The Pursuit (Capitol Love Series Book 2)

by Samantha Powers

  “He’s not here, but Sheila has his contact info,” Rayne said.

  Then she started to walk away, swaying a little because of the champagne and her high heels, but Brandon caught her by the wrist and turned her back toward him. He glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to them, but for once, Rayne didn’t care. She was trying like hell to break the hold Chase seemed to have on her, and the kiss had, momentarily at least, exorcised him from her brain.

  She knew she was flirting with danger, but she was feeling reckless, so she ran her fingers along the lapel of Brandon’s tux jacket.

  “Does this mean you’ll go to dinner with me?” he asked.

  “Where would we go?” she asked.

  “Anywhere you want.”

  He was watching her intently, lips parted, and she had a sudden desire to drag him into the coat closet.

  But then she thought of Chase, and the energy drained right out of her. She glanced toward the door, hoping against hope that he’d be standing there in his tux, hair falling in his eyes. Maybe he’d sent that text message from his apartment, maybe he’d changed his mind and never even left town. Or, better yet, maybe he’d gotten to Nepal and missed her so badly that he turned around and came right back.

  But instead she saw Miss Ada sitting in a wheelchair with Rayne’s roommate Carol behind her.

  “I have to go,” she said, handing Brandon her empty champagne glass.

  She hurried over and bent down to give Ada a hug. “I’m so glad you came.”

  “Thank you for inviting me,” Ada said. “This is a real treat. All these fancy people. I was getting sick of only seeing the inside of my own house.”

  “It’s good to see you out and about,” Rayne said. Then she straightened up and gave Carol a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for bringing her. And you look smashing, by the way.”

  Carol was wearing a black velvet dress, and she’d swept her red hair up into a loose bun with wispy curls hanging down. “Thanks! It feels good to dress up for an event that I’m not responsible for. Speaking of which—nice job. Great turnout.”

  “Thanks. The real test will be whether we raise enough money.” She took the handles of Miss Ada’s wheelchair and steered her over to the makeshift bar. Brandon caught her eye as she passed, and she smiled but kept going.

  She spent some time catching up with Carol and Miss Ada, then mingled with the other guests, carefully avoiding Brandon. The event was supposed to go till 11:00, but Kyle flagged her down at 10:30 and told her that if they closed the auctions down right now, they would have exceeded their goal.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  He showed her the results on his cell phone, where he was tracking the bids from a master dashboard.

  “Oh my god!” She gave him a big hug and then ran to find Jeremy. He was standing with a cluster of people in the dining room.

  “We did it!” she exclaimed.

  He looked baffled for a split second then his handsome face broke into a big smile. He grabbed a fork and moved out to the main hallway, where he walked a little ways up the stairs and tapped his fork on his wine glass. Slowly the chatter died down, and people wandered over from the other rooms and gathered in the doorways.

  “I’ve just been informed that we have met our fundraising target,” he said.

  A loud cheer went up, and Rayne thought her heart would burst from the excitement. They had done it. Her little seed of an idea—planted by Chase, but she wasn’t thinking about that now—had grown into a strong, beautiful tree.

  “We are so grateful for your support,” Jeremy said when the noise had died down. “Our entire staff worked hard to make this happen, but I have to thank one person in particular.”

  He turned down at her, and her face flushed with embarrassment. “Rayne Michael came up with this plan when I was ready to throw in the towel, and she carried the idea through to the end. She has done a stellar job.” He raised his glass. “To Rayne.”

  “Here, here!” people said and clinked their glasses and toasted her with champagne. Savannah came over and gave her a hug and then everyone was crowding around wanting to congratulate her and Jeremy, and her heart was full.

  As people finally drifted away to check on their bids or head home, Brandon walked over and shook Jeremy’s hand.

  “Let me know what the final tally is,” Brandon said. “And I’ll write you a matching check.”

  “I appreciate that,” Jeremy said. “Call Sheila next week, and she’ll set up a lunch appointment.”

  “Will do,” Brandon said. Then Jeremy turned his attention to another well-wisher, and Brandon faced Rayne.

  “It was nice to see you tonight,” he said.

  He was as attractive as ever, but she was distracted by all the excitement and feeling fatigue creeping up on her. It was a good kind of exhaustion, but it wasn’t the reckless thrill she’d felt earlier when she’d kissed him.

  “You, too,” she said.

  “Walk me to the door?” he asked, and she nodded.

  They stepped out onto the porch, and though the night was warm and cloudless, there was a slight chill to the air. He reached for her hand, his fingers barely brushing her palm, and kissed her lightly on the lips. She breathed in the familiar scent of his aftershave and sighed. It would be so easy to fall back into him.

  “Call me about dinner,” he whispered in her ear, and his hand trailed down her hip as he turned to go.

  Chapter 17

  The day after the gala, Rayne slept in till a decadent 10 a.m. She felt a twinge of sadness and regret that she wasn’t waking up next to Chase at the Willard, but she brushed the thought away. She had been working her butt off, and she was going to enjoy herself today if it killed her.

