“Neither do I,” Kate replied wearily. She found her antique purse, opened it and took out the ring. “Here,” she said, extending it to Brad.
His eyes widened in his tanned face. “You’re not serious.”
“I can’t marry you,” Kate said. Tears filled her eyes as she mourned all her dreams—the suburban house, the children, the dog in the back of a minivan. All of it was gone. It wasn’t fair.
Brad refused to take the ring. “Kate,” he said reasonably as though speaking to a cranky child, “everybody does cocaine.”
Kate shook her head. Her cheeks were wet now, and she dried them hastily on the sleeve of her nightshirt. “No,” she argued. “That isn’t true and you know it. Brad, you need help. If you’ll check into a hospital—”
He held up both hands in a gesture so abrupt that it startled Kate into retreating another step. “Wait a second. A hospital? I haven’t got that kind of problem, Kate. And even if I did, I wouldn’t just walk away from the senator’s campaign.”
Kate swallowed. “You’ll have to resign as campaign manager, Brad. Right away.”
He was staring at her as though she’d just told him she’d had supper with a Martian. “Resign? Are you kidding? This is the most important job of my career and you damn well know it!”
Kate did know that Brad had political ambitions of his own. He had left a prestigious law firm to take the job on her father’s staff expressly to make contacts among the powerful. “Brad, if you don’t resign, my father will fire you.”
Brad paled beneath his tan. “Are you saying that you’re going to tell him about tonight?”
“I have to,” Kate said with miserable conviction. “It would be irresponsible not to.”
Brad stood close, his hands cupping Kate’s face. Although his touch was gentle, she sensed a certain restrained violence in him and she was afraid. “No. Listen to me. You can’t do this—I’ve worked too long and too hard…”
Kate twisted out of his grasp and put the couch between them, her hands gripping its back. “Go home,” she said quietly. “Think about this. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
“We’ll talk now!” Brad snapped. “If you tell your father about that cocaine, I’ll be ruined!”
“Please leave,” Kate said. She felt chilled from head to foot. She had almost married this man!
Brad didn’t move at all. He only glared at her and spit out, “You’re naive as hell, Kate. This kind of thing goes on every day in every level of government. Why don’t you stop being such a goody-goody and grow up?”
Kate could only gaze at him, feeling sick to her stomach. Dear God in heaven, how had he fooled her so completely?
After another long and frightening moment, Brad stormed out the door. Kate rushed to lock and bolt it behind him, leaning against it with her eyes closed while she waited for her heartbeat and her breathing to settle into normal patterns.
She’d been dating Brad Wilshire for a year. There must have been signs that he used and sold drugs, but she hadn’t seen them. That fact in itself was terrifying; Kate wondered if she could trust her own instincts. Was she one of those self-destructive women she’d read about in pop psychology books?
After a few deep breaths and fifteen minutes spent pacing the darkened living room, Kate was tired enough to sleep. She crawled back into bed, closed her eyes and dreamed that she lived in a fine colonial house in the suburbs. Sean was her husband and Gil was her son and there were twelve gleaming airliners parked in the backyard.
*
The jangle of the telephone awakened Kate before her alarm clock could. She grappled for the receiver and pressed it to her ear, muttering a hoarse, “Hello?”
The senator’s voice was like restrained thunder. “Brad has been arrested,” he said.
Kate was wide awake. “When?” she asked, sitting up in bed.
“Early this morning. He’s denying all the charges, of course.”
Kate swallowed hard. “What charges?”
“You ought to know,” her father responded coldly. “You’re the one who turned him in, aren’t you? How could you do this when you knew the effect a scandal would have on me?”
“I didn’t turn him in,” Kate protested quietly. “I would never have done that without consulting you.”
“Be that as it may, the story will be all over the morning papers. We’ve got to decide whether to stand behind Wilshire or cut him loose.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard to work out,” Kate said, flinging back the covers. “He’s guilty—I saw him make the sale with my own eyes.”
