The Candidate (Romantic Suspense) (The Candidate Series) (6 page)

All he could think about was the fact that he’d fucked his candidate’s sister-in-law. 

And after being on the job, like, what—
an hour?

Granted, that wasn’t as bad as screwing a candidate’s wife. 

Yeah, just keep telling yourself that...

There was a separate background file on Abby, just as thick as Andy’s. She and Maddy had been born into one of America’s wealthiest aristocratic families, which meant that every offshoot of the Vandergalen family tree had been documented in society columns from Newport Beach to Palm Beach, not to mention the numerous profiles in
Fortune
and
Town & Country
.

Ben closed out the other files, and clicked through it page by page. The birth of the twins, to F. Bradford Vandergalen IV and his stately blond wife, the former Margaret “Missy” Alcott—Preston’s only niece—was heralded in a
Washingtonian
article. An accompanying photo showed a strapping pretty boy. Platinum buzz cut. Steel hinge jaw. A tow-headed baby cradled on each strapping bicep. Except for the beehive, his wife was the spitting image of Abby. She sat at his loafered feet and looked up adoringly at her bronzed Adonis. Doing the math, Ben figured out that they’d been married exactly nine months to the day prior to the blessed births and rolled his eyes at that coincidence. 

Another photo, taken at a charity Easter egg hunt, showed the golden-haired twins, now six, dressed in identical lace pinafores and white patent leather baby janes. Their arms were entwined and their smiles showed that each was missing two front teeth. The only telltale difference between them was the tiny dot to the left of Maddy’s lip. 

In a picture taken when they were eleven, the girls were thin, gawky, and wearing glasses. Still identically attired—albeit in the uniforms from the all-girl prep school, Ashcroft Academy—they wore their hair in similar chin-length pageboys. Clowning around, one leapfrogged over the other. Which was Maddy? He couldn’t tell. 

In the next picture they were fifteen. It was at the joint funeral of their parents, after a fatal automobile accident. The twins were mirror images: black reefers and wide-brimmed hats, their shoulders weighted under a mantle of grief. Apparently the photographer couldn’t tell them apart either because the caption labeled them “the Vandergalen twins.” A much younger Preston, with dark hair that had grayed only slightly at the temples, stood on their right, his face set in a stoic grimace. Beside him was a woman—younger, and with the same aquiline features. Ben presumed she was his sister. The accompanying article confirmed this: “The girls now reside with their great aunt, Phoebe Lavinia Alcott, at Asquith Hall, the Alcott ancestral estate, in rural Virginia.”

By the time their high school graduation pictures were taken, the girls looked radically different from each other: The doe-eyed Abby had held onto her glasses and her gawkiness, but now it was coupled with a grim sadness. The caption beneath the photo said: “Next stop: Sarah Lawrence, as an art history major.” 

Whereas she’d stayed at Ashcroft, Maddy, now kohl-eyed, raven-haired, and sporting rings in her brow and nose, had somehow ended up at Occoquan’s local public high school. A tight, white t-shirt, sheer enough to expose a black low-cut push-up bra, had replaced the staid school uniform. Her eyes, no longer shielded by glasses, pierced the camera with blatant defiance. 

And they were the same startling blue hue as Abby’s.

She wears contacts now, thought Ben. It makes the transition complete. For whatever reason, she doesn’t want to be a twin. Or at least, she doesn’t want to be Abby’s twin. 

He could imagine why. Abby would always be the good girl.  

Chapter 10

At first he tried to convince himself that he had nothing to worry about. It had been a one-night stand, nothing more. Otherwise she would have left him some way to get in touch with her. And so what if, somewhere down the line, they ran into each other. Hell, she probably wouldn’t even remember him...

Fat chance. Even if the twins weren’t as close as they once were, one thing was sure: Maddy was still close enough to Abby to attend a big fundraiser in her brother-in-law’s honor. And if that were the case, then odds were she’d already boasted to Abby about her latest conquest: Andy’s new political consultant. 

And considering Andy’s true blue nature, Ben would be back out on the street.

That thought made his skin crawl. 

You’re being paranoid. Of course she’ll keep her mouth shut. And if not, cross that bridge when you come to it.

