The Candidate's Wife (11 page)

Julia heaved a heavy sigh as she crossed to the sink and began to rinse out the teapot and the mugs. She wanted too much. She always had. Somehow, she would have to learn to settle for Adam's friendship, his respect -- and nothing more.

". . . and in conclusion, I believe that, with faith, perseverance, and plain, old-fashioned hard work, we can transform our great state into a leading light for the entire nation. I offer you the leadership and the vision to accomplish that goal. Thank you, and good night."

Adam stood tall and handsome under the hot studio lights, his stance confident and relaxed, his smile bright and winning as he wrapped up his closing statement. He smiled, and the dimple in his right cheek deepened in the familiar way that made Julia's heart race as she leaned back in her front-row seat.

She felt drained of emotion after the ordeal of watching the debate, as if she'd been the one on stage rather than Adam. Phil, who sat next to Julia, leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Our boy didn't do too badly, did he, my dear?"

Julia shook her head. "He did well. He seemed a little stiff at first, but that question about job retraining woke him right up. The closing statement was a winner. Did you write that?"

Phil grinned. "Nope. That was Adam all the way."

Julia watched as Adam crossed the platform to shake hands with his opponent. Jim Norris was a former quarterback with a growing paunch and a wealth of blow-dried silver hair. Next to Adam, he appeared pudgy and sallow, but the deep furrows in his brow did lend him an air of experience that appealed to older voters. Norris made a remark Julia couldn't hear, and Adam smiled. Despite the increasingly personal nature of Norris's campaign against him, Adam let none of his animosity show now that the debate had ended. He was a professional through and through.

Julia stood as Adam unclipped the microphone on his lapel and stepped down from the stage. He nodded and smiled as members of his campaign staff clapped him on the back, but he didn't stop until he reached the row of folding chairs where Julia waited. He wound his arm around her shoulders and grinned down on her. "So? What did you think? Did I hold my own?"

She laughed up at him as flashbulbs popped around them. "Are you fishing for compliments, Adam? Your staff's about to break out the champagne. Even Phil thought you did well, and you know he's not easy to please."

He searched her eyes. "Yes, but they all work for me," he said, in a low voice. "You don't, not anymore. You also never hesitate to say what you really think, so go ahead."

Julia nodded slowly. "You did well, Adam. But you almost lost your temper several times, didn't you? Especially when Norris questioned your record on the environment."

"Hell, yes, I got mad. How dare he --"

Julia raised her eyebrows. "Exactly. You can't afford to let him get under your skin, Adam. You're less effective when you're angry."

"But I --" He broke off, laughed sheepishly, and pulled her tight against him. "All right, all right. But how did you know? That I almost lost it with Norris, I mean?"

A tiny smile quirked her lips. She glanced up at him through her lashes. "Well, Adam, I've been on the receiving end of that temper of yours, remember? As it happens, there's a little muscle in your cheek that starts to twitch right before you go off the deep end. That one right there."

Without thinking, she reached out and touched his cheek. His skin felt baby-soft, shaved close. The moment she realized what she'd done, she jerked her fingers away. Adam looked startled, then threw back his head and laughed. All around them, shutters clicked and flashbulbs exploded. Adam leaned down and pretended to nuzzle Julia's ear. "You win, sweetheart," he whispered. "I'll keep my cool next time, I promise."

"I know you will." The masculine scent of him made her dizzy with happiness. Warmth flooded her cheeks as she struggled to rein in her joy. It was all for show, of course. Adam's solicitude meant nothing. She pulled away from him, reluctantly. "What now?" she asked, in a voice that trembled a little.

"Now we head for the party back at headquarters." He grinned. "We'll let Tom and his people take care of the spin doctoring. If they declare victory on enough news shows, maybe someone will believe them."

Back at campaign headquarters, Julia clapped her hands over her ears to block out the racket. News reports about the debate played on every TV monitor, and the celebration was already in full swing.

