A Scandalous Affair Page 6

  Never in his life had he felt so torn. The urge to take her in his arms, feel the softness of her against him, nearly blocked out the fact that once upon a time he’d slept with her sister, carried that one night with him for four years. Did she know? Did it matter to her? And yet, here he was, inches away from her lips, wanting her with an intensity that rocked him. He was afraid. Afraid of what that meant and where this simple kiss would take them.

  And then all at once he tasted her, the shivering sweet sensation of her. He gave in to the tender pull of her mouth against his. Memory faded. It was only the here and now, with Samantha.

  She let go, let the moment seize her, savored it, took and gave, and it was just as she thought it would be, only better.

  An eternity passed, but it was only seconds, seconds that changed everything—and them.

  Chapter 10

  Simone couldn’t sleep. She was sure if she did, she’d dream things she didn’t want to see. Samantha and Chad.

  On more than one occasion during the course of the evening, she’d been halfway to her car en route to Blue Light. After all, she’d been invited. So what if she turned up without a date? That’s the thought that stopped her in her tracks. She’d look like a fool. She’d look desperate. She’d look like she was spying. And if she went she’d be all those things.

  She turned off the television with the remote and the room was enveloped in near darkness, except for the pale light from the sprinkling of stars and the half moon that gleamed outside her window.

  She turned on her side. The digital clock stared back at her. One o’clock. Did he take her home? Did she let him stay?

  “This is crazy,” she mumbled into the room. She was making herself nuts. Whatever was going to be would be and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it. She’d had her chance. She had it the night at her parents’ house. She had it that afternoon in his office. She chose not to take it.

  She could have told him how she felt. She could have told Samantha long ago about her and Chad, even if it was about only that one night. That one glorious night. They’d always shared everything. And this one thing she’d kept to herself would come between them. If she let it.

  Slowly, she sat up. She’d never been one to back away from anything, to pretend things were as they were not. She always confronted her issues head-on. Her father said that was one of her best virtues and key assets. But now, she felt lost—trapped really—between what was in her heart and what was in her head. Reason never wins out when it goes against the unbridled power of the heart. However, she knew that Samantha wanted to pursue a relationship with Chad. To tell her now about their past could ruin whatever chance their relationship may have. And for what? For a man who may or may not still care.

  Leave it alone, her conscience whispered. Let it go. She knew in her heart it was the right thing to do. But could she?

  Samantha knew it was late, nearly two o’clock by the time she settled down for bed. But she was too excited to sleep. Over and over again she relived that first kiss. And though she was no novice in the artifices of men and women, tonight was completely new, truly “the first time.”

  She wanted to call Simone, try to explain to her how glorious she felt, how alive. For so long, her work, her causes, had been what brought a smile to her face, and prompted her heart to race.

  Men, so few and far between, had been mere distractions, not additions to her life. And none could leap the high bar she’d stuck in their path until now.

  Simone would understand. She was certain that her worldly sister would know exactly how she felt, tell her what to do next. Simone and Chad were the ones who’d been close before he went away. “He’s like a brother to me,” she’d often said. “We talk about everything. We’re on the same wavelength.”

  Yes, Simone would understand, share in her joy and calm her fears. But it was now after two o’clock. She sighed, tried to calm that giddy feeling that danced in her tummy. It would have to wait until tomorrow.

  “This is even more widespread than I thought,” Chad said, lines of worry etched across his forehead. “I can’t believe the number of abuses. And these are only your cases.”

  Justin’s jaw clenched. “I know. It’s the tip of the iceberg, Rush. I can’t begin to imagine how many more cases there are in Sam’s files, not to mention the ones that don’t get reported. How do you plan to pull this all together?”

  Chad rubbed his hand across his face. “The hardest part of all this is keeping it as quiet as possible for as long as possible. Secrecy will be the strongest weapon in our arsenal, along with the element of surprise. The last thing we need is to have the police or the government clamp down on us before we get started.”

  “That’s my biggest concern as well.”

  “My first line of approach is to begin to contact these people directly. Have them come into the office, hear the plan and decide for themselves if they want to pursue it.”

  Justin slowly nodded. “Have you gotten Samantha’s files yet?”

  “No. She told me they should be completed by Friday.”

  “Remember what I said, Rush, about Sam and Simone.”

  “Believe me, I have.”

  Justin headed for the door. “If you need any extra help, let me know. I’ll get one of the paralegals to help you.”

  “Thanks, Justin. I appreciate that.”

  “I want this to work just as much as you do. I only want to protect my girls from the fallout as much as possible.”

  Simone sat down at the circular conference table for her weekly staff meeting. The topic, of course, was the mini-uprisings across Washington surrounding the Roderick Fields case. To compound things further, one of the other victims who sustained the head injury wasn’t expected to make it.

  “Reporters have been calling since it happened, Ms. Montgomery,” Pam, her chief of staff, stated. “They’re all waiting for a comment from you, especially since the incident happened in the district you’re running in.”

