Campaign For Seduction (4 page)

Wow.

Must be nice to have the money to outfit the plane like a smaller version of Air Force One.

This cozy little cabin had six or eight large leather seats, the kind that were plush, comfortable and totally unlike the torture devices the press was consigned to in the back.

The lighting was mellow and intimate. So was the music—that anthem of longing and need and one of her own personal favor
ites: Patti LaBelle’s “If Only You Knew”—which was piped in from invisible speakers.

Liza’s thoughts shifted automatically to lovers, bedrooms and feverish kisses in the dark. Remembering a piece of candidate trivia that every person aboard knew, namely that Senator Warner liked to unwind to Motown music and soulful ’70s soul jams did nothing to dispel her first, overwhelming thought:

What a seductive little hideaway.

Adena stepped aside and there he was, Senator Warner, the presidential candidate and the sexiest man Liza had ever seen.

Especially now, when he seemed like any other man.

A more imposing man than most others, true, but still just a man who was human, vulnerable, and…touchable.

He sat at a table poring over his paperwork, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his tie now gone, his brow furrowed with concentration and his face weighed down with fatigue.

But he glanced up when they came in and looked straight at Liza.

Liza’s feet slowed and stopped, leaving her frozen and exposed. As a television journalist she was used to bright lights and people staring at her, but the senator’s intense interest was somehow different.

Standing quickly, he came around the table, and Liza’s skittering heart went into overdrive. Thankfully he kept his distance and stopped when he got within three feet of her.

Making no effort to hide what he was doing, he stared at her with shrewd eyes, studying and assessing. Liza kept her chin up and submitted to this appraisal, somehow holding his unfathomable gaze even though it was too bright, too powerful and too curious.

Liza forced a breath into her straining lungs and waited for him to speak. He didn’t. Adena, apparently growing impatient with all this silence, cleared her throat. This, finally, spurred Senator Warner to action.

“Thanks, Adena.” His deep voice, which was commanding and impressive at rallies and on the Senate floor, was now low, husky and as enticing as the stroke of velvet across Liza’s skin. “I can take it from here.”

“But—” Adena began.

“I’ll catch up with you in the conference room.”

There was no arguing with the senator when he spoke in that tone, and Adena seemed to know it even if she didn’t like it. Her expression dour, she crept toward the door at a glacial pace, showing every sign of not wanting to leave the two of them alone together.

Liza wondered whether the two were lovers. They’d worked together for years and spent every waking moment together on campaign business, so they definitely had the opportunity—

Wait a minute. Wait, wait, WAIT. What the hell was she doing?

Liza shook her head to get rid of the weird thoughts and remembered two things.

First, from all reports, the senator was leading the celibate life of a priest.

Second, Adena was married.

Not that it would ever be Liza’s business anyway.

Period. End of story. Over and out.

And then, even though Liza was nowhere near ready, Adena left, leaving Liza alone with John Warner.

Chapter 4

L iza had never been this close to the senator before, and being the focal point of his attention was an intoxicating experience, especially because he seemed too interested in studying her to interrupt his perusal with, say, blinking.

The air between them shifted until it crackled with its own energy, a living thing with a power Liza didn’t understand and couldn’t control.

Realizing she could no longer hold his piercing gaze any more than she could stand on the equator at noon and stare at the sun, she looked away on the pretext of checking out this unfamiliar part of the plane.

A lame conversation starter popped into her head at last, but she had to clear her voice twice before it worked. “Nice cabin. The other peasants and I don’t have this much space in back.”

He laughed.

Shoring up her courage, Liza risked a glance at him and had that same old predictable reaction: Oh, my God. He was so unbelievably sexy. Though his laugh was guarded, it was still dimpled, thrilling and enough to squeeze the breath right out of her lungs.

She looked away again before he damaged her retinas.

“Don’t complain,” he told her. “Senator Fitzgerald only has a 737.”

This time Liza laughed. “I’m not complaining.”

His smile slipped away, bit by bit, and he stared for another beat or two while Liza tried not to fidget with nerves. Did she have leftover dinner lettuce wedged between her front teeth? Was that it?

God, she was antsy. When would he get to the point?

With rising desperation, she glanced around and wished there was something—anything—for her to feign interest in, but the space was austere and unhelpful. Seat…another seat…whoops, another seat with his soccer ball in it…table…paperwork…dark windows through which she could see nothing.

That was about it.

A troublesome new thought came: why hadn’t she worn something other than the cornflower-blue suit her network-provided stylist had picked out for her? She supposed it was pretty enough, but—

Wait a minute. Thinking about changing clothes to impress a man, Liza? Hang your head in shame, girl. Obviously she was not in her right mind. Time to speed things along and get out of here.

