A Conflict of Interest (4 page)

“Eleanor Albert is an obvious priority.” Lynn counted her points off on her fingers. “Who is she?
Where
is she? Is she really Ariella’s mother? And what will she say publicly about the president? Two, there’s a whole town full of people out in Fields, Montana. We need to know what they know, what they remember and what
they’re
going to say publicly.”

Then she glanced up, her attention going to someone in the doorway behind Cara.

“There you are,” she said, waving her hand for the person to enter. “You might as well come on in.”

Cara turned, starting in astonishment as she came face-to-face with Max. He was dressed in blue jeans and square-toed boots, with an open-collar white shirt beneath his dark blazer. He was freshly shaved. His perpetually tousled hair, wide shoulders and rugged looks gave him a mantle of raw power, even though he was just a visitor to the West Wing.

He met her gaze, his expression neutral.

Even with Lynn in the room, Cara had a hard time controlling her annoyance. Max had gone on national television last night, disclosing what he knew about Ariella’s whereabouts. She didn’t know who his source had been, but he’d milked it for all it was worth, tossing both Ariella and the White House to the wolves in his quest for ratings.

“Have a seat.” Lynn pointed to the chair next to Cara’s. The two chairs were matching brown leather, low backed but rounded and comfortable, with carved mahogany arms.

Max moved guardedly, but he did as Lynn asked.

“Who’s your source?” Lynn shot out without preamble.

“Seriously?” asked Max with an arch of one brow, a carefully placed thread of amazement in his tone.

“How did you learn about Ariella?”

Cara was curious as well. Even she hadn’t known Ariella was headed for Potomac Airfield. She couldn’t imagine who had found out, or why they would tell Max of all people.

“You know perfectly well that I can’t disclose my sources,” Max said to Lynn, but he cast a glance Cara’s way, as well.

“You can when it’s a matter of security,” Lynn countered. “This might even be national security.”

Max sat back in his chair, “Really? Go on.”

“If she’s kidnapped,” said Lynn, twisting her ring. “If a foreign entity, or heaven help us all, a terrorist, gets their hands on the president’s daughter, it will absolutely be a situation of national security.”

“You don’t know that she’s his daughter.”

“Do you think the terrorists care? I was convinced by those pictures. And I’m pretty sure the rest of the nation was convinced by them, too. Do you think the president will take the chance that’s she’s not?”

Max’s body became alert. “So, you’re saying the president slept with Eleanor Albert.”

Lynn’s face paled a shade. “I’m saying nothing of the kind.”

But Max pounced on her small misstep. “If he hadn’t slept with her, this couldn’t possibly be a matter of national security.”

For a moment, Lynn was speechless.

Cara stepped in. “Who told you Ariella was going to Potomac Airfield?”

Max twisted his head to look at her. His eyes were cool, his expression a perfect, professional mask.

Cara pressed him. “Come on, Max. You don’t want Ariella hurt any more than we do. She’s innocent in all this. She needs Secret Service protection.”

“No kidding,” said Max. “And did you tell her that last night?”

Cara blinked, her insides clenching up.

He continued, “Did you tell her she needed the Secret Service?”

There was only one way for him to have known Ariella had come to Cara. “Of course I did. I begged her to let me help. I just finished explaining that to Lynn.”

Max turned back to Lynn. “You want to know my source? Ariella is my source. I know she went to Potomac Airfield because I drove her there. She’s gone, Lynn.”

Lynn sat up in her chair. “Why on earth didn’t you stop her?”

“Because the power of the press doesn’t extend to kidnapping and forcible confinement. She’s a grown woman. She’s an American citizen. And she’s free to come and go as she pleases.”

“Is she still in the country?” Cara asked.

“She told me she had her passport.”

“You didn’t report on any of that last night.”

He slowly turned back to Cara, his expression reproachful. “I didn’t, did I?”

“You want points for that?” Cara demanded.

“It would be nice. A little credit. A little consideration. Maybe a scoop or two. I ran into Ariella. I offered her assistance. And I put her safety and the good of my country ahead of my own interests. She was determined to leave D.C. without notice. I thought it was best to give her a fighting chance at successfully doing that.”

Cara found herself nodding in agreement with his words. She knew from personal experience that there’d been no talking Ariella out of her plans. She only hoped she came back soon. A DNA test was in everyone’s best interest.

