by Carsen Taite
“Surprisingly, no. He flew his family in to spend Christmas in the capital. I don’t think it would’ve mattered if he was here or not. The FBI was in a big hurry to do the search. I get the impression they’ve been working on this investigation for a while.”
Addison shook her head. None of this made sense, and the vague bit of information was more frustrating than helpful. She wanted to reach through the phone and make Gordon cough up more details. No, what she really wanted was for Julia to be on the other end of the phone, taking a personal interest in her as she’d done from the start. But apparently, Julia had better things to do.
“Okay. Is there anything I should be doing?”
“There’s the likelihood you’ll get some questions about this, since Senator Burrows is an old friend of yours. No comment is the best answer you can give for now. We’ll put together a statement for you in case it gets to that point.”
Gordon was only doing his job, but she seethed at the handling. She didn’t need a lesson in discretion, especially not from someone who couldn’t or wouldn’t give her all the details in the first place. Suppressing a blowup, she simply said, “Got it. Thanks.”
“Okay. Well, call me if you need anything. Have a good holiday and I’ll see you after the first.”
He hung up and Addison stared at her phone. Have a good holiday. Really? She was alone and lonely, in complete limbo about her professional future, and the woman she craved, the woman she might be falling in love with, couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone and tell her about a momentous event.
She looked up at Roger who was still waiting in her doorway. “Let’s get out of here.”
*
“It’s done. Only a matter of time now.”
Julia listened to Noah’s words and heaved a sigh of relief. She’d been on pins and needles all week waiting to hear the status of the FBI investigation into Weir’s death.
All she’d known up until this morning was that Detective Conland had been fairly quick to jump ship rather than protect his former benefactor, Senator Burrows. He finally admitted he’d taken the journal from Addison’s apartment after faking the call about a possible burglary, but he hadn’t delivered Weir’s journal to Burrows when Addison had seen him at the Senate office building. Instead, he’d gone to see Burrows to negotiate for a bigger payout. Before his visit, he’d done a little investigating and learned the FBI had taken over the investigation of Weir’s death. That, coupled with Burrows’s intense interest in the journal, told him he had a gold mine on his hands, and he planned to stake his claim. Burrows had promised him more, but said he’d need a few days to make the arrangements. They’d made the exchange this morning and, threatened with the prospect of many years in jail, Conland had worn a wire and goaded Burrows into several incriminating statements.
After the meet, agents tailed Burrows back to his office, where he no doubt thought he’d be alone on Christmas Eve to read the journal and dispose of it however he wished. He’d barely shut the door when Reeves showed up with a contingent of Capitol Police, warrant in hand. Burrows wasn’t under arrest, yet, but it was only a matter of time. Neither he nor Conland had admitted having anything to do with Justice Weir’s death, but Noah had assured Julia the FBI had already developed some credible evidence. He also promised her both men would be under constant surveillance until the attorney general obtained an indictment.
“And you’ll keep the security detail in place on Dean Riley?” The formal name sounded flat, but she’d spent all week keeping up the appearance of formality with Addison. No sense stopping now.
“Yes. Until after the confirmation and then the Supreme Court cops can take over.”
His tone had changed, and it was clear he’d gone from assuming the nomination was a disaster to realizing Addison’s confirmation was a foregone conclusion. The optimism was contagious, and given how things were going, she should be ecstatic. It was still too early to predict exactly how the confirmation process would play out, but the FBI investigation was sure to render Burrows impotent. The Senate minority leader had already made a vague statement to the press implying that he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of the work of the country. When the news broke that Burrows might have had something to do with Weir’s death, the path would be clear for Addison’s nomination to sail through. It was all a matter of timing now.
“What are you doing for Christmas?”
“What?” Julia tuned back into the conversation. “You know I hadn’t really thought about it. I suppose I’ll work. My office is a wreck, and since it looks like this little gig is about to be over, I should get things in order before I finally get my well-deserved vacation.”
“Vacation. I don’t even know what that means.”
Neither did she. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken off, really off. Shut the phones down, no Internet, fun in the sun kind of off. She’d looked so forward to the prospect, but now that it was almost time, apprehension hit. What if a big fish called? If her office couldn’t get in touch with her, would the candidate wait or find someone else to hire? Would she be able to cope with several weeks of indulgent lassitude?
Breathing deep, she got a grip. She’d be fine. Normal people went on vacations all the time without repercussions.
But did they go alone? She couldn’t deny it—the solitude she’d craved after spending the past year surrounded by campaign workers, press, and clamoring crowds of voters sounded like a drag now that she’d met Addison. For a brief second, she considered showing up on her doorstep with plane tickets. Hey, I know you’re about to have the job of your dreams, but I was thinking you might throw it all away for a few weeks in the islands with me.
No, that window had closed, if it was ever open in the first place. And it was entirely her fault. She’d pushed Addison away, citing crap like ethics and professionalism. Crap that might keep her employed, but had long since stopped fulfilling her dreams. Undeniably, her dreams were peppered with memories of Addison naked, willing, and ready for anything, even if anything meant risking what she’d worked for. She had no idea if she was willing to make a similar sacrifice, but she supposed her indecision told her everything she needed to know. That night had been a single, solitary exception, and the further from it she got, the easier it would be to accept that it wouldn’t happen again.
