by Pat Warren
“I knew, down deep, that you hadn’t changed. But that night at the Del, when you all but brushed Helping Hands off as insignificant and not worthy of your time, I was worried.” Her smile broke through. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“No, I owe you the apology. As I mentioned before, I took a few wrong turns. I needed someone to point that out, and you were that someone. Afterward, thinking about what you’d said—and what you hadn’t said—I realized that you were right. The women and children who need this house are every bit as important as the big business group at that dinner. People used to tell me I had vision. The trouble with visionaries is that they usually see the distant future clearly, but they often miss things right under their noses. So I thank you for waking me up.”
Liz squeezed his hand, then stepped inside.
Adam hadn’t exaggerated. It was far from perfect. But as they walked around, Liz scarcely noticed the graffiti on the walls, the broken plumbing, or the leak in the corner of the roof. She looked beneath the surface.
“This is wonderful, Adam,” she told him with heartfelt enthusiasm. “I know someone who can restore these hardwood floors. These rooms are so spacious. I have a list of carpenters willing to donate time to put up partitions. Look at the brick under the soot on this fireplace. Absolutely perfect. And the ceramic tile in the kitchen, the bottle-glass windows in the dining room.” Spinning around alongside a hanging cobweb and a pile of rubble, she beamed at him. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Liz, too, had a vision, one she saw clearly. “You’re what’s wonderful here, did you know that?”
She was close enough to see his five o’clock shadow, close enough to breathe in the hot male scent of him that had her heart racing. He was the same wonderful man she’d fallen in love with seventeen years ago when he’d rescued a small calico kitten. A man like no other, a man of strength and integrity and heart.
Looking into his marvelous blue eyes, Liz recognized a need that was so powerful, she nearly staggered back a step. She wanted him with a desperation that had her trembling. Impulsively she reached up and stroked his face, her touch light, her fingers shaky.
His gaze held hers, and he recognized all the longing he’d also been feeling. He bent his head, his arms gathering her to him as his mouth took hers.
Liz tasted his frustration, the years of denial, the months of yearning. The kiss was slow, almost lazy, which made it all the more deadly. He romanced her expertly, drawing from her a response that shattered any lingering resistance. It had been so long since she’d felt like this, been wanted like this. She felt the ripple of desire spread through her, drugging her senses.
Familiar. He tasted familiar. How could that be, after such a separation? His hands molded her to him, his mouth devoured, his tongue invaded. And she was lost, just as she’d always been with Adam. Shamelessly, she clung to him.
Years, months, of longing, erased in an instant, Adam thought. This was the woman meant for him, the one who lived in his heart. This was the woman he would fight to win back. Changing the angle, he deepened the kiss.
The blaring honk of a horn from the direction of the street startled Liz, abruptly jerking her back to the present. For a moment she stood blinking at Adam, then felt a blush stain her cheeks. What had she been thinking of, kissing him as if she were free to do so? Apparently she hadn’t been thinking at all. Wanting was one thing, having the right to was quite another.
“We can’t, Adam.” She stepped back, turning aside, her hand raising to push back her hair. “You’re married and—”
“Not for long,” Adam said quietly.
Liz swung back. “What?”
“When I return to Washington, I’ll break the news to Diane. It’s over between us, has been for a long time. I’m filing for divorce.”
CHAPTER 18
The soft light from a low table lamp played across Liz’s features as Adam sat beside her on the couch in her den. He was absolutely certain he’d be content just to look at her until he was a very old man with feeble eyesight.
They’d closed up Greentrees and driven to her home, and she’d fixed dinner. During all that time and while they’d eaten, they’d talked: about the battered women project, about her life as a widow and his life as a senator. Yet now, as they sipped their coffee, there was still so much to say.
Adam touched the ends of her hair, threading the silken strands through his fingers. “There’s no one event that happened to end my marriage. More like an accumulation of things over the years. Diane’s not happy, and neither am I. It seems pointless to stay together and continue to make each other miserable.”
