In Bed With the Opposition Read online

  The starkness of the realization made him strangely calm. Grace, on the other hand, looked like she was going to hyperventilate. She was ashen and a little unsteady on her heels. “Grace, sit down.”

  She did, putting her face in her hands. Taking a bottle of sparkling water from the bar, he poured it for her. “Here, drink this before you stroke out.”

  She took a few sips, glancing up at him shyly. “Sorry. I’m not handling this well.”

  “I’m sorry that you had to go through it,” Ethan said, gently. “I’m even sorrier that I ever put you in a position where you’d have to go through it. But right now, it is what it is. You’ve got a campaign to run and that’s all you need to be thinking about.”

  Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she tried to pull herself together. “Are you going to tell Professor Kim?”

  “No,” he said, in spite of the breach of ethics that surely constituted.

  “You need to know Senator Halloway had nothing to do with it,” she said, predictably jumping to her candidate’s defense. “He doesn’t know about it. Blain and I—we’re the only ones who did anything wrong.”

  “You forgot Dale Delmont.”

  At the mere mention of his name, Grace looked like she was going to cry. The bastard had traumatized her, and realizing it made Ethan want to hunt him down and beat him to a pulp.

  Grace fought off the sniffles, so he grabbed a box of tissues for her. “It’s going to be okay. I don’t think the Jackson campaign has this, and Dale is likely to keep quiet. If anybody asks him, he’ll deny it—because he could go to jail. With any luck, the whole thing ends right here and now.”

  Dabbing at her nose, she said, “I thought you’d be angry.”

  “I’m furious, Grace.”

  She looked down shamefacedly, twisting the tissue in her hands. “Then why are you being so nice to me?”

  He’d fought hard for her. But he just didn’t have any more fight left in him. Folding his arms over himself, he said, “Because when it comes to you and me, I figure it’s about time I learned to graciously concede defeat.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  If Ethan had let his anger show, she might have held out some hope of fixing things. Instead, he’d been unfailingly courteous and polite, even as the look in his eyes had been one of resignation and devastation. Remembering that look pained her, shamed her, and settled deep in her bones where she just couldn’t shake it. She’d disappointed Ethan and hurt him, too.

  That was yesterday, and she wasn’t over it. Other than the day she’d learned that her father had married another woman with four kids, happy to adopt a new family when he didn’t have time for his own, or the day he’d died without giving her a chance to forgive him for it, yesterday had been the worst day of her life.

  And today wasn’t shaping up to be any better.

  Sitting in the senator’s Georgetown study, Grace tried to screw up her courage. Since Ogle-Gate, things had been awkward between them. She knew, in her heart, that Kip Halloway was a good man. A great man, even. But the way he’d behaved had put a wedge between them.

  “You’re looking so serious, Gracie Gi—er, Grace. Did you come to chew me out for marrying your mother without asking your blessing first?”

  Of course he should have asked her. He should have realized the complications this would pose for the campaign. He should have given her some kind of warning before dropping this in her lap. But all of that seemed of no consequence given what she was about to tell him. “I know you don’t ask anybody’s permission for anything, sir. You just do or say whatever comes to your head, heedless of the consequences.”

  “Are we still talking about your mother?”

  Grace laced her fingers in her lap. “Three women’s groups in the state are going to back Nancy Jackson instead of you.”

  “Because of the governor’s girl?”

  “You mean Ms. Kenyon, special assistant to the governor.”

  He scowled. “You’re my stepdaughter now, you know. Do you want me to call you Ms. Santiago?”

  “Maybe you should. It’ll be good practice.”

  “You know I think the world of you. I respect you and I know you’re a good girl.”

  “Do you really?” Grace didn’t mean to be combative, but she and Kip Halloway had created fictions about one another long enough. She’d always thought of him as the kindly grandfather who could do no wrong. He’d always thought of her in ponytails, innocent and sweet. Neither picture was accurate. “Senator, I can’t be your campaign manager anymore. I’m a liability to your campaign.”