“But you didn’t blow the whistle on him?”
“No,” Kate insisted. “I should have, though.”
“I take it the wedding is off?”
Kate shoved a hand through her hair. “I don’t know how you can even ask that,” she whispered furiously. “Of course it’s off!”
The senator sighed. Kate knew he’d had dreams of his own where Brad was concerned. He’d meant to groom his prospective son-in-law to take his place one day. And John Blake wasn’t a man who gave up easily. “I think I could persuade him to enter a treatment center.”
“Give it up, Daddy,” Kate sighed. “Brad will ruin you if you keep him on as campaign manager, and we both know it.”
Her father reluctantly agreed and ended the conversation. Kate showered, wound her dark hair into a tidy French braid and dressed in a businesslike black suit and tasteful silk blouse. As her father’s press secretary, she was ready to meet the newspaper reporters.
It was a good thing, because they were waiting for her the moment she reached the elegant mansion on the hill, clustering around her car, shouting questions and shoving microphones and cameras into her face.
“Is it true you turned your lover in for pushing cocaine?” called one man.
Kate looked at him with distaste and hustled toward the front door. “The senator will have a comment for you later,” she called over one shoulder.
Someone grabbed her by the arm, and Kate wrenched free, infuriated by the presumption of such a gesture.
Inside the house she found her father surrounded by aides. There was no sign of her mother. Although Irene was a seasoned campaigner, she tended to get headaches when the water got rough.
“Are you ready to issue a statement?” Kate asked, shouldering her way through to her father’s desk.
He looked up as though surprised to see her. “Yes,” he said. “Tell those vultures out there that even though we bailed Wilshire out of jail, we’re washing our hands of him as of today. He’s off my staff.”
“When will you name a new campaign manager?” Kate asked. She fully expected her father to give the job to her, since she’d earned it. In fact, in many ways she was more qualified than Brad had been.
“Right now,” the senator said decisively. “Tell the press that I’ve chosen Mike Wilson for the job.” He glanced fondly at the young and inexperienced lawyer standing close by.
Kate turned to leave the room without a word.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Kate’s father called after her, his tone angry and imperious.
Kate froze at the study door, her hand on the brass knob. “I’m about to issue my last official statement as your press secretary,” she replied clearly.
The senator’s anger was palpable. It reached out and coiled around Kate like an invisible boa constrictor. “Not until you’ve told me what this is all about, you won’t!”
Kate turned and faced him again. “You as much as promised that job to me. How many times have you said, ‘If it weren’t for Brad, you’d be my campaign manager’?”
“I was only joking, and you damn well know it. It takes a man to manage a campaign! Furthermore, I don’t have time to indulge your temperament, Katherine. If you walk out that door, you can consider yourself fired.”
Kate glared at the white-haired man seated behind the desk. His staff surrounded him on three sides, all of them looking at Kate as though
she’d just lost her reason.
She offered a silent prayer that she wouldn’t cry and raised her chin. “That will save me the trouble of writing a letter of resignation,” she said.
The senator swore, and Kate walked out of his study with her shoulders straight and her head high. Her mother was in the hallway, her perfect complexion gray with anxiety, her strawberry blond hair artfully coiffed. She gripped both of Kate’s hands in hers, and her ice-blue eyes pleaded for understanding.
“I know your father is in a terrible mood,” she said, “but it’s sure to pass once the press backs off a little.”
Kate could no longer hold back her tears. She shook her head and put one hand over her mouth.
“What’s happened?” Irene Blake demanded.
Kate bit into her lower lip, struggling for composure. Her disappointment and sense of betrayal combined to overwhelm her. “He gave Brad’s job to Mike Wilson,” she finally managed to say.
Irene’s gaze revealed honest bafflement. “And?”
Kate’s patience was exhausted. “Mother, that job should have gone to me,” she whispered angrily.
