by Susan Crosby
“I didn’t want it then,” he said, “and I don’t want it now.”
“Please, Sam.” She was excruciatingly aware of people dancing and milling around them, although the volume of the music kept their conversation private. And she was so aware of him as a man. “Come with me. It’ll just take a few minutes. My parents are out of town. It’d be just you and me.”
“I have to go,” he repeated.
Was that regret in his eyes? Temptation? Although their unique relationship had begun in elementary school they’d dated only once in high school. Just once. A date she’d dreamed of for years. A date that had started wonderfully and ended abysmally. She never knew what had gone wrong, how she’d ruined the evening, but she had.
She had so many questions to ask him now, had played out the scene in her head so many times. How could he just leave when there were so many unanswered questions?
“I know you don’t owe me anything, but at least tell me why you gave me the medal,” she said.
“Running away again?” asked a male voice.
Harley ambled up beside them a second time, his chest puffed out, eyes hard, hands fisted. Dana’s hatred for him deepened. A bully in high school and a rich bully now.
“Move aside,” Sam said, low and threatening.
“Oh ho! Feelin’ cocky, are we, Remington? Think you could take me on this time?”
“One on one, I could’ve beaten you then. Five against one weren’t great odds.”
Dana hadn’t heard the chilling details before. Most people assumed Sam’s father had hit him again, but Dana knew Harley and his friends had been responsible. She just didn’t know how many people were involved. If she could go back in time, she would handle everything differently.
“Don’t make a scene,” Dana said to Harley, hurting at the picture of Sam being a punching bag. Because of her. “Just go away.”
Harley bristled. “This is my turf. You don’t have any power here.”
“But I’m wearing my ruby slippers,” she said, making an effort to defuse the tension.
He glanced at her feet, not getting the joke. An ominous silence hung between them. Old contentions seemed painfully fresh.
Sam took a step, bringing himself shoulder to shoulder with Harley. “One would think that two ex-wives would’ve taught you a little something about women and power, Bonner.”
Harley drew back his arm. Before Dana could blink, he was on the floor, looking more bewildered than hurt. If Sam threw a punch she hadn’t seen it.
“What happened?” someone asked.
“Harley fell, I think,” came the response.
Dana felt Sam’s gaze on her. She faced him.
“I gather you’re running for reelection, six more years. You’ve got my vote, Senator Sterling,” he said, his expression sincere.
“I’ll be looking for your contribution.”
He smiled at that.
“Are you sure you won’t come to the house and get your medal?” Don’t go. Please don’t go. We have so much to talk about. Regrets. Choices. Dreams.
He didn’t pick up on her unspoken signals this time but dug into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “You can mail it if that would make you happy.”
“It would.” She would have his address now. His phone number. Was that worse than not knowing where he was? She remembered something else just as he turned to leave. “Thank you for the sympathy card you sent after my husband died.”
“I admired him, Dana.” He held her gaze for a few seconds then strode off.
She could see the military influence in his posture. She knew she couldn’t stand there forever watching him go, but she wanted to. Maybe she’d gotten the chance to apologize, as she’d always wanted, but it wasn’t finished. He didn’t know everything. And now something new intruded—her body’s response to him, a kind of sizzling need, down low. A loudly beating heart. A mind spinning with old images and now new ones.
She drew a calming breath as her lifelong friends Lilith, Candi and Willow appeared at her side.
Candi leaned over Harley. “You know, you should probably have someone take you home so you can sleep it off.” She angled closer and whispered dramatically, “I didn’t realize your little problem had gotten so out of control.”
Dana was sorry that the conversation had taken the turn it had. She wasn’t one to make waves. In fact, she’d dealt with Harley just fine until Sam came along. Sam and the feelings of guilt he brought. Sam and the surprising physical reaction he’d created.
She’d been too long without a man. Without her husband, she amended, having been widowed for more than two years. Two hellish years. Two hectic years. She hadn’t had time for dating, given the demands of her job. Nor had anyone interested her enough to make the time. She could make the time for Sam Remington—
“I have a lot of friends,” Harley said, his tone vicious. “Friends who will withdraw the financial support you need. Believe me, I won’t forget this.”
Dana stood her ground as Harley came within inches of her. “Just as I haven’t forgotten,” she fired back, the memories flooding her, drowning her. What he’d done to her was bad enough. What he’d done to Sam was unforgivable. “I believed your threats before because I was young and naive. Those days are gone.”
“You landed on your feet. Bagged yourself a rich, powerful guy. Slipped right into his job like you earned it.”
“I was voted in.”
“Sympathy. Pity.”
Before she could answer, she felt her arm being tugged. Lilith dragged her away. “Look agreeable for your constituents, Senator,” Lilith said, moving her across the room, a cool smile on her perfect oval face. “Somebody will gladly pass this incident to the tabloids, you know. A few people have been panting for a moment like this.”
“He’s blaming me, Lilith. Me. Like he wasn’t causing trouble from the beginning tonight.” She lowered her voice. “Asking me to dance when he knows I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“Calm down.”
“I’m ready to go.”
