The Candidate (Romantic Suspense) (The Candidate Series) (11 page)

He swallowed hard. Obviously he’d hit a nerve. “They’re—or at least they seem to be soul mates.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“It’s not just how they look, or act, together. It’s the way he talks about her.” 

Nonchalantly she wrote in 14 Across. “Oh yeah? What exactly does he say?”

Fuck it. In for a dime, in for a dollar
. “That she keeps him on the straight and narrow. That he’s running because of her. That she’s his angel.”

“His angel, eh? How very sweet.” 

There was edge to her voice, but he didn’t care. In fact, it egged him on, to make his case. “It’s not just that. Look at all she’s going through for him—”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“All the infertility shots! You know...” But it was obvious by the look on her face that she didn’t. “Shit! I just assumed that she and you—well, never mind. Damn. She certainly knows how to keep a secret.”

“I’m glad one of you does.” The topic must have been boring her, because she went back to her puzzle. “I wonder what Andy thinks of all that.”

“He doesn’t know. She hasn’t told him.” Ben wanted to add,
Those are the kind of sacrifices you make when you’re in love.
Instead, he kept his mouth shut. “But if he found out, I imagine he’d be ecstatic.” 

Personally, and politically. A pregnancy would be another plus for the campaign. Besides making for great press, it would reaffirm the senator’s youthfulness, as opposed to Talbot’s. Hey, it worked for John and Jackie, right?

She shrugged. “Well Ben, I won’t tell him, if you don’t. Out of respect for my sister. But as to whether or not I’ll be your Abby, forget about it. I’m no angel. And whatever you presume they have isn’t what I want to have with you. I like things just the way they are.” She turned back to her puzzle. “But I’ll tell you what: I’ll give serious consideration about taking our relationship public.”

“Sounds good to me. But why the change of heart?”

“I guess I’m tired of the way things are. It’s time to shake things up.”

I hear you. 

Chapter 23

A week later Maddy showed up at a Mansfield campaign rally, in Annapolis. “To support Abby” is how she put it, but in fact, Abby had been detained at a radio interview in Baltimore. That was okay. Mansfield was on fire, the crowd was stoked, and both Maddy and Ben were high on the vibe. So high that when Mansfield finished his speech and the crowd gave him a standing ovation, Ben absently kissed Maddy—

And she didn’t pull away.

Until they both realized that Abby was staring at them. 

Slowly she started toward them. But then something, or someone, caught her attention. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost standing behind them. 

Ben turned around to see Andy glad-handing his way through the dense mob that enveloped him. The senator hadn’t seen them yet. Abby must’ve realized that too. Stiffly she nodded, but turned and threaded her way through the crowd until she was at her husband’s side, nudging him, oh so subtly, in the opposite direction. 

Ben looked at Maddy. “What the hell just happened?”

Maddy didn’t seem at all shocked by Abby’s reaction. “Poor Ben! I guess our little family reunion didn’t go exactly the way you pictured it...Hey, don’t be so sad! Wow, I do believe you’ll truly miss me.” 

Abby’s summons came the next day: a handwritten invitation for brunch the following Sunday. 

Quite pointedly, she requested that he come alone.

He would not have shown it to Maddy, but she’d arrived at his apartment before him. Having scooped up the mail that had fallen through the front door slot, of course she recognized her sister’s handwriting.

But unlike Ben, she was not convinced that Abby’s anger would blow over.

That didn’t faze him. “Even if it doesn’t, what does it matter? She doesn’t have a say as to whom I see. Or whom you see, either, for that matter.”

“You’ve said it yourself: He listens to her. So, if you don’t drop me, you’ll be out of a job.” Maddy shrugged. “Ben, every family has its black sheep. In ours, I’m it. Believe me, I knew this day would come for us. Let’s just take our lumps and move on.”

“Andy needs me just as much as I need him. And we respect each other. Andy will be happy for us. And he’ll help Abby put it into perspective. You’ll see.”

