Rumor Has It (10 page)

Jackson smiled as the couple rose to their feet and headed for the door. The police officers followed behind them in silence. As Jackson watched the couple head for the ambulance, two reporters approached him.

“Mr. Franklin, what happened here?” one asked as she shoved a microphone in his face.

“This is a private matter and I have no comment,” he said, then dashed across the street to get into his car. Jackson didn't even care about the parking ticket underneath his windshield wiper as he drove away.

Chapter 13

Liza sat in her office organizing a media campaign for the chain of urban boutiques she'd just taken on as a client. She had the news on as background noise while she created a Twitter account for Pink Inc. She loved the name of the boutique but wondered if Victoria's Secret would come after them.

“You can't copyright a color,” Liza mumbled as she uploaded a picture of the main store in Charlotte's South End neighborhood.

“North Carolina senate candidate Jackson Franklin played a reluctant hero today,” she heard the newscaster say. Liza turned around and focused on the picture of Jackson running away from reporters at the EpiCentre. “According to witness reports, Franklin stopped an unidentified man from jumping off the top of Aloft, the hotel on the fifth floor of the entertainment and retail complex. When asked by a Channel Nine reporter what happened, Franklin said it was a personal matter and drove away. We're going to Liz Straton, who was at the scene. Several busy uptown streets were closed for an hour because of this incident. Liz, what happened?”

The camera cut to the blonde reporter standing on Trade Street. “Erica, security at the EpiCentre said Jackson Franklin arrived here around two
P.M.
and asked one of the guards how to get to the roof of the building. That's when they discovered the unidentified man standing near the ledge. While the security officer called for backup, Franklin sprang into action. He took the service elevator and went onto the roof. Then he and the man went back and forth for about a few moments while emergency personnel gathered below.”

“It was very intense watching those two men up there,” a female witness said into the camera. “There was a moment when it looked as if they were both going to go over the edge.”

The camera cut back to the reporter. “Police just told me that the man who was on the roof is an Army Ranger who returned home from Iraq about seven months ago. His name is not being released. But CMPD spokesman Robert Lacy said the man's wife rode with him to the hospital, where he will be evaluated.”

“Liz, is there any word on the relationship between Franklin and the man?” Erica, the anchorwoman, asked.

“No official word on their relationship, but Franklin does work at a center that counsels servicemen and -women who have been in battle. Franklin himself is a wounded warrior. He's credited with saving his platoon and sustaining an injury that forced him out of the military.”

“What a great story,” Erica said. “As more details emerge, Channel Nine will update the story online and on the air at ten o'clock and eleven.”

Liza shook her head as she flipped the channel, only to find another news story about Jackson and the unidentified man. “This is great,” she said to herself. “I wonder how Robert is going to top this.” She picked up her phone and called Jackson. When his voicemail picked up, she was fifty shades of disappointed.

 

 

Jackson was sick of his phone ringing. So, he'd turned it off for an hour and sat in the quiet darkness of his office. As the seriousness of Carlton's situation hit him, Jackson shivered. What was going to happen when the center closed and someone like Carlton didn't have anyone to turn to? Jackson wished he had a bottle of whiskey or vodka in his desk drawer. As he was about to stand up, his office door flung open and Daniel rushed in.

“I've been calling you, Teresa's been calling you. Have you seen the news?”

Jackson shook his head. “I've been avoiding that.”

“You're a hero.”

“I hate that word.”

“I know saving Carlton was second nature to you. But the press from this is the push you need to get to Raleigh.”

“I'm not using what happened with Carlton for votes.”

“Of course not. But people see who you are.”

“I just hope Carlton can heal in private. Hope there will be a place like this for him to turn to when he's feeling as if he has nothing to live for.” Daniel smiled and Jackson was confused. What in the hell did he have to be happy about?

“The center isn't going anywhere.”

“What?”

“Your story, your selflessness, and the fact that you haven't tried to turn this into a political ad has donations rolling in.”

Jackson shared Daniel's smile. “That's amazing news.”

“Tell me about it. You need to call Teresa. She seems to think that you're making some horrible, life-altering decision right now.”

Jackson chuckled. “Tell her that she doesn't have anything to worry about.”

Daniel nodded, then gave Jackson a salute. “I'll pass that message along and I will see you at the campaign office.”

Jackson shook his head as Daniel left. Then he decided to turn on his phone. The beeps and vibrations of his smartphone alerted him to the fact that he had missed a lot while he'd unplugged. Listening to his voicemail messages, when he heard Liza's voice he instantly felt a budding anticipation. Dinner was still on and he was going to see Miss Liza. He didn't care what Teresa thought, but he would keep her warning in the back of his mind. Still, he didn't want to believe Liza was a modern-day Mata Hari.

While he knew caution was important, he couldn't stop thinking about that kiss. The softness of her lips and how saucily she took his tongue into her mouth, making his knees quiver. He had serious doubts that a woman like Liza, who valued her reputation and was in the business of saving other people's reputations, would allow herself to be used in political muckraking. And she definitely didn't seem like the kind of woman who would use her body to get . . . what? What could she hope to get from Jackson's campaign? Donor list? Hints of a scandal? Or maybe she simply wanted to give the appearance of something underhanded going on.

One thing he knew for sure, if she wanted to expose Montgomery, she would have to do that on her own. There was no way in hell that he would allow himself to get caught up in that nonsense or use those pictures.

Dialing her number, Jackson wondered if this dinner date would be a mistake.

“This is Liza.” Hearing her voice replaced his doubt with yearning.

