All Night Long

by Candace Schuler

  His mother smiled mysteriously. "A mother always knows."

  Matt pursed his lips and cocked an eyebrow at her.

  "You made a special point of introducing me to three different men in one week," she said. "It made me wonder. And then someone—I forget who—happened to mention what Susannah really does for a living."

  "Ah..."Matt nodded.

  "Yes," Millicent agreed. She began putting slices of pie on individual plates. "Once I knew that, if wasn't very hard to put two and two together."

  "Why didn't you say something?"

  "I might have, if it had gone on any longer." Her smile was impish. "Or if you'd introduced me to one more of those excruciatingly boring gentlemen." She opened a drawer for forks, unconsciously revealing her familiarity with Carlisle Elliott's kitchen. "But then Susannah came up with Carly...." She shrugged, saying more by what she didn't say.

  "You like him a lot, don't you?"

  "Yes," Millicent said. "I do." She looked up at her tall son. "I hope that doesn't upset you."

  "He's very different from Dad."

  "Yes."

  "You're very different with him than you were with Dad."

  Millicent sighed. "I loved your father very much, Matthew. I hope you know that."

  Matt nodded. "I know."

  "For thirty-seven years he was everything to me. Everything I was, everything I did, nearly every aspect of my life revolved around your father and his career. I'm not saying I resented it," she assured her son. "I don't want you to think that. It was the life I'd been raised for, trained for. It was what I wanted and expected when I married your father. But there's a price for building your life around someone else's dream, and when he died, I was totally lost. I felt cast adrift. For a long time it seemed as if I had no purpose anymore." She reached out and put her hand on her son's arm. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  Matt covered her slender fingers with his and squeezed gently. He could feel her wedding ring pressing against his palm. "I think so."

  "I was angry, too," she admitted. "Absolutely furious for a while. I blamed him for dying, for working himself to death, for never taking a vacation or letting up. For leaving me alone." She sighed. "But I got over that, too, and, after a while, when the worst of the grief passed, I started to think my purpose would be you and your career. But I was wrong." She squeezed his arm and let go. "I knew that even before you started trying to arrange those blind dates for me," she said with a smile.

  "So, what you're saying is that Elliott gives purpose to your life now."

  "No." Millicent looked mildly shocked. "Oh, no, that's not what I'm saying at all! I'm not looking for anyone to give purpose to my life. I've realized that I'm the only one who can do that. But Carly..." She shook her head and grinned. "Carly is a wonderful playmate."

  "A playmate?" Matt said, trying not to sound shocked in turn.

  "He's so free and open, so alive to new ideas and new experiences. When I'm with him, I'm a freer person, too. He's teaching me how to have fun," Millicent said, matter-of-factly, "to stop and smell the roses. I've never done that before."

  "You're not serious about him, then?"

  "Serious?" Millicent shrugged, then shook her head. "I don't know yet." She opened a cupboard and got out a tray. "It might turn into something lasting and, then again, it might not," she said. "For once in my life, I'm not worrying about it either way."

  Matt was silent a moment, trying to absorb this new side of his mother, trying to see her as a vibrant, vital woman with needs. "You're being careful, aren't you?"

  "Careful?" Millicent said absently, busy arranging the pie plates and cutlery on the tray.

  "With, ah..." His wide shoulders lifted in an uncomfortable shrug. "Sex and everything?"

  Millicent's head snapped around, her hand arrested in midmotion as she reached for the napkins. "Matthew Francis Larson Ryan, are you asking me if I'm sleeping with Carly?"

  "No. No, of course not." Matt could feel a blush warming his cheeks. "I was just asking... that is..." God, how did I get myself into this conversation? "I hope you're being careful, that's all."

  "If and when I decide to resume a sex life, you can rest assured I'll be very careful," Millicent said, feeling her own cheeks warm. She grabbed a handful of napkins out of the basket on the counter and began folding them. "You can also rest assured that I won't be talking to you about it. As for Carly and me, well, all I'll say about our relationship is what I've already said. Carly's good for me." She slanted a considering look at him out of the corner of her eye as she carefully placed the folded napkins on the dessert tray. "Probably in much the same way that Susannah is good for you," she said delicately, trying to elicit more information from her closemouthed son. "They both have a special gift for livening things up."