“So,” she said. “Was there something you needed from me?”

Nothing about her word choice was particularly amusing as far as she could tell, but his eyes crinkled at the corners anyway, and she had the distinct feeling she was missing a crucial detail about something.

“You could say that. I hope Adena didn’t wake you up.”

“Don’t worry.” She studied the tips of her pointy-toed black heels and tried to brace herself lest he grin again. “I don’t think anyone on the plane is going to sleep until November 5th, anyway. Do you?”

Another rumbling laugh, every bit as exciting as the first. “I was just thinking the same thing a few minutes ago.”

“So…I’m assuming you’re going to ask the network to replace me?…”

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“I don’t seem to be your favorite person.”

“What makes you say that?”

The words were the same, but his inflection was a little sharper the second time around. Looking up, she discovered that his gaze had become narrowed and speculative.

“I think it was the way you glared at me earlier, Senator. That was a clue.”

A slow grin crept across his face. “And here I thought I’d been so subtle.”

“That was subtle?” She widened her eyes in mock alarm. “I’d hate to see direct.”

“Well…your coverage hasn’t been that easy on me, has it?”

“You didn’t expect me to go easy on you, did you?”

“Liza,” he told her, “I wouldn’t expect anything about you to be easy.”

There was a husky new note in his voice that made her wonder if the topic had changed without her knowledge, but nothing in his bland expression or relaxed posture gave him away.

And yet she still felt pleasantly agitated, her skin a degree or two warmer than it had been a second ago. “I give you the same unbiased professionalism that I give all the politicians I cover. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure former senator Gregory would think it was fair.”

Liza scowled. Naturally the role she’d played in the downfall of one of his colleagues would be a sore subject for Senator Warner, but that didn’t mean she was an unethical reporter. She wasn’t. She was a shining example of journalistic integrity, and everyone knew it.

“Senator Gregory shouldn’t have had his aides buying drugs for him to support his coke habit.” Liza tried to keep the huffiness out of her voice, but that was a lost cause. “He contributed to his own downfall. In fact, I’d say he hand-picked the most spectacular downfall he could find and then enthusiastically worked for it like it was his lifelong goal. I just broke the story.” She shrugged. “And anyway, any other reporter would have done the same. Like the CNN news reporter who broke the story of the governor’s affair a while back. It’s news.”

Liza froze.

What? What had she just said? Had she just mentioned Beau
Taylor, the governor of Virginia, who was married to the senator’s sister, Jillian?

Smooth move, girl. Way to move the conversation along.

Liza wanted to glue her big fat mouth shut, but the senator merely grimaced and ignored the subject of his wayward brother-in-law.

“I…see.” Leaning a hip against the side of the nearest seat, he crossed his muscled forearms over his chest and flashed a wry smile. “So as long as I don’t do something that stupid, I have nothing to fear from you?”

“Have you done something that stupid?” Now that Liza knew her brashness hadn’t derailed the conversation, her journalist’s keen instincts sniffed the air, on the scent of a potential story. “You could give me an exclusive. Just in case you feel the sudden urge to confess to anything.”

“No. But I will keep you in mind in case I have any sudden…urges.”

“Please do,” she said, distracted by his gaze, which flickered to her lips and then returned, brighter than before, to her eyes.

“I do have you in mind for something special, Liza.”

Liza blinked and tried not to wonder too hard about why he’d been looking at her mouth. “What’s that?”

“There may have been something to what you said earlier about me granting the press more access. And that’s where you come in.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Congratulations. You’ve just been granted exclusive access to Sitchroo for the next month or so. You get to hang around, see the decision-making process and generally make a nuisance of yourself. I’m going to instruct my staff to answer all your questions. I’m sure I’ll live to regret it, but…there you go. Adena’s talking to Takashi right now to get things formally arranged.”

A wild rush of triumph ran through her body, getting all of her professional juices flowing. Could she be this lucky? Complete access to Sitchroo? What a coup! As soon as all her cohorts in the back of the plane heard, they’d be Grinch-green with jealousy.

Ha! What a way to go out before she took the anchor chair!

While she resisted the urge to clap her hands and jump with glee, she couldn’t quite stifle her Cheshire-cat grin. Senator
Warner smiled back, and the atmosphere shifted into territory that was sensual and exhilarating, as though he’d trailed one long finger up her spine. Renewed awareness of him as a man skittered over her skin, and her breath caught.

As though he sensed some of her turmoil, he stopped grinning.