  Adam Parsons, her speechwriter and campaign manager, slid the statement he’d put together across the table to Simone. Adam and Simone had worked together since their early days of campaigning for the mayor of Atlanta years earlier. When Simone relocated to D.C., she ran into Adam at a housing demonstration. He was writing speeches for corporate honchos and was bored out of his mind, he’d admitted over drinks. “I want to get my teeth into the meat of things, Simone. Write about something that’s going to make a difference, change things somehow.”

  She’d told him about her political aspirations, fueled by her mother and stepfather, and their fate together was sealed. He became her speechwriter, cheering squad and friend. Simone always believed that Adam felt more for her than adoration and camaraderie. She could tell by the way she would catch him looking at her sometimes, or the notes of encouragement, offers of lunch or a single daisy left on her desk when she was feeling overwhelmed or blue.

  Samantha had nudged her repeatedly in Adam’s direction over the years, but Simone wouldn’t budge. She said she could never have a relationship with not only a staff member, but someone who worked for her.

  Simone quickly scanned the two-page document and knew it would be fine before she reached the second paragraph. Adam Parsons hadn’t written a word she’d regretted saying in all the years they’d worked together.

  “Thanks, Adam,” she said, only to him. She tucked the smooth pages into her burgundy leather portfolio. She turned her attention to the group. “We know there’s only so much we can do about the situation. Our goal must remain steady and focused. We still have a campaign to run. Adam will incorporate all of these latest incidents into each and every one of my statements to the media.”

  Pam raised a finger to interrupt. “The latest polls are in and you’re up by another six points!” Pam beamed.

  The gathering at the table applauded and slapped palms on the table. Simone grinned and held up her hands. By degrees, the group simmered down.

 
“Another six percentage points is cool, but Vincent McCall isn’t going to roll over and play dead. There is still some fight in him yet.”

  Her Republican adversary, Vincent McCall, had successfully fended off any and all opponents for the prior two election terms, with some very questionable hardball tactics. His reputation as a determined campaigner and solid debater was renowned and several of his opponents saw their election hopes dashed on the stages with him. He had a strong, die-hard conservative following. He had clout with major businesses throughout the district and the ear of many prominent legislators on Capitol Hill. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be a formidable opponent until the very last vote was counted. He would never throw in the towel.

  However, he’d made one fatal error. In the wake of violence upon the African American community by the police, he’d sided publicly, on national television, with Police Commissioner Herbert Benz within hours of the shooting. He’d stated emphatically that he had unconditional faith in Benz, the police of D.C., and believed they were doing an outstanding job of ridding the district of drugs and crime. “Unfortunately,” he was quoted in the Post as saying, “lives are lost in that process. But those are the casualties of war. And this is a full-out war against crime in no uncertain terms.”

  The toll of innocent victims in the drug war had risen up and slapped him in the face on more than one occasion, but he was too full of pride and his own rightwing rhetoric to back down, and an erosion of his support was beginning to show in the polls.

  “Our main goal,” Simone continued, “is to stay focused on our agenda and not become overly confident because of polls.” She grinned broadly. “And keep those poll numbers rising.” The group shared a laugh of agreement. Simone turned to Pam. “What’s the game plan for the week?”

  Pam cleared her throat and slipped on her glasses. Quickly, she dealt out sheets of paper as deftly as a Vegas casino dealer. The staff followed the list as she recited off each item in her precise Ivy League modulation.

  Simone did a good job of pretending to listen, but her mind had veered off in another direction. She couldn’t help but think about Chad and Samantha. Probably alone together. She knew how silly this obsession of hers was, but she couldn’t seem to get herself together. What nagged her most, she believed, was that she and Chad never really had a chance to see what could have happened between them. Maybe it would have worked and maybe not. But now she’d never know.

  “Well, that’s it,” Pam announced, closing her folder.

  Simone snapped back to her surroundings. “Thanks, Pam,” she mumbled. “Let’s get to work, folks.”

  Adam glanced at her curiously, monitoring the distracted look in her warm eyes. Something was obviously bothering her. He’d never known Simone to sit through a staff meeting without uttering a word. While the staff filed out, Adam lingered behind. He closed the door after the last person left. She didn’t even seem to realize he was there until he spoke.

  “What’s going on with you, Simone? You were paying about as much attention to this as someone listening to the wonders of garbage disposal.”

  The corner of her mouth curved upward before she covered her face in embarrassment. “That bad, huh?” she mumbled from behind her fingers.

  Adam nodded. “Very.” He pulled out a chair from beneath the table, turned it around and straddled it, bracing his arms along the top. “What is it, Simone?” he asked, resting his chin on his folded arms. “You haven’t been yourself in days—totally distracted. Where is your head these days?”

  Simone glanced at him, saw the concern hovering in the light of his doe-brown eyes, the arch of his brows. Yes, she did need to talk with someone, to get her guilt and her jealousy off her chest.

  “I never told you this before,” she began so softly that Adam had to lean forward to hear her. “But…Chad and I had an affair…once.”

