Takashi passed Liza a copy of the magazine, which was flipped open to the right page, and Liza studied the picture with a bitter taste in her mouth and a concrete ball in her gut that felt a lot like…jealousy.
Under the caption Business and Pleasure? was a close-cropped photo of the good senator smiling down at the starlet—she of the big eyes, thirty pounds of hair and teeny-tiny dress—while holding her in his arms at a fundraiser in L.A. just before Liza came aboard the campaign.
The article had the usual speculation about whether the two were involved in a “secret relationship” because they’d “seemed so much in love,” according to “sources close to the campaign.”
Liza snorted and tossed the rag to the floor with a loud flap of paper.
The senator’s sharp gaze swung around to her and he paused, the soccer ball pressed between his palms. “What’s that, Liza?”
Liza gave him her sweetest smile around gritted teeth. “Nothing, Senator.”
He studied her with narrowed eyes before turning back to Adena. “What were you saying?”
Adena shot Liza a glare—Liza wasn’t being quiet enough, obviously—before answering. “We’ve released the full video and posted it on the YouTube Web page.”
The senator nodded with grim satisfaction. “Good. I don’t have time for any Francesca Waverly nonsense. What’s next?”
Full video? What full video? Liza, who hated being in the dark on anything, looked around at Takashi. He was already tapping on his laptop. Without a word, he turned the screen to Liza and hit Play.
The two watched a ten-second clip without sound that showed the senator working a receiving line with dozens of people. He got to the eye candy, smiled and extended his hand. Ignoring this gesture, the starlet threw herself into his arms and gave him a hug. The senator looked startled but laughed, extricated himself and moved on to the next person in line without looking back.
That was it.
That was it?
Of course that was it. The senator had already issued a statement saying he didn’t have the time or inclination for dating. This only proved it. He’d had that woman in his arms only while on the receiving line.
Feeling suddenly light and airy, Liza couldn’t suppress a satisfied grin—until she looked up and caught the senator staring right at her with an I-told-you-so look on his face.
Liza wiped her face clean.
He held her gaze for a beat or two and then turned away.
Liza fidgeted. Get a grip, girl, she told herself, disgusted.
The senator resumed the conversation he’d begun while Liza was watching the video. “But you still haven’t told me anything specific.” He strode back and forth in front of the windows, through which yellow streaks of the coming dawn were finally visible. “Why should we get excited about nonspecific threats?”
“The field office doesn’t have anything specific,” said Barbara Klein, one of his top advisers, a note of frustration growing in her voice. “The two things they keep pointing to are the Internet chatter from those same supremacist groups, which seems to be getting more vocal as your coverage increases, and the interest surrounding your upcoming Midwest visit.”
Coming up to speed, Liza realized the new topic at hand was the senator’s stubborn and continued refusal to use the secret service protection he was entitled to as a presidential candidate. Idiot.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“That’s it,” Barbara said. “But we have to be aware that some supremacist yahoo may try to make a big name for himself by taking a shot at you.”
Thank you, Liza thought. Finally—the voice of reason.
The senator, however, did not seem convinced. He frowned, collapsed in his chair, stacked his wing-tipped feet on the table, leaned back and stared out the window. No one said a word. Then he stretched out one long arm—his gold cuff link winked from the snowy sleeve of his shirt—and bounced the soccer ball on the desk.
“Roy?” he asked, still staring at the sunrise.
Roy Martin was the cocky liaison from the private security firm that provided protection for the senator on the senator’s own dime. Liza, who had a violent allergy to smarm and arrogance, had never liked him one bit, and she wasn’t starting today.
The SOB shrugged as though having to explain the security procedures in place to ensure someone’s safety was an annoyance. “You know the drill, Senator. We work with the local police at each venue. We’ve got the electronic equipment we need and the visible manpower. Everything is covered—”
“Except for the countersnipers and helicopters,” Liza murmured, unable to stop herself because her head might explode if no one pointed out the obvious. “Those are appropriate measures the secret service could provide to manage the kinds of crowds the senator has been drawing.”
There was an audible gasp from somewhere. Every head turned in Liza’s direction, and every mouth gaped. The senator dropped his soccer ball, and it rolled across the floor. Adena looked angry enough to throw Liza out of the conference room by her scruff. Takashi, sitting next to Liza, emitted a quiet groan, probably because he knew about her generally well-managed but sometimes uncontrollable streaks of hotheadedness and impulsivity.
Oops.
Had she said that aloud when she was supposed to be a quiet little church mouse? Well, so what? Someone in the room needed to outline the flaws in this little plan, and she’d sat quietly with her blood boiling for long enough. The senator’s life was on the line here, and everyone was acting way too casually about it for her taste.
The senator sat up, dropped his feet to the floor and shot her the kind of withering look designed to make her shrink into a chastened pile of nothingness where she sat.
“Liza,” he drawled, his heavy brows slashing over his eyes, “when did we put you on the payroll?”