  Matt gave her a look from under his brows, the previous subject suddenly all but forgotten. "I've asked her to marry me."

  Millicent smiled. "I didn't realize it had gone that far already," she said, "but if she's what you want, then I'm happy for both of you."

  He reached over and broke a piece of crust off one of the pieces of pie. "Even if she hurts my career?" he asked without looking at her. They both knew his question went deeper than that—that it wasn't just her approval of Susannah he was asking for.

  "It's your career, Matthew. Your life. Your choice." She him a level look, rife with unspoken messages. "Don't let anyone or anything else make that choice for you."

  * * *

  Matt and Susannah stood on the upper deck of Carly Elliott's houseboat, shoulders touching, forearms resting on the polished wooden railing, watching the fireworks explode in the inky black sky over San Francisco Bay. Hand-held sparklers twinkled across the water like fairy lights and, every once in a while, someone shot off an unauthorized rocket or Catherine wheel from one of the other boats, sending up a whine and a burst of lights to compete with the official display.

  Matt bent his head to whisper in Susannah's ear. "That's the way you make me feel inside," he said as a huge red-white-and-blue chrysanthemum-shaped star burst overhead.

  Thrilled beyond words, Susannah turned her head to look at him. They stared at each other for a long moment, their bodies still, barely touching at shoulder and hip, their gazes locked and searching, wrapped in a fog of wonder and romance while the world celebrated all around them.

  "I want to feel this way for the rest of my life, Susannah," he whispered, his gaze never leaving hers. "I want you to marry me."

  "Oh, Matt." Tears of emotion welled up in her eyes. "Matt. You make me feel like fireworks, too. You make me feel like circuses and birthday parties and Christmas morning all rolled into one, but I—"

  He put his fingertip over her lips, stopping her. "That's all I need to hear for now," he said. "We'll talk about the rest of it later."

  Chapter 9

  Matt thought about stopping by his mother's favorite jeweler before he went to court the next morning but then decided not to. He was already running late as it was. And, alone in a jewelry store, he would probably opt for something traditional, like a simple diamond solitaire. He had a feeling Susannah would want something a bit more original for her engagement ring.

  Not that she'd actually given him a yes yet; not the unqualified, unequivocal yes he wanted from her.

  She'd said, "Yes, but we're such different people."

  She'd said, "Yes, but let's see how just dating goes first."

  She'd said, "Yes, but we really shouldn't rush into it."

  She'd said, "Yes, maybe it would work."

  She'd said, "Oh, yes, Matt, I love you, too."

  Matt was whistling as he entered the courthouse, remembering the passionate circumstances that had engendered her breathy admission and what had come after it. She was his, whether she knew it or not. And he was hers, too. He'd been hers, he realized, since that first crazy, mind-boggling, toe-curling kiss in her office. They were made for each other and, despite politics or life-style or anything
else she might come up with, they were destined to be together.

  "Matt. Hey, Matt."

  Matt slowed, turning to see who had called him, and then stopped. "Cal," he said, holding out his hand in greeting. Cal Westlake had been the man who'd steered him to The Personal Touch in the first place. Wonder if I should ask him to be best man? "Cal, how're you doing, buddy?"

  "Not nearly as good as you, apparently," Cal said, looking askance at his normally reserved colleague. By tacit agreement, they resumed walking down the long corridor. "I guess you've already seen this morning's Chronicle?"

  "No, I haven't." He usually skimmed through it over morning coffee after he got to the office, but this particular morning he'd had other things to do. Like make love to Susannah once more before he took her home. He hadn't even been by the office, yet, but had headed directly to the courthouse. "Why?"

  "They've endorsed your campaign. I thought that's why you were in such a good mood."