Lynn’s demeanor changed. “The White House appreciates your efforts,” she told Max.

“I would imagine you do.” He came to his feet. “I’m not the bad guy here. But I do have a job to do.”

As he left the office, Lynn’s phone rang. Cara quickly took the opportunity to jump up and go after him.

“Max?” She hurried down the hall.

He stopped and turned back, and she canted her head toward her own office.

He followed her inside, and she closed the door. Sure, he’d done the right thing. But he wasn’t completely off the hook.

“Where did you run into Ariella?” she fired off.

“Logan Circle.”

“My apartment.”

“Yes.”

“You stalked her.”

He moved toward Cara, making her heart reflexively race and her breath go shallow. It didn’t seem to matter how hard she fought or how much logic she sent through her brain, over and over again. She was compulsively attracted to Max Gray. It seemed to be embedded in her DNA.

“Really?” he demanded. The distance between them was far too small. “That’s what you think? That I was staking out your apartment on the off chance that Ariella would come by?”

Cara admitted the mathematical odds had been low on that happening. She took a step back, bumping against the edge of her desk.

His eyes glittered meaningfully as he moved again, keeping the distance static. “You can’t think of any other reason? None at all?”

“I told you no, Max.”

“I was there for my watch.”

“We both know that was a ruse.”

“Yeah. We do. But you won’t let me play it straight, Cara. I have no other choice.”

“Your choice is to stay away.”

“That’s not working for me.”

There was a shout in the hallway and the sound of two sets of footsteps going swiftly past.

“We can’t do this here,” she told him.

“When and where?”

“Never and nowhere.”

“Wrong answer.”

“It’s the only answer you’re going to get. I have to go to work, Max. In case you missed it in the papers, we’re having a crisis.”

His tone went suddenly soft. “I’m sorry for that. I truly am.”

“But you have a job to do, too,” she finished for him.

“And I better get to it.”

He brushed the backs of his knuckles against hers, sending a spike of awareness ricocheting through her system, squeezing her heart and tightening her abdomen.

Before she could protest, he’d turned and was gone.

Cara made her way around her desk, dropping into her chair. She gave a reflexive glance at her computer screen, knowing that a million things needed her attention, but the email subject lines didn’t compute inside her brain.

Her hand dropped to her stomach and rested there. She was barely pregnant. If not for her ultraregular cycle and modern, supersensitive home pregnancy tests, she wouldn’t even know it yet.

But she did. And she was. And Max’s baby was complicating an already dicey situation. Max was one of the ten hottest men in D.C. She didn’t need a magazine to tell her that. He was also smart, funny, innovative and daring.

He wanted her. That much was clear. But what he didn’t want, what he’d never wanted and never would want, was home, hearth and family. He’d told her about his single mother, how his father walked out on them, how he was no genetic prize and had no plans to carry on his questionable family legacy.

He’d found his niche in broadcasting. He had an incredible instinct for a story, and he was absolutely fearless about going after it. It didn’t matter if it was in Africa or Afghanistan, flying high in the air or on the bottom of the ocean. He’d chase a story down, and once he caught it, he’d bring it home and broadcast it to the awe and attention of millions of Americans. Max had everything he’d ever wanted in life.

She’d tried to stay away from him from the very start. Given their careers, a relationship was risky during the campaign, foolish after the vote count and impossible now that the president had taken office.

On more than one occasion, it had occurred to Cara that Max might want her for the sole reason that he couldn’t have her. And sometimes, in the dead of night, Cara fantasized about giving in to him, spending as much time as she wanted in his company, in his bed. She wondered how many days or weeks it would take for him to tire of her. She also wondered how fast and far he’d run if he knew the extent of her feelings for him.

For Max, this was just another lark, another fling, another woman in the long line that formed a part of his adventurer, bachelor lifestyle. But for her, it was different. She’d all but given him her heart. And now she was having his baby.

If he’d run fast and hard from the knowledge of her true feelings, he’d rocket away from the possibility of fatherhood. He’d be on the next plane to Borneo or Outer Mongolia.

Cara gave a sad smile and coughed out a short laugh at her musings. In the dead of night, when she fantasized about Max, it was those initial few days and weeks that occupied her thoughts. She glossed over the part where he left and broke her heart. Some days, she actually thought it might be worth it.