He worked until midnight, then flopped into bed, exhausted. He tried not to think about it, but Maddy filled his dreams.

The vision seemed real enough, caught there in the moonlight streaming through his bedroom window. The sight of her took his breath away. Not because she was naked, but because she was so beautiful, even more than he remembered.

Only when she grazed his lips with hers did he truly believe she was there with him.

 “How did you get in?” He should have been cross. Certainly not aroused and aching.

She laughed that husky, honeyed chuckle that made his groin ache in anticipation every time he heard it. “Silly Ben! Everyone leaves a key under the mat. Or, like you, above the door sill.” She dangled his key playfully then tossed it to him before sliding under the sheet next to him, cuddling up to his chest.

Angrily, he sat up. With all he wanted to say to her, all he could manage to stammer out was: “So…you’re
her
twin? Why didn’t you tell me?”

That had her laughing. “I was wondering when you’d find out.” The sheet drifted off her breast as she propped herself up on one elbow. “I guess because it doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Just what do you mean by that? For Christ sakes, you’re Andy’s sister-in-law, and I’m running his campaign! Look, Maddy, if I had known—”

“What? What would you have done? Would you have quit fucking me, Ben?”

My candidate’s sister-in-law? Yeah, I would have quit—

Hell no. Who am I kidding? 

Not Maddy. The look on her face told him so. God, he wanted her even now.

As if reading his mind she reached down and put her hand on his crotch. 

He almost exploded. 

She smiled triumphantly. 

As badly as he wanted to take her right then and there, he grabbed her wrist and yanked it away. “What, are you crazy? Let’s not forget that I can lose my job over this little incident of mistaken identity! What if Preston, or Paul—or God forbid,
your sister
—had seen us making out in the lobby—“

“What if they had seen you, practically raping me in the elevator?” She pressed a long tapered finger to her lips in mock shock. “Frankly, I think they would have been jealous.”

“This is no laughing matter, Maddy.” He closed his eyes to clear his mind of the image that had popped into it: his hand, tearing at the seam of Maddy’s red velvet gown as it made its way to the warm thigh beneath it. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that—well, this isn’t going to work out.”
And no one is sadder about that than me.

“You’re wrong. It works perfectly, because neither of us wants this relationship to go public. And it shouldn’t. Ben, seriously, it has nothing to do with anyone but us. That is, if we want to stay fuck buddies.”

Fuck buddies
. Ben couldn’t believe his ears. Keeping it on the lowdown, with no obligations, no drama? Tantalizing...

“Interesting proposition. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but do you mind me telling why you don’t want anyone to know about us?”

“Because it’s no one else’s business. Ben, you have no idea what it’s like to be a Vandergalen. The one thing I want more than anything—anonymity—I can’t have, because of my name. Frankly, that’s why you and I are perfect for each other. And not just in the obvious way.” She cast her eyes lovingly at his cock. “Besides, Andy needs you on his team. Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I want that for him—and for Abby? If he wins, we all do. So let’s just keep things spontaneous. You know, friends with benefits. It’s more fun that way, isn’t it?”

 “But don’t you think it’ll be somewhat awkward when we run into each other at his political events? I know it will be for me.”

“You know better than anyone what Andy’s schedule will be like, from now until the end of primaries. Look, I’ll make it easy for you. I just won’t go to any.” Her face hardened. “Abby won’t expect me there, anyway. We aren’t that close. We lead very different lives.” 

The pictures in Kenny’s file were proof of that. 

Ben sighed. Seriously, if they both kept their mouths shut, what was the downside? In hindsight, it was flattering to think that she was the one trying to keep their relationship under wraps so that his job wouldn’t be jeopardized—

But he knew better than that. Whatever her reasons were, he couldn’t fathom them now, not with her hands roaming between his thighs, cupping his balls...

By the time she knelt down and took him in her mouth, he could care less about her reason for secrecy. He had already forgiven her. 

Chapter 11

“I just
looooove
that man,” cooed the legs-up-to-there single-mommy Bally’s showgirl to her much shorter gal pal, the croupier from the MGM Grand. “Deep down in my heart, I truly believe that we’ll finally get universal healthcare if he’s elected.”