Oh, no. Did he know how attracted she was to him?

Maybe that was what was going on here. Maybe he’d detected her soft spot for him and intended to use it to his advantage. Yeah, that was probably it; he was known as a brilliant strategist, after all.

If the press was clamoring for more of his time, he was probably thinking, why not grant more time—to the female journalist who had the hardest time controlling her hormonal surge? Why not count on foolish, horny Liza to soft-pedal the coverage?

Or…maybe something else was going on.

She was the most senior black correspondent on the plane, so maybe he hoped—just like her father did—that she’d give him more favorable coverage on the basis of the race connection. Maybe the good senator figured a black correspondent wouldn’t give a black candidate a hard time. He should know better than that.

Frowning and suspicious now, she snapped at him. “Why me?”

This seemed to catch him by surprise. Quickly turning his head, he pushed away from the seat, walked back to his table and looked down at his paperwork. “It’s never a good idea to look a gift horse in the mouth. Unless you think you’re not ready for the assignment?…”

This subtle dig raised all of Liza’s hackles, as he’d surely known it would. “Of course I’m ready. I just want to make sure that you don’t have any unrealistic expectations about working with me.”

Though the lighting in the cabin wasn’t the greatest, she saw a dull flush rise up and over his sharp cheekbones. For a minute he sifted through the papers, looking for something, and then he looked up with an inscrutable expression.

“Unrealistic expectations?”

“Maybe you think a black journalist—”

His eyes widened with sudden comprehension—he almost looked relieved—and a bemused smile inched across his face. “I wouldn’t expect any special treatment from you, Liza—”

“Because I’m not going to pull any punches—”

“When have you ever pulled any punches?”

“—and if you’re granting me access, I want access. None of this off-the-record business when I ask tough questions. No closed doors when the real decisions are being made. If that’s what you have in mind, then I’m not the right woman for you.”

“You’re the right woman.”

Liza paused.

Suddenly she wasn’t quite certain what she was fighting for or even if there was a disagreement. Some combination of the lateness of the hour, her sleep deprivation and, probably, wishful thinking, made her mind play tricks on her. She could almost believe that she heard longing in his husky voice, saw smoldering want in his intense gaze.

If this was a sign of things to come, then she was in deep trouble.

The senator’s charisma was part of his immense appeal. She knew that. He was one of those rare people—like, say, JFK, Bill Clinton or Sting—who had the knack for looking at a person—especially a woman—and making him or her feel like the only other person in the world. It was one of the keys to his success, this ability to create the feeling of intimacy where there was none, to make a meaningless person feel important.

Liza understood this in the rational part of her brain. The problem was that the rational part of her brain went AWOL whenever she was in the room with him.

She blinked, wondering what, if anything, had been resolved.

“So…we’re agreed?”

“Agreed.”

A faint smile floated across his face as he sank into his chair and looked back at his paperwork. Normally she would have shaken hands to seal a deal, but the last thing she needed—ever—was to touch this man.

He picked up his pen.

Time to go, Liza. Return to the back, where you belong.

Right now.

Let’s go.

Liza didn’t move. Her feet ignored the command because she didn’t want to go and he didn’t kick her out. In fact, although he didn’t look at her again, he didn’t seem particularly interested in
whatever was spread out on the table in front of him and gave no sign that she’d worn out her welcome.

With no clear instructions, she stayed put, paralyzed with indecision.

For the first time in a while, she became aware of the music. Earth, Wind & Fire’s “Reasons” was now coming through the speakers, ratcheting up her loneliness. The generic longing she’d felt for years, ever since her divorce, was more acute tonight, probably because she was sleepy and her defenses were down.

She sighed.

Her wayward imagination began to wander. Before she knew it, she’d superimposed Senator Warner’s face onto the body of the nameless man she periodically wished she had in her life.

She wanted—

“Something on your mind, Liza?”

His low voice, husky now, caught her off guard.

“I—” She blinked and stammered. “I’ll just let you get back to work.”

His dark eyes gave nothing away, but his jaw tightened. Nodding sharply, once, he lowered his head, silently granting permission.

Everything within her body—each bit of subatomic particles—seemed to protest, to deflate. So that was it. Their interlude was over and she was now consigned to the back of the plane, far away from him, its heart and center.

Turning, she trudged toward the door to the conference room with slow and resistant feet. A burning patch between her shoulders felt like his lingering gaze, but of course that was only her runaway imagination wreaking havoc again.

Delusional or not, she just couldn’t go. Not yet.

Hesitating on the threshold, she looked back to discover that he was looking at her, his expression troubled, his paperwork forgotten.