"Hey, stranger. You've been busy lately."

Julia turned to find Valerie watching her curiously. The college intern wore a too-tight black spandex tube dress. Valerie teetered on her six-inch heels, having apparently already drunk several glasses of champagne.

"So, what do you think, Julia?" the girl asked, brushing her red curls from her face. "Will this put our favorite guy over the top, or are all these folks getting carried away?" A flip of her hand indicated the cheering crowd of staffers and volunteers.

"I don't know, Valerie," Julia said warily. "I certainly hope the debate helps Adam catch up." Privately, she wasn't sure it would. Few of the state's voters were undecided, and committed voters were rarely swayed by debate performances. It would take something more to push Adam ahead of the incumbent governor, something dramatic. Still, out of loyalty, she kept her doubts to herself. "Anyway, there's one more debate, and a lot can happen in the last two weeks of a campaign."

At that moment, a campaign staffer appeared bearing a tray of hors d'oeuvres and drinks. Julia chose a glass of tropical punch and paused to exchange pleasantries with the woman. When she moved on, Julia was relieved to see that Valerie had disappeared.

As she stood alone and sipped her punch, Julia took a moment to watch Adam. He leaned against his advertising director's desks his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles as he joked and laughed with a small knot of staff members. He'd shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and -- despite the dark smudges of exhaustion under his eyes -- he held himself with a casual, heedless grace that, even from across the room, made Julia's breath catch in her throat.

How could so many contradictions exist within one man? Despite his fiery temper, he was also capable of remarkable tenderness. Adam took wealth and luxury for granted, yet also cared deeply about the state's poorest resident. He craved attention and publicity, and thrived in the spotlight, but he could also display a startling degree of thoughtfulness during private moments. Julia sighed. She would probably never understand Adam any better than she did now. Sometimes she saw a flash of genuine emotion, but then he threw his shields up again and she found herself staring at a blank wall.

"So, Julia, what's it like being the candidate's wife?"

"What? Oh, hi, Lucinda." Julia tore her gaze away from Adam and smiled at her husband's personal assistant. The warm twinkle in the older woman's eyes told Julia that the question grew from real concern rather than a gossip's nosiness. "It's hard to describe, Lucinda. It's. . .interesting."

Lucinda laughed and let her gaze wander across the room, to where Adam held court. "I imagine so. I've known Adam for years. He's not an easy man to get along with, but he's got a good heart. You're a lucky woman, Julia."

"I -- yes, I know." Julia felt herself blushing. She quickly changed the subject. "At least I have the right wardrobe, thanks to you."

Lucinda nodded. "You look wonderful in all the publicity shots. I hear you're filming a new ad next week."

"That's right. Danny will be in it, too. He's looking forward to it, the little ham."

Lucinda let out a throaty chuckle. "He's 10, right? I have a grandson just that age, but he's just the opposite. So shy I can't even get him to pose for photos."

Julia spoke with Lucinda for several minutes more before two other staff members drifted over join the conversation. Beverly West, Adam's chief fundraiser, was a sleek and sophisticated woman of about 40. Ted Okimoto, the campaign's issues adviser, was one of the party's rising stars. He often startled Julia with his encyclopedic knowledge of obscure facts and minor legislation.

At first, the two senior staffers treated Julia with a polite wariness -- after all, they assumed she shared a bed with their boss -- but Julia made an effort to set them at ease. Soon, they were all laughing and chatting like old friends. Julia found herself enjoying herself more than she had in weeks. She barely even noticed when Adam disappeared into his office and lowered the blinds.

Adam heaved a sigh as he glanced over the balance sheets one more time. "Phil, these figures can't be right. At this rate we'll run out of funds before the end of this week, and you know Norris will do a media blitz at the very end. He's going negative, too. That last series of radio ads. . . . " Adam leaned back in his chair and threaded his fingers together behind his head. "We've got to fight back. Otherwise, he'll walk away with the whole election."