Three

T
he things Max put up with for his job. He’d hacked his way through jungles, gone over waterfalls, battled snakes and scorpions, even wrestled a crocodile one time. But nothing had prepared him for this. He was slope side in the president’s hometown of Fields, Montana, among five hundred darting, shrieking schoolchildren let loose on skis and snowboards.

While the president was growing up, Fields had been a small town, mostly supported by the surrounding cattle ranches. But over the years, its scenic mountain location and pristine slopes had been discovered by skiers and snowboarders. Lifts had been built and high-end resort chains had moved in, fundamentally changing the face of the entire town.

Ranch access roads still lined the highway, but the old-guard cowboys now rubbed shoulders with the colorfully attired recreation crowd. It seemed to Max a cordial if cautious relationship. While the newer parts of town were pure tourism, the outskirts were a patchwork of the old and new. A funky techno bar had been built next to the feed store, while a tavern with sawdust and peanut shells covering the floor shared a parking lot with a high-end snowboard shop.

Max’s cameraman, Jake Dobson, sent up a rooster tail of snow as he angled his snowboard to a halt next to Max. The two men had first worked together at a small, local station in Maryland. When Max had been asked to join the team at NCN, he’d made it clear that Jake coming with him was a condition of the contract. Jake was the unsung hero in every single one of Max’s news stories.

“Another run?” asked Jake.

“I don’t think so,” Max scoffed, glancing at the multitude of children on the slope. “I was scared to death out there.”

Jake laughed at him. “They’re quite harmless.”

“I’m not worried about them hurting me. But it’s like dodging moving pylons. Pylons that bruise easily. I’m not about to have running over an eight-year-old girl on my conscience.”

“We could do a black diamond run.”

They had a couple of hours left before dark.

“Sure. Up there, I can take out a twelve-year-old. That’ll help me sleep better.” Max bent down to pop the clips on his own snowboard.

“It’s a statewide outdoors club jamboree,” Jake put in helpfully as he released his own bindings. “They’ll be here for a week.”

“We’ve got work to do anyway.” Max stood his board up in the snow, removing his helmet and goggles.

The two men had spent the morning in the older part of Fields, talking to the ranching crowd. So far, they’d met a number of people who’d known the president when he was a teenager. Unfortunately, none of them were willing to go on camera. And none would admit to knowing anything about Eleanor.

“I think the ranchers have all headed home by now,” Jake observed. “Early to bed and early to rise.”

“Maybe. But their kids and grandkids will be at clubs dancing with the tourists. Who knows what kind of stories have been passed down about the Morrows?”

“You’re going to play the tourist and mix and mingle?”

“Why not?” Max had been pleasantly surprised by how respectful the people of Fields seemed to be. It was obvious many of them recognized him from his television show, but they mostly smiled and nodded and kept their distance. Few even asked for autographs.

Back in D.C.—and in New York and L.A.—people were much more aggressive. It was impossible for him to walk into any restaurant, lounge or club in D.C. without being approached by a dozen people. Being in Fields was quite refreshing.

“Can we get a burger first?” Jake asked, brushing the snow off his board with the back of his glove. “I’m starving.”

“Works for me.” Max started to walk back to the lodge. “Are those pip-squeaks really going to be here all week?”

His and Jake’s rooms were uncomfortably close to the indoor pool complex. There’d been a steady stream of shrieking and stomping children up and down their hall both last night and this morning.

“Yes, they are,” Jake responded. “I talked to one of their leaders up top.”

“Lovely,” Max drawled.

He wasn’t a kid person. Some people seemed to see right past the noise, the mess, the smell and the irrationality to the cute, lovable little tykes beneath.

Max was in awe of those people. He preferred rationality. Or, at least, predicable irrationality. If there was one thing he’d learned about adults, it was they could always be counted on to act in their own best interests.

“I called down and asked the hotel manager to move us,” said Jake.

Max brightened. “You did?”

“I’ve got your back, buddy.” Jake smacked him on the shoulder. “We’re each in a one-bedroom villa up on the hillside. It’s adults only.”

“I love you, man.”

