“We can catch them in the lobby. We’ll look for the teary-eyed women as they leave the party. Catch ya later.” Bob walked with his amused cohort toward the door. Rick scowled.
“Remember, you are here to do a job. These young studs have no respect. They’re talking like you’re a rock star. What brought that on?” He looked at Peter skeptically. “Are you behaving yourself?”
“You know me. I am an impeccable gentleman at all times.”
Rick sighed. “Damned if that’s not true enough, and I’ll never understand it. Then it’s the women throwing themselves at you again? A phenomenon I will definitely never understand, but I do have to deal with it.”
“No more than any other candidate.”
“My ass. I’ve been around the block and I’ve seen plenty of candidates. They all attract a certain number of groupies—but not like you.”
Peter was getting tired of this line of discussion. It had been a recurring one and unwelcome. He wasn’t so sure Rick understood how to deal with it. He figured Rick actually saw it as an advantage in most respects, except for the fact that he was a rabid misogynist.
“It was Trish. She was being her usual spiteful self,” Peter said, knowing that Rick could at least deal with her. Familiar territory.
“That’s what you get for sleeping with a reporter.”
“And not much else I’m afraid.” Peter really smiled and continued to scan the crowd as Rick laughed at that. Theirs was a strange friendship, he thought, but a friendship nonetheless. Peter did not have to worry about being a saint around Rick.
“I take that back about agreeing that you’re a gentleman—not one hundred percent of the time anyway.”
“That’s okay. You’re not a woman.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot we must be ever protective of the finer sensibilities of the fairer sex. Your mother did a hell of a job training you, you know? Must have been life with all those servants constantly hovering, watching you—that’s my theory. It made you get used to being on your best behavior at all times. Instilled you with an ungodly level of self-control.” Rick took a sip of his drink. Peter knew he was drinking soda, although he talked like he was drinking whiskey.
“I am on my best behavior at all times. Except in the locker room—or when talking with you—same thing. There she is.” Peter had spotted Madeline entering the room.
“Okay. How do you want to play this? Do you want to have a candid and private conversation? A direct head-to-head competition with an audience? Or should we go with casual avoidance?” Rick asked. Then he added, “We don’t really have to avoid politics. The mayor only pretends the politics will anger him—he just wants to remind people that this is his turf.”
“I thought I paid you to figure out the strategy?” Peter grinned. Rick frowned.
“Not where she’s concerned. You wouldn’t do what I said anyway. Come on, this is serious.”
“How about we pretend this is a party and I act natural and see what happens.” He smiled at Rick and strode off in Madeline’s direction. Rick choked in mid sip. He brushed the soda water off his tie and hastily followed after Peter, muttering.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
Madeline had gone right to the mayor when she came in. No sense pretending this is a party, she thought.
“I don’t suppose you’d consider endorsing an independent candidate would you, Mayor?” she asked and shook his hand.
The mayor laughed his calculated, not very friendly laugh as expected. He patted her hand before he let it go. “You do cut to the chase. And here I was hoping to have a party to celebrate this great country and enjoy everyone’s company.”
“Well, it is Independence Day. It would be a perfect segue,” she said. This time the mayor’s laugh was genuine. She had nowhere else to go with this, but she’d try.
“Madeline, you are charming. No matter what else I think of you, I have to give you that.”
It wasn’t quite a slap on the face, but close enough to wipe her smile off. At least she managed to keep herself from flinching. It was a good thing too, she thought, as she noticed Peter approach.
“Thanks, Mayor, but I’m sure you have the crown for congeniality all sewn up,” she said. He laughed again, of course.
“Where’s Lisky? She’d never let you get away with giving me lip,” the mayor said.
Madeline had to admit that his smile looked more sincere now. But after all, he could afford to be in a generous mood. He was wildly popular and this was his turf. He owned the city of Boston.
“I’m sure she’s doing her job somewhere, and she tells me I’m doing mine by showing up here, but…” She got no further before causing a real frown on the mayor’s face. Bad timing, though. Peter interrupted before she got to her point.
