A Different Light (43 page)

For a moment she forgot that she was the elected mayor of the city and that she was in the middle of a hallway at City Hall jammed with reporters. Their fingers instinctively entwined, and neither made an effort to disengage from this small, unexpected connection. When she met his eyes, he did not avert his gaze as had become his habit.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Moran.” The photographer from the
Woodside Herald
approached her from behind. Quentin juggled his binder up under his arm and the spell was broken, their fingers sliding apart. “We’d like a picture with you and Councilmen Fallon and Konstantos.”

Athen turned to the camera, smiling as she stood between the two councilmen. When she turned back, Quentin was gone.

 26 

Good Lord, Meg, the only thing I’ve ever worn that was cut this low was a nightgown.”

Athen stood in the dressing room of the upscale boutique Meg had dragged her to, and tugged at the front of the gown the saleswoman had brought her.

“Leave it alone.” Meg slapped at Athen’s fingers. “You’re throwing off the lines of the dress.”

Meg stood back to assess the fit. “It’s perfect, Thena. Gorgeous. The color is perfect. The dress is perfect. Oh, and with your mother’s garnet necklace …”

“I don’t know, Meg.” Athen shook her head uncertainly. “It shows a lot of skin.”

“Yes, it does. But it shows it so well.”

“Would you wear this in public?”

“If I were tall and built like you? In a heartbeat. I hate to sound corny, but you do, in fact, look like a Greek goddess.”

Athen anxiously studied her reflection in the dressing-room mirror. The dress was beautiful, she admitted. The softest shade of red wine velvet, it had wide shoulder straps and just skimmed her body all the way to the floor. Melina’s garnets
would
be spectacular. Athen looked back at Meg, still undecided.

“I’m not used to being this dressed up.”

“Look, this will be a very fancy party. Hughes has invited everyone he knows to this bash to celebrate the kickoff of his newest venture. People from the entertainment world, businesspeople, politicians from every state,” Meg reminded her. “Everyone will be dressed up. You want to look spectacular, and in that dress you do.”

“Which dress have you decided on?” Athen asked her.

“I think the cream lace over satin number.”

“Go put it on and let me see.” Athen shoved Meg through the dressing-room door.

Athen reached behind her to pull the zipper down and
caught her reflection in the mirror, then turned and looked at herself from all directions. The dress was more beguiling than overtly sexy, she decided. Maybe she should throw caution to the wind and go for it.

“What the hell.” She shrugged and hung the dress on its padded hanger.

When the saleswoman peeked back into the dressing room, Athen handed her the dress, and said, “I’ll take it.”

“FOR PITY’S SAKE, ATHEN, GET
that finger out of your mouth and stop biting your nails. You’ll ruin your manicure.” Meg stretched to fasten the wide gold strand of garnets around Athen’s neck.

“I’m nervous.”

“Get over it.” Meg popped earrings into her own lobes and checked the mirror to make sure they were straight. “Maybe I shouldn’t wear these, they always turn around. What do you think?”

“I like the pearls better.” Athen handed Meg the box holding the pearl earrings.

“You’re right.” Meg slipped the gold earrings out and replaced them. “They look better with my hair back. Will you please get that glum look off your face?”

“What if he ignores me?” Athen tapped her fingers on the dresser top.

“How could he ignore you?” Meg shook her head, exasperated. “You look spectacular. If I could look like you for just one week of my life, I’d die a happy woman. Now come on. If we leave now, we can make an entrance.”

“Oh, God, Meg.” Athen rolled her eyes to the ceiling and Meg laughed.

“Leave the dress alone,” Meg commanded as she
pushed Athen toward the step. “That dress is precisely the reason God invented cleavage. Now, put on your wrap and walk your little butt downstairs. The car will be here any second. You just sit back and compose yourself. I have a feeling this will be a night to remember.”

THE CHAPMAN MANSION WAS DECKED
from top to bottom for the holidays. White Christmas lights illuminated every tree lining the drive and defined each window and doorway of the immense house. The illusion was, Meg noted dryly, of a crystal palace, plucked from the pages of a children’s fairy tale and dropped into the upper regions of northern New Jersey.

After their driver assisted them from the vehicle, Meg snagged Athen’s elbow and steered her to the front door.

“Smile pretty,” Meg ordered, “and be prepared to have a wonderful time.”

The entrance hall, festooned with trees trimmed in burgundy velvet and gold lamé, was mobbed with partygoers who, like Meg and Athen, had just arrived and were awed by the grandeur of the holiday decorations. Thick green garlands, draped with huge bunches of dried hydrangea and gold mesh ribbon, wound lavishly up the wide staircase. Gold lights wound through the garlands and burgundy ribbons festooned the chandeliers. The effect was stunning.

The throng of guests drifted in the direction of the music beckoning from the ballroom. Uniformed waiters offered delectable goodies from silver trays and served champagne in pretty flutes. Couples took to the dance floor and swayed to the music played by a band from New York generally reserved for society bashes. Athen and Meg were looking for their host and hostess just as Lydia
came up behind them and placed a bejeweled hand on each of their shoulders.

“How lovely you both look. We’re so glad you could join us.” Lydia wore a green satin gown, chosen, no doubt, to set off the incredible emeralds at her neck and her ears. “Hughes, darling, look who’s here.”