  He thumped the desk with denial. “You’re the best staffer I’ve ever had, Grace. The hardest-working. The smartest. You keep me in check.”

  “I don’t keep myself in check. At least, I haven’t always. I know you see me as a girl, but I’m a woman, too. Just like the governor’s aide. There are people who would exploit my sexuality the same way.”

  He was visibly uncomfortable with any mention of her having a sexuality at all, so Grace decided just to get it out all at once. “There are pictures of me and Ethan Castle.”

  Bless his heart, the senator asked, “Pictures of what?”

  She counted to three, then said it as quickly as she could. “Pictures of me and Ethan in an intimate act. It was a long time ago but it was in a public place.”

  To her surprise, Kip Halloway barked with laughter.

  Grace was expecting any number of reactions but this one. “I’m not joking, sir.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Back in law school, sir.”

  “So just two kids having some fun?”

  Grace cringed at that characterization. “I guess.”

  Then those blue eyes of his narrowed and he went directly to the central issue. “Who took the pictures?”

  “Another classmate.” Kip Halloway finally looked scandalized, and Grace crimsoned. “It wasn’t like that! We didn’t know anyone was watching us. The photographer threatened exposure unless I helped him find a job on the Hill.”

  Now the senator’s mouth fell open in obvious surprise. “Did you?”

  Grace’s emotions roiled up inside her, but maybe it would be good to be honest about it finally, even if it was something she’d never wanted him to know. “Blain did.”

  The senator took a long breath, then sat back in his leather wing chair, reaching for the box of cigars that Mama had banished from the house. “Goddamnit, sometimes my grandson doesn’t have a brain in his head.”

  In spite of everything, Grace felt a compulsion to defend Blain. “He did it to help me. Giving Dale what he wanted seemed like the easiest way to make it go away.”

  “Dale? Dale Delmont? That nincompoop on the majority leader’s staff? I assure you, he’ll be packing his bags within the week.”

  How Grace wished she’d told him sooner, but now Dale was beyond their reach. “Dale doesn’t work on the Hill anymore. He’s a reporter; he’s been writing attack stories about you for weeks.”

  “I don’t care what he says about me,” he replied.

  “I do,” Grace said, laying her hand over his. “Back then, the pictures were just humiliating to me, but if they’re used to embarrass you… I’ve already made a big mistake, the worst mistake of my life. I don’t want it to get any worse.”

  “Well, if this is the worst mistake of your life, you’ve still got lots more to make.”

  So he wasn’t going to call her a trollop? Like Ethan, he was being kind to her and she worried it was for the same reason. Maybe he was done with her. Her lower lip wobbled and a lump rose in her throat. “You sent me to law school and I blew it. Now I’m blowing your campaign.”

  Unable to soothe himself with a smoke, the senator settled on a drink from the sideboard. He offered Grace some brandy and when she refused, he poured himself an altogether too generous glass with a conspiratorial look that told her not to let Mama know about it. Then he urged her to talk.

  She told h
im about the information PolitiGal dug up and how Ethan had promised not to use it, but the Jackson campaign could make hay with it if they ever found out. “That’s why I need you to accept my letter of resignation,” she said, handing it to him.

  The senator eyed the letter calmly. “This wouldn’t look very good on your résumé, resigning from a campaign before the election.”

  Grace shrugged. “Better than taking you down with me.”

  He crinkled the letter up, then tossed it in the trash can by his desk. “Sorry, your resignation is not accepted.”

  “What?”

  “You’re not blowing up my campaign, Grace. I’m doing a fine job of that myself. I sent you to law school because you wanted to go and I feel terrible that your dreams got stomped on by some scoundrel’s ambition. What can I do to make it better?”

  “I can’t ask you to fight my battles.”

  “Why not? I’m asking you to fight mine, aren’t I?”

  Grace smiled tearfully at a point fairly made. “I just want to put the whole thing in the past.”