“But you’re—”
“Don’t you dare say ‘But you’re a woman,’ Mother. If you do, I’ll never forgive you.”
Irene sighed. “Why don’t you just go away for a few days, dear. Fly somewhere tropical and lounge in the sun until you feel better.”
Kate sniffed and dried her cheeks with a tissue pulled from her purse. She still had to face the press. “That’s a good idea, Mother. Tell Daddy I said, adiós, bye-bye and ciao.” With that, she started toward the door.
“Don’t be flippant, Katherine,” her mother called after her. “It doesn’t become you.”
Kate rolled her eyes, opened the front door and stepped outside. Sean was just about to enter, and she couldn’t have been happier to see him. He was like a barrier between her and the eager reporters. “Thank God you’re here,” she whispered.
Sean grinned, looking almost intolerably good in his jeans, cotton shirt and leather jacket. “Trust a Yank to do the unexpected,” he said in a mischievous whisper that ruffled the loose tendrils of Kate’s hair and sent a sweet shiver all through her system. “I was prepared to be thrown out on my ear.”
Kate linked her arm with Sean’s and smiled up at him. “Pretend we like each other,” she said through her teeth.
“Don’t we?” Sean countered, feigning an injured look.
Shouting questions about Brad, the covey of reporters closed around them as soon as they stepped off the porch. Kate held on to Sean and looked straight ahead, pretending not to see or hear the men and women vying for her attention. She wasn’t her father’s press secretary anymore; there was no reason for her to try to appease the media.
“What the hell’s going on here?” Sean demanded good-naturedly, once they were safely inside his car and pulling away from the curb.
Kate pressed the tips of her index fingers to the skin under her eyes in the hope that she could keep herself from crying again. “I’ve just been fired from my father’s staff.”
“Given the sack, were you?” Sean didn’t look at all sympathetic. “Best thing for you, love,” he said cheerfully. “Now maybe you can be somebody besides your father’s daughter.”
Kate bristled. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve given the senator all your time and half your soul, Katie-did. When were you planning to live your life?”
Sean’s words cut close to the bone, and Kate hugged herself in an unconscious gesture of self-defense. She wondered how he could have discerned something like that when they’d spent so little time together.
In that moment, Kate felt like a life-size paper doll. She had no real interests, beyond the senator’s career, no hobbies and very few friends. She folded her arms, utterly demoralized.
“There now,” Sean said soothingly. “It’ll all come right in the end.”
Kate turned her attention to him. It was better than thinking about herself. “What were you doing at my parents’ house?” she asked.
Sean seemed to have a definite destination in mind, and it wasn’t Kate’s building. “Actually, I was looking for you. Good old Brad’s arrest was all over the news this morning, and I thought you might need a sympathetic shoulder. When you didn’t answer your telephone, I guessed that you were probably with your dear old dad.”
Kate was beginning to rally a little. “Where are we going?” she wanted to know. The car was speeding along the freeway now; they were leaving downtown Seattle far behind.
“Simmons Field,” Sean answered. “I told you I wanted to take the plane up again.”
“You’re not expecting me to go, are you?”
Sean grinned fetchingly. “Sure. We can have lunch at thirty-seven thousand feet—that is, if you don’t mind airline food.”
“Me? I’ll stay on the ground, thank you. I’m no test pilot.”
“That’s okay, love. We only need one of those, and I’m it.”
Kate sighed. “I’m not dressed for this,” she said, grasping at straws. She wasn’t afraid to fly, but she didn’t like the idea of going up in anything that had to be tested.
“It’s a passenger jet, Katie-did—not a barnstormer. Come on, live a little.”
Kate nodded grudgingly, and Sean’s grin widened. He looked pretty pleased with himself.
They arrived at Simmons Field, and Sean parked the sports car in a space marked Reserved. His eyes moved appreciatively over Kate’s trim figure when she got out of the vehicle and stood facing him.
“I could wait for you in the hangar,” she offered.