“Is that how she feels, too?”
He let out a deep breath. “I haven’t discussed it with her yet, but she’s well aware that we’ve lost the little we had between us. Since Keith’s death, we’ve just been going through the motions. I feel rotten because all this is my fault. Loving you, I never should have married Diane. It was wrong, but it’s doubly wrong staying with her feeling as I do.” He looked into her eyes and found her watching him intently. “And I want you to know that my divorce doesn’t hinge on whether or not you want me. Whichever way things fall, my marriage is over.”
The words she’d wanted to hear. She knew Adam wasn’t an impulsive man, but she wondered how completely he’d thought this through. “What about Palmer Ames and your future? A divorce right now, it would seem to me, would be politically disastrous.”
“Maybe. If Palmer wants to knock me off the ticket for it, then I’ll go back to being a senator. If the voters hold my divorce against me at the next election, I guess I’ll go back to being an attorney. It’s not as if I don’t have options.” He saw the doubt in her eyes. “You don’t believe me. I don’t blame you.”
She reached to take his hand. “It’s not that. I’m wondering if later you’ll have regrets.”
“I can’t convince you with words. You’ll have to trust me, and in time, you’ll see that that won’t happen. This isn’t the quick decision it seems. I’ve thought this over long and hard. I’m also not sure I’m cut out for the vice presidency.”
Liz frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You remember Steve Quinlan?”
“Yes. He’s in charge of your California office, isn’t he?”
“He was. Steve came to me before the convention and resigned, said he couldn’t take politics anymore. He said that in order to swim with the sharks, you had to be a shark, and he didn’t feel he could be. Maybe I can’t, either. Something came up just today. Jesse Conroy’s gotten wind of a possible cover-up that may involve Palmer. If it turns out Palmer’s not clean, I won’t stay with him on the ticket anyhow. See, Palmer’s a card-carrying shark and doesn’t respect anyone who doesn’t think as he does.”
“You think Palmer’s guilty?”
“I’ll find out in a week or so.” His thumb caressed the fine bones of her slender hand. “What I said earlier, that visionaries often lose sight of what’s under their noses, is absolutely true. My original goal was to help people, like with Greentrees, you know. Lately I feel like nothing more than a paper pusher.”
“How does Fitz feel about all this?”
“I haven’t talked with him about most of this, either. I wanted it to be my decision. That’s why I came to you after I’d made up my mind.” He shifted, drawing her closer. “There’s something else I’ve wanted to talk with you about. When I was in San Diego recently, one of my aides thought I ought to visit a certain art gallery.”
Liz guessed what was coming.
“Casa des Artistas, run by a certain Molly Washington. It seems there’s a piece of sculpture on display there that has half the town wondering about the artist, someone named Megan O’Malley. So I dropped in on a quiet morning when there was only one saleswoman there. She and I stared at the piece for a long time, and she had an interesting comment.” He could see the pulse in her throat pounding. “Want to know what it was?”
“I have a feeling
I’m going to hear regardless.”
“She said that only a woman in love with her subject could have made that piece.” He cupped her chin, raising it. “You’re Megan O’Malley, and the bust is of me, isn’t it?”
There’d be no point in denying the obvious. “Yes.” Her voice was as faint as the ocean breeze drifting in through the open veranda doors.
“That day on the beach in La Jolla, I told you how I felt about you. Sort of abruptly and badly, I guess, but nonetheless, you know. I’ve opened myself up to you and let you see inside me, but I don’t know how you feel. You’ve never really said.” He waited, his heart in his throat.
“Actually, I did tell you once, but you were unconscious.”
His brows rose as he searched for the memory. “Then I wasn’t dreaming. You were at the hospital. Did Fitz phone you?”
“Yes. You’d been calling my name. I stayed at your bedside all night, until dawn, when the doctor said you were out of danger.”
Leaning back into the corner of the couch, he shifted her until she was almost lying atop him, her mouth a breath away from his. “And what did you say to me?”