  “Weren’t you dating Mr. Castle? How much in the past can it be?”

  “That’s…over,” Grace said, miserably.

  “Regardless, if he were any sort of decent man, he’d punch Dale Delmont in the nose.”

  “Is that your answer for everything?”

  “It’s a fine answer,” he replied, finishing his drink.

  “Well, I don’t think Ethan is in any mood to defend my honor and I’ve never had the best judgment about him…”

  “You care about him,” the senator suggested.

  I love him, Grace thought, wincing at the pain the realization caused her. She loved him. She really did. For all the good it would do her. “He’s pretty amazing…kind of like you.”

  Senator Halloway grinned wolfishly. “Grace, I want you to see out this campaign to the end. I’d rather lose the damned thing than win it by throwing you under the bus. We’re in this together and your gentleman suitor should respect that. If he feels the same way about you that you feel about him, he’ll be waiting for you when it’s over.”

  Grace doubted that. When it comes to you and me, I figure it’s about time I learned to graciously concede defeat, he’d said. It didn’t get any bleaker than that.

  …

  Ethan could no longer count the number of times he’d let Grace Santiago screw with his head. She was beautiful—in fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her more beautiful than when he was inside her and all her armor fell away. In bed, she could be uninhibited, sexy, and totally his. But that was just an illusion.

  That he could be so into her, feel so connected, and be so completely wrong about what she was feeling spoke to what a mismatch they probably were. At this point, there was nothing to do but hope that he’d gotten her out of his system.

  Maybe now he could concentrate on his job. After all, Professor Kim’s political star was rising. Combined with Senator Halloway’s missteps and the ugly mood of the voters, Ethan smelled blood in the water. He should go for the jugular. This was part of the democratic process. You fought your hardest and let the voters decide. It was the conflict of ideas that made the whole thing work.

  Otherwise it was just about who had the most money.

  And from now on, Ethan wouldn’t neglect his duty to his client, or to the voters, even for Grace’s sake.

  …

  Everything had changed, Grace thought. Ethan no longer showed up unannounced at her office or at campaign venues. When he did need to see her—like today—he actually made an appointment. And not once in the first five minutes of conversation did he make eye contact with her. She couldn’t even get a rise out of him by teasing him about the chalk outlines anymore.

  He was all business. “I’m hearing there’s going to be a debate in August.”

  Grace could see that this conflict couldn’t be dodged any longer. “The League of Women Voters of Maryland invited Senator Halloway and Nancy Jackson to debate.”

  Ethan put his notebook down, threw the pen, and sat back in the chair, tipping it up onto its back two legs. “You’re not seriously going to exclude my candidate from the debate, are you?”

  He looked her in the eye for the first time since his arrival and for a moment, she was sure he was going to be his old smiling self again. He’d use his aw-shucks charm on her to convince her to let his guy into the debate.

  No such luck.

  “Professor Kim is a serious contender,” Ethan said. “I can show the League of Women Voters the funding numbers.”

  Grace stared at the lock of dark hair that had fallen into his eyes. She wanted to reach out and straighten it, and not just because she was a neat freak. I really am in love with him, she thought. How had it happened? In the movies, love was always sudden and certain. With Ethan it was fits and starts, very emotionally untidy. Could love possibly be this messy, and if so, how was she going to cope?

  She wished she could apologize. She wished she could tell him that she wasn’t upset about the pictures the way she used to be, when she thought they represented some kind of flaw in her character. When she told Senator Halloway about the pictures, he hadn’t judged her; it made all the difference in how she felt about herself and about everything she and Ethan had done together and been together. If it weren’t for all the dumb stuff she’d done since those photos were taken, she might have treasured the memories instead of being ashamed of them.

  This and a million other things Grace wanted to say to Ethan but it wasn’t her pride, or games of the heart, or even cowardice that stopped her. It was her job. Her job and his job. And at the moment, there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Grace? Are you paying attention?”

