Double trouble (10 page)

"Wrong! I don't hve with Kristina, I'm visiting her. I live in Washington, D.C., not Harrisburg. But you're not interested in any of that, are you? You're not interested in learning anything about me. All you want from me is another quick romp in the sack!"

"Oh, hell!" Matt ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it. "Not the old the-only-thing-a-man-wants-from-a-woman-is-sex accusation."

That had been his ex-almost-fiancfe's Debra Wheeler's battle cry, hurled at any man who disagreed with her. Since Matt and she frequently disagreed, particularly at the end of their relationship, he'd heard the accusation often.

Which Kayla immediately picked up on. "Sounds like you've heard that a lot! Well, judging from my own experience with you, I can understand why. You meet a woman and immediately rush her into bed and then wonder why she is insulted when you—"

"That's my brother Luke's style!" Matt cut in.

"So it runs in the family, then?" she said, this time cutting in on him. "How appalling!"

"I was going to add that it's not mine," Matt said tersely. He extended his arms in a gesture of pure exasperation. "Why are you doing this? Why are you deliberately picking a fight with me? For Godsakes, I don't want to quarrel with you, Kayla."

**Yes, we both know what you want to do with me and it isn't to talk." Kayla glared balefully at him. ''It's not getting to know me or trying to understand why I might have reservations about jumping into bed with you, either."

Matt groaned. *'Here it comes. The standard you-men-are-all-alike, you're-all-insensitive-sex-maniacs-ruled-by-testosterone bit." How many times had Debra used that self-serving feminist decree on him? Too many times, and he'd heard the corollary from her just as often. "Whereas you women, of course, are always driven by pure and selfless human emotion."

Kayla folded her arms in front of her chest in classic defensive mode. ''Stop generalizing. It's counter-productive, not to mention annoying. Furthermore, you'll never win a debate or score any real points by trying to divert the issue at hand with—"

"You sound like you're giving a lecture in mass media arts." Matt grimaced.

"It so happens that Fm well-qualified to do so." Kayla drew a deep breath. "Here's another fact you don't know about me, Senator Minteer. Fm one of those consultant gurus, one of those wicked practitioners of political black magic who creates the slick conmiercials and the buzzwords and the sound bites that have corrupted American politics. According to you, my fellow media wizards and I are personally responsible for everything that's wrong in the modern age. Ah, but why stop th^e? We pollsters and consultants and media coaches are actually to blame for the decline of all Western civilization!"

Having dropped that bomb, she fled inside, the image of his stunned expression seared into her consciousness. She ran—quite literally—into Luke Minteer as she reentered the noisy, smoky room. The impact of the collision slightly winded them both. They stared at each other for a moment, assessing—Kayla, nervous and edgy, Luke, cool but visibly annoyed.

"Is Matt out there?" Luke asked in clipped tones.

Kayla jerkily nodded her head.

Luke stared at her through narrowed eyes. He didn't like her, Kayla was sure of it. He considered her a threat to his brother's image because of the scene in Rillo's. And because he knew about last week's tryst, as well? Kayla's face burned.

'There are some people here who want to talk to Matt, if you're through," said Luke.

'*Oh, we're through, all right." Kayla hfted her chin and forced herself to look Luke Minteer square in the eyes. And you don't have to worry about your brother. I saved him from himself." She hoped her smile was smugly superior, hoped her tone and her words conveyed sophistication and insouciance as she glided away to find Kristina.

Six

Kayla had done her homework before Monday morning's meeting with Elena Teslovic, studying the reports and in formation that had been forwarded to her by Elena's vol unteer staff. She met with Elena and three of her closest supporters in Kristina's apartment promptly at ten o'clock.

"Are you willing to take me on as a client?" Elena asked immediately after introductions had been made all around. She looked to be somewhere in her mid-forties and was tall and dark-haired, and positively exuding energy and enthu siasm. ''I can pay for your services but I have to warn you that my campaign coffers aren't too full."

"But what we don't have in dollars, we more than make^ up for in enthusiasm and loyalty and willingness to work," a young aide interjected earnestly.

"We'll work out some sort of payment schedule if you should decide to hire me," Kayla assured them. "I've studied everything you sent me about the incumbent, David

Wilson." She shook her head. "He's terrible, one of the worst Fve come across in my six years in the political field."

Elena beamed. "Honey, we're on the same wavelength. You're hired!" She grasped Kayla's hand in a hearty shake.

