my behavior afterwards," he continued regretfully. "Seeing you in Wayne's arms and then your telling me you wanted an annulment—it was more than I could bear. I was consumed with jealousy and need for you. Where you're concerned I'm not quite rational."

  Kara's heart pounded. "But, but what about Vera Caldwell?" she stammered.

  "Kara, there was never anything between me and Vera. It was all in her mind. How could you believe that I could fall for someone like that?"

  "And how could you believe that I would still be interested in Wayne after marrying you?" Kara countered.

  Matt shook his head. "I was so afraid that I was going to lose you that I just wasn't thinking straight. But I realize now that if we had only known each other a little longer and had been able to talk to each other openly, we would have avoided a lot of misunderstandings."

  Kara nodded in agreement. "And I guess it must have been Vera who clued in Wayne about our 'marriage of convenience'."

  Matt tightened his arms around his bride. For a moment they sat in silence as he stroked Kara's hair and brushed her forehead with his lips. Looking over in the corner, she saw the silver mylar balloon from Harborplace still floating—although it was now several feet from the ceiling. For a moment she was touched, but then an unwanted memory slid tauntingly into her mind.r />
  "Matt, there's just one more question I have to ask you," she began hesitantly.

  "Don't be afraid, Kara. We've got to base our marriage on trust of each other," her husband responded reassuringly.

  "Well, what about that conversation I overheard between you and Frank Adams the morning after you had made love to me?"

  Matt smiled ruefully. "Kara, I realized as soon as I saw you in the hall how it must have sounded. But you have to understand Frank Adams' point of view, too. You represented a terrible threat to all he'd worked for. First he couldn't believe I'd married someone he'd never even heard of. And then he was convinced that our marriage would cost me the election. I was trying to reassure him in a way that I thought he would understand. What I said to him had nothing to do with our lovemaking," he explained looking at her tenderly.

  Kara felt her heart turn over. "Oh Matt, I love you so much. I'm sorry I ever doubted you," she exclaimed, snuggling closer to the warmth of his embrace.

  His lips brushed her hair. "Kara, I do love you so much," he murmured. "Winning your love means more to me than any election."

  Kara's spirit soared. Then she heard her husband chuckle. "My room or yours?" he questioned.

  "Ours," Kara responded dreamily as Matt swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs.

  Hours later, content in the fulfillment of their love, they held each other close in the large king-size bed.

  "I have a week before I have to start campaigning again for the fall election. What do you say we take a honeymoon?" Matt suggested.

  "I thought this was our honeymoon," Kara giggled.

  "No, this was only the warmup. I have some influence with the owner of a romantic little cabin in the woods. Why don't we hide away there for a week," Matt told her.

  "You've got my vote for that," she said as she reached out to stroke her husband's cheek. "But as long as we're together, it really doesn't matter where we are."