Liza hated being silenced, especially when she was making an important point. Still, she was, first and foremost, an unbiased journalist who kept her opinions to herself. Speaking out was inappropriate and unprofessional and she needed to shut up.
“Sorry.” The word tasted bitter on her tongue. “Please continue.”
“Oh, good, everyone,” the senator said. “We have Liza’s permission to continue our meeting.” Mollified but still irritated, he shot her another dark glance before turning back to Roy. “You were saying?”
“Between our resources and the local police,” Roy said, “Things are—”
“You don’t have bomb-sniffing dogs, either,” Liza interjected, her bullshit tolerance factor now well into the negative digits.
“Damn, Liza.” Takashi shook his head at her.
There was dead silence after that. Liza kept her chin high and held the senator’s furious gaze while she waited for her punishment, which was swift.
He unfolded his big body from the chair and stood up, a towering wall of bad attitude. “Barbara,” he said, addressing his senior adviser but never looking away from Liza, “we’re done here. We’re going to keep security the same, for now, and we’re not going to comment publicly about it. We’ll talk about it again tomorrow, and you’ll let me know the second the FBI gives you word of a specific and credible threat. Roy—”
Roy snapped to attention.
“—I expect you and your company to keep me alive to campaign another day—”
“This is not a joke,” Liza muttered, disbelieving.
“and Ms. Wilson, I need to speak with you.” The senator’s nostrils flared. “Right. Now.”
“Game over,” Takashi whispered.
Like she couldn’t see that for herself.
Recovering quickly, Liza barked out an order, which always made her feel better. “Get the shot set up over there, Brad.” Gesturing to their camera man, who’d been hovering in the background this whole time, Liza pointed to a couple of chairs facing each other near a potted palm tree in the corner. “I’ll have my morning questions for the good senator in a minute.”
The senator held hi
s arm wide to direct her down the hall and into a smaller conference room. Whatever. She squared her shoulders, marched inside and pivoted to face him with her arms folded across her chest.
He followed, slamming the door behind them.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I was pointing out a few obvious things that no one else in the room seemed to think were worth mentioning even though your life is at issue.”
He seemed as determined to control his anger and remain professional as she was; only his flashing eyes told her how furious he was.
“You are an invited guest here,” he reminded her. “And if you can’t remember that, I will get on the phone with your executive producer right now and get you out of here. I knew you had a reputation for being brash, but I thought you could control yourself.”
Arrogant jackass. It’d serve him right if some sniper nailed him right in the middle of his oversized head. “A thousand pardons, Senator.” She smiled pleasantly. “Please forgive me. Can I ask my questions now? I need to get ready to go live.”
Without waiting for any answer—maybe he wasn’t done with her, but she didn’t give a damn—she wheeled around and stalked out, leaving him gaping behind her.
“Let’s go,” she snapped to Takashi when she got back to the main conference room.
“What the hell was that?” he asked her.
Liza glowered. One of the benefits of being the news division’s brightest star was that she could occasionally throw her weight around and get away with it. “Don’t lecture me, okay? I spoke up in the meeting, I shouldn’t have and now we’re moving on.”
Takashi didn’t look as if he was moving on, so she squared her shoulders and put her hands on her hips.
Takashi blinked first.
Score one for Liza.
“What’re your plans?” Scowling, Takashi flipped through his clipboard. “You’re asking him about the secret service issue and the Francesca Waverly thing, right, and the—”
Liza, who’d pulled out a compact and begun dabbing powder on her face, froze and frowned. “I’m not asking him about that Waverly thing.”
Takashi glanced up. “Why not?”
The real answer was, Because I don’t want him to think I’m jealous and/or care about his personal life, but Liza wasn’t about to say that. Instead she shrugged, put the makeup down and inserted her earpiece. “It’s a little beneath us, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think,” Takashi said, looking at her as though she’d started clucking like a chicken.
“Why not let the tabloids hash it out?”
“Because his poll numbers have taken a hit and it’s a real issue, not to mention the fact that every other network is going to be covering it. What’s gotten into you, Liza?”
Good question—one she’d been asking herself. But the senator appeared at that moment and saved her from having to answer.
Within five minutes Liza and Senator Warner were seated facing each other under the lights, boom and umbrella, Brad was filming and Adena, Takashi and other staffers were watching.
Though she was still fuming—what kind of macho idiot refused to ask for the secret service protection that was his due?—Liza put her game face on for the camera and dove into the questions.
“Senator, other news outlets and bloggers have repeatedly commented on your lack of secret service protection.”
An infinitesimal tightening of his jaw told her he didn’t appreciate her broaching a topic he’d said the campaign wouldn’t discuss. “Mmm.”
Liza kept her expression polite and curious as she framed her question so no one would ever know that she thought the senator was making foolish choices. “The FBI has reported a steady stream of Internet chatter against you and the kinds of racist threats that Senator Fitzgerald doesn’t receive. As a presidential candidate, you’re eligible for Secret Service protection. Why are you refusing to ask for it?”
Whoa. He looked as if he wanted to lunge for her throat.