She didn’t say another word. Not that she had to. Her love play, fierce and tender both, said it all.

Afterward he didn’t remember closing his eyes, but when he opened them again the room was filled with sunlight, his cell phone was buzzing, and Maddy, his sweet Maddy, was nowhere to be found. 

He did find her note, however, which she’d left on her pillow:

Goodbye, Lancelot. —Maddy

What?...That’s it? Hell no.
No way...

The cell’s buzz brought him to life. Was it Maddy? He grabbed it.

 “Hi, Mr. Brinker, this is Tasha Sullivan with the
Washington Post
. Can you give me a quote on a story I’m doing about Senator Mansfield—”

“
What?
—No! I’m...” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. He snapped the phone shut. 

Blinded with anger, he hurled it at the wall. 

Fuck Maddy. And fuck Abby, for ruining what I shared, finally, with Maddy.

When he calmed down enough to pick it up and open it, he was surprised to hear the reporter still on the other end. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked hesitantly.

He sighed. “Nah. Couldn’t be more perfect. So, what’s up?” 

Chapter 24

“Ah, Ben! Welcome!” Abigail Mansfield’s false cheeriness barely hid the slight quiver in her voice. 

She had rushed to answer the door as opposed to letting Andy get it. It was her one rule with Andy that, whenever he was not on the road, Sunday was to be their one day off. No one was in the house, not even the maid. 

Andy’s usual Sunday routine was to jog after church. That would have given her all the time she needed to read Ben the riot act and allow him to collect himself before Andy came home. But as it turned out, Andy had been on the phone with Sukie since the moment they returned from early morning services. She’d apologized for interrupting their Sunday, but had something urgent to tell him about some senate bill he was sponsoring. His being there when Ben showed up wasn’t the ideal scenario, but Abby would have to make do.

No matter. Ben would see it her way, or else.

Civility dictated that Ben be smiling, that he should say something pleasant back to her, shake her extended hand warmly and sincerely. She was, after all, the wife of his employer. And besides, they’d become friends, too. At least, she’d thought so. Two road warriors fighting the same cause, protecting the same precious cargo:

The reputation of the future president of the United States. 

But no. Ben’s posture was stiff, his nod curt. He stared back at her with cold, cruel eyes. He didn’t smile as much as bare his teeth, as if to dare her to try her best to change his mind.

About Maddy.

Abby was the enemy now. That much she knew. 

All because of Maddy.

But Abby knew full well the extent of the emotional damage Maddy could cause. Maddy’s disregard for her own reputation, her own safety, had been a sore subject between the sisters for some time now. No, it was up to her to make Ben Brinker aware of what his involvement with her careless, petulant sister could cost them. There could be no other alternative. 

And if Ben wasn’t smart enough to see her point, she’d have no choice but to ask Andy to dismiss him immediately. It would mortify her to bring it up to him—

But she’d have to, because there was too much at stake. 

Well, enough already. I refuse to let her sully Andy, too. To let her ruin all our lives. 

Abby led Ben into the living room, watching out of the corner of her eye as he took in every detail of its décor: the expensive antiques, their formality offset by a couple of shabby chic settees; the deep molding surrounding the tray ceiling; and the coffee urn and the glass pitcher of orange juice that shared a silver tray on the coffee table with Wedgwood cups and saucers and three beveled tumblers. 

Built-in bookshelves shared the walls with formal paintings that were both expensive and original. Ben lingered over one, a winter landscape by William Sidney Mount.

So he has good taste. Well, that’s a step up from Maddy’s previous lovers, thought Abby. Who was it last time? The Hell’s Angel? No wait, that Neanderthal was several boyfriends ago. Her most recent breakup had been with the rabid
Mother Jones
reporter. Or was it the sadistic Russian diplomat?

Somewhere among all these losers had been the quote-unquote art consultant who was fronting the mob’s cocaine distribution to primarily well-heeled Washington party animals. Uncle Preston’s way of dealing with that potential media scandal was to become the majority stockholder in the tabloid newspaper about to break that juicy little story. 

