Sexy All Over

by Jamie Sobrato

  Naomi’s breath caught in her throat, and she had to force herself to breathe. Air in, air out. In, out…

  She felt her whole body tense as she worried that she might have to run for the bathroom to lose her dinner at any moment.

  It couldn’t have been true.

  Not her father.

  He was the last man in the world who’d commit adultery, and these lies, these horrible, disgusting lies, were just a pitiful attempt on Zane’s part to revitalize his stupid career.

  She blinked away tears and she read the words on the screen again. She hadn’t been imagining things. The awful things were all still there, still on Zane’s computer.

  How could he?

  At first, she didn’t hear the sound of the key in the lock and the door opening. But then it registered a moment too late, and she looked up to see Zane standing in the doorway.

  “Naomi, what are you doing here? How did you get in?” he said, clearly shocked by her presence.

  But then her stricken expression must have registered, and his gaze traveled from her to the computer screen.

  “How could you believe these lies?” she said, her voice sounding more hysterical than calm.

  And how could she have been such a fool to believe that sleeping with a near-stranger could grow into a meaningful relationship?

  How could she have been so stupid to let her guard down with a reporter, of all people? She’d been warned, and she knew, growing up in a political family, the damage that could be done.

  “We need to talk about this,” he said. “I never meant for you to find out this way.”

  “No? Were you just going to let me see your report on the evening news? Read the headlines on the cover of the newspaper?”

  He grimaced. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you the truth about your father.”

  “The truth? You think this is the truth? Have you ever considered that your sources might be lying, that they might have a political agenda?”

  He expelled a ragged sigh. “I’ve considered every angle, Naomi. It’s my job. And I’ve got solid evidence there, not lies.”

  “You bastard!”

  “Naomi, I’m sorry.”

  The horrible truth came tumbling down on her, one nasty fact after another.

  “You slept with me to get closer to my father, didn’t you?” Her eyes were burning now, her heart pumping, words scrambling to burst out as her anger grew.

  “Absolutely not. I had no idea—”

  “You thought you might dig around and find more evidence against him by getting me to let down my guard.”

  It was all so obvious now. So clear that she was an utter and complete fool.

  Naomi shot up from the desk chair and it toppled over behind her. She headed for the door, but Zane blocked her path.

  “Once I found out Senator Tyler was your father, I tried to end things between us. But I was weak, and the attraction between us was too damn strong.”

  “I bet you’ve been perfecting that story since before we even met. Did you arrange for Jack Hiller to hire me? Was that all part of your sleazy plot?”

  “No!”

  She brushed past him and hurried out the door before he could stop her. Before all the ridiculous hope she’d pinned on their relationship showed on her face.

  How could she have come here thinking she and Zane had a real chance? How could she have let herself forget that he was the wolf, and she was the stupid, unsuspecting sheep?

  She knew. Her crazy, wanton alter ego had gotten the best of her. Had overtaken her sensible, good-girl instincts.

  “Don’t leave like this,” he said, looking more tired than ashamed.

  “Go to hell,” she said, then turned and ran away.

  NAOMI HAD NEVER UNDERSTOOD before that words could be like a cancer, creeping through a person silently, insinuating into hidden places where they began to eat away at all that had been there before.

  She’d spent a night and a day thinking about the notes she’d read on Zane’s computer. She’d gone from not believing a word of it, to hating Zane for even suggesting any of it, to wondering if maybe—possibly—any of it might have even a shred of truth. And once she started to wonder, memories began to descend upon her like little bombs.

  Her father having furtive phone calls that ended abruptly when she entered the room as a child. Her father slipping silently into the house at night when he thought everyone was asleep. But she’d been awake, in the kitchen to get a drink of water, or sneaking around to investigate a noise—she’d always been a light sleeper—and she’d seen him.

  He’d always had some reasonable excuse. He’d been working late, or he’d had a dinner meeting with colleagues, or he’d been at a campaign fundraiser.

  And then there were the more painful memories. Her mother’s tight expressions when her father entered the room, the cool, chaste relationship they’d always seemed to have…

  Not knowing anything different, Naomi hadn’t thought it odd that her parents never kissed in front of her, that they didn’t hold hands, that their relationship seemed more like a business partnership than a partnership between friends and lovers.

  She went to the kitchen and poured herself another cup of coffee. Her fifth, or sixth, or twelfth of the day—she’d lost track. She hadn’t eaten since before entering Zane’s apartment, and now the combination of caffeine and lack of food had turned her into a live wire, humming with emotional electricity.

  Now that the possibilities had taken root in her mind, she couldn’t stop looking for evidence in her past. And she couldn’t put aside the growing sense of betrayal.

  In one fell swoop, Zane, or her father—whoever—had managed to unearth all her old feelings of loss. Her mother disappearing without explanation, at a time when Naomi had wanted her around.

  She understood now that she’d resented her mother’s missionary work, selfish as that made her, and she’d simultaneously felt guilty for having such selfish feelings. But it had all been water under the bridge until last night.