“Mayor, what could the esteemed Madeline Grace possibly have done to forfeit the benefit of your well-mannered insincerity?” Peter’s smile was aimed at the mayor with enough force to nail him to the nearest wall. Madeline was only surprised at the intensity of his response. What was he thinking, letting the mayor see his annoyance? It was too unlike Peter. Although he had no hope of an endorsement, surely he didn’t want the mayor for an enemy. A quick glance at Rick’s face told her he agreed with her. Rick was bordering on apoplexy.
“We were having fun and you interrupted,” she said. For a change she was the cool one.
Rick was nearly hopping in place, but managed a cutting look in her direction before speaking. “Excellent music, Mayor, one of Boston’s finest ensembles. I understand your nephew is a member?” he interjected.
Peter continued to stare at the mayor in less than his usual subtle way. He addressed Rick. “Yes, excellent music.” Then he turned to Madeline. “How about if we liven up this party for the mayor, Mad? Dance with me,” Peter commanded more than asked. She smiled and took his hand as he moved to the dance floor. Rick attempted to express his displeasure and turned apoplectic again. He even started to follow them. If it were anyone other than Rick Racer, she would have taken pity.
“Let them alone, Rick. Like the man said, they dance and it’s sure to liven things up. Sure to get more publicity for your camp.” The mayor smiled with his teeth set. Rick turned to the man, ready to joust. This much he could do.
“That’s true. It’ll be excellent publicity with all these photographers here. I’m sure I can spin whatever comes up in a way favorable to PJD and unflattering to Ms. Grace at the same time.”
“Bound to come out that way. You know as well as I do when it’s a tip ball in these matters the man always comes out on top.” The mayor chuckled at his own double entendre and continued to smile broadly with the rows of his over-buffed-and-capped teeth gleaming under his stretched lips.
Rick smiled back, though the man unnerved him. He thought there was something not quite right about the Mayor’s party, like he had a hidden agenda. There were more motives than Rick could count. Plus he’d heard rumors. He could believe them right now. But he nodded, acknowledging the truth of the man’s statement as well as the possible undertones to the mayor’s intent. And the mayor didn’t even know the half of it.
“Of course you realize we don’t need your endorsement, mayor, and we’re only here as respectful guests of your gracious hospitality to celebrate this most treasured of holidays.” Rick paused and gave the mayor a smile to match his own before continuing. “The question really is, what is it that you hope to gain from us? Isn’t it?” Rick took his leave quickly, before any response beyond the deceivingly mild chuckle could be made.
“Are we causing a stir yet?” Madeline asked.
Peter felt the stir but decided not to mention it. “I don’t know. Maybe I should hold you closer just to be sure.” He pulled her closer in case she thought he was joking. He enjoyed the sudden flicker of panic in her eyes before she laughed.
“You’re trying hard to throw me off. You better watch out or you’ll lose your own balance. Or are you suddenly unconcerned about your image and the ca
mpaign?” She asked. She was confused, he thought. But he knew she was also a professional. Time for a distraction.
“Look who formed a cozy clutch,” he noticed over her shoulder. “Now that’s a group you don’t see chatting it up every day. Self-proclaimed star reporter Bertrand St. Cyr, the mayor’s daughter, the senator’s wife—or ex-senator I should say.”
“I guess she’s doing better. The senator let her out of the psychiatric clinic,” Madeline said with a note of sympathy.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He contemplated what to say about it. He didn’t want to go back to the last time he met up with Mrs. Senator Brown. Madeline looked at him.
“Don’t worry. Even if she’s here to play games, Mrs. Brown is probably as clueless as ever,” she said.
He hoped to God he didn’t look worried or he’d definitely lost his touch.
“She was bound to have learned a bit of discretion after her last experience. I don’t think the senator would bother bailing her out a second time. Illness or no illness,” he said, still hoping his discomfort with the subject didn’t show.
“What about you? Would you bail the senator out again? Have you learned anything from your experience?” Mad asked.