Jake chuckled. “It was the hot spring pools that made up my mind. Well, that and the fact that Jessica walked out on me last week. I don’t want to spend my first assignment as a bachelor surrounded by grade-schoolers.”

“Jessica walked out on you?”

Jake pulled off a glove with his teeth. “She’ll be back. But until then, I am under no obligation to be faithful to her.”

“She’s clear on that?”

They took the staircase leading to the equipment lockers.

“I’m single and she’s single. She can bang half of D.C. while I’m gone for all I care.”

“I take it she’s not ‘the one.’”

“It’s way too soon to tell.”

Max couldn’t help but grin at that as they entered the cavernous, warehouselike building. “Trust me, Jake. If she was the one, you’d kill any guy who looked sideways at her, never mind slept with her.”

“You’re an expert?” Jake scoffed.

“I know that much.”

Max wasn’t even Cara’s boyfriend and he had a hard time thinking about her with any other guy. Technically, the two of them were single. But that was only a technicality, based on current circumstances. It didn’t mean he’d look twice at another woman.

They stowed their boards and gear, changed out of the snowboard boots and headed for the Alpine Grill on the street out front. Max was still pondering his and Cara’s single status when the waitress brought them each a mug of red ale from a local microbrewery.

He and Jake had taken seats on the lounge side of the rustic, hewn-beam restaurant, which was adults only. But the shrieks and cries of children came through the doorway from the restaurant. Then a group of people burst into a rollicking rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Evidently, someone named Amy had reached a milestone.

“Shall I mention that it’s your birthday?” asked Jake.

“Now that would be a treat,” Max returned dryly.

He took a drink of the foamy beer. He’d turned thirty today. Some people thought of it as a milestone. Max didn’t see it that way. He’d been twenty-nine and three hundred and sixty-four days yesterday. Thirty was only twenty-four hours older. He really didn’t get the big deal.

Jake craned his neck. “Good grief, they gave those little kids sparklers.”

Max turned to look.

When he did, it wasn’t the potential fire hazard that caught his eye. It was Cara. She was standing in the restaurant foyer, looking adorable in a waist-length, puffy, turquoise jacket, a pair of snug blue jeans and set of ankle-high black books. Her cheeks were bright red, her lips were shiny and her blue eyes were as striking as ever.

Max’s chest went tight. He scraped back his chair and rose from the table.

“Nobody’s on fire,” Jake pointed out. “Yet.”

Max didn’t respond. His attention was locked on Cara as he instinctively wound his way through the other tables. The shrieks of the children, the smell of grilling beef, the rainbow of ski clothing disappeared from his perception.

“Hello, Cara.” He offered her a friendly smile.

In response, her eyes went round with obvious shock and her jaw dropped open a notch. “Max,” she managed. “You’re in Fields.”

“I’m in Fields,” he returned.

She gave her head a little shake, as if she was trying to wake herself from a dream. But Max wasn’t going anywhere.

The hostess appeared in front of them. “For two?” the young woman asked, glancing from Cara to Max.

“Just one,” said Cara.

“Join us,” said Max. “Jake is here,” he quickly finished, so she wouldn’t think it would look like a date.

Cara had met Jake a couple of times over the past few months. As far as Jake was concerned, Cara was an acquaintance of Max’s, no different than hundreds of other people on the periphery of his life as a news reporter.

Cara hesitated while the woman waited, her bright, welcoming smile flickering with confusion.

Cara glanced to Jake, then obviously concluded refusing his offer would garner more curiosity than accepting it would.

“Sure,” she said to Max. “Why not?”

Max thanked the hostess, then guided Cara to their table.

When they got there, Max introduced her. “You remember Cara Cranshaw.”

Jake got to his feet. His smile was warm and his eyes alight as he shook Cara’s hand. “It’s
very
nice to see you again.”

Max instantly realized his mistake. Jake and Cara were both single. Sure, Jake was in the news business like Max. But a cameraman was quite a few steps removed from the people who actually researched and crafted the stories. He’d be a much safer choice for Cara.

And Jake certainly seemed to appeal to women. He was tall, physically fit, square-chinned and gray-eyed, with a devil-may-care attitude that got him a steady string of offers from women all around the world.

“Cara doesn’t date newsmen,” Max announced.

Cara shot him an appalled expression.