"Well, then, let's get down to business." Kayla's smile faltered a bit. This was undoubtedly the moment that consultant-bashers Uke Matt Minteer expected her to pull out her set of voodoo dolls and begin to stick in the pins. Instead, she removed a number of paper-stuffed folders from her briefcase. Not that Matt would approve of that, either. He'd also announced his disdain of marketing studies and principles when applied to the business of getting elected.

And it was a business. Determinedly, Kayla pushed the thought of him from her mind. She wasn't wasting another second on a man she hadn't seen or heard from since Friday night, when she'd left him standing on the deck of Bootleggers. Obviously, he considered her too diabolical to pursue, despite his fierce, sexy insistence that they were damn good together," that he "couldn't forget" her.

He had sounded so convincing! Kayla's lips thinned. Wasn't such insistent sincerity, or at least the illusion of it, the hallmark of the successful politician? Matt Minteer could afford to scorn the communications consultants and analysts who made a career out of helping less talented politicians hone their skills. He didn't need them any more than he needed her.

And what was even more infuriating than his blatant rejection was that it stung!

"You've got the fighting spirit, Kayla," Elena Teslovic's voice, filled with approval, jolted Kayla from her reverie. "I can tell by the expression on your face. You look ready to cram the opposition into a shredder."

"A lapse on my part," Kayla said quickly. "Never wear your emotions on your sleeve. Even when an emotional display is called for, make sure your emotions are always completely under control." She inhaled sharply. "I sup-

pose that sounds as if Tm some sort of manipulative sneak but-"

*'Not at all," Elena interrupted heartily. "Who wants a representative with no self-control? Believe me, honey, one thing I've learned in my years as a public health nurse is how< to control my temper—and my tears."

Kay la smiled. She hked the other woman's frankness and can-do spirit. Pushing up the sleeves of her loose plum-colored sweater, she got down to business.

"The first thing you have to do is what you've already been doing, but on a much wider and more organized scale. That is, make sure Wilson's constituents know his voting record. Every voter must be made aware that Wilson is feuding with virtually everyone in a leadership position here in Harrisburg, thus destroying any chance he has of effectively representing his district "

"Hey, Earth to Matt." Luke Minteer waved his hand in front of his older brother's face. "Do you read me?"

Matt drew back and swatted him away. "Bug off, Luke. I'm thinking."

"You were in another world," Luk^ said bluntly. "No doubt the same one you've been lost in all weekend."

"I was in the same world as you this weekend, little brother," Matt growled. "In Johnstown for Gram and Pap's sixtieth wedding anniversary. We have miles of videotape to prove it. There are more camcorders at our family get-togethers than at the Democratic National Convention."

"You were there in body only, your mind was definitely somewhere else," Luke persisted. "You successfully fooled most of the family, but I could tell you were on automatic pilot and so could Mom and Anne Marie. I fended off their * What's with Matt?' inquiries by telling them that you were^ preoccupied with the new bill you're introducing this week,

but I know you weren't. You've lost your head over a sexy ittle political consultant and frankly, I'm—"

''You're way off on that one," Matt interrupted, scowling.

"Am I? Then you wouldn't be interested in hearing about my meeting with Kristina McClure this morning? I artfully arranged to drop by PITA headquarters and just happened to run into her. She is a looker." Luke smiled wolfishly. "Of course, so's her twin sister, the delectable Kay la. Hey, maybe you and I could arrange a double date? You and Kayla, me and Kristina."

"Get real." Matt stood up. "And then get lost." He leaded toward the door of his office. "I'm on my way to unch."

"I know. With Steve Saraceni. The Milk Producers Association has hired him to lobby price supports. For God-sakes, Matt, snap out of this daze you're in or Saraceni will have you signing over your firstborn child to the MPA. He's a shark and if you jump into the tank without all your wits about you, he'll eat you alive."

"Good metaphor, Luke. Original." Matt flashed a sarcastic smile. He paused at the door, his hand on the knob. He couldn't stand it another minute. Feigning indifference, he asked casually, "What did Kristina McClure have to say to you, anyway?"

Luke grinned broadly. "I subtly pumped her about her dsister and she doled out the information she wanted me to I? lave, just like the skilled little lobbyist she is. Care to hear any of it?"

Matt's mouth tightened. "Just one thing. Is she—Kayla— is she really a political handler?"

"She sure is. When a candidate signs on with her, he gets

the full treatment—communications and media coaching,

:r« advice on how to frame issues, project an image, counter the

opposition's strategy. She runs her own small agency now,

but got her start with Dillon and Ward Consulting Assod-ates."

'The mother of all no-conscience image-makers." Matfs dark blue eyes flashed. "For the right price, Dillon and Ward could, and would, present a serial killer as St. Francis of Assisi."