  "No, I haven't seen it yet." Unaccountably, his mood dampened a little. "I'll have to pick up a copy during court recess."

  "Here." Cal took the folded newspaper out from under his arm and handed it to Matt. "Be my guest."

  "Thanks." Matt stopped, motioning toward a set of doors with the folded paper. "This is where I'm headed."

  "Catch you back at the office later, then," Cal said and started off down the hall. "Oh—" he stopped and turned back around "—I almost forgot."

  Matt paused, his hand already lifted to push open the heavy door. "Forgot what?"

  "That dating service I told you about for your mother?" Cal said, walking backward down the hall. "The Personal Touch?"

  Matt nodded.

  "Seems their touch is real personal, if you know what I mean. I heard through the office grapevine that the place is under investigation."

  "Investigation?" Matt echoed.

  "Prostitution," Cal said succinctly. "Seems the matchmaker is pimping for teenage runaways on the side."

  * * *

  Susannah spent the morning feeling like a manic depressive, frenetically alternating between giddy joy at being loved and in love, and darkest despair because she knew, deep down inside, that, in the long run, nothing would ever come of it. Nothing could ever come of it, no matter how they made each other feel. Being together all night long was one thing. Being together for the rest of their lives was something else entirely.

  They were just too different. Strange bedfellows, as she had tried to tell him before.

  Matt was a traditionalist.

  Susannah went out of her way to do things differently.

  Matt had wholeheartedly embraced his family's upper-class life-style and values.

  Susannah had turned her back on hers.

  Matt was a middle-of-the road Republican.

  Susannah was a liberal Democrat.

  Matt believed in working within the system.

  Susannah believed in challenging it at every step.

  Matt was a prosecutor whose job was to put wrong-doers in jail and keep the streets safe for decent folk.

  Susannah was a crusader bent on finding ways to help people find a way out of whatever trouble they were in.

  Matt saw things in black and white, right and wrong.

  Susannah saw infinite shades of gray and myriad extenuating circumstances.

  But what it all boiled down to, really, was that Matt was destined for a brilliant career in politics, and Susannah would never, ever be a proper political wife.

  He might try to deny it, to convince her—and himself—their differences didn't matter, but Susannah knew they did. Harry Gasparini knew it. Councilman Leeland knew it. When it came right down to it, the voters would know it, too.

  Oh, she knew it might not matter to Matt right now, not in the beginning when they were still so besotted with each other and anything seemed possible. She strongly suspected he didn't really want to be a district judge, anyway. But if not now, next year or the year after. And if not district judge, then councilman, or state senator, or mayor. His eyes had certainly lit up when she'd spoken the words governor of California. And after that, who knew? As Harry had said, Matt had what it took to make it all the way to the White House if he wanted to—but not with her at his side.

  "Excuse me, Susannah?"

  Susannah looked up from the pad she'd been doodling on, grateful for the interruption. "Yes, Judy?"

  "Teri Bowman is here for her interview."

  "My goodness," Susannah said, jumping up from her chair. "Is it ten o'clock already?"

  "Almost."

  Susannah smoothed her hands down the front of her tapestry-brocade vest, tugging on the flared peplum hem to settle it into place over her hips as she came around the desk. She always made it a point to meet her clients in the reception area and escort them into her office. It made them feel more like guests.

  "How's computer class going?" she asked pleasantly as Judy stepped back from the door to allow her to exit.

  Judy shrugged. "If I don't completely flub the final next week, I'll end up with at least a B+."

  "You'll do fine," Susannah assured her, reaching out to pat Judy's arm. She deliberately kept the gesture brief, quickly taking her hand away to hold it out to her new client. "You must be Teri Bowman," she said with a welcoming smile. "I'm Susannah Bennington."

  "Ms. Bennington."

  "Susannah, please. We're very informal around here. You've met Helen and Judy, haven't you?" she asked, smiling at her assistants. "Good," she said when the woman nodded. "Then we can get started." She gestured toward her office. "If you'll just step into my office, we can—"

  The phone rang, cutting her off.