“Ah, ladies, how delightful to see you.” He kissed them each on the cheek. Turning to the good-looking blond-haired man beside him, he said, “Jeff, have you met Athena Moran, our mayor? And Meg Moran, the leading lady of our new cable network. Ladies, Senator Thompson …”

“It’s Jeff Thompson. Mrs. Moran, I’ve certainly heard about you. Threw a curve or two at Dan Rossi, I hear.” He chuckled and turned to Meg. “And, of course, I recognize you, Ms. Moran. I haven’t missed a broadcast since you went on the air a few weeks ago. I was just telling Hughes and Lydia, you’re a delight to watch. You’re the right balance of intelligence and humor and beauty. That’s an irresistible combination in my book. Hughes was a genius to hire you, as I just finished telling him.”

“Why, thank you, Senator.” Meg was actually blushing for the first time Athen could ever recall.

“Jeff,” he reminded her, signaling for a black-tied waiter. “Champagne, ladies?”

Meg’s eyes sparkled as the well-known bachelor senator proposed a toast to the success of the Chapman Cable Network. Athen took a step or two backward, trying to ease out of the picture while at the same time scanning the room for Quentin.

“Athen Moran?” A tall, lanky man with light brown hair touched her elbow.

“Yes?”

“Christopher Moore. The state attorney general’s office? We met a few months back at the
New Jersey Today
conference.”

“Oh, yes, of course. How are you?” She smiled, having no recollection of ever having seen his face before.

“Fine. Fine.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down along with his head. “I must say you look absolutely stunning this evening.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Quentin appeared out of nowhere and offered her another glass of champagne.

“Thank you both for the compliments.” She shook her head to decline the drink.

The band began to plan a soft, slow ballad, and Athen watched as couple after couple headed for the dance floor. Quentin looked about to speak, but Christopher Moore beat him to it.

“Dance, Athen?” Before she could respond, Christopher steered her to the center of the room. “Excuse us, Quentin,” he said over his shoulder.

Christopher was an accomplished dancer, and Athen tried her best to keep up with him. The song ended and another began and then yet another. She begged off the fourth, having long since run out of small talk.

“How about a cool drink?” Christopher suggested.

“A club soda or something along those lines would be fine,” she told him, surreptitiously scanning the room for Meg and the senator, for Quentin, for anyone else she knew, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Christopher returned bearing a crystal goblet filled with shaved ice and wafer-thin slices of lime.

“Pellegrino okay?” He handed her the glass.

“Just right. Thanks.” She drank thirstily.

“Would you like to make a stop at the buffet?” he
asked, obviously charmed by her company. “Everything looks delicious.”

“In a bit.” She suddenly felt closed in by the crowd. “I think I’d like to wander and ogle the decorations.”

“Great idea. This house is really something, isn’t it? Let’s see what’s in here.” He led the way through a wooden door with an arched top. A huge mantel dominated the room, and a fire burned brightly. They stopped to chat with several small groups gathered around it. Christopher seemed to know just about everyone there.

Moments later, they resumed their tour. Strolling into the dining room, he whispered, “I see Dr. Logan is here with his latest wife. Let’s see, is she number five or number six? I’ve lost count.”

“Seriously?” Athen’s eyes widened. “Five or six
wives
?”

“That I know of, anyway. There, the couple right there in front of the punch bowl.”

“You mean the thin man with the white mustache …?”

“… and the bad toupé, yes. You’re too polite to say it.”

“His
latest wife,
you said?” Athen tried not to stare.

Dr. Logan, short, tanned, and clearly well into his sixties, was overshadowed by the tall, shapely bleached blonde hanging adoringly on his arm. She wore shiny red stiletto heels and a red and silver beaded dress that barely covered her on either end, the skirt as short as hot pants and the top as revealing as a bikini.
And Meg thought I had cleavage,
Athen mused.

“This one is Mindy, if I’m not mistaken. The others, in no particular order, were, let’s see, Candy, Lisa, Cherie, Samantha, and Tiffany. That’s six. And they all looked
exactly the same. As soon as they hit thirty, he dumps them and finds another look-alike.”

“That’s crazy.”

“But true. What do you think, this one has maybe, what, six more years?”

“I don’t know. She seems awfully young.” She frowned as a vision of Dan Rossi with the very young Mary Jo Dolan flashed suddenly before her eyes.

Christopher’s eyebrows wiggled up and down. “Just think of all the alimony. But then again, he can afford it. He has a lively practice and inherited a bundle from an uncle. Let’s take a peek at the room across the hall.”

They followed several other guests who also could not resist taking a tour of the Christmas wonderland. Athen paused momentarily to permit another couple to exit the room and Christopher grabbed her arm playfully.

“Why, Athen, you’ve stopped right under the mistletoe.” He grinned meaningfully.

Good lord, was he going to kiss her?

“Ah, Athen, there you are. I believe this is our dance.” Quentin’s hand slid onto the small of her back. “Excuse us, Chris.”

“Why did you do that? I was having a good time,” she protested as he led her by the hand through the entrance hall to the ballroom.

Ignoring her question, he took her in his arms and hummed along pleasantly with the band before asking,
“Would you have let him?”

“Would I have let who what?”

“Would you have let Moore kiss you?” His breath was warm against her ear and neck.

“How do you know he was going to kiss me?”

“It was written all over his face,” Quentin said. “Not that I blame him, of course. However, dragging you from one room to the next, from the dining room to the library, to the drawing room, looking for the mistletoe … well, I thought that was a bit obvious.”

“He wasn’t dragging me,” she protested, then laughed. “Quentin Forbes, you were following us.”