No plane tickets, no phone calls, no contact. That was her safest route. She’d have to talk to Addison again just before the confirmation hearings, but for right now she would shove her feelings aside and pretend there was nothing between them. After all, she made a living convincing people to believe what she wanted them to.
Chapter Thirty-one
Addison clicked the remote quickly through the channels. She was at once drawn and repulsed by the coverage of her upcoming confirmation hearings, although she had to admit that hearing Rachel Maddow wax poetic about the potential of her as a chief justice was a mind-blowing experience.
Pathetic. It was Friday night, New Year’s Eve, and she was home alone, scouring the television for something to watch besides conversations about her qualifications or hordes of drunks waiting for a ball to drop out of the sky. This week had been the busiest and loneliest time of her life. She’d spent much of it at work, making sure her office was ready for whoever took her position in the new semester because, no matter what happened with the confirmation process, she wasn’t going back. She’d given notice, and if her confirmation failed, she’d take the semester off and come up with a new plan for her future. Maybe she’d take a trip. Go somewhere exotic.
She laughed at her own transparency. Like she’d have a chance of running into Julia in the islands. And what would she say if she did? Come here often? Want to share a hut?
Not a chance, especially since she hadn’t heard from Julia once during the past week. Every day, as the press broadcast and blogged twenty-four seven about the FBI investigation into Jeff Burrows and the upcoming confirmation hearings, she kept expecting something, anything. A phone call
, an e-mail, a text, but she got nothing. Not a word. She’d started to pick up the phone several times to break the silence between them, but stopped when she realized Julia’s silence was a clear message. She’d hear from her when there was work to be done. She’d pushed the point herself, the night her apartment had been invaded, basically telling Julia not to tempt her if they were over. She didn’t want anything if she couldn’t have everything. Well, now she knew where things stood, and she had no one else to blame for her current lonely situation.
She finally settled on a mindless movie she could pretend to watch when her phone rang.
“Hello, Ms. Riley, it’s Agent Liland, downstairs. There’s a Ms. Julia Scott here to see you and we don’t have her on the list for this evening.”
Addison hadn’t put anyone on the list of people security could let through this evening, but she would have expected Julia could push her way past any number of apartment security guards and a contingent of FBI agents. Apparently, this particular agent didn’t have a clue who he was keeping waiting.
“Tall, red hair, green eyes?”
“Yes, ma’am. Her ID checks out.”
Addison stifled a laugh. They’d been extra careful since the incident with Detective Conland, and she appreciated their caution. “Please send her up. Thanks, Agent.”
While she waited for Julia, she walked to the master bath and looked in the mirror. Her hair was down and a bit wild. She barely had on any makeup, and she was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and her favorite bulky sweater. The contents of her closet, with rows of suits, well-shined shoes, and a few fancy dresses mocked her, but there wasn’t time to change. As she walked back through the apartment, she took in every detail. It wouldn’t be up to Julia’s housekeeper’s standards, but it was neat enough.
Neat enough for what? She could hardly believe that after a week of no contact, Julia would just show up at her door. Whatever she had to say must be important. Maybe the president was pulling her nomination. Although she was generally an optimist, she refused to believe the in person visit could signal anything except bad news.
When the knock finally came, she assumed a steely veneer and swung open the door. Julia stood in the doorway, flanked by agents. The agents looked to her for confirmation, but all she could do was nod. As they slipped back into the recesses of the hallway, Julia stepped into the room, shut the door behind her, and produced a champagne bottle from inside her coat. After a few painful seconds of silence, Julia handed her the bottle. “I know it’s probably bad form to regift a bottle of bubbly.”
Addison reached for the bottle, her motion completely rote. “What?”
Julia shot her a puzzled look. “I didn’t have any other bottles in the house and figured this would be a bad night to be out looking for good champagne. I hope you don’t mind.”
The ground started to settle, and Addison slowly nodded as random thoughts fell into place. People used champagne to celebrate. Julia brought a bottle all the way across town. She wouldn’t do that to deliver bad news. She squinted at the label and smiled when she recognized the bottle of Veuve de Clique she had brought to Julia’s house the night she found out Julia had tried to convince the president not to nominate her for the Supreme Court. Were things coming full circle, or was this a sign?
“We have two things to celebrate. Well, one really, but the one makes the other.” Julia cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I’m making a mess of this. What I’m trying to say is Jeff Burrows is resigning from the Senate. He’ll officially announce on Monday, but the president got a call from the minority leader this morning.”
Addison took a moment to digest the words. Burrows was resigning. Confirmation hearings started on Monday, and her nemesis wouldn’t be there to grill her either in public or private. She could handle his brand of bullying, but she hadn’t been looking forward to it. She glanced down at the bottle in her hand. Now that Burrows was out of the picture, she felt a profound sense of relief, but relief alone didn’t merit a celebration, did it? She looked up at Julia who wore a huge smile.