She hesitated, never having said those three important words to a man, not a completely conscious one. Richard had never asked, and she’d have felt a hypocrite saying them, though she’d cared for him in her own way. Finally it was time. “I talked on and on, about the things we used to do together, the fun we’d had. I begged you to come back to us, that we needed you. Mostly I said that I loved you, that I’ve always loved you, that I always would, even though I knew I should not feel that way.”
His hands on her tightened. “And now? How do you feel now?”
“The same. I love you, Adam. I will die loving you.”
He felt tears scald the backs of his lids as he closed the gap between them and kissed her. His heart hammered against his ribs as he struggled with emotions so strong, they nearly overwhelmed him.
His mouth made love to hers as her hands moved up to slide into his hair. Passion bubbled to the surface, sweeping Liz along in its powerful grip as she tried to show him what was in her heart. His tongue tangled with hers, and a shudder ripped through her.
Blood pounded in Adam’s head, then pooled in his loins. He felt the fierce demand of sexual desire, and for the first time in months, his arousal strained against the zipper of his slacks. “Mmm,” he murmured, adjusting her body to his more comfortably, aligning her more perfectly.
Liz felt the heat throb against her and knew exactly where this would lead if one of them didn’t keep a cool head. On a wave of reluctance, she pulled back. “No, Adam, please. We need to stop. We need to wait until you’re legally free.”
He struggled with the frustration, having guessed she’d say just that, wishing she hadn’t. Breathing hard, he nodded. “I know. Don’t worry. I just want to show you something.” He took her hand, eased it between them, and placed it over his erection. Instinctively her fingers closed around him, and a soft moan escaped her. “Can you tell how much I want you?” He hadn’t been able to rise to the occasion in a long time and had been more than a little worried. He should have known, he thought. Love made the difference.
He angled his head until he could see her eyes. “I love you, Liz.” His mouth moved to capture hers in a soul-wrenching kiss. “I want to stay with you tonight, but now that I know how you feel, I can wait.” He set her back and rose reluctantly to his feet. “Drive me to my hotel?” He’d made a reservation at a small out-of-the-way place where he wasn’t known. He didn’t want to run into any of the governors who’d probably be staying at the Del, where tomorrow night’s meeting would be held.
As reluctant as he, Liz stood. “It won’t be for too much longer, I hope.”
He slipped his arm around her waist. “I’ll be back just as quickly as I can.”
Adam walked briskly down the hallway of the Senate office building, whistling under his breath. He felt good, better than he had in years. He wished he could have stayed in California another day or two to be with Liz, but instead, after meeting with the governors, he’d caught the red-eye back to Washington. He wanted to get started on his plan.
It was early, and many of the offices were all but deserted. He wanted to check with his staff on a number of things, so he headed to their department first, hoping to catch someone in. Just outside the door, a file he was carrying slid out of his grip. As he bent to retrieve it, he heard a familiar voice just inside the office.
“I’ve had my sources on Adam since your call,” Barry Rider said into the phone, “and they haven’t been able to track him. We know he landed in San Diego day before yesterday, but he didn’t order a limo or a cab or contact his office in town. I’ve checked the usual places he stays and come up empty. However, he did attend a governors’ dinner at the Del and then disappeared right after.” Barry coughed nervously as he swiveled his chair around to face the window. “Have you tried Fitz?”
“Sugar,” Diane drawled, “Fitz wouldn’t tell me where his brother was if Adam was bedding down the Dallas cheerleaders in front of his very eyes. The man’s got to be somewhere, and I pay you to know exactly where.”
“Listen, Diane, I can only do so much. Apparently Adam didn’t want anyone to know his whereabouts this time. Sit tight. Last time I checked, the airline said he’d booked passage back tomorrow afternoon. You can grill him yourself when he comes home.” Barry was getting exasperated with her and with himself. The money was good, but Diane was getting more and more demanding. “I’ve got to go. People are due in any minute.”