  The weather was perfect—bright blue sky and crisp fall air. Rayne had given the room at the Willard to Savannah and Colin, and Rayne was missing her this morning and feeling a little lonely and out of sorts now that the big event was over. Like the day after Christmas, she thought.

  While Rayne was eating eggs and toast, Carol stumbled up the stairs from her bedroom in the basement.

  “Is that coffee I smell?” she asked, her hair sticking up on one side.

  “Help yourself,” Rayne said. Carol filled a mug and sat down next to Rayne at the table, her hands wrapped around the mug as though she’d just emerged from a snowstorm.

  “Thanks again for bringing Ada to the gala last night,” Rayne said. “And for coming yourself.”

  “It was fun,” Carol said, taking a sip of her coffee. “And I’m not just saying that. I had a nice time. And I won a really cool painting to boot.”

  She and Carol didn’t hang out often because their schedules never seemed to overlap. Carol often worked odd hours in her job in donor relations at the Smithsonian. With Savannah spending so much time with Colin and now that Chase was out of the picture, Rayne was suddenly longing for company.

  “What are you up to today?” Rayne asked.

  “Nothing much,” Carol said. “Laundry, cleaning, the usual Sunday fun.”

  “Let’s take a walk down to the Mall. It’s a beautiful day—”

  Carol stared at her. “I work there every day. I don’t want to spend my day off there.”

  “Yeah, but I bet you never even go to the National Gallery. And when’s the last time you were in the Hirshhorn?”

  Carol sighed. “You’re right. I rarely even leave the office. Except for the Air and Space Museum. I’ve led so many visiting donors through there I know it better than the docents.”

  “Great! We can go as soon as you’re ready. I’ll spring for lunch.”

  Carol took a sip of her coffee and eyed Rayne’s plate. “Make me some eggs first and you’ve got a deal.”

  Rayne smiled. “Abso
lutely!”

  They spent the day wandering around the National Mall. They snapped pictures of each other on the carousel riding a palomino pony (Carol) and zebra (Rayne). Then they wandered around the National Gallery’s sculpture garden, marveling at the enormous typewriter eraser, stainless steel tree, and flat house by Lichtenstein that managed to look three-dimensional.

  In the basement of the Hirshhorn, they cocked their heads and puzzled over an installation of colored strings hanging from the ceiling.

  “Seriously?” Carol said. “People get paid to do that?”

  “I think it’s a statement on man’s inhumanity to man. See how the purple string is turning its back on the green string?” Rayne said with a straight face. Carol stared at her with an expression caught between disbelief and concern, and they both burst out laughing.

  They stopped for lunch at the cafe downstairs by the National Gallery’s East Wing, where they loaded their trays with smoked salmon melt sandwiches and slices of lemon meringue pie and sat down to eat within view of the cascade waterfall outside the window.

  When Carol got up to refill their iced tea glasses, Rayne pulled out her phone to see if Savannah had texted her. She had a message, but it wasn’t from Savannah. It was from Brandon.

  Thinking of you. Have dinner with me Saturday?

  When Carol came back with their drinks, Rayne was idly tapping her fingers on the table next to her phone. Carol sat down and gave her a quizzical look.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “I got a text from Brandon, remember him?” Rayne had been living with Carol at the time, and Carol had witnessed some of the drama and Rayne’s hysterics and depression afterward.

  “Brandon the Cheater?” Carol said. “Let me guess—his marriage is on the rocks and he wants to see you again.”

  “Am I an idiot?”

  “It depends. Are you thinking of going out with him?” Carol took a bite of her pie.

  “Jeremy told me Brandon’s wife has indeed moved out, so I have independent verification that he’s not lying. About that part of it anyway.”

  “So this other thing, with Colin’s brother—it’s over for sure?” Carol took a drink of her tea, eyes on Rayne.

  Rayne inhaled sharply and blinked away tears. “Yeah, it’s over,” she said softly.

  Carol put her glass down. “Take it from a woman who’s pushing thirty and still looking for Mr. Right: No guy is perfect. No guy comes without baggage. It’s just a question of what you’re willing to deal with. At a certain age and especially if you date older men, you’re going to be dealing with ex-wives or ex-live-in girlfriends who might as well be ex-wives.”

  Carol scraped the rest of the meringue off her plate with her fork. “You and Brandon had an intense relationship. If you’re still attracted to him, maybe there’s something there. Your other guy is out of the picture, so why not go on a date and see what happens?”

  Rayne smiled. “You’re good at this. You should write an advice column.”

  “Ah yes, a popular career choice for snarky spinsters,” Carol said with a laugh.

  Rayne picked up her phone and typed: OK. 7:00?

  Within moments, Brandon replied: Yes. You name the place.

  She looked at Carol. “Do you ever take donors to fancy restaurants?”

  “We’re pretty budget-conscious,” Carol said. “But there’s this new place I’ve been thinking of trying. It’s called the Carriage House Inn, and it’s not far from our house, on Pennsylvania Avenue.”

  Rayne texted Brandon the name of the restaurant and immediately got a response: I will be there. Can’t wait to see you.

  “I don’t suppose you have a fancy dress I could borrow?” Rayne said.

  Carol thought about it. “You want sophisticated with a hint of sexy, but not slutty. I might have something. We can go through my closet when we get home.”

