Someone To Believe In (24 page)

“ ’
Kay.”

The phone rang twice. Bailey held her breath.
Then a deep baritone came on. “Wainwright.”

“Clay, it’s Bailey.”

A long silence. Before he got the wrong idea,
she said, “Rory insisted on calling you. He got your present
today.”

“Ah.”

“Gimme, Mommy!”

When Clay said no more to her, she
handed Rory the phone. “Thanks, Clay! I’m gonna see
Seussical
.” He must have answered.
“Yeah, a Jeter backpack.” Her son listed off the rest of his
presents. Laughed. Smiled. It just about broke Bailey’s heart. “
’Kay.” He gave the phone back to her and cuddled down into the
blanket.

She said into the phone, “Clay? Are you still
there?”

“Yes. “

“Hold on a second, will you? Let me tuck Rory
in.”

When she’d done that, she hurried out of the
room and spoke into the phone. “Thank you so much for the tickets.
It was his favorite present.”

“You’re welcome.”

“It was too much.”

“Little boys should get their wishes on their
birthday.”

“Well, I appreciate it.”

No response.

“How are you?”

A pause. “I’m fine.”

“Are you? I’m not.”

“No?”

“Clay, I—” She didn’t know what to say. He
was so cold and distant. “Are you coming in for the meeting
tomorrow?”

“I’m already here, at my town house.”

“Oh.”

“Are you going to the meeting? I half
expected you to quit the committee.”

“I’m going. Maybe we can talk after.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know what I want.

“Well, you were pretty specific about what
you wanted—correction, what you didn’t want—last time I saw
you.”

“You sound mad.”

“Are you kidding? I’m pissed as hell at
you. How could you give up on us? Oh, wait, I forgot, there is
no
us
.”

“You were out of line asking me not to see
Taz.”

“Look, this is old ground. I’m not going over
it again. You made it very clear how important I am—or am not—to
you. I’ll see you at the meeting.” He disconnected.

“Damn it.” Bailey stared at the phone. Then
she punched in a number.

“Hello.”

“Aidan, it’s me. Could you come over for a
while?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh dear, are you with somebody?”

“Don’t I wish. You need to talk?”

“Yeah, I need to talk. Not to you, though.
Can you come and watch Rory for a while? There’s something I have
to do.”

“Sure, be right there.”

CLAY WAS LIKE a caged tiger. “Son of bitch,”
he said aloud to his empty town house. He stalked around the
bedroom, where he’d been futilely trying to read, but once she’d
called, it had been useless. Rain began to patter against the
windows, which were partly open, so he shut them and swore. “Damn
her.” He threw on pajama bottoms and trundled down the stairs; he
crossed to the wet bar in the living room, poured himself a double
scotch, leaned against the furniture and replayed everything she’d
said.

He should have hung up when she asked him to
hold on while she tucked Rory in.

He couldn’t.

How are you?

Fine.

Are you? I’m not.

What had she meant by that?

Oh, hell, he knew damn well what she meant.
He wasn’t fine and apparently she wasn’t either. He should have
taken the opening, but then she’d been so surprised he was angry at
her, it pissed him off all over again.

Maybe we can talk after...I don’t know what I
want...

He should have been more understanding. He
glanced at the phone, stared at it a good few minutes. Sipped his
drink. Fuck it, she’d made a move. He could be conciliatory. He’d
just punched in her number when the doorbell rang. Still holding
his cell, he walked to the foyer and peered out the window.

And there she was.

He clicked off just as she pulled out her own
phone. He opened the door. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She held up her phone. “Someone called
me. I have to see if this was Aidan. He’s watching—”

“It wasn’t Aidan. It was me.” He noticed the
rain had made her hair curl, and her cheeks were dewy with the
moisture outside.

“You called me?”

“I’m afraid so. I should have waited a few
more minutes. Saved face.”

She smiled weakly. “Can I come in?”

He stepped aside and tossed his phone on a
table, closed the door, and leaned against it, watching her. “I
don’t know whether to kiss you senseless or take you over my knee
and paddle you.”