“You can ask anyone who knows me. I’m superstitious as hell. Never count a win until all the votes are in, but the minority leader implied that in the wake of the Burrows scandal, he isn’t interested in waging a war over a quote ‘unquestionably worthy nominee.’” She pointed at the bottle still in Addison’s hand. “I suggest you have a glass. Lord knows you deserve it.”
They both stood in place, several feet apart. Addison looked into Julia’s eyes, searching for a sign. Something, anything to tell her what to do next. Appropriate phrases floated through her head. Take off your coat. Sit down. Have a drink. Make love to me. Stay.
No matter where her mind wandered, all thoughts led to the same conclusion. She wanted Julia to stay. Here. Tonight. Forever. Did Julia want those same things? Did she have the courage to ask, or would it be braver not to? She was on the verge of a lifetime appointment, her future set in stone. Until she retired, she’d never live anywhere else, never wonder what opportunities lay in store. Julia, on the other hand, lived her life on the fly with both her work and her residence determined by whatever exciting new campaign captured her attention. Could they make a relationship work?
She only knew one thing. She had to try. Without breaking eye contact, she set the bottle on the counter and stepped closer. Inches from Julia, she drank in the scent of her—citrus and wood, fresh and warm. Julia’s breath hitched, and she leaned in closer, running her fingers along the soft skin of her strong neck. Tall and proud, mesmerizing and sensual. She longed for the feel of her lips, the press of her body. The ache between her legs spread through her soul, and she could hold back no longer. When she finally closed the distance and captured the kiss she’d been burning for, warmth flooded through every cell of her being. Without a doubt, she was in love.
Julia arched in anticipation. The ache of the intensely slow lead in to the kiss left her melting into Addison’s embrace. When Addison’s lips finally touched hers, she nearly exploded with want, with need. When they finally broke for breath, her lips were bruised and swollen and her mind was consumed with taking Addison to bed.
Funny, since she’d refused to consider the possibility when she’d left her house, bottle of champagne in hand. She’d told herself this trip was about congratulations and the prelude to good-bye. The past day had been full of news. Although Burrows’s resignation wouldn’t be officially announced until Monday, the rumor mill was rampant, and people were already jockeying for a spot in the inevitable special election to fill his seat. She’d gotten a call just this afternoon from the congresswoman from Montana who wanted to talk about the possibility of running for Burrows’s soon to be vacant seat. They’d set a meeting for Monday evening and, if all went well, once the confirmation hearings were over, she would head out West to begin another battle.
Addison’s incredibly arousing kiss threatened to steer her off course. If arousal was all she read from it, then it would be easy, but there was more. Much more and they both knew it. What she needed was a few seconds without Addison’s body pressed against hers. Distance was the only way she could navigate this terrain. She walked over to the table where the icy bottle of champagne dripped condensation onto finely polished wood. “Shall we toast?”
“Depends on what we’re toasting.” Addison’s voice was silky smooth, her tone filled with portent.
A cold drink wasn’t going to be enough to give her perspective. What she should do was forget the toast, lead Addison back to her bedroom, and spend the night pretending their lives weren’t headed in completely separate directions. The impending divergence was a good thing. She couldn’t deny she cared about Addison, but to let her heart wander beyond that would be dangerous. If candidates thought she was dating Addison, they’d believe she had influence. They’d never accept that the girlfriend of the chief justice didn’t have the inside track to all kinds of information about pending cases.
Girlfriend. Not a word she used in reference t
o anyone. Relationships, especially ones born of professional contact, were bad news. No strings, only flings had been her philosophy since Kate, and her life was less complicated because of it. If she’d never kissed Addison, she’d be better off because she wouldn’t be standing here having an internal debate about what to do with the attraction between them.
She watched while Addison poured two glasses of champagne, unable to tell her no, but knowing she should. She compromised. One drink and then good-bye. It’s only right to toast success. She deserves this. Don’t ruin it.
She took the glass and raised it high. “To you. You deserve every good thing that comes your way.”
Addison tilted her glass to hers and the soft clink was the only sound in the room. After a few beats of silence, she spoke. “I was just thinking about all the good things that have come into my life. Like you.”
Her gaze was a magnet, and Julia couldn’t look away even though she was certain she wouldn’t survive the pull. She watched Addison’s lips moving, knew she was still talking and whatever she was saying was important, but the words floated in the air between them, none of them landing save the last three.
“I love you.”
The words were like rocks crashing against her resolve. She expected something—talk about promises, incremental and ordinary, but not this. I love you meant commitment. I love you went beyond a promise and said we’re a done deal. For a brief moment, she met Addison’s gaze. She saw raw, naked vulnerability coupled with complete confidence. Addison was so sure, but surely she hadn’t thought it through, hadn’t considered all the complications. Outside the bubble they’d been working in, they couldn’t work, not as a couple, not for forever.
“This is where you’re supposed to say something.”
Addison’s eyes still held hope, but it was waning. Julia knew it was her turn to meet Addison’s words with a declaration of her own. Show Addison she was worthy of what she was offering, that she could dive into the naiveté of romance and, against the odds, let love conquer all.