“I don’t see the need for it at this point, Liza.” The senator shrugged, recapturing his bland expression. “I’m very well protected. My security team has been with me for years, and they continue to work with local authorities on all our campaign stops. I’m fortunate enough to have the resources to pay for it myself, so why burden the taxpayers with the $45,000 per day expense?”
“The taxpayers may be grateful, Senator, but your supporters are concerned. You’ve heard the protesters and seen the signs at some of the rallies. Some of this stuff is very nasty and very threatening. Why not take the secret service protection if it’s available?”
“Well, again, Liza, I have my security team—”
“A team that isn’t in the business of protecting a presidential candidate or managing the sorts of crowds you’ve been drawing, Senator.”
“Listen, Liza—” his pleasant smile never wavered although she saw the hard glint of anger deep in his dark eyes “—no one’s more interested in keeping me alive than I am. I’m very well protected, and my team is the best in the world. Down the road we may revisit the issue, but for now I’m satisfied.”
“Ask him about the Waverly issue,” Takashi hissed in her earpiece. “See if he’ll say anything else about his personal life.”
Liza pulled her earpiece out and left it dangling on her shoulder, effectively hanging up on her producer. Takashi would throw a temper tantrum later, but she didn’t care. There was no way she could be detached and professional while asking the senator about his personal life on camera. Sorry.
She wrapped up the interview by asking him about the latest economic news, and then her time was up. The second they finished, they stood, dropped the fake smiles and stalked away from each other as fast as they could.
Just as the senator’s staff began to buzz among themselves again after being quiet while the camera was rolling, Takashi marched up, looking furious.
“What the hell was that?” He took off the headset through which he’d been speaking to Liza while she was on air. “Why didn’t you ask him about Waverly?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” said the senator, who’d silently reappeared at her shoulder. Liza winced and hoped she could get away without another confrontation, but no dice. “Can I borrow Liza for a minute, Takashi?”
“Keep her.” With a last, withering look, Takashi walked off.
Her heart sinking, Liza braced herself and faced the senator. If only Adena or someone would rush over and demand some of his time, but no, everyone was busy for the moment, scurrying around like busy little bees determined to produce a gallon of honey each before noon, and Liza was on her own.
“Why didn’t you ask me about that actress, Liza?”
Uh-oh. The predatory glint in his eye set Liza’s nerves on edge and didn’t match his benign voice. She tossed her head in what she hoped was an offhand gesture that discouraged further questions. “It would be tacky.”
His lip curled without amusement. “Tacky? Really? It wasn’t because you were jealous and didn’t trust yourself with the topic?”
Chapter 7
Chapter 7
T he moment stretched until the silence became awkward and, finally, painful. It was hard to laugh gaily when what Liza really wanted to do was scratch his eyes out, but she tried.
“I don’t do jealousy, Senator. And I need to get back—”
“Because,” he said, plowing resolutely ahead, “I’m not seeing anyone.”
He wasn’t? Really? She worked to keep her expression blank and disinterested.
“How sad for you, Senator.”
He ignored this. “Are you? Seeing anyone?”
Luckily, she had a standard answer for this question. “I don’t do relationships.”
The predatory light in his eyes intensified. So did an unmistakable look of satisfaction.
“You’d do the right relationship.”
Just like that he made her hot and bothered again, with flushed sk
in and squirmy belly. More disgusted with herself than she was with him, she gave him a pitying look and a condescending pat on the arm.
“The right relationship? Do you believe in Santa, too, Senator?”
An irritated red flush crept over his face.
“If there’s nothing else…”
“There is one more thing, Liza.” A muscle ticked in his hard jaw. “Don’t they teach you something about being impartial in journalism school? Or am I mistaken?”
Was this about the whole secret service issue? Good. Maybe he could be blasé about his safety but she couldn’t, and she had a few more words to say on the topic.
She’d been to the rallies, she’d seen the hatemongers, she’d heard the jeers and the slogans. There were people in this country who wanted the senator dead because he was a black man who had the temerity to campaign for the presidency. She’d stood yards away from people who, for all she knew, were capable of taking a rifle, aiming it at the senator’s broad chest and pulling the trigger.
The thought of Senator Warner being hurt, killed…
Ignoring the dread trickling down her spine, she gave him a cool smile.
“So sorry, Senator. I just thought the public needed to know that the man they’re thinking of voting into the highest office in the land is too stubborn, arrogant and, frankly, stupid to take the most basic steps for his own protection.” She waved. “Have a nice day.”
As she swept off, she got a satisfying glimpse of his face turning to stone, but then Adena materialized at her side, teeth all but bared, her resemblance to a rabid pit bull a fearsome sight.
“Does it not occur to you, Liza,” she snarled, “that maybe it’s not a good idea to announce to the world that the senator doesn’t have secret service protection?”
“Announce?” What? Was Adena for real? “I didn’t announce it. Everyone already knows.”
Adena didn’t back down one inch. “You claim you’re concerned, and then you harp on it in front of millions of people to boost your ratings—”
Campaign For Seduction Page 6