Sean shook his head and drew her close. It felt natural and right to walk within the curve of his arm. “Don’t be a coward, Katie-did. I’ll take care of you.”
My secret dream, Kate thought sadly, recalling how she’d thought Brad would take care of her. The truth was, there weren’t any princes out here, though some of the frogs could do a pretty good imitation of one. “I can take care of myself,” she said firmly.
Sean made no comment on that. Soon they were mounting the portable stairway that would take them into the gleaming jumbo jet he wanted to test. There was a flight attendant on board, along with a copilot and a navigator.
Kate followed the three men into the cockpit, where she buckled herself into a seat near the door. Sean winked at her before sitting down at the controls. She bent far to one side to watch as he put on a set of earphones and then reached up to flip a variety of switches. The craft roared to life, and Kate wondered if there was an ignition key, like in a car.
She gripped the armrests on either side of her as the plane began taxiing down the runway. She could hear Sean talking to the tower in a rhythmic, practiced voice, and she relaxed a little. Even her father would have conceded that Sean was an excellent pilot.
There she went again, measuring her opinions against her father’s. She forced herself to relax, realized her eyes were squeezed shut and opened them to see Sean grinning at her around the side of his seat.
Kate made a gesture with the back of her hand, encouraging him to turn his attention back to the friendly skies, and he laughed as he complied.
The navigator smiled at her from his position close by. “Relax,” the older man told her. “He probably won’t stall it out with you aboard.”
“Stall it out?” Kate squeaked. She didn’t like the sound of that. “What does that mean?”
“Never mind,” said the navigator.
Kate gripped the armrests again.
An hour later, Sean landed the airplane at Simmons Field, and Kate let out her breath.
A group of bald, smiling men wearing off-the-rack suits met them on the tarmac. “Well, Mr. Harris, what do you think of our baby there?” one of them asked, gesturing toward the sleek silver aircraft.
Sean’s expression was strictly noncommittal. “The engines grab a little when you stall it out,” he remarked.
Kate swallowe
d. She’d figured out what that phrase meant, and she wondered if she’d had a near-death experience and never even noticed.
One of the officials recognized Kate. “Aren’t you Senator Blake’s daughter?” he asked.
Kate winced. Maybe Sean was right; maybe she didn’t have any other identity besides that one. She nodded, not knowing what else to say.
“I don’t mind telling you,” the man beamed, looking at Sean again, “that the senator has been a very good friend to Simmons Aircraft.”
Sean’s expression was bland. “No worries, mate,” he said. “We might be able to deal in spite of that.”
Kate bit back a grin.
Sean took her hand, said a polite goodbye to the contingent from the sales department and started off toward his car.
“There’s a good day’s work,” he said happily, opening the door for Kate. “Now we can play.” He glanced at his watch. “How about some lunch?”
Kate realized with some surprise that she was hungry. Due to the stresses of a political campaign and an engagement, she hadn’t had an appetite in months. She nodded.
They went to a nearby steak house, and while Kate gravitated to the salad bar, Sean ordered something from the menu.
When his plate arrived, Kate stared at it in horror. It was a T-bone steak, and it was definitely rare. “Do you know what red meat does to your heart?” she asked.
Sean rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve turned into one of those curmudgeons who eats sprouts and drinks blue milk.”
Kate speared a cherry tomato and popped it into her mouth. “It doesn’t hurt to be health conscious,” she said.
Sean cut into his slab of bloody meat, lifted a piece to his mouth and chewed appreciatively. His eyes slipped briefly to Kate’s breasts and then rose to her lips, where they lingered for several unsettling moments. “No worries, love,” he said. “I promise you, I’m healthy.”
Even though Sean had not said anything out of line, Kate felt her cheeks color. Where this man was concerned, she was nineteen again, full of crazy needs and self-doubts. She dropped her gaze to her salad, but Sean’s chuckle made her look back up at his face.
Just Kate: His Only Wife (Bestselling Author Collection) Page 3