  “Thanks a bunch, Carol,” Rayne said. “This is nice. I’m glad you came out with me today.”

  “Me, too.” Carol smiled. “Does Brandon have any recently divorced friends?”

  Rayne laughed. “Let’s see how this first date goes before we start double dating.”

  Savannah was not pleased when Rayne told her she’d made a date with Brandon. But Rayne finally convinced her that it was just dinner—albeit at a restaurant Rayne could never afford on her own—and that she would take it slow.

  “I’m just worried that you haven’t given yourself a chance to get over this thing with Chase,” Savannah said. “You could be rebounding big time.”

  Rayne had thought of that and rejected it, mostly because she already knew Brandon. Wasn’t rebounding something you did with a stranger?

  “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  Chase had no idea how long he’d slept—could have been minutes, could have been days—because he only seemed to wake up when it was dark outside. His bed was a tangle of sheets, and he was aware of having knocked his phone to the floor at one point while he was trying to text Colin and rolling over on top of a water bottle. His headache was blinding, and he was still feeling so nauseated that he finally crawled out of bed and laid down on the floor, which didn’t move as much as the bed.

  He heard someone knocking and calling his name, but it sounded like they were at the other end of a very long tunnel.

  “Rayne?” he said, his voice a hoarse croak. He had just been talking to her. Or maybe dreaming about her. But she seemed real.

  He opened his eyes a slit, his parched lips breaking into a painful smile. But it wasn’t Rayne. It was a Nepali girl—Maya, from the guest house in Kathmandu. What was she doing here?

  She knelt down beside him. “How long have you been like this?” She put her hand on his forehead, and it felt cool and soft, the most delicious sensation next to a glass of water.

  He didn’t answer, so she asked, “When did you get back from Chitwan? I didn’t see you come in.”

  Chitwan. Elephants and rhinos and antelope. Hot, beautiful Chitwan. And the big Texan on the bus. How long ago had that been?

  “I don’t know,” he finally said.

  “Have you been sick to your stomach?”

  He nodded, but only a little. The pain in his head made his eyes water.

  “Headache?”

  “Everything hurts,” he said.

  “Chills?”

  “Malaria relapse, nurse. Forgot to bring my pills.”

  She touched his arm. “We need to get you back into bed. You’ll only feel worse if you lie on the floor.”

  He looked at her through half-open eyes, lit up like an angel with the sun behind her. “This is a nice dream,” he said. “I’m glad you’re in it.”

  She shook her head, smiling. “It’s not a dream, Chase Allison. You’re in my guest house in Kathmandu and you have malaria and I’m going to call a doctor.”

  She grabbed both his hands, pulled him to his feet, and gently guided him back to the bed. He sat upright long enough for her to untangle the sheets and then he collapsed onto his side and curled up.

  “That man Roy has been calling for you,” she said as she pulled the blankets up to his shoulders. “No one knew you were here, and you didn’t answer your door or phone.”

  Chase was confused. He’d already gone on that gig. Or did he just dream it? Or was he dreaming that he’d missed it to remind himself to wake up and call Roy?

  “What day is it?” he asked.

  She bent down and picked up his phone and the water bottle and set them on the stand next to his bed. “Thursday,” she said.

  “No, that can’t be right,” Chase said. “I just got back. And it’s daylight so it must only be”—he thought hard—”Monday.”

  “I assure you it’s Thursday,” she said. Then she looked at him.
“You mean you haven’t eaten in three days?”

  “I guess not,” he said.

  “I’ll call the doctor and if he won’t come here, I’ll go to him and get the medicine. And I’ll send Mama up with some broth in the meantime.”

  “I don’t want you to go to all that trouble. I’ll go to the doctor’s.” He tried to sit up, but she gently pushed him back down.

  “I’ll do it,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

  He smiled. “You haven’t turned twenty-one while I was out, have you?”

  “You haven’t been sleeping that long. I’ll be back soon.”

  He drifted off to sleep without even hearing the door close behind her. Sometime later, her mother came in with a bowl of broth. Chase sat up in bed with his back propped against the wall and ate the broth one slow spoonful at a time. It felt good to eat, but it was exhausting, and as soon as she took the bowl back, he laid down and closed his eyes.

  At some point, Maya woke him. She had a bottle of pills and a glass of water. He dutifully sat up to take the pills, and she brushed his sweaty hair away from his forehead as he drank the water. Then it was a cycle of sleep and medicine and broth, which gradually had bits of tofu, vegetables, and noodles. Sometimes it was Maya and sometimes it was her mother who brought the broth, and once Maya’s younger brother came to give him his medicine.

  On Saturday evening, Savannah stuck around while Rayne got dressed in a slinky black cocktail dress that Carol had found at the back of her closet.

  “I only wore it one time,” she said. “It just wasn’t me.”

  It fit Rayne perfectly. She pinned up her hair, leaving some long strands hanging down around her face and neck, and put on a matching set of coin pearl necklace and earrings.

  “You look gorgeous,” Savannah said.

  Rayne grabbed her beaded handbag and swiped on some coppery red lipstick.