  Both Judy and Helen reached for the receiver.

  "The Personal Touch," Helen said as she lifted the receiver to her ear. "How may I help you?"

  Susannah hesitated, waiting to see who it was. Even though Matt had said he would be tied up in court all day, she was halfway expecting—hoping—he would call. She hadn't heard his voice in almost three hours.

  "Excuse me?" Helen said into the receiver. "Who did you want to speak to?"

  Susannah suddenly knew by the older woman's expression that it wasn't Matt on the phone. Helen wouldn't get upset over a phone call from Matt.

  "No," Helen said to the caller. "There's no one here by that name. Yes, I'm sure. No, I told you," she said, her voice rising with agitation, "there's no one here by that name." She slammed the phone down.

  "Another call for Isabel?" Susannah asked with a grimace. Lately, they'd had a rash of unsavory massage-parlor-type callers asking for a woman named Isabel.

  Too agitated to speak, Helen only nodded.

  "Since the calls upset you so much," Judy offered, "maybe I should be the only one to answer the phone from now on when I'm here." Her expression hardened. "It takes more than a phone call to shock me."

  "No," Helen said. "No, that's all right. I can handle it. It's part of my job, and I can handle it. Really," she said, looking up at Susannah. "I don't need to be protected. I'll be fine."

  "All right," Susannah said. "If that's what you want." She turned and smiled at her new client. "Shall we?" she said, gesturing toward the open door of her office. "Before we get started," the two women in the outer office heard her say to Teri Bowman just before she closed the door, "I'd like to explain what that was all about...."

  * * *

  "You think what?" Susannah demanded, staring at Matt from across the width of her desk.

  "You heard me. Judy Sukura is up to her old tricks."

  "I don't believe it."

  "Ask her," he challenged.

  "I don't need to ask her," Susannah said, "because I know she isn't." She shook her head. "She wouldn't."

  "Then how do you explain her meetings with Eddie Devine?"

  "Meetings with..." Susannah stared at him, aghast. "She wouldn't meet with Eddie. She hates Eddie."

  "She's met him twice right outside this building."

  "Those
weren't meetings. Not the way you're suggesting. Eddie accosted her. He—" She broke off. "How do you know that?"

  "It doesn't matter how I know," Matt said, brushing her question aside. The particulars of a case under investigation were never up for discussion outside the DA.'s office until the case went to court. "All that matters is that she was seen meeting him."

  "But those weren't meetings. Eddie accosted her on the street when she was coming out of The Tea Cozy."

  "How do you know that?"

  "I saw them. Both times. I was standing by the window and I saw them."

  "Did you also happen to hear what was said?"

  "I didn't need to, because Judy told me what was said."

  "Which was?"

  "That she wouldn't do what he wanted. That he couldn't make her do it."

  "It being?"

  "Well..." Susannah hesitated. "Going back to work for him. I think. She didn't say exactly, but I know that's what she meant."

  "Hearsay," Matt said coolly. "Inadmissible in a court of law."

  "Well, this isn't a court of law," Susannah snapped. "And I'm not on the witness stand," she added indignantly. "And I certainly don't appreciate you firing questions at me as if I were."

  "You're right." Matt turned toward the closed door to Susannah's office. "The one who should be answering a few questions is Judy."

  "No." Susannah jumped up from her chair. "Don't you dare." She ran around the desk, placing herself between him and the door. "I will not have Judy upset by a lot of unfounded suspicions. Especially not now. She's got finals coming up next week."

  "Would you rather have her turning tricks in your office?"

  "What a disgusting thing to say. Judy isn't turning tricks in my office or anywhere else."

  "You don't know that for a fact."

  "I do know it for a fact. For heaven's sake, Matt. When would she have the time? She works here all morning. She goes to school in the afternoons and most nights. And the nights she's not in school, she's in therapy."

  "Are you sure she actually goes to school? To therapy?"

  "Of course I'm sure. They're both conditions of her parole."

  "People break parole all the time."