Lilith patted her arm. “Soon, my dear. You’ve got to put on a show for a little while longer, then, fortunately for you, you’ve got me, a seven-months-pregnant friend, to use as an excuse. I’ll let Candi and Willow know we’ll be leaving a little earlier than we figured.”
They’d planned a slumber party like the old days. Dana had been looking forward to it. Now she just wanted to be alone.
It took her an hour to work her way through the curious crowd and another three hours of wine and girl talk before she had time to herself. Dressed in her robe, she wandered out to the front porch and sat in the swing, easing it back and forth, the chain groaning quietly, the motion soothing. Her parents were visiting relatives in Florida, but Dana could feel their presence. How many nights had they sat here, talking and watching the stars?
The peaceful memories tried to wrap her in a quilt of comfort, but her eyes stung at the emotional whirlwind the night had been. The vindictive exchange with Harley and her sexual awareness of Sam put her on edge—she, who was known for her calm, rational behavior. Did he know why she’d apologized or had she been too vague?
Of course, he’d been vague with his thank-you, too.
Dana tucked a hand in her robe pocket to find Sam’s business card. She ran her thumb over the gold embossing of the company name, ARC Security & Investigations. She recalled a Los Angeles address, that the card listed phone, fax, cell phone and pager numbers. No title was printed under his name. Because the firm was too small? Maybe even a one-man operation? Sam Remington, Private Investigator. Amazing.
“Can’t sleep, either?”
Dana jumped when Lilith settled on the swing.
“I’ve got a baby break-dancing in my womb. Must be all that 1980s music,” Lilith said, a smile in her voice. “What’s your excuse?”
“I usually read committee reports as sleep aids. I decided not to bring any paperwork with me this time.” Dana nest
led her shoulders into the swing cushion and glanced at Lilith. She’d let her hair down, an ebony curtain that trailed down her back. “This is nice,” Dana said. “We haven’t had any time alone since you got married last year.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. It wasn’t a criticism. I know what it’s like, having a new husband and a demanding career. I missed you, that’s all. When you stayed with me for those few weeks after Randall died, I got used to having you around.”
They swung in silence for several minutes. Dana closed her eyes and listened to the night noises of crickets and frogs and other creatures who traveled the forested surroundings. What sounded like a man walking was probably a deer, but it could easily be a fox or raccoon or even a mountain lion.
“Why didn’t you tell me you decided to run for reelection?” Lilith asked.
Dana heard the underlying hurt that she wasn’t the first of her friends to know. “Candi was wishing out loud. I certainly didn’t tell her anything. I haven’t even made up my mind.” She tried not to cringe at the lie.
“Then, why didn’t you correct her?”
“Sam’s arrival coincided, I guess. That whole business with Harley.” Lame, Dana. Really lame. “Would you believe I forgot about it?”
Lilith frowned. “Actually, no. It’s totally unlike you.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to be inundated by the media.”
“I know.”
They slipped into silence again.
“I couldn’t believe that Sam showed up,” Lilith commented. “He hasn’t changed, has he? Drop in unannounced then leave before you know it. Still playing by his own rules. Still keeping his distance.”
“What’s wrong with having your own rules?”
“Are you defending him?”
Was she? “I liked him. I did go to the prom with him, you know.”
“Right. One date. A sympathy date at that.”
“Don’t say that.” When he left without saying goodbye, he’d hurt her in a way like no one had. Still, she had a tender spot for him in her heart. Maybe because she vividly remembered the sad little boy who’d lost his mother when he was ten. Maybe, too, she remembered strong feelings on her part that were never resolved. Her friends hadn’t seen that his eyes could sparkle with humor as well as challenge. She’d been a little bit in love with him for years, then the night of the prom had fallen even more—until everything changed, for a reason she never knew.
He was an enigma then, and more so now. Why had he come when he seemed to have no intention of staying beyond a brief conversation with her? And why in such a public forum?
“All I’m saying is that he could’ve had friends, but he didn’t try,” Lilith said a little defensively.
“Maybe so. We don’t know what he went through with his father, do we? All I know for sure is he did well in school and got out of town when he could. He seems to have made something of himself. He looked fabulous, don’t you think?” Dana almost sighed.
The swing bounced crookedly as Lilith sat up. “You’re kidding.”
“You didn’t think he was incredibly sexy?”
“No.” Horror crept into her voice. “Absolutely not. If I saw him coming toward me on the street, I’d find a way to avoid him.”
Dana laughed. “I’d want to be walking beside him. I’d feel safe.”
“You’re attracted to him!”
“What if I am?” Dana took few people into her confidence—a life in politics didn’t invite much trust. She rarely talked about Randall, about their personal life, not even to her oldest friend, so why discuss Sam?
“Is he single?” Lilith asked.
“He wasn’t wearing a ring.”
Lilith’s expression turned sympathetic. “I know you must be lonely, Dana, but there are plenty of other men who would be good choices. A man who doesn’t fit into your world could cause a lot of talk. The wrong kind of talk could ruin your chances for reelection. You know that.”
“I do know.”
