The Candidate's Affair (9 page)

“Tell me where we could go if you could pick any place in the world.” He ran his fingers through my hair, letting it fall on my shoulders. We were tangled around each other on his living room floor, our clothes scattered across the furniture.

I thought about my standard answer: Europe. He didn’t want standard. “I’ve never been to New Zealand. I think we should try it. Have you been?”

“Nope. Actually, I wanted to hike the Outback when I was in college, but I never made it. I ended up clerking for a judge that summer.”

“Would it sound completely nerdy if I said I always wanted to go to the Hobbit set?”

He laughed. “I like nerdy.”

We spent afternoons that way and some nights. Spencer started spending one night a week in Columbia at the request of the partners. He said the deal to acquire the smaller firm was about to close. He could feel it. If he brought them in as another department, it would add millions in revenue. The Columbia firm specialized in land litigation, something that was lacking in Spencer’s office.

I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t want one. Feeling the newness unleashed in me, Paxton pushed me for more. I told myself I could say no at any time. I could break things off and return to my old life, but he knew I didn’t want it. I craved him. I needed how he made me feel. That was the addiction. He fed it every time I crawled into his bed. Only, I left hung over, starving for more.

I tried not to compare them. They were different men—my husband and my lover. However, there where glimpses of life when I was with Paxton that made me wonder what it would be like to be his wife. Would we stay this impassioned, or would we fall into our own set of habits? Did he even want to get married again?

He kept a picture of Sarah on his dresser. I would casually turn it facedown when I walked into the room, before I shared a bed with her husband. I was the only cheater in this relationship, but I didn’t want to see her face while I slept skin to skin with the man she had loved. It eased my conscious with the frame flat against the dresser.

I think if it had been only sex I could have ended it when school started again, but I was feeling attachment and devotion to Paxton. He didn’t ask for it. He only asked for my time. Occasionally, he wanted my take on an upcoming speech he had to give. Sometimes he would ask for my perspective on Hughes, since he thought we were more politically aligned. And he wanted my body. God, how he wanted me.

School started in another week. There were a few scheduled teacher workdays before the students returned. For the first time, I was dreading it.

I didn’t want to give up my summer hobby. Things would be more difficult. I didn’t know how I would have time to see Paxton. I kept telling myself we would find a way. He would make sure there was a way.

Tonight was the last of Spence’s overnight trips to Columbia. He told me we would go out this weekend to celebrate the acquisition. This visit was more of a formality, he explained. He was taking the partners out for drinks then dinner at a steak house.

It sounded stuffy. I offered to tagalong, but he assured me it was business-only, no spouses. I didn’t protest.

I quickly texted Paxton.

Need some company?

I picked up the pink shopping bag from the mall I had stashed in the back of my closet under my winter boots.

Only you.

I rubbed the satin laces that barely held the bits of sheer fabric together. I had never bought lingerie before. My friends had given me the usual prank basket of sex toys and tacky accessories at my bachelorette party. I had never even attempted to attach the set of fringe tassels. Spence liked me in T-shirts, or whatever P.J. set I threw on.

What I was holding in my hand was different from those silly gifts. It was intentional and carefully chosen. Chosen for Paxton. I held it in front of me, picturing his devouring eyes peeling it off my body. Maybe he would want to leave it on. I stuffed it back in the bag and tossed my overnight bag over my shoulder.

On my way.

I smelled garlic as soon as I let myself in the kitchen. Paxton was standing by the stove, an apron tied around his waist.

“You cook?”

He laughed. “I can do a lot of things.”

“Yes, you can.” I ran my fingers along his neck. “What are we having?”

“I thought I would treat you to my famous shrimp pasta.”

“Mmm. Sounds yummy.”

He whisked the shrimp around the stir fry pan. “Want some wine?” he asked.

“Yep.” I pulled a chilled bottle from the fridge. “How did the interview go today?” I struggled with the cork.

He rubbed the back of his neck. I knew by now that was the first sign he wasn’t as relaxed as he wanted me to think. The apron made him look playful, but the weight of the campaign was suffocating him.

“Hughes is cutting me off at every turn. I don’t know how he did it, but he fed the reporter all kinds of accusations. It was like I showed up to a firing squad, not a feature piece on my softer side. This was supposed to be a complete fluff piece, not this bullshit.”

“That bad? Was there something new?” I handed him a cold glass of wine.

“A lot of the same. Something new. But I know why he’s doing it.”

“Why is that?” My feet dangled over the counter. I liked watching him in the kitchen.

“The poll numbers came out yesterday. I’m ahead two points.”

“You are? That’s great!”

He added more shrimp to the pan. “It is, except now the mudslinging is really going to start. He’s not going down without a fight. He’s had that office so long I think he convinced himself no one else has a right to sit in it. It’s time things change in the senate.”

“What were the accusations? There can’t be anything new on you.”

“There’s a girl I dated in college. She says I got her pregnant.”

“What?”

He turned the gas off the stove, finally turning to face me. “My senior year at the Citadel, I met someone.”

“But I thought you and Sarah were college sweethearts.” We didn’t talk about her, but my quick online search the day we met gave me the basic rundown.

“We were.” He swallowed half the glass of wine. “But there was a time around the holidays when we weren’t sure where things were going.”

“And you slept with someone else?” I tried to keep the judgment out of my voice. It seeped in through every syllable.

“It sounds bad. It looks bad. But Sarah wanted to break up and we didn’t spend Christmas together that year. I took a ski trip with some buddies and I hooked up with this girl at the resort. It was over with her before the semester started. Sarah changed her mind, we got back together, and I never told her. I didn’t see the point in hurting her.”