An eyebrow arched. “You said you weren’t into
kinky.”

“You bring out the worst in me.” He nodded to
her raincoat. “Here, let me have that.”

After he’d hung up her coat and set her purse
down, he faced her; she surprised him by stepping closer and
resting both hands on his chest. “I vote for kissing me
senseless.”

He turned her fast and, bracing her against
the wall, ravaged her mouth. She ravaged back. When he drew away,
he pulled her head to his bare chest. She nosed into him. “Damn it,
Bailey. You make me hard in seconds.”

“We can make love first, if you want.” She
kissed his pecs, ran her hands over them, inhaled him.

“First?”

“Before we talk.”

He stilled. “What are the chances of us
talking, and you storming out of here without hitting the
sheets?”

She laughed. “I hope none.” She drew back.
Sobered. “I’ve missed you so much, and I’m sorry about what
happened.”

“Aw, honey, I missed you, too. And I’m
sorry.”

“You were right. I was ready to agree to
giving our relationship a try. I shouldn’t have bolted at the
first sign of trouble.”

“And I shouldn’t have been so autocratic.” He
sighed and rubbed her shoulders, leaned in closer so he could smell
her hair, the scent of her lotion. “These are real, divisive
issues, though.”

“Insurmountable, do you think?”

“I hope not.” He took her hand and led her to
the couch. “Come on, let’s talk.”

“Okay.” She followed behind him. “But I gotta
tell you, Senator, you look really cute in jammies.”

“I’ll let you borrow the top, if you
want.”

She sat down. “I want.”

“Look,” he said earnestly. “I was wrong to
yell at you about Taz. We should have talked it out.”

“But?”

“But you can’t meet with her or any gang kids
alone.”

“I know.”

“It’s too— You know?”

“Yeah. Aidan got on me about it. Took your
side. And then Joe had a fit. I guess you’re all right. I need to
consider my safety first.”

“Wow, I never expected this.”

“But Clay, I’m going to have a Face-to-Face
with her. And I’m going to continue doing that with other
kids.”

He sighed. He didn’t like it, but he knew he
wasn’t going to change this woman, not really, though she’d given a
big concession just now. “All right, I’ll try to deal with that.”
He brushed his hand down her cheek. “I’ll compromise about your
job.”

“Thank you.”

“But no more seesaw, Bailey. We’re done fence
sitting about this relationship. Promise me you won’t go back on
trying to make this work between us.” He leaned his forehead
against hers. “I’ve fallen for you, honey. Hard.”

“Me, too. I’ve fallen for you. And I won’t
change my mind, won’t bolt. I promise. I believe in us, Clay.”

“Good. Now,” he said pulling her onto his
lap. “Kiss me.”

“Yes, sir.”

They didn’t even make it off the couch. He
consumed her, breathed her into his body and soul. She let him,
took, and gave. At one point they tumbled to the floor.

“Bailey, love...” he said leaning over
her.

“Clay, come inside me. I want to feel you
there.”

Their lovemaking was sweet, and tenderly
cataclysmic. Afterward, he grabbed some pillows and a blanket from
the couch and lay on the rug with her, cuddled her to his chest,
kissed her forehead. “How long can you stay?”

“A while. Aidan’s bunking at my house.”

“How’d you explain going out?”

“I told him the truth.”

“I wish I had a brother I could talk to like
that.”

“I’m lucky.” She sighed and looked up at him.
“You can talk to me, Clay, about anything.”

They’d come a long way.

“Tell me about your week? What happened?”

“It was miserable.” He filled her in on
Thorn’s “short straw” comment. She laughed. He told her about his
meeting with Stewart and the senator’s comments about her.

But he didn’t bring up the VP thing. It would
only muddy the waters, divide them more. And as he hugged her to
his chest, he didn’t want to be separate from her. He wanted to be
closer.

Eventually, to that end, he began kissing his
way down her body.

THIRTEEN

BAILEY O’NEIL THREW herself into her
relationship with Clay just like she did everything else—completely
and without reservation. As he watched her across the room putting
the finishing touches on dinner—with Rory’s help—he knew he’d
already become utterly enthralled with her. For him, there was no
turning back. For her, psychologically, the jury was still out,
though her actions did not indicate her reservations.