Her friend shushed her loudly. But Ben, who was standing just behind the women, gave a silent prayer of thanks. And they weren’t the only ones enthralled with what they were hearing from Senator Andrew Jackson Mansfield at the candidate’s town hall meeting there in the Clark County Library’s large theater. Ben flipped through the 399 reservation profile cards so that he could match names and occupations to those who sat in the seat numbers around the two women. The faces that went with the cards he chose—five self-employeds, three housewives, and a long distance trucker—were also nodding involuntarily as they leaned forward to catch each inspiring word.

Because Andy Mansfield was on fire.

Like a Baptist preacher at a revival meeting, Andy’s voice, nuanced with compassion, filled the auditorium with the strength of his conviction. “In recent years, my friends, we have witnessed drastic changes—affecting our jobs, our environment, and our personal lives.”

Without missing a beat, he took the cordless microphone with him as he strolled off the stage in order to pace up and down the broad aisle that divided the auditorium. “But while the world changes around us, our leaders have stood still. Answer this: Which leaders inspire our nation and lead us to the good deeds that need to be done? We have seen Washington grow small-minded and mean-spirited as our politics have devolved and our goals have dissolved. But of course it doesn’t have to be this way.” 

He then paused in front of a young couple. Taking their hands in his own, he nudged them to rise so that they stood with him. “But real change comes from
people
. Citizens like you, and like me, who demand more of government, and who recognize that educating our children and securing the benefits of modern healthcare for rich and poor alike are of greater importance than the politics of greed and personal gain.” 

Victoriously, he raised their hands high. “With me as your president, you’ll have the government you deserve.” The whole room rose, clapping and hooting, and Ben along with it. The crowd’s adoration was contagious. 

Listen to them, Ben thought. If the primaries were held today, he’d win. No contest.

“You’re some lucky dog, ain’t you now? Your man there is pure gold.” The good ol’ boy growling into Ben’s earpiece was Eddie Klein, the renowned ad man. The very first person recruited by Ben for Team Mansfield, Ed had come with a couple of cameramen to tape some man-of-the-people crowd shots. From them he would mold the senator’s vision into simple market-specific soundbites, and see that the public was hit over the head with it every time they turned on their TV or logged onto their computers. 

Ben looked up to the control booth above and behind the audience, and gave Eddie a thumbs-up. Hell yeah, Andy was golden. A god among men.

And he’d soon be the next President of the United States.

In a whirlwind six days—just in time for Ben and Andy’s first eleven-city road trip together—Ben had hobbled together a fairly decent staff that included twenty-five paid professionals, plus another ten volunteers. Besides Eddie for advertising and Kenny for background and due diligence, there was Jilly O’Connor, a seasoned press secretary whose blunt honesty kept her on the good side of reporters and pundits.

And there was Spike Levine, the pollster who had revolutionized the industry when he took registration-based sampling one step further by marrying it to a software program that searched voters’ credit card charges for items reflecting hot button issues such as healthcare, education, gun control, gasoline, and philanthropies, giving his polls an accuracy level of plus-or-minus one percent. 

Ben had also wrangled retired Air Force Major General Carver Elson, and former Secretary of State John Parks, as Andy’s foreign-policy advisers. Elson would rally other high profile experts into a fluid advisory team that would always be at the senator’s fingertips. Parks joined Mansfield’s road show. An A-Team of economic advisors was also set up, including economists, former CEOs of various financial institutions, even a former Secretary of the Treasury. They all had one thing in common: they abhorred Talbot’s neocon-driven agenda. “His BS is dividing the party, and putting our soldiers in harm’s way unnecessarily,” growled Elson.

Of course Paul Twist was the campaign’s finance chair. And he had already hired Terry Loehman to spearhead the big-ticket fundraisers in key markets. Terry was to be aided by his longtime partner Pat, a professional event planner. Both had Ben’s admiration.

The biggest recruiting coup was convincing the renowned Mallory sisters, Bess and Tess, to run Mansfield’s ground war: that is, organize and rally the senator’s national volunteer corps by precincts, districts and states. But Ben could take no credit for that win. Democratic stalwarts through and through, initially they had declined his invitation to hop the fence. What it took was a one-on-one meeting with Andy. After hearing his heartfelt no-holds-barred pitch, they readily jumped onboard.