  Adam generally prided himself on his ability to keep his expression clear and unreadable. He hoped his poker-playing skills were razor-sharp at the moment.

  “But then he went away and for some reason we didn’t call or write each other. Now he’s back and he’s dating my stepsister,” she rambled on, her words tumbling over themselves. “And I don’t know what to do. I, we, never told anyone what happened between us, and…oh, shit.” Frustrated, she threw her hands up in the air.

  “And you’re upset that Sam is seeing Chad because…” He let the last word hang in the air.

  Simone pushed out a breath and drew her brows tightly together. “Because we…never really had a chance to see what would become of us, if there was anything between us, and now…it’s too late.”

  “What is it that you’re really upset about, Simone, the fact that Sam is seeing Chad and you’re not, or the fact that you really care about him and never told him?”

  “Both!” she snapped, annoyed with herself and pissed with Adam for pointing out the underlying causes of her anguish.

  “Why haven’t you said anything to Samantha—before now? Because you know you can’t say anything at this point.”

  Simone pursed her lips. “I guess at the time I just thought what happened that night was so adult and civilized. Two people who physically wanted each other, no expectations, no explanations.” She sighed. “I didn’t want it to be important enough to talk about. We made no demands on each other. It was what it was.”

  “Maybe it was too important, Simone. Ever think of that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That for all your modern philosophy, it touched a special place in you and you held on to it, not letting it go because it was all that you had. If there was someone else in your life, maybe this whole thing wouldn’t matter so much. And maybe that’s why you’re clinging to the memory of that one night.”

  Simone stared at Adam in amazement. It was as if he’d read her mind—no, her heart. “H-how did you know that?”

  Momentarily he glanced away, but not before Simone glimpsed a flicker of hurt in his eyes.

  “Been there, Simone. I know what it’s like to have someone right within your reach, but you can’t grasp them. Or when the opportunity comes to speak up and say what’s on your mind, you take the politically correct way out. Yeah, I know all about it,” he ended with a slight edge to his voice.

  For a moment Simone wondered if he was talking about her—but she couldn’t allow her ego to lead her down that trail.

  “What did you do about it?” she asked gently.

  “Kept busy.” He chuckled. “It does help. Date other people, and keep my options open. Find a way to put the past in the proper place.”

  She sniffed. “I know you’re right. It’s just so screwed up and emotionally frustrating—especially since he and I…and now… You know what I mean. Why am I telling you all this anyway?” She stood. “I must have totally ruined your impression of me.” She kept her eyes on the desk while she stuffed papers into her folder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that.”

  “Hey, it’s cool. We’re friends, remember?”

  “I just feel so foolish.”

  “Why, because you told me what happened?”

  “Yes. Here I am acting like an airheaded teen suffering from puppy love, and I want to run for higher office. What would my voters think?” She laughed, that hollow laugh that comes from the pit of emptiness.

  “You’re human, Simone. Flesh and blood, someone with feelings. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not a bad thing. We all have ’em.”

  She put on her political face and straightened. “Not me,” she announced. “Feelings are too much trouble. They get in the way of thinking. But thanks for listening, anyway.” She grabbed her portfolio, tucked it under her arm and walked out, leaving the door standing partially open.

  Chapter 11

  “Ms. Montgomery, there’s a call for you on line one,” Mia said.

  Samantha barely looked up from her notes and instinctively reached for the phone on her right.

  �
��How can I help you?”

  “Sam, it’s me, Chad.”

  Upon hearing his distinctive voice, her whole body seemed to relax and a slow smile of pleasure moved sensuously across her mouth.

  Mia grinned knowingly and slipped back out of the room.

  “Is this business or pleasure, sir?”

  “At the moment, it’s business, but it doesn’t have to stay that way.”

  “In that case, get the tough stuff out of the way first so that we can move on to more…pleasant things.”

  “Samantha Montgomery, if Vaughn and Justin could hear you,” he teased.

  “Ha! My father and stepmother could probably teach me a thing or two,” she said, laughing.

  “I won’t touch that one.”

  “And on that note—what’s on your mind?”

  “I was hoping I could stop by your office later today and start reviewing some of your cases.”

  “We’re ahead of you on that. Mia’s already taken care of it. They’re being entered into a separate database even as we speak.”

  His dark eyes widened in surprise and admiration. “Great. I’m impressed.”

  “Hey, this is no mom-and-pop operation around here, brother,” she joked.

  “So I see.”

  “Come by whenever you’re ready.”

  “How’s three?”

  “No problem. I’ll make sure you’ll have whatever you need.”

  “Thanks, Sam. I’ve gone through Justin’s cases and compiled a list.”

  “Bring them with you. We can add them to the computer file. That way everything will be in one location.”

  “Your staff won’t mind?”

  “Of course not. It’s part of the job. Besides, we want this to work as much as you do.”

  “Then I’ll be there.”

  “And what about afterward?” she hedged, leaning back in her seat.