''Yeah, well, it seems the McClure twins share your low opinion of Dillon and Ward. According to Kristina, Kayla was too sweet, noble and high-minded to swim with those i sharks, if you'll pardon my excessive use of shark metaphors. After a few years, she quit and opened her own consulting agency."

"Translated, it means that having acquired the necessary skills in skulduggery, she decided it would be more lucrative to cash in on it all on her own," Matt concluded grimly.

"She did take several of Dillon and Ward's clients with her," said Luke. ''Only the noble, pure-minded ones, of course. According to Kristina, Kayla McClure only uses aboveboard techniques to win and will only take on clients who meet her high personal standard of ethics."

*'Yeah, sure." Matt made a derisive exclamation of disbelief. ''Isn't that the line all political consulting agencies put out? I mean, they could hardly do otherwise. Who would hire an agency that promised to churn out whatever lies are necessary to win an election? It would be bad for the image. And that's what political handlers are all about— image for a price."

"What a cynic!" Chuckling, Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white business card. "Michaela McClure, Communications Consultants Inc.," he read. "Kristina gave it to me. Apparently she carries some of Kayla's cards along with her own. Sisterly of her, huh? Never know when the opportunity will come along to drum up a little business."

He crossed the office to press the card into Matt's hand. "Interested in hiring yourself a media coach, Matt? Kris-

tina says that Kay la does that and does it well. How about a handler? I bet she's mighty talented at... handling!"

Matt glared at him, his temper rising. ''You know, when you were just a bratty httle kid and you mouthed off once too often, I used to pick you up and swing you around until you were dizzy and then let go and send you flying. You'd smash into something and go bawling off to Mom, but it did have the effect of shutting you up for a while. Mark and I used to call it knocking some sense into you. I'm still bigger than you, kid. I can still send you flying and I will, if you don't shut up."

"Resorting to physical threats, huh?" Luke laughed, completely unintimidated. "You have got it bad, big brother. Why don't you do yourself a favor and go see the girl? She's-"

"The politically correct word is woman, Luke," Matt said grandly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lunch date with a Great White Shark who masquerades as a lobbyist-for-hire."

"Are you sure you don't want to come to dinner with me?" Kristina asked Kay la for the fourth time that evening. "This isn't a working dinner, I'm just getting together with a few friends and we'd love to have you join us."

"It's sweet of you to ask, but I can't," Kayla replied, for the fourth time. "I've got to get back to D.C. tonight. I have a full day of meetings tomorrow, starting with Senator DeCaprio at nine."

"I was hoping you could stay longer. I Uke having you here, Kayla. It gets lonely, living alone. I'm always very busy, but still..." Her voice trailed off and she shrugged.

"I know." Kayla gave her a swift, hard hug. "You won't be living alone for much longer, Kristina. Soon you'll be with Boyd."

"But I'll be in Atlanta," Kristina intoned gloomily. "Do you realize how far that is from D.C, Kayla? It was hard

enough getting used to us living in separate cities, but at least Washington and Harrisburg are less than two hours apart."

"Atlanta is only a short flight from D.C./' Kayla reassured her. ''And we'll call each other all the time. Our phone bills will be higher, but right now you work for the independent phone companies, remember? Maybe you can get a lifetime professional discount."

She smiled, trying to cheer her sister. Kristina had always had difficulty with separations from her twin; it was Kay-la's role to be the strong one and put a positive spin on it. "Anyway, I'll be back here from Sunday through Tuesday to meet with Elena Teslovic and her people. You're going to get sick of seeing me!"

"Never." Kristina shook her head. "Why don't you come on Friday and spend the weekend? I promise not to arrange to run into Matt Minteer this time."

"It wouldn't matter if you did. Matt Minteer would tuck tail and run at the sight of me. I'm the embodiment of evil to him."

Kristina scowled. "Then he's a jerk. And so is his brother Luke. During that so-called accidental meeting yesterday, that I know he deliberately engineered, he kept coming on to me, even though I'd made it clear that I was seriously involved with someone else. Luke Minteer thinks he's God's gift to women. At least Matt isn't like thatr'

' 'No, Matt Minteer is on a different ^o trip. He's the Last Honest Politician."

BCristina rolled her eyes heavenward. "Remember our pledge, Kayla. Work with politicians, work/or them, even fraternize with them when necessary, but don't fall in love with one."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"Well, I do worry. I remember how that snake Scott Ceres broke your heart and he's a politician."

Kay la grimaced. "One of Dillon and Ward's biggest success stories. Put your mind at ease, Kristina. I learned my lesson well on that one."

''You're attracted to Matt Minteer," Kristina persisted. ''I know it, Kayla. I can tell."