He knew she was testing him. He kept his face blank, but he had to admit that she caught him by surprise. The comment was meant to cut and she’d found her mark. Damn.
She separated herself from him, ending their dance. He wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t bothered waiting for a response. Luckily it was the end of the song or it would have been awkward to explain. She saluted him.
“You’re going to have to find someone else for your lieutenant governor, Mr. Douglas. I haven’t given up the fight yet.” She said this loud enough for those around them to hear, including some media types. Then she turned on her sexy spike heels and walked off in her slinky elegant gown toward the refreshments.
Peter figured no one noticed his surprise except probably her, and he couldn’t help watching her walk off with a glint of admiration showing. She looked damn gorgeous, better than ever. Hell, they could make what they wanted of him dancing with her and watching her walk away. They could either call him a letch or a gentleman, he supposed. Either way it wouldn’t hurt him. Either way the truth was a billion times more complicated. Besides, he really liked dancing with her.
Predictably, a woman with a tape recorder followed by a flashing camera almost immediately shoved the microphone at his face and asked, “Mr. Douglas, dancing with your opponent is well past courting her to join your campaign. Can we read more into this? What’s going on between you two? Is there romance here? Why exactly did you dance with Madeline Grace, your chief political foe?”
He looked at the woman and carefully concealed his bored annoyance with her predictable media-hound knee-jerk questions.
“Maybe because I enjoy it.” With that he turned and, having spotted Rick walking toward the door, he signaled him it was time to go.
“Mr. Douglas, what exactly do you mean by that? Is it romance then? You can’t be leaving, you haven’t given an interview…”
Peter found it easy to ignore the prattling questions. With a glimpse over his shoulder, he saw the expert way Rick stepped in to handle her. He felt a genuine fondness for the man. Confidence in his decision to allow Rick to play both press secretary and campaign manager was renewed.
“I don’t think it’s any secret that the purpose of any courting PJD might be doing is to have Ms. Grace join us as lieutenant governor. Mr. Douglas has the utmost respect for Ms. Grace’s potential, having always given her credit for being an intelligent, accomplished woman. The only question about her candidacy is her experience and ability to navigate the complex and, yes, sometimes ugly political waters.” Rick delivered his speech with the utmost sincerity and ended with a look of concern and a shake of his head.
Peter listened. There were other moments when he had doubts about Rick. But he knew the man, knew his weaknesses as well as his strengths. Rick may not be the most idealistic man, but he was confident he could keep Rick under control. Besides, even the most honest and trustworthy people could end up betraying you. He thought of Madeline. He took one last glance over his shoulder at her just before he pushed through the exit. She glanced back at him and winked.
He smiled and shook his head at the warmth she created in him at this simplest of gestures. And this was no innocent warmth.
“What is it, sir?” Ross asked. His bodyguard had been standing at the exit watching.
“Nothing.” He breathed deep and tried to slow his heartbeat. He reminded himself he could not afford to entertain these thoughts about her and then swore to himself because he still did. She still mattered—on a very personal level.
“Are you sure?” The man looked puzzled.
Peter laughed. “No. But you can’t save me from Madeline Grace.”
The man chuckled back and said, “I know what you mean.” It had been Peter’s father’s idea to have a bodyguard with him whenever he was going somewhere with crowds. He thought it was over the top but figured it would make both his parents feel better.
Funny thing about his parents—they were just as anxious as he was to have Madeline quit running for governor. No one was giving him more pressure to get her to run as his lieutenant governor than his father. Rick was lukewarm on the idea at best. He didn’t trust her because he didn’t understand her, even more so than women in general.
“Tell Rick we’re leaving,” Peter directed Ross, who was wearing an earpiece. Ross tucked his chin down and spoke into the tiny microphone as he followed Peter out the door.
Rick got the message. He spoke to Ross in the headset even though it made him feel foolish to wear the thing, let alone look like he was talking to himself. He could do without all this ridiculous subterfuge.