Maddy’s response was to laugh when she heard about it. “Deduct the stock from my inheritance,” was her blithe response to him.

Uncle Preston was right: Maddy’s tarnish was something the Alcott and Vandergalen names—let alone her brother-in-law’s presidential campaign—could ill afford, and he was under the assumption he’d made that quite clear to her.

Apparently he hadn’t. Well, Abby was going to spell it out to Ben. Maddy’s shenanigans were the last thing Andy—or his campaign manager—needed.

“—I think we can get Collins Snowe and Ayotte Spencer to co-sponsor. And since we want bi-partisan ownership, put out feelers to Barbara Boxer and Al Franken—” Andy’s voice floated out to them from the adjoining room, the Mansfields’ library. 

Abby shrugged apologetically. “Sorry about that. The Veterans’s Benefits bill. He may be on the phone for a while.” She pointed to the pitcher. “Andy likes mimosas. Will you join me in having one?”

“Sure, why not?” Ben didn’t even bother turning around when he answered. 

His casual tone irritated her. Couldn’t he sense the turmoil he’d caused her? 

Well, that’s par for the course, for someone who’s dating Maddy. 

Only when Abby handed him a tumbler of the spiked juice did he turn toward her to give her a dismissive nod before plopping himself down casually onto her favorite Duncan Phyfe settee.

But he said nothing at all.

As if daring her to speak first.

You son of a bitch.

 With as much control as she could muster, she set her face into a smile. “So, this thing—this ‘relationship’ you have with Maddy: Is it serious?” 

 “Yeah. I love her. She’s the one.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it broke her heart.

 “Ah, I see.” She took a deep breath. “I’d like to ask you a favor. I’d—I’d like to ask you to leave her alone.”

 “I don’t understand.”

“You’ll just have to take my word for it that it won’t work out. Not for you, anyway.” 

“With all due respect, I don’t think that’s up to you to say. It’s between Maddy and me.” Seeing her look of disbelief, he paused. “Listen, Abby, I can just imagine what you’re thinking: that I’m not good enough for your sister—”

“No! No—that’s not it at all.” Her anxiety came out in staccato stutters. “Ben, it’s not you. It’s Maddy. She’s—well, she’s trouble.” She sighed as she closed her eyes. 

“Granted, yeah, Maddy’s a handful. Obviously she’s been a bit wild in the past. I’m guessing she went through a couple of rough relationships. Something you’ve obviously been spared. But—”

“
A handful?
No, you don’t understand! She’s done this before, this little game. Trust me, Ben, I’m telling you that—that
you don’t mean anything to her.
” The words stuck in her throat. “As for me being ‘spared,’ how dare you presume—” 

She stopped short, perhaps because she was revealing too much; or perhaps because of the pitying look on Ben’s face. 

Then, as a final plea: “Ben, please believe me: this could cause Andy a great deal of—”

“Abby, get real! What does Maddy’s relationship with me have to do with Andy? We’re all grown-ups here. We’ve all made mistakes. But we can’t live in the past.” Ben shook his head adamantly. “Hell, I thought that you of all people would be happy for us.”

Her stomach twisted into a large, hard knot. To stifle the urge to slap the snide smirk off his face, she picked up the heavy pitcher again to pour a glass for herself, but she was so angry that her hand trembled, and the pitcher tilted precariously. 

Instinctively Ben put his hand over hers. But instead of steadying her, his touch had the opposite effect. The heat from his strong thick fingers shocked her so. 

Without thinking, she turned her hand at an angle and the juice cascaded out of the glass and into one of the teacups. 

Mortified, Abby mumbled an apology as she frantically sopped up the mess with one of the napkins. But instead of moving his hand away, he grasped hers even tighter. She couldn’t fight the urge to look into his eyes: 

His sad, sad eyes.