  “Hmm?” she asked, sitting up straighter.

  Ethan took one of her pencils from its caddy, and then put it back the wrong way. Perhaps he was testing her. “Don’t voters have a right to know they have more than two choices?”

  Grace resisted the urge to realign her pencils in a straight row. “I’m just doing what helps my candidate. You do exactly the same thing.”

  “Well, we both know that’s not true,” Ethan said with a dismissive clearing of his throat.

  Oh, God, was this going to come up every single time?

  “This isn’t a campaign strategy, Grace. This is a public debate,” Ethan said fervently, as if fighting for the future of democracy itself.

  Grace, on the other hand, was fighting for someone she loved. “Look, I know you like Professor Kim. But he isn’t a politician, he’s a scientist. He may be a genius in his field of study, but he doesn’t know anything about actually governing the country and you know it.”

  For a moment, Ethan’s cool veneer slipped. He smiled at her out of half of his mouth. “Governing,” he mirrored her severe tone exactly. “You make it sound about as fun as eating broccoli.”

  “I like broccoli…and governing.”

  “What’s so great about it?”

  “Well, for one, broccoli aids digestion—”

  “Not that,” he snapped.

  “Okay, I can’t point to anything I’ve done, like you can, and say, I won this or I won that, but in working for Senator Halloway, I’ve had a chance to help people.”

  “There are more exciting ways to help people,” Ethan said.

  Grace tilted her head. As much as she’d complained about it, as much as she had wanted to quit, working on the Hill had never been her second choice. She’d never wanted Blain’s job. “I’ve made a difference in little ways, changing the wording of a bill to give people cleaner drinking water—or reaching a compromise with the majority leader so there’s less pollution in the air. It’s not glorious, but it means something.”

  “You know what means something? A debate.”

  “I’m sorry,” Grace sighed. “But your candidate isn’t invited.”

  “I’ll call the League of Women Voters,” Ethan said.

  “Knock yourself out.”<
br />
  He got up, headed for the door. “We’ll show up at the debate anyway, Grace.”

  He probably shouldn’t have said it. He definitely shouldn’t have said it. The senator once told her that in a campaign, something always slips. Well, something just did.

  …

  Ethan didn’t blame Grace for playing hardball. In fact, it got his blood up. Politics was the closest thing you could get to blood sport these days: carnal, intense, and sexy. And seeing her in her office, maneuvering him like a pro, Grace had been amazing.

  But this was a dirty tactic. Keeping Professor Kim out of the debate would marginalize him. It would prevent him from showing the voters that he wasn’t just some loon, but a dignified man and an accomplished physician.

  Making your case to the voters was fair. Attack ads, clever slogans, message control. These were all the tools of the trade. But Ethan inherently objected to any tactic that fundamentally corralled voters like sheep. This was like asking them to pick between Pepsi and Coke without anyone ever mentioning Dr Pepper.

  Part of him had wanted to apologize to her. He’d wanted to tell her that he remembered how she hadn’t wanted to fool around in the law library; how it had been his idea. But once the conversation about the debates started, he couldn’t reassure her without making it sound like a veiled threat. It would sound like he was bragging that he could make the other shoe drop if she didn’t agree to his demands. So he’d kept his mouth shut and now he was stewing in frustration.

  When the campaign was over, maybe he could talk to Grace like a normal person. Maybe. But if she lost—and he was going to do his damnedest to beat her—well, she’d blame him. She’d told him before that if Kip Halloway lost this campaign, she’d be in no mood to hold hands.

  It was hard not to take her at her word.

  …

  “I’m telling you,” Grace said, straightening the senator’s tie. “The entire Kim campaign is going to show up here tonight. We’re here early because I convinced the television station to lock the inside lobby doors against anybody without an invitation, but beyond that, we can’t really keep him away. So if the Dr. Dark Ages storms the stage, you need to be prepared with this zinger I’ve—”