Love Is Elected (7 page)

When he'd opened the door and set the luggage inside, a voice cried out, "Aren't you going to carry the bride over the threshold?"

While the other reporters joined in the request, Matt gave Kara a hooded glance. A half-smile quirked the corners of his firm lips. In the next instant he had scooped her up and carried her into the spacious, high-ceilinged living room overlooking the lake.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Jordan," he whispered into her burning ears as he held her tightly. Then, setting her down on the polished parquet floor, he turned to meet the newsmen.

Cameras were grinding while reporters shot a barrage of questions at the candidate. Feeling nervous and foolish, Kara forced a tight smile while she listened to her husband field each volley like the practiced politician he was. Half an hour later he ushered the crowd of satisfied journalists out. The moment the door closed Kara collapsed on the couch and Matt settled his lean frame down beside her.

"I don't know how you endure this," Kara muttered, forcing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "It's like living in a fishbowl."

Matt leaned back on the couch and stretched his long legs. "It'll get worse before it gets better," he commented philosophically. "I'm a public servant and so I have to make myself available to the media. You can see why it's so important that my life be free of any hint of scandal just now."

Kara made a face and turned her head from him. "Yes, your image is so important that you don't care who you trample on to protect it. I've certainly learned
that
in the last few hours."

Matt was silent, seeming to turn her criticism over in his mind. He was preparing to say something to her when an antique grandfather clock in the corner chimed the half hour, distracting him.

"Heavens, it's four-thirty," he cried, clapping a hand on his forehead. "I've got to call my mother and tell her about this before she hears it on the six o'clock news!" He jumped up and strode toward his study adjoining the living room. As he disappeared behind the door, he tossed over his shoulder, "Why don't you amuse yourself by having a look around while I'm trying to explain this situation to her. You can unpack while you're at it, too."

"Not until I've found the guest bedroom," Kara retorted. But he had already shut the door and left her alone. She stood up and walked to the center of the large, airy room. Through the sliding glass doors she could see a balcony, and beyond it the lake glittering in the late afternoon sun. The two sets of doors flanked a dramatic fireplace wall. Brown leather chairs and a Scandinavian area rug were arranged in a conversational grouping around the fireplace. A chrome and leather couch sat directly in front, facing a glass coffee table. A few prized antiques were mixed with the modern furniture to produce a pleasingly eclectic effect.

From there Kara drifted through the well-equipped kitchen and then up the stairs toward the bedrooms. A brown and white tweed carpet muffled her steps as she made her way to the second floor. Once in the hall, she peered through an open door on the right. She was obviously looking into the master bedroom. A huge king-size bed covered with a brown suede quilt dominated the large, skylit room. To one side stood a massive, mahogany dresser. Opposite, there was an armoire. An off-white shag rug covered the polished wood floor. Kara stood taking it all in for a moment and then turned quickly away. She had no intention of spending time in this particular room.

Across the hall she located a guest room. It was attractively decorated in shades of royal blue with cream walls. The furniture was sleekly modern, but the bed looked soft and comfortable. With a decisive nod of her dark head, Kara made her way back down the stairs to retrieve her suitcases. While she was busily unpacking, Matt suddenly appeared in the doorway, an ironic smile curling his lip as he watched.

Nervously she glanced up at him. His large, athlete's body seemed to fill the entire opening as he lounged indolently, one broad shoulder propped up against the wooden doorframe. His left leg was crossed easily, revealing the outline of his muscular thighs through the tautly stretched material of his jeans. Kara blinked and dragged her gaze away from his legs to look up once more at his face.

His narrowed gray eyes appraised her through a screen of lashes, and there was a thin smile on his well-molded mouth. As his glance skimmed slowly over her small, well-proportioned body, Kara had no trouble reading his mind. She felt vulnerable and powerless. How was she going to get through the next few weeks living with this arrogant, demanding man?

"I can see you're making yourself at home," he commented wryly. "There's far more closet space in my room across the hall, you know."