“Great. He’s leaving early—before the party’s started. That ought to please the mayor. Madeline just left. It’ll look like he’s following her and I doubt I’m the only one who’s noticed. There’s a gazillion cameras around here. There are two reporters for every civilian.” Rick was very uneasy. He told himself to screw it. If PJD didn’t care who saw him take off after his political enemy dressed in a sexy evening gown shortly after they danced together—then why should he? He knew it wouldn’t hurt his man to have rumors about them. It might even be just what they needed to get her out of the race. Then she wouldn’t even be able to accept the lieutenant governor post with credibility, and Rick would have that wish too. So why did he feel so uneasy about the whole thing? As if there was something about their relationship that he didn’t know about, beyond the broken engagement? PJD had never been clear on exactly why they broke it off. It was six years ago. Before Rick knew him.
That was the real thing Rick was worried about—he wasn’t so sure PJD was really over her. What if he was still interested in her—not just as a running mate? That bothered him the most. Rick had always admired PJD’s cool laser-like focus and ambition. It had made his campaign for DA a cakewalk. The race for governor had been going smoothly too, until Madeline decided to go independent. Now it was becoming difficult to manage. He didn’t want her to join their camp as lieutenant governor because he had a feeling that Madeline Grace could have far too much influence on Peter. He didn’t look forward to it, and he saw it as inevitable because he had confidence in Peter’s ability to eventually bring her around. He dreaded it. Maybe that’s what he was up to now. Rick laughed at himself.
“Hardly likely,” he said out loud.
“What was that?” The bodyguard was still on the line.
“Nothing. Just keep your eye on him and try to discourage him from doing anything but going home.” Ross laughed before signing off. Rick muttered under his breath, not looking forward to the rest of the evening covering for PJD. He knew how he had to play it and hoped he wasn’t unwittingly sabotaging their own campaign in the process—because that’s what his gut was telling him.
“Rick, your man left terribl
y early. I noticed Madeline Grace left early also. Any connection there? I saw them dancing…” The reporter was using the sledgehammer approach as if he would want to deny everything. Half of him did want to deny it. But the campaign manager half took over. Rick glanced to see the mayor watching him and acknowledged with a nod.
“You never know. The campaign manager is always the last to know these things.”
“Surely you were consulted…”
“PJD doesn’t consult me about his love life.” There, that ought to do it. No subtlety required. The man looked over at the mayor before continuing.
“You know, I heard an interesting rumor, something about a past relationship between Peter and Madeline. Care to confirm that?” The man smiled as if he didn’t need confirmation but enjoyed putting Rick on the spot.
Rick had to remind himself to never let them see you sweat. That reference to their past, although the long-expected shoe dropping, was making him sweat a great deal more than it should. They had both prepared for this eventuality. Why was it so much more difficult than he anticipated? Rick checked the mayor again, who casually glanced over the shoulder of the woman he was talking with. That was why he was so uneasy. The mayor was involved somehow. That did not bode well. He knew the mayor did not like Madeline—saw her as a spoiler, someone who didn’t play ball, who would try to throw some wrenches in his political machinery.
Rick ran through the lines in his head to make sure they still played, without any inconsistencies. It sounded good, but not quite right. It wasn’t his job to protect Madeline from herself. That was that battle-axe Sara Lisky’s job. What a piece of work she was—but smart. He could not forget smart. And maybe a touch dangerous, ruthless. That was what he felt uneasy about. Sarah knew all about Madeline and Peter’s past, including the breakup. There was something there that Rick didn’t know about. There had to be something there precisely because Peter never spoke about it. It was probably just personal, but Rick hated not knowing. What if it was something more than personal and what if Sarah knew about it? Now he pulled himself up because he had absolute confidence that he could handle anything Sarah Lisky could dish out. If she was dangerous and ruthless, so was he; and more importantly—so was his boss. Sarah’s biggest handicap in this war was Madeline herself. He could count on Madeline to not play dirty.
The Scotland Yard Exchange Series Page 7