Phil crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. "I don't see that happening, Adam. The well's nearly dry. Every time we go back to our donors, they can afford to give less and less. You've got a broad base of support, but we're talking about families, small businesspeople -- donations of $20 or $100, not the big windfalls Norris hauls in from the corporations." His thin lips drew into a distasteful pucker. "You know I've been approached by Northern Lumber, but for their money they'd expect --"

Adam slammed his palm against his desk so hard it sent spikes of pain up his forearm. "Damn it, I know what they'd expect, and I won't do it. I won't let them destroy one of the most beautiful forests in this state."

Phil raised his eyebrows. "Not even if it's the only way to win this race?"

Adam glared at his old friend. "Hell, Phil, you of all people should know me better than that."

"I know you want to win."

Adam nodded. The prospect of defeat left a sour taste in his mouth. "I do, Phil. I do. But I want to win without selling out. I want to do it the right way, not like --" He broke off abruptly, scowling.

"Not like your father and grandfather?"

"Don't you start psychoanalyzing me, Phil." Adam tried to turn it into a joke, but his laughter sounded strained and bitter. He leaned forward again and rubbed his aching eyes. "Give me a couple of days to think about this. I can't make any decisions tonight."

"Time to call it a day?"

"Absolutely. Would you tell Julia I'm ready to go?"

"Why don't I send her in so you can tell her yourself?"

Adam frowned. "Phil. . . ."

"I saw you and Julia after the debate -- very touching -- but there's still something that needs talking about, isn't there? You're two of my favorite people, you and Julia."

Now, as Phil waited, Adam nodded slowly. "Fine," he said. "You win. I'll talk to her."

Phil flashed him a gentle but triumphant smile as he closed the door behind himself. Adam slumped down in his chair.

He wanted Julia with a bone-deep intensity he'd never felt before. His heart still beat a ragged tattoo against his ribs whenever he remembered their few brief kisses. He hadn't missed the way Julia had looked at him in the kitchen the night before, either. Unlike most of the sophisticated, carefully controlled women he'd known, Julia seemed incapable of hiding her emotions.

When he'd taken her hand, he'd seen desire soften those indigo eyes to a clear and dreamy blue. She had actually trembled at his touch. Her response had sparked an equal need in Adam, as well as a tenderness that was all new to him.

He heard a tentative knock on his door. "Come in," he called.

Julia stepped into the office. She looked startlingly attractive in a deep green silk shirt. A black wool skirt skimmed her slim hips and ended halfway down her slender thighs. She wore her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, made sophisticated by a sterling silver clip. "You wanted me?" she asked.

Adam barely managed to suppress a smile at Julia's choice of words. Hell, yes, he wanted her, more than he dared admit. "I'm about ready to call it a day," he said. "I wondered whether you're ready to go home."

She nodded. "I'm ready whenever you are. You do look tired."

Adam stood up, stretched, and began to gather up the papers on his desk. He shoved them into his briefcase and snapped the lid shut. "I am tired. Julia. . . ."

"Yes?"

He rounded his desk and stood in front of her. His eyes locked on hers. "Thank you."

She stared at him blankly. "For what?

"For coming to the debate. For being honest me. Oh, hell, I don't know. Somehow I just feel better whenever you're around."

She shot him a tremulous smile. "Why, Adam, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Really? I'll have to work on that."

He reached down and took her hand. She stiffened, but didn't pull away. Adam sucked in a deep breath. He wasn't sure where to begin. How ironic that the politician who was never at a loss for words now found himself nearly speechless.

"Julia. . . ."

"Is something wrong?" She frowned, and Adam found himself admiring even the tiny wrinkle between her dark, delicately feathered brows. In fact, he fought the urge to kiss it away, to draw his lips over the fine-boned arch above her eyes and then drop tiny, stinging kisses onto her eyelids. Her eyes tilted up slightly at the corners. He'd never noticed that before. There were a thousand things he wanted to notice about her, a thousand things he wanted to know.