"Your infallible instincts have failed you on that one. I like Matt Minteer just about as much as he likes me, which is to say not at all."

"I didn't say you liked him, I said you were attracted to him, physically. Those are two entirely different things, Kayla."

"Now you sound Hke Penny. And I can do without a Penny-on-men lecture. Lord knows we heard enough of them growing up. No wonder we're so mixed-up when it comes to men."

"I'm not mixed-up anymore," Kristina said, her hazel eyes glowing. "I'm sure of Boyd and his love for me. Someday it'll happen for you too, Kayla, you'll see."

"Is that my cue to sing a few bars of 'Someday My Prince Will Come'?" Kayla gave her sister a gentle shove. "Get going or you'll be late. I'll grab a sandwich here and then be on my way." The sisters hugged.

"See you on Friday!" they both called as Kristina left the apartment.

Kayla had taken one bite of her grilled cheese sandwich when the doorbell rang. She frowned, debating whether or not to ignore it and finish her sandwich while it was warm, or answer the door and let it cool and congeal and become inedible. If she were at home, she would've definitely opted to eat and ignore, but since this was Kristina's apartment, Kayla trudged dutifully to the door. She didn't have the right to ignore her sister's caller. It might be an important document being delivered or an invaluable tip from a colleague or—

Matt Minteer? Kayla stared through the peephole. Her heart began to thud. She couldn't remember being this flustered since way back in the seventh grade when Danny

Bryan, the class heartthrob, had sent her a valentine. The sudden sharp memory snapped her back into focus. Get a grip! she admonished herself. Dan Bryan had sent valentines to at least ten other girls in the class that year, too. And she was certainly well past the vulnerable age of twelve.

''Kayla, I know you're in there," Matt called. *'I talked to Kristina in the parking lot and she told me you were here." He rapped again. ''I want to talk to you and I'm not leaving until you open the door."

Kayla tried to calm herself. There was no reason to panic; if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was how to finesse her way out of a tight situation. She'd made a career out of doing it for others, after all.

She slowly opened the door to him. He was wearing his navy pin-striped suit, which she knew from her own research was the civilized male symbol of authority. She herself advised candidates to wear such a suit when an appearance of intimidation was useful in debating the opposition. Kayla sucked in her breath. She, however, was not intimidated by his power suit or by the man himself.

*'The door's open," Kayla said coolly. 'Talk. You have—" she glanced pointedly at her watch ''—five minutes."

Matt stared at her. She was wearing a short plaid skirt, black tights with suede ankle boots and a black shirt covered by a long red blazer. Her long curly hair was pulled high into a thick pony tail. "You look more like a college girl than a sUck media wizard," he blurted out.

"Slick media wizard," she repeated tautly. "That's it. You just forfeited your five minutes." She started to close the door, but he was too quick for her. He caught it with both hands and pushed, keeping it open.

"We're going to talk," he said firmly.

"Why? I've already heard your opinion on political handlers and slick media wizards. So why waste your precious time talking to me?"

Matt frowned. *'Look, can I come in? I'm getting tired of standing out here in the hall arguing with you."

*'So you want to come inside and argue with me? I'd rather not, thank you. I'm in the middle of my dinner."

Matt gave up waiting to be asked inside and simply came in on his own. Unless she wanted to block him physically Kay la had no choice but to stand aside and let him in. She was not about to risk any physical contact whatsoever. Scowling, she returned to Kristina's small kitchen table where her sandwich laid unappetizingly on the plate.

Matt followed her. ''That's your dinner?" He made a face. ''Ugh. Not much of a cook, are you?"

"I can defrost and heat things in the microwave as well as the next person," Kay la retorted.

"Well, it looks like you nuked that sandwich. Want to get some Chinese takeout? My treat."

Kayla picked up her sandwich. It was hard and cold. She laid it back on the plate. "I can't. I'm leaving for Washington tonight. As soon as possible." She sent him a withering glance. "If you'll excuse me, I have to finish packing."

It was definitely a cue for him to leave. Kayla started out of the kitchen, expecting him to follow her so she could show him the door. Instead, he sat down on one of Kristina's ladderback kitchen chairs.

Kayla whirled around to glare at him. "You have to leave right now, Matthew Minteer."

"First, answer one question for me, Kayla. It's something that's been bothering me and I need an answer."

Kayla sighed. "I'm probably going to regret this, but go ahead and ask."

He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Why are you in the field you're in, Kayla? Whatever made you to want to work in such a—"

"Some little girls dream of growing up to be ballerinas or nurses or teachers," Kayla cut in. "/ dreamed of being a political handler. From the time I was in kindergarten, I

pictured myself mapping out campaign strategy, crafting newsworthy sound bites for the six o'clock news."