  And now she had a hundred more questions than answers. Like, which were the lies? What was the truth? How could her father have been so high-and-mighty, so full of moral outrage about every little thing, if he was no better than the average slimy politician? And how could he betray her mother, when she’d given up having a career of her own to support his?

  To think Naomi had felt bad for her father, that she’d admired his standing by his wife even in her bizarre absence. Likely he’d been seeing women on the down-low for years, too ashamed to tell her about it.

  Likely? Yes, Naomi finally admitted to herself, it very well could be likely. She couldn’t tell the difference between lies and truth anymore, and she knew she had to confront her father before she went insane.

  With shaky hands, Naomi put down her coffee cup on the kitchen counter and hurried into the bedroom to dress and clean herself up. Five minutes later, she looked a little less like the basket case she actually was, and she grabbed her purse and keys and headed out the door. It was early evening, and when her father was in town, he could always be found at home after work, perfecting his swing on the backyard putting green.

  As she drove, her caffeine-injected brain danced from one half-formed thought to the next. It was much easier than dwelling on any one of her disturbing questions, much easier than imagining what her father’s answers might be. Before she knew it, she was standing on the doorstep of the house she’d grown up in, viewing it with new eyes.

  No longer was the stately colonial a reminder of her strict but loving childhood. Now it loomed as a symbol of lies, of deceit, of dark truths lurking behind the seemingly happy exterior of her family.

  With still-shaky hands, she rang the doorbell, knowing her father probably wouldn’t be inside to answer. To her surprise, the door opened after a few seconds, and his surprised face stared back at her.

  He smiled. “Hi sweetie, what the heck are you doing ringing the doorbell? Forget your key?”


  She shook her head, not realizing the incongruity of her behavior until he pointed it out to her. “I don’t know.”

  He stepped aside and opened the door wide for her to enter. “Is something the matter?”

  God, where to begin? What wasn’t the matter?

  Naomi didn’t answer. Instead, she went down the hallway to the kitchen, which seemed the most appropriate spot for any family drama to unfold, and also had the advantage of housing more coffee. But her hands were too unsteady to pour a cup now, so she pulled out a bar stool and sat on it, then buried her face in her hands.

  “Naomi, you’re scaring me here. Could you please tell me what’s wrong?”

  Her father was standing at the counter opposite her when she looked up at him.

  “Remember that journalist I was working with? Zane Underwood?”

  He frowned. “Yes.”

  Naomi nodded, more annoyed than ever that her father didn’t approve of Zane. That he likely couldn’t set aside the fact that their politics differed long enough to be pleased that someone made her happy.

  She expelled a pent-up breath. “Zane uncovered some nasty accusations against you, and he’s about to go public with a story that could ruin your career.”

  “What kind of nasty accusations?”

  “That you’ve accepted bribes, that you’ve committed adultery, that you have a long track record of lying to everyone.”

  He scoffed. “That’s absolutely ridiculous.”

  “Don’t you think you’re brushing this off a little too easily?”

  Naomi’s sense of unease grew. She’d expected her father to react with the sputtering outrage he always exhibited toward injustices. Not this casual dismissal. Something definitely was not right.

  He leaned on the counter and gave her his I’m-the-all-knowing-father look. “I learned a long time ago in my political career to have faith that lies would have a way of being revealed as just that—lies.”

  This from a politician who’d always made a point of cutting off potential controversies at the pass? Who prided himself on his virtually flawless public image?

  “Tell me the truth, Dad. Is any of it true? And before you answer, keep in mind that there are witnesses and sources willing to back up Zane’s accusations.”

  Her father’s genial expression disappeared. In its place she could see a man who suddenly looked very tired. He ran a hand through his carefully trimmed silver hair and sighed.

  In his silence, she heard the ticking of a clock and her own breathing. Amazing that she could still breathe.

  “I want you to know, if I’ve told any untruths, they were to protect you. I’ve always wanted to protect you.”

  Naomi almost didn’t want to know, but she had to ask. “Protect me from what?”

  “From mistakes I’ve made. This is the last conversation I want to have with you about the subject.”

  “Which part of it is true?”

  Silence.

  And then she knew her worst fears were realized. Her father was a total hypocrite.

  “Have you ever wondered why your mother went to Venezuela without me?”

  “Because she’d always wanted to do missionary work?”

  “Your mother knew about my indiscretions. She felt free to leave because there’s not much left of our marriage.”

  Naomi blinked away tears. “But—”

  “I’m not making excuses, honey, but your mother and I were never suited to each other. We married too young, and we stayed married because of you.”

  “So you fooled around on Mom instead of facing up to your mistakes.”

  “No, I was weak. I betrayed the vows I made to your mother, and I’ve prayed for forgiveness.”

  Naomi swallowed the lump in her throat. She would not have an emotional outburst and give her father the satisfaction of comforting her. “What about the other allegations? Did you accept bribes and lie about it later?”

  Her father’s expression turned even more grim. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Just when she thought he wasn’t going to answer, he made a sweeping gesture around the kitchen. “This is the house you grew up in. Do you love it?”

  “Yes.”