“Be ready in ten minutes,” she said
glancing over Rory’s head to where Clay sat ostensibly reading
the
Washington Post
. Dressed
in jeans and a simple cotton sweater set of ruby red, she gave him
a private smile that made him hard in seconds. The sex had been
even better since they’d admitted their feelings for each other
went beyond the physical. He’d never been so satisfied in his
life.

“No hurry.” He nodded to her son. “I’m
enjoying the show.

She swiped at her nose. “Do I still have
potatoes on my face?” Rory had gotten carried away with his task of
whipping the potatoes and had smushed some on his mother’s
nose.

“Nope. Now it’s in your hair.”

A look of sham outrage came over her. “Rory
O’Neil, did you...”

“Nu-uh. He’s teasin’, Mommy.”

Clay laughed.

“Not funny, Senator.”

“Sorry.”

He couldn’t imagine Jane or Karen allowing
this kind of play to go on while cooking a meal—if they cooked at
all. Nor had he, as a child, been privy to this kind of interaction
with his mother. Which was how this whole dinner came about.
Earlier in the week when they had talked on the phone—as they did
every single night—the subject of his nannies had come up. His
favorite had made him pot roast. He’d been shocked as hell to walk
into Bailey’s apartment today and smell that meal cooking.

“Rory, go set the table while I sit a
minute.”

“Clay, too.”

“No, Clay’s on cleanup. You do it.”

Rory climbed off the stool, passed by Clay at
the table, gave him a hug, and dragged a high step stool to the
other side of the kitchen. Bailey encouraged all kinds of
independence, as well as the affection the boy routinely showed.
Rory’s demonstrativeness toward Clay still stunned him, and pleased
the hell out of him.

The only dark spot, he thought,
glancing down at the paper in front of him, was that Bailey
insisted on keeping their relationship a secret. Their ruse with
Rory had worked—they all pretended it was a game of keeping
secrets, as Rory did with Aldan, and so he hadn’t talked to anyone
about Clay. But Clay had wanted to go to
Seussical
with them yesterday and Bailey had
objected....

Somebody could see us together. You’re a
public figure and would be recognized.

I’m not ashamed of how I feel about you.

No, I’m not ashamed of my feelings either,
but why give people ammunition? After all, this might not work out
between us.

She’d been washing her face in the
master bath of his town house and he’d been lying on the bed; he’d
gotten up when she made the remark, stalked over to the bathroom
and grasped her by the arms.
I hate hearing
you talk like that.

Clay, you’ve got to be realistic. Let’s just
see where this goes. Anyway, we can’t publicize our relationship.
People would want to know about me. Then it would come out that I’m
the Street Angel, and I couldn’t do my job.

Because public exposure
would put you in
more
danger.

Clay...stop, please. This kind of
conversation is just pulling us apart.

He’d stopped, mostly because he had no
choice. And he
had
agreed to
be reasonable.

She set a scotch-on-the-rocks in front
of him and sat down at the table with a glass of wine while Rory
worked happily in the dining area off the living room. He was
singing a song from
Seussical
.

Bailey lifted her glass.

“Faol sadl chroi!”
Her face was flushed from the stove heat, with little
tendrils of dark hair curling around her face. It reminded him of
how she looked after sex. At his questioning look she said, “Long
life and happiness.” He shook his head. “What?” she asked, her blue
eyes darkening.

Reaching over, he swiped her lips with
his thumb. “Do you know how
happy
you make me?”

She kissed his hand. “I want to make you
happy.”

“It’s why you cooked this dinner.”

“Yes. I hope you like it.”

He had to clear his throat. Stupid to get
choked up about a silly meal. But Bailey really listened to him,
and she went out of her way to please him with little things like
this. It meant a lot. “I’ll savor every mouthful. Thank you.” He
grazed her lips with his. “You look tired.”

“I am. I was on nights Thursday and Friday at
ESCAPE and Rory woke me at the crack of dawn today.”