*'Turning American politics into a corrupt big-money game," Matt interjected sharply.

''Oh well, there's that, too," she said flippantly. "All part of the dream."

"You can make jokes, but it's not funny, Kay la." Matt stood up, balling his hands into fists. "Don't you see what's happened? In politics today, it's no longer a matter of what a candidate has to say, but how many millions he can raise from special interest groups and how those millions are spent by the vultures who create slick media pieces. The ordinary voter feels powerless and left out and he is, because of dissemblers Hke Dillon and Ward and—and—"

"Me," Kayla said flatly.

"Yes. You." He walked toward her. "Kayla, I've thought about this. Hell, I've thought of nothing else since Friday when you told me what you do, what you are." Matt came to a stop a few inches away from her. He was breathing fast and hard, his pulse pounding. "I firmly believe that a person is what he or she does, Kayla."

"You believe that a person's occupation is directly linked to his character, or the lack of it?" She gave a derisive laugh. "How simpHstic can you get! What about corrupt cops or nurses who kill their patients? And where do those television preachers who bilk their believers fit into your tidy scheme of things?"

"I don't think occupations define character as much as actions do. And there are exceptions to every rule, of course, but-"

"Then you'll have to agree, won't you, that it's possible for someone in the public relations field of political image-making to be honest and ethical and not be bent on duping the voters at any price?"

'Td hate to debate you in front of an audience," Matt said, frowning. *'You're very skilled at arguing your position."

'*It's not that I'm so very skilled, it's that your position is so blindly stupid it takes very little to strike at it."

His frown deepened. "And somehow you manage to make me feel defensive when I know I'm right. You're very clever, Kayla."

Kayla groaned. ''Obviously, I'm not clever enough to make a stubborn, prejudiced blockhead like you consider changing his mind, though. Is that what you came here to tell me—that I am what I do?''

Matt cleared his throat. "I came to tell you that I—I can't see you anymore, Kayla."

She had trained herself to expect the unexpected. In her field, anything could happen and often did. But occasionally, she was caught completely off guard. The night of Matt's fund-raiser had been one time. This was another.

"Let me get this straight," she said coldly, her hazel eyes flashing. "You came all the way over here, barging into my sister's apartment uninvited, to tell me that you can't see me anymore? When we weren't seeing each other to begin with? When I had no intention of ever seeing you again anyway?"

Put like that, it sounded ridiculous. He felt ridiculous. A slow flush crept from his neck to his cheeks. "I was trying to do the right thing. I felt I owed you an explanation," he murmured uneasily.

"You don't owe me anything! Get out of here." She gave him a hard shove. She couldn't remember ever being this infuriated, except perhaps the last time she was in Matt Minteer's presence.

"I couldn't just stop seeing you without a word," Matt protested. "I'm not the kind of guy who casually sleeps with a woman and never calls her again."

% EXDUBLE TROUBLE

''So you decided to insult me in person, to dump me facc-to-face!" Enraged, Kayla gave him another push toward the door. "How honorable!"

"I was trying to be honorable," Matt said desperately.

He was making a terrible mess of it, he conceded glumly. And no wonder. He'd been in frenzied conflict with himself since Kayla had announced that she was one of those heinous image-makers he'd always purported to despise. It stood to reason then, that he should despise her, too. But he didn't; he couldn't kid himself about that. All week he had been driving himself crazy trying to come to terms with his desire to pursue what he'd always loathed.

Finally, his cool, calm and controlled self had prevailed. Because he was a gentleman, an honorable man, instead of simply never bothering to see her again, he would do the gentlemanly, honorable thing and tell her why. After all, they had spent a night together and then he'd come on pretty strong to her at Bootleggers last week. She deserved an explanation

Or so he'd thought. But her irate reaction indicated that he had gravely erred by coming here. He had ended up quarreling with her and had inadvertently insulted her. And now she was furious—he'd never seen anyone that mad! ''Kayla, I'm sorry," he said, feeling frustrated and foolish and misunderstood.

His apology was not well received. ''Oh, you're sorry, are you? Exactly what are you sorry for. Matt? Are you sorry that I'm not good enough for you? Sorry that I fall short of your impeccably high standards?" She put both hands on his chest, and using all her strength, gave him a forceful push at the same moment he tried to step aside to dodge her.

Neither of them saw the wooden magazine rack in his path. When he zigzagged to the left, his foot caught the side of it, and the momentum from her shove sent him flying off balance. Falling backward, he stretched out his arms, try-