But Jake laughed easily. “I’m sure she can make an exception in this case.”

This time she blanched, gripping the back of her chair. And Max realized she’d drawn the conclusion Jake knew about their relationship.

“Jake means for him,” Max pointed out.

“What do you say?” Jake asked her easily. “My girlfriend just dumped me. I’m wounded and terribly lonely.”

Cara seemed to recover from her shock very quickly. She smoothly took her seat and unfolded the burgundy cloth napkin in front of her.

Then she looked to Jake. “I’m afraid I don’t go on pity dates.”

Jake clutched at his chest as if he’d been stabbed.

“Better for you to stay away from the ones with brains, anyway,” Max said to Jake.

“Aren’t you cynical,” Cara chided Max.

“Because I don’t think Jake can get a date with a woman whose IQ is over one hundred?”

“Because you seem to think there’s a critical mass of low-intelligence women for him to choose from.”

“Ouch,” said Jake.

“I didn’t mean to offend your gender,” said Max.

“Which makes it that much worse,” she said tartly.

“Keep digging, buddy,” said Jake, making shoveling motions with his hands. To Cara, he said. “Can I get you a drink?”

Max cursed himself for being slow on the uptake.

“Thank you,” Cara responded with a sweet smile for Jake. “Ginger ale, please.”

Jake glanced around the crowded pub, obviously checking for their waitress. After a moment, he rose to walk over to the bar himself.

“He’s a gentleman,” said Cara, her tone a rebuke to Max as she smoothed the napkin out in her lap.

“He’s flirting with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Really, Max. Thank you for clearing that up, since, like many women, I’m of low intelligence and wouldn’t have figured it out for myself.”

Max clamped his jaw, fighting the urge to defend himself. Instead, their gazes locked, and an instant rush of desire washed through him as the noise of the crowd ebbed and flowed.

Cara cracked first. “So, what are you doing in Fields?”

“Same thing as you.”

“I doubt that.”

“We’re both here after the story.”

She straightened in her chair. “No. You’re here after the story. I’m here looking for the truth.”

“Don’t get all self-righteous on me. It’s not an attractive quality.”

She leaned in and hissed, “You think I want to be attractive? To you?”

He lowered his voice, matching her posture. “There’s no way for you to help it, sweetheart.”

Jake’s arrival broke the moment. “Your ginger ale, ma’am.”

Cara turned to him and smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Pleasure to be of assistance.”

Max snagged his beer mug by the handle, struggling not to gag on the syrupy sweetness. “Give me a break.”

“Did you know it was Max’s birthday?” Jake asked Cara in a hearty, if slightly malicious, voice.

“I did not.” She gave Max an overly sweet smile. “Happy birthday.”

“I think we should get the staff to sing.”

Max glared his annoyance at Jake. “I think the fistfight that would break out between us afterward would reflect badly on NCN.”

Jake laughed easily, leaning back in his chair.

Just then, the “Happy Birthday” chorus came up again in the restaurant. This time it was Billy being celebrated.

Before the voices died down, a little girl shrieked and cried. Probably Billy’s little sister, jealous because he was getting all the attention. She sounded very young, and Max could only hope they didn’t appease her by handing her a lit sparkler.

“Kid heaven,” he muttered under his breath. “Adult hell.”

Cara shot him an odd look. But then her cell phone rang and she dug into her purse to retrieve it.

“Sorry,” she apologized to them both before raising the phone to her ear. “Hi, Lynn.”

Cara ran her finger up and down against the condensation of her ginger ale glass, distracting Max while she listened.

“Uh-huh,” she finally answered. “Will do. Tomorrow?” She went silent. “Got it. Thanks.” She hung up and slipped the phone back into her purse.

“Care to share?” Max asked.

She gave him a secretive smile that tightened his stomach. “You wish,” she teased.

“I think she’s one up on us,” Jake joked.

That wasn’t news to Max. Cara had been one up on him from the first moment they’d met.

* * *

Later that day, Cara had started her search with the school yearbook. It was easy enough to find the president’s and Eleanor Albert’s classmates. The ones she’d tracked down so far didn’t remember enough to help the press with the story. That was encouraging. As long as they continued to say they didn’t know anything, and as long as Eleanor didn’t surface, there wasn’t much more to report.