"The closet space here is quite adequate, thank you," she returned. Despite her efforts to make her voice cool and controlled, it came out sounding nervous and quavery. Turning her back to him, she bit her lip and busied herself arranging a wool skirt on a hanger.

"Just as you like," he replied carelessly, straightening up and moving away from the door. "I'll leave you alone so you can change for dinner. I've sent out for food. We can eat after the six o'clock news."

"The six o'clock news?" she questioned, folding a slip and placing it in a drawer.

"Yes, we'll probably be on it, and I'd like to see how our marriage act is playing." He moved away, closing the door gently behind him while Kara stared in consternation. What would the television reporters have to say about this hasty marriage and the reluctant politician's wife? she wondered. Kara looked at her watch. It was a quarter after five.

She took the next forty minutes unpacking and changing her clothes, deliberately stretching out the time so as not to confront the stranger she'd married that morning. Was it only that afternoon, she wondered as she pulled off her bridal blue jeans and searched through the clothes she'd brought for something else to wear. So much had happened in so short a time, she mused, as she rummaged through her drawer for her favorite beige sweater. When she'd found it, she pulled on brown corduroy slacks and a comfortable pair of moccasins.

She completed the outfit with a gold chain Wayne had bought her for her twenty-first birthday last year, smiling with satisfaction as it settled into place around her slender, white throat. Somehow the subtle act of defiance implied by wearing Wayne's gift made her feel more capable of dealing with Matt. She would not allow herself to be intimidated by the smooth-talking politician. She would deal with him just as she had dealt with politicians in the past. She would be the intelligent, capable woman she knew herself to be. With a proud lift of her head, she descended the stairs.

Once in the living room she looked around inquiringly. Matt was nowhere in sight, but she could hear the faint droning of the television from the other side of the room where his study door stood open. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she strode purposefully across the wood floor and entered the booklined study. Matt was sprawled comfortably in a wine-red leather recliner watching a small color television set on a shelf above his huge walnut desk.

"Here, have a seat," he said, casually motioning her to the desk's wing chair which he had placed next to him. "I think the show's about to start."

Settling herself stiffly, Kara fixed her eyes on the television screen. When the anchorman's face appeared she waited anxiously to hear her name, but the top story was a fire at a chemical plant. While pictures of ambulances and firehoses lit up the screen, Kara watched the scenes of disaster float before her without really seeing them. Obsessed by her own situation, she could not concentrate on the reporter's words.

Her attention was quickly riveted to the screen, however, when the next story headline was "Maryland jet-setting politician marries political boss' niece!"

"With less than a month before the primary election, thirty-four-year-old congressional hopeful, Maryland jet-setter Matt Jordan surprised the press today by announcing his secret marriage to Kara Barnett, the niece of well-known Maryland political figure James Barnett," the anchorman enunciated smoothly. "Here for an on the spot account is our roving reporter Vera Caldwell."

The anchorman's suave visage disappeared from the screen to be replaced by a smiling, green-eyed Vera who wrapped her long manicured fingers around a hand-held mike. She was standing in front of Uncle James' cabin, smiling coyly.

"Matt Jordan's female constituents' hearts will be broken when they learn Maryland's most handsome state senator is no longer playing the field. Jordan has long been adored by every attractive woman in the state, and gossip columnists have speculated for years on who the lucky girl to wear his ring would be."

"In the past he's been linked with beautiful socialites Linda Payton and Sandra 'Scoot' Townsend." Pictures of two glossily chic blondes illuminated the screen. Kara stared at them with narrowed eyes and shot a dark glance at Matt, who returned her look with a bland smile.

"But two days ago," the reporter continued, "Jordan put an end to the speculation by marrying the niece of top political boss James Barnett. People inside the party have expressed astonishment at his choice, but an unidentified source claims that the marriage was more a political maneuver than a love match, as Jordan had not been seen dating the twenty-two-year-old public relations specialist previous to their marriage."