“And this ski girl is just now coming forward?”

“She has never contacted me. Never. I don’t know how Hughes’s people dug her up. I don’t even know if it’s her.”

“And the baby?”

He shook his head. “That’s the part that’s maddening. They’re claiming I helped pay for her to have an abortion against her family’s wishes. I strong-armed her into keeping quiet and paid her to keep the secret from the press and Sarah. They have pictures of her leaving a clinic.”

“Oh my God.” I jumped off the counter. “This will destroy your campaign.”

“The reporter is holding the story for me until the weekend, but then it’s going to be front page news in Sunday’s paper.”

“You seem awfully calm about this. Shouldn’t you be out digging up proof? Trying to track this woman down?”

“I have people who do that for me. There’s really nothing I can do. I denied the accusations. Now it’s up to my team to smother the story. I’m lucky my dad owns a large share of the publishing company.”

“So that’s the reason she’s holding it? Not because she’s giving you a chance to prove your innocence?” I asked. “She owes your family a favor.”

“There’s always an angle.”

I don’t know why I was disappointed. I guess I had hoped the reporter believed there was information that would clear Pax’s name and make running the story unethical.

“If you need to handle this tonight, I understand. We can take a rain check.” There wouldn’t be another night like this anytime soon, but I offered anyway.

“No.” He planted a kiss on my mouth, the taste of wine lingered on our lips. “I have people. They will take care of it. We need tonight. I need you tonight.” His eyes flared.

“There isn’t any part of you that wonders if there was a baby? Or is a baby?” I didn’t know why I kept pushing the issue. He should be more upset.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it’s possible, but what am I going to do about it now? I don’t know her name. My family has led a public life. If she needed help, she could have tracked me down years ago. I just don’t buy it.”

He took my face between his palms. “This is the dirty side of politics. People fabricate stories. They try to tear you down. They don’t stop until you’re destroyed.”

“Then why are you doing this? Why put yourself through it?”

“Because I can take it. I don’t have skeletons in my closet.” He stepped away to pour the noodles in a colander in the sink.

I cleared my throat. It was ironic really. I was in his kitchen, watching him cook a meal for us. Me, a married woman. Him, the widower. And after we finished the meal and drank the last drops of wine, I would put on the scraps of black fabric for him. We probably wouldn’t make it out of the kitchen. I’d let him take me on the table or the counter. My skin prickled thinking about him pressing against me. But he didn’t think of us as an affair. We weren’t a piece of dirty laundry his opponent could unearth. Paxton was either naïve or more arrogant than I admitted.

“Do you think you’ll seek another office after you win the election?”

“I plan on it. And I like that attitude. You’ve come a long way since our first talk on education.”

“You know I’m going to vote for you.”

“You better.” He rubbed his thumb along my lower lip.

“What other office? What’s your next campaign?”

“Well, this isn’t public knowledge.” There was an assortment of cheeses he started grating.

“I think I’ve proven I can keep a secret,” I teased.

“That you have.” He wiped his hands on the apron and picked up the spice canisters, reading each label. He was precise in the kitchen. “There are experts on political projections. We’ve brought in a few. I’ve had some meetings, and we’re starting to set our sights on the governor’s office.”

“You want to be the governor of South Carolina?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.”

Paxton was an attorney, or at least he had a law degree, but he never discussed cases. He was a professional politician. Groomed and molded for the role. But governor. Governor was influential and powerful. It sounded ambitious, but if he wanted it, I knew it would be his. He was the kind of man who got what he wanted.

“I’m not. I think you would make an excellent governor. A sexy one at that.” I winked.

He abandoned the pasta and walked toward me, brushing his lips over mine. “Are you implying I’ll only make it to the governor’s mansion because of my sex appeal?”

I inhaled deeply. “Something like that.” I waited for the kiss to leave me breathless.

His finger outlined my throat. “That sounds rather sexist.”

“How does it feel?” I tilted my chin forward.

His eyes rested on my mouth. “Are you trying to bait me into a discussion on how women are objectified in politics and men aren’t?”

I studied him, his dark bedroom eyes, the squareness of his jaw, the way his lips always seemed to be ready to smile.

“Oh, I think you’ll be objectified plenty.” I let a giggle slip.

“Is that so?”

He swiveled on his heels and returned to arranging the plates, leaving my un-kissed lips feeling heavy.

“You know everyone in book club is going to vote for you.” I hopped off the counter and refilled my wineglass. “All I hear from them is how
amazing
Paxton Tanner is.”

“I’d like to think it’s because I have a strong stance on women’s issues.” His brow furrowed. “I’ve really been pushing wage increases in every county.”

“Pax, you know I’m playing with you.” I squeezed his shoulder.

I wanted to turn the conversation to something lighter. I sensed he was stressed about the Hughes situation, although he was trying not to let it interfere with our evening. I didn’t need him to convince me he would fight for women’s rights.

“The issues matter the most to people, not how hot you look on a magazine cover.”

“Hot?” he asked.

“Yes. I can say you’re hot.”

He chuckled. “Votes are votes I guess.”

“They are. You’re always telling me it doesn’t matter how you get there, just as long as you do. You’ll show all those women you can help them from the senate seat.” I paused. “Or from the governor’s office.”

He grinned. “I like how you say that.”

I don’t know why I blushed. I felt like I had navigated him around the edge of a cliff, and I was proud. I made him smile.