  “So do I. But I made a series of very bad investments in the early 1980s that nearly caused us to lose this house and the entire lifestyle our family enjoyed.”

  “And that’s your excuse?”

  A rare look of shame crossed her father’s face. “It is absolutely not a valid excuse for what I did. But I guess I was a much weaker man than I thought I was. A powerful lobby offered me an under-the-table deal at a very opportune time for my financial woes, and I accepted it.”

  Naomi heard herself gasp. She had no idea what to say.

  “I’m ashamed, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for my mistakes. That’s why I wrote my book, and that’s why I work hard to live a moral life now.”

  In a matter of minutes, the man she’d set up on a pedestal, the man she’d considered all her life to be a flawless example of how to live, had been brought down to the level of ordinary human. There was nothing extraordinary about Atchison Tyler.

  Naomi stood up from the bar stool. “Thank you for being honest. Finally.” Though it would have been a hell of a lot more helpful to her when she’d been a miserable teen, constantly trying, and failing, to live up to her mother and father’s perfect example.

  “I believe I owe the same to your mother. Before the story breaks to the rest of the world. I’ll call her today.”

  “Whatever.”

  “You will give me the chance to tell her myself, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” she said without any feeling.

  She turned and headed for the door, not wanting to see her father looking so dejected, so…human.

  And she understood, for the first time, how large he’d loomed in her life for all these years. He was her perfect father, her role model, her impossible example. Now that he could no longer fill those roles, she had a feeling she might finally be able to relax and stop trying to be perfect.

  15

  ZANE RUBBED HIS HAND across the conference table as he waited for Jack to arrive. The wood was smooth and cool, and it gave him something to focus on besides all his conflicting emotions.

  The door opened, and Jack walked in. “Zane, hi. I’m glad you could make it.”

  “What’s up, Jack?”

  “Good news. Gil Beringer’s been so thrilled with your turnaround, you can go back to reporting internationally if you want to.”

  Zane’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s that easy?”

  “Yep.”

  “Or does this have everything to do with the other network’s offer?”

  Jack made a face and shrugged. “I wouldn’t question it if I were you. We want to keep you here, that’s for damn sure. And I can guarantee there’ll be more money here for you than you can get elsewhere.”

  Zane sighed, too tired to care about his career. “I guess you’ve got a deal, then.”

  Nothing much seemed to matter since the night Naomi had appeared in his apartment, then stormed out his door. He’d never quite figured out why she’d broken in, but the results had been disastrous, regardless.

  It made him crazy that she wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t return his calls—and what could he have said to make things better, anyway?

  Nothing.

  “Great. I’ll let Gil know you’re staying. You have anything you need to discuss with me?”

  “Actually, I’ve been gathering facts on a story all week….” He opened his folder containing the notes on the Atchison Tyler story—everything except the accusations of adultery, which he’d decided not to make public—and presented it all to Jack.

  “This is unbelievable,” Jack said when Zane finished.

  “I’d like to go live with it tomorrow morning in front of Tyler’s Atlanta office, if you’ll give me the okay.”

  Jack’s mouth hung open. “You’re sure on all y
our sources?”

  “It’s a sound story.”

  “Then go with it.”

  Zane should have felt happy, vindicated—something. He should have felt anything besides numb. But he didn’t. It wasn’t much of a victory when the truth he was reporting was the same truth that would hurt Naomi.

  He’d considered giving the scoop to someone else, but in the end, he couldn’t. He was the only person he could trust to be fair about it, and he didn’t want the adultery accusations going any further than they already had. Bribery was a matter for public record, but he felt he at least owed the courtesy of keeping her father’s private life private to Naomi.

  So now his career was back on track. It was damn cold comfort when the most incredible woman he’d ever met now hated him for doing his job.

  THE DIN OF LUNCHTIME ACTIVITY in the bar soothed Naomi’s nerves, and she was happy to not have anyone to talk to at the moment.

  Three days had passed since the story of Atchison Tyler’s sordid past hit the news, and Naomi was still reeling. Partly from the truth of it, and partly from the fact that Zane had chosen not to go public with the adultery accusations.

  She still had no intention of answering his calls. He could make excuses about not having known who her father was, but how could she believe him?

  She couldn’t.

  Except…

  One fact kept nagging at her. Zane had never asked her a single question about her dad. He’d never poked or prodded, had never tried to lead the conversation anywhere near that territory. And why wouldn’t he have, if he’d known who she really was?

  The question was a loose end she hadn’t found a way to tie up yet.

  Her father was handling the scandal as well as he could, and since he’d been thinking of retiring soon anyway, Naomi suspected he would do just that.

  He probably was handling the news better than she had, come to think of it. She’d been edgy and nervous ever since the story had broken. All the reporters calling, waiting outside her apartment, asking question after question, had not helped.

  She’d kept her responses to “No comment,” and she’d tried to mimic her father’s grace-under-pressure expression, but mostly she just wanted it all to end. Soon enough, it would, she knew. There would be new political scandals to distract the public, and her life eventually would get back to normal.