Kara drew in her breath with sharp rage. The nerve of the woman, she fumed inwardly! But Matt, accustomed to such treatment, merely chuckled. Kara stared at the TV set while scenes of Matt and her uncle's press conference held earlier that day flickered across the screen. The two men pledged their intention to clean up state politics and solidify the party before the primary. Next came reaction from Matt's political opponent Bill Thorp, who barely commented on the official press conference and then derisively labeled the marriage as one of "political convenience."

Then suddenly the scene shifted, and the newly-weds were standing at the front entrance to Matt's town house. Smiling, the tall, darkly handsome politician scooped his bride up in his strong arms and carried her across the threshold. The image projected was of a young, well-matched couple deeply in love. The scene was so convincing that Kara almost had to blink back tears from her deep violet eyes. What would it have been like, she wondered, if it had been a real marriage based on love rather than convenience? She looked down at her bare fingers twisted numbly in her lap and sighed, while Matt uncoiled his long limbs and strode across the room to turn off the television set.

"Well, that was pretty bad. But brace yourself, because if I know the press there'll be worse to come," he commented dryly, turning to face her.

A shiver ran up her spine while he stood towering over her, looking down. Again he seemed about to say something, but his attention was distracted by the sound of the doorbell.

"Not more reporters," he growled. Muttering a curse under his breath, he left the room to investigate. Kara sank back in the leather chair and closed her eyes. From the next room she could hear the sound of strange voices and the clatter of dishes. In a moment Matt reappeared in the doorway.

"It's only the caterer. Why don't we step out on the balcony while they set up dinner." He took her hand and led her out into the cool spring air.

Walking across the wide wooden deck, they leaned on the railing and looked out on the smooth surface of the lake below. The sun was just beginning to set, sending fiery fingers of light across the cloud-lined sky.

"It's beautiful," Kara murmured, looking across the lake at budding, graceful willows and delicate ping magnolias in full bloom. "You must really enjoy living here."

"Yes, I particularly like having breakfast outside in the warm weather. But it will be nicer now that I'll have you sitting across the table from me."

Kara was silent. She doubted the marriage would last that long. But her musing was broken by squawking on the bike path below. Looking down she saw a female duck trying desperately to evade the determined attentions of a persistent drake. Attempting to elude her pursuer, the female rushed toward the false safety of a clump of bushes in the hopes of losing him, but the relentless drake cut off her escape. Seizing her neck roughly in his bill, he forced himself on her despite her loud cries of protest.

Matt smiled at his new bride provocatively. "Now there's a male who knows how to handle a woman," he murmured huskily. One of his large hands grasped the back of Kara's slender neck and turned her heart-shaped face toward him. For a moment he stood looking down at her while she felt herself barely breathing. The moment seemed to stretch out forever—but just as Matt bent his dark head down to kiss her, the caterer poked his face through the patio doorway and announced that dinner was ready.

Matt had ordered a hearty beef burgundy entree served with parsley potatoes and a crisp spinach salad. Dessert was chocolate mousse.

During dinner the conversation remained light. They talked about the latest movies they'd seen and the restaurants in Washington that they had enjoyed. And they discovered that they shared a mutual passion for the French impressionistic art at the National Gallery.

"If you like what they have there, I'll have to show you the collection at the Jeu de Paume in Paris," Matt said warmly, refilling her wine glass.

Much to her surprise, Kara found her new husband easy to talk to. And as the meal drew to a close, she was feeling relaxed and almost cheerful.

But as they picked up the dishes to take them to the kitchen, Matt's eyes lingered on the necklace at her throat. During the meal she had noticed him glance at it several times speculatively.

"That's quite a fancy necklace," he commented as he placed the dishes on the brown ceramic tile counter top.

Kara licked her lips. She wished she hadn't worn Wayne's gift. "Thank you," she replied, nervously fingering the links. "It was a present."

Matt's eyes narrowed and his mouth hardened. "A gift from whom?" he demanded.

She avoided his penetrating glance while she sought for an evasive answer. "Just a friend," she stammered.