Not waiting for her reply, he hung up, turned around to check the doorway, and saw Adam. With a face starkly pale against his dark beard, Barry tried to gauge how much Adam had overheard.
Adam walked in and closed the door quietly. He wouldn’t have put it past Diane to spy on him, but Barry? The man had been with him since the early days. He stopped in front of his desk, looking as disappointed as he felt. “What made you do it?”
His face ashen, Barry slumped onto his chair, realization slamming into him. “Money. I… I got a little behind at the track.”
A man with a habit—gambling, drugs, or heavy drinking, women on the side—was a weak link in any chain. Adam almost felt sorry for Barry, then forced himself to face the fact that he’d been ready to sell out an old friend for a few bucks. “How long’s this been going on?”
Barry eyed his cigarettes, dying to light up, then decided this wasn’t the time. “A while.”
“How long?” Adam asked, louder, his voice cold as ice.
“About ten years.”
Adam’s jaw clenched. That would have been even before they’d left California. “Clean out your desk. I’ll have payroll notified to have your final check cut.” He started for the door.
Barry straightened, hating to beg but needing to try to salvage something. “Give me another chance, Adam. I swear it’ll never happen again. I… I really need this job.”
Adam turned. “You should have thought of that before you sold me out. You’ve got an hour.” He left the room, shutting the door emphatically behind him.
Diane held the phone in such a tight grip that her knuckles had turned white. “I knew I could count on you, sugar.”
Harlan searched his desk drawers, looking for a package of Twinkies he’d stashed away last week. There’d be hell to pay if someone had grabbed it. “Now that you know, you want me to back off or move in for the kill?”
Forcing her fingers to relax, Diane shook her head. “Don’t do anything yet. It ain’t over till the fat lady sings, sweetie. I’ll call you when I’ve figured out my next move.” She hung up, feeling cold all over.
So the bastard had been with Liz Fairchild. Harlan had called in assorted favors and finally hit pay dirt. She’d picked up Adam in her snazzy white BMW at the San Diego airport, bold as you please. They’d driven off together, and since Adam hadn’t checked into one of his usual hotels or gone to their La Jolla beach house, Diane wa
s pretty certain he was spending his nights in Liz’s bed, banging away. Perhaps his days, too. He’d turned from her touch repeatedly, but he’d risk everything to crawl into bed with that bitch.
Diane crammed an Eve into her gold holder with trembling fingers just as the key turned in the lock. Well, well. Apparently the wandering lover had cut his playtime short. Blowing smoke at the ceiling, she waited.
Adam walked in, set his briefcase next to the door, and stopped when he saw his wife. At almost eleven in the morning she was lounging on the couch in that gauzy pink robe she loved, sipping coffee and smoking up a storm. She looked composed, but he could see her eyes simmering with repressed anger. Apparently she was annoyed that her hired spy hadn’t come through for her.
He’d planned to approach Diane on a friendly basis this evening, explain how it was time to end this marriage that was making them both unhappy, hoping they would not part enemies. Now he could scarcely stand to look at her.
Silently he turned and went into the bedroom.
Diane saw red, literally. How dare he ignore her! she thought, jumping from the couch. She followed him and saw he’d thrown his largest suitcase onto the bed and was tossing clothes inside. “Do you think you might just possibly owe me an explanation regarding your whereabouts the past several days?” He’d left a terse message on their answering machine, saying he’d gone to California on business and wouldn’t be back until Friday. She’d been suspicious from the moment she’d heard it.
Adam didn’t want to quarrel with her, so he slipped another couple of suits off their hangers and dropped them in his bag.
“Adam! I demand you answer me!” She was so angry, she was trembling. The sonofabitch was acting as if she were at fault.
Wearily he turned and looked down at her. “You can cut the act. I walked in on your conversation with Barry.” He watched the blood drain from her face as she took two steps back.
From years of practice, Diane recovered quickly. “I know where you’ve been,” she bluffed. “You’re making a fool of yourself, sugar. And of me. Did you expect me to just sit by and watch?”