“So, you’re not going to see him?”
“No.”
“What are you going to do about Harley?”
The quick change of subject confused Dana. “What about Harley?”
“He was humiliated tonight. More than once. You don’t think he inherited his daddy’s skill for vengeance along with the ranch?”
“He’s not dealing with an ignorant seventeen-year-old this time.”
Lilith laid her hand on Dana’s. “No, he’s dealing with a powerhouse. And that makes you more vulnerable than ever. Truth or lies, it doesn’t matter.”
Dana pulled her hand free and shoved both fists into her robe pockets, the backs of her fingers brushing Sam’s card. “I’ll be careful. I’m always careful.”
Lilith seemed about to say something but stood instead, her hand resting on her belly. “Baby’s finally gone to sleep. That’s my cue.”
Five minutes later Dana went to her bedroom. The familiarity of the space that hadn’t changed in all these years held a kind of comfort she hadn’t felt for a long time. She stood at the open window, her long-buried needs doing battle with her longer-held sense of responsibility—to everyone but herself. She’d felt…female tonight. Sexy. And Sam had barely touched her.
Sam. He’d intruded in her thoughts for years and years. A question without answer. A temptation without satisfaction. Not even a kiss at the end of the prom. She’d wanted to kiss him tonight. Dancing with him, being held by him, had made her want more. A lot more.
Dana leaned her cheek against the window frame and stared at the stars. She was achingly lonely, but she wasn’t in a position to do anything about it, not at this point. Nor could she tell Lilith the truth about her bid for reelection. Dana had made up her mind, but she couldn’t make that decision public for another two months. There was too much riding on it. A promise was a promise.
As she lowered the sash to close off the night air, Dana heard a car engine start. Headlights came on from about fifty feet up the road. A black sedan headed slowly down the hill and passed in front of her parents’ house. She relaxed. Harley would drive a truck. So would his friends.
It was probably a couple of teenagers necking—she looked at the clock and saw it was 1:00 a.m.—and breaking the midnight curfew, a long tradition in Miner’s Camp.
Ah, adolescence. Years ago she’d been an hour late. Her parents caught her tiptoeing into the house, and she was punished by having certain privileges taken away, like no solo dating for a month. At the time it seemed too harsh for a first offense.
In reality it had been good preparation for her public life now, where first offenses mattered enormously. She’d been careful not to make any—until now. She should’ve corrected Candi’s statement that she was running for reelection right when it happened, no excuses, before it became the problem she expected it would become.
Because now when she made a mistake, she wasn’t accountable to two loving parents but to millions of people—friend and foe. The repercussions had probably already begun.
Three
Tuesday evening Dana rested her elbows on her desk, propped her chin on her fists and studied her calendar for the rest of the month. Congress was in recess, but she was busier than ever. August was supposed to be a time to reconnect with constituents. So far, all she’d done was reconnect with the media.
She leaned back in her leather chair and closed her eyes, the hectic pace of the past few days not only catching up but hitting hard. She’d skipped the Sunday reunion picnic to head back to her San Francisco office to deal with the anticipated backlash of Candi’s unfortunate misstatement, and had been home only long enough to sleep and shower since then.
In need of damage control, she’d sent for her communications director and press secretary from her Washington, D.C., office. Her chief of staff and director of state operations had apartments in San Francisco and met her at the office. More than a dozen staffers had given up their Su
nday. They’d bustled in and out. Phones rang, the fax machine churned, meetings overlapped.
Sunday, Monday and Tuesday blurred into one long day. She’d been on the phone to party leaders, Senate leaders, and even her parents, who’d read the news in the Orlando newspaper before she could contact them.
The quiet of her office suddenly surrounded Dana. She’d sent everyone home, although a few still lingered, wrapping things up. She would go home herself if she could work up the energy to put on her shoes and walk to her car.
Her personal assistant, Maria Sanchez, wandered in, yawning. She smiled. “Sorry.”
Dana waved off the apology. “Sleep in tomorrow. If you come in before ten I’m docking your pay.”
“I will if you will.”
Dana smiled at Maria’s perpetual mantra. She was always trying to get Dana to take time off. “Actually I was considering going to L.A. for the day. My calendar looks like it could be cleared.”
“Do you need a plane reservation?”
“I have to make a call first. I’ll phone in my own reservations, thank you, Maria. And I’ll let you know in time for you to postpone my meetings.”
“Do you need any paperwork gathered to take along?”
“No. It’s personal business.”
Although curiosity lit her eyes, Maria kept her questions and comments to herself. Dana had inherited Randall’s staff, and she valued each and every one of them. She’d been a staff member before her marriage four years ago and unofficially his speechwriter and strategist for the year and a half until his death.
Maria took a few steps backward. “I’ll clean off my desk while you make that call.” She shut the door behind her.
Dana pulled Sam’s business card out of her pocket. The paper was breaking down. She really needed to stop using it like a strand of worry beads. Soon she wouldn’t be able to read the print.
He’d been on her mind constantly since the reunion, and she’d been debating calling him, feeling she needed a reason. She’d finally come up with one.