“Hi, Liza,” he said. “I'm returning your call.”

“Well, Mr. Hero, I'm glad that you decided to call me back.”

“I hate that word.”

“What word?”

“Hero. I really believe anyone who knew him would've done the same thing.”

“Spoken like a true . . . well, you know what I was going to say. Are we still on for dinner or do you have interviews lined up?”

Jackson laughed. “You really think I'd use this for political reasons?”

“Well, if you were my client . . .”

“But I'm not.”

“It would be something I'd suggest.”

“We're talking about a man's life.”

“I don't know what to do with you.”

Oh, I could think of several things,
Jackson thought, then licked his lips. “What do you eat? Are you like most pretty women who only order a salad and then scarf down a burger when no one is looking?”

“Ha,” she said. “I have a pretty healthy appetite. But I don't eat pork or a lot of red meat.”

“Cool. I'll order something from your favorite restaurant, and I hope you don't say Ruth's Chris. Then we can eat on my balcony.”

“What do you have against Ruth's Chris?” she asked with a giggle.

“I'm just over high-priced steak dinners,” he said. “You seem to eat a lot of those when you're on the campaign trail.”

“Then I guess it's lucky for you that steak is my least favorite type of red meat and I was actually thinking of something light and a very chocolate and rich dessert.”

“I like where this is going. Hometown Delights has one of the best chocolate cakes I've ever tasted.”

“No. Anywhere but there.”

“Now, how could you not like . . .”

“Long story. I used to love that chocolate cake from there, but I have bad memories of it now.”

“Then éclairs from Amelie's?”

“Sounds delicious to me.”

“So, we've agreed on dessert, but what's for dinner?” he asked.

“I'll tell you what, if you take care of dessert, I'll bring dinner.”

“Sounds good.”

“See you soon,” Liza said. Jackson ended the call with a smile on his face. Though he knew this really had the potential to put a wrinkle in his campaign, if Teresa was right. Deciding that he needed to call her so that she didn't track him down and find him with Liza, Jackson dialed her number.

Liza had a warm sensation rippling through her body as she recalled her phone call with Jackson. There was something about his voice that made her nerves stand on end.
Focus,
she ordered herself.
This is about loading Jackson with the bullets he needs to beat Robert. I won't allow this man to kiss me and I won't kiss him either.
Liza called over to Hometown Delights and ordered the New Orleans chicken, rice pilaf, mixed vegetables, and a bottle of sparkling cider. The cake from that restaurant may have reminded her of her epic failure at playing matchmaker, but she didn't have to boycott the whole menu. And though their wine selection was one of the best in the city, cider was safe. The last thing she needed was to be intoxicated around Jackson. Just looking into those green eyes was enough to make her drunk with want, need, and desire.

“Maybe I should just e-mail him the pictures and skip this torture,” she groaned as she glanced at her watch. “No, I'm a grown-up. I can handle this.” Just as she was about to head out the front door to pick up the meal, her cell phone rang. Looking down, she saw that it was Chante.

“Hello?” Liza asked after answering on the second ring.

“Liza,” her friend said. “I think we need to get together and talk.”

“That sounds like a good idea. I really hope we can . . .”

“Liza, I have an opening Tuesday morning and I hope that you can explain yourself.”

“Explain myself? What do you mean?”

“I thought you were a friend to me and Robert, but for you to betray us in this way, it isn't right and I just don't get it.”

“You're delusional,” Liza blurted out.

“Then Robert is right. I was so hoping that he was wrong. You're jealous and you've been harboring this long crush on him.”

“I have a bridge in Brooklyn and some oceanside property in Idaho. I don't want your lying-ass man.”

“You know how close we were in college? We used to talk about those sisters who claimed they had each other's backs until one got something the other one didn't have. I thought we were better than that.”

“And if you believe anything different, then there really isn't anything left to say and no need for us to meet.”

“Fine.” The line went dead and Liza wanted to jump through the phone and shake some sense into her former best friend. She didn't realize she'd been crying until a fat tear splashed on the back of her hand. She truly loved Chante and the last thing she wanted was to see her friend get hurt. But Robert was going to destroy her. Wiping her eyes, Liza blinked rapidly, telling herself that Chante made her choice and she was going to have to live with it. She tried to shake off her feelings about Chante as she headed for the restaurant. Liza tried to formulate a plan to bring up the pictures to Jackson again. He said he didn't want to go negative, but exposing Robert for the lying creep he was would be a service to the voters. As she pulled into the restaurant, Liza texted the photos to Chante. If she didn't believe her, maybe she'd let the pictures speak for themselves, that is if she hadn't blocked her number.

After picking up dinner, Liza headed for Jackson's telling herself that this was not a date. This was business.

 

 

Jackson spread a white tablecloth across the steel table on his balcony and silently reminded himself that this was just dinner; it wasn't a political meeting and it surely wasn't a date.

“Why couldn't this just be a simple date?” he muttered as he set a citronella candle in the center of the table. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved his lighter and lit the wick. “Because it isn't.” He headed inside and grabbed the éclairs. After setting the table, Jackson heard the doorbell ring. Glancing at his watch, he was appreciative of Liza's timeliness. Crossing over to the door, he smiled at the thought of the woman on the other side. When he opened the door and drank in her image—curve-hugging ivory jumpsuit and holding two bags of food in her hands, he was ravenous. But it wasn't the aroma of the dinner that stirred his appetite. It was the way Liza's breasts peeked through the fabric of her suit and silently cried out, “Kiss me.”