A Political Affair Page 2

  “I think they’re getting engaged,” Stephen replied. “Frankly, I’m relieved to be done with this. It’s been difficult to break off.”

  “So it’s not easy having an affair with another senator?” Megan smirked. “Especially from the other party?”

  “No, not easy. But it’s not an affair. We were just . . . dating.”

  “Bah!” Patty laughed. “Since when are dates only in a bed?”

  At nine o’clock sharp that night, Senator Helen Sanders pressed the intercom button outside the giant wrought iron gates of the McEvoy residence. In her home state of Idaho, such a house would be landmark, and she would want her arrival to be in a limousine and televised. In Washington, D.C., the building merely blended in with the rest of the mansions and embassies on Massachusetts Avenue, and she preferred a discreet entrance.

  Seconds later the gates opened for her, and after she parked her car out of sight from the street, the house door swung open. She strode inside, enjoying the ease of entry and knowing her favorite amusement awaited her.

  As Stephen closed the door, he welcomed his expected guest. “Good evening. It’s nice to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you, too, but I don’t have much time tonight.” She walked into the foyer, turned, and smiled when she saw his jeans. He wasn’t much younger, but in jeans he made her feel like Mrs. Robinson, and Helen liked every scrap of power she could get. She saddened once she realized this would be their last encounter—at least until she was safely married. With a few steps, she closed the space between them and touched his T-shirt. Her voice was sweet, but husky. “You’re smart enough to know why I’m here.”

  “You’re leaving me for your own kind.” He chuckled.

  “Something like that. Matt wants to settle down.”

  “Is it what you want?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes. Very much. Tick-tock, you know.” Helen controlled everything in her life, and she wasn’t going to let her biological clock get away from her without a marriage. Matt Smythe was the remedy. He was the perfect husband—conservative, unobjectionable, and easily pliable.

  “Then I’m happy for you,” he said, crossing his arms.

  “I want something else right now, though,” she said as she unbuttoned her coat.

  “What’s that?”

  She tossed her jacket on a chair and walked into the adjacent dining room. In the unlit room, she slipped out of her dress, revealing a black bustier, silk stockings, and lacy panties.

  Stephen shook his head and laughed. “Helen, what would the good people of Idaho think about this?”

  “The good people of Idaho will never find out about us.” She sat atop his mother’s antique table and spread her legs, giving him a better view. “Besides, it’s just one more time to remember you. And for you to remember me.”

  “But what about Matt?” he asked with reproach.

  “Oh, he’ll never know about you. No one will ever know about you because neither one of us will ever tell.” She beckoned him with a finger. “That’s why we’ve been perfect for one another.”

  A little after eight the next morning, Stephen sat in the back of his Lincoln Town Car reading The New York Times, while his driver, Jim, maneuvered through the streets around the Capitol building. When they stopped at one of D.C.’s interminably long stoplights, he glanced to his right. Standing on the sidewalk near his car was Anne Norwood. The dark windows allowed him to stare unnoticed, and the timing of the light gave him a full minute to study the young woman.

  It was a steamy, early-September day, and she dressed like your average Capitol Hill staffer walking from the Metro to work. She wore a suit, but the jacket hung on her arm, and a sleeveless top kept her cool. Stephen again admired her figure; her arms were toned, and a belt accentuated her small waist. Her hair was up off her neck, with stray tendrils damp with sweat. The heat also made her tanned skin pink. She turned her head for a moment, as if she sensed she was being watched. He observed her profile and decided she wasn’t generically pretty as he’d thought. There was something both unique and familiar about her. With freckled cheeks and the body of an athlete, she looked like a girl who loved the outdoors, and it was a look he’d always found attractive. Her legs were bare beneath her skirt and, like many women walking to work, she wasn’t yet in heels. Instead, she wore a pair of lime green Converse low-tops, which made him smile. He thought she seemed like she’d be fun to be around—to maybe go on a hike with.

  As the crosswalk sign signaled the light would soon change, she looked directly into the window of his sedan. Similar cars swarmed the streets of D.C., each one a sign of someone important inside. Though she didn’t know it, their eyes met. The light soon turned and his car rolled past her.

  The image of her bright and curious eyes stayed with him, making Stephen wince in frustration. When he thought back to the little show Helen put on last night, he felt ashamed. He shook his head in disgust, but quickly shook it faster in disbelief. What in the hell am I thinking?

  There were always pretty young things as staff and interns in his office, and he treated them all the same way; he avoided them. Those women were off-limits; political self-preservation required it. If Patty ever caught him even glancing at a staff member for too long, she’d mutter, “God damn it, Stephen. Don’t shit where you eat.”

  He grimaced. It would be one thing if he simply was admiring an intern for her looks. For Christ’s sake! I want to go on a hike with her? He hated hiking with other people. Being in the outdoors alone was one of his greatest pleasures. The only person he had liked hiking with was his father. Why would he ever want to hike with her?

  Looking out the window, he wondered what kind of girl she really was. Even if Elton Norwood was a moderate Republican, he was still a Republican. He’d endorse Dan Langford. Anne might stupidly mention something she heard in the office about Stephen’s campaign to her father, who might tell it to Langford. Then he’d have direct knowledge of how Stephen planned to defeat him.

  The girl was trouble in every way. He shook his head and turned back to his paper. The less he thought about her, the better.

  Chapter 2

  That morning, Anne sat in her cubicle and sorted through constituent mail. Out of nowhere, she heard a friendly voice.

  “Anne Norwood, I can’t believe you didn’t introduce yourself to me.”

  She looked up to see Greg Miller smiling as he leaned against the partition. She placed the envelopes aside and rose to shake his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d know who I was.”

  “Of course I do.” He nodded down the hall. “C’mon. Let’s get a cup of coffee. You’re the only other person in the office from back home.”

  “I’d love to. Thanks.” As Greg led her out of the office, she asked him how he ended up working on the Hill. While he detailed his career up the congressional ladder, she nodded and took note, but her mind wandered. She was baffled as to how she had gone from sorting envelopes to coffee with the chief of staff.

  When they arrived at the elevators, he pressed the button and placed his arms across his broad chest. “So, why did you apply for an internship with Senator McEvoy? Why not another member of Congress?”

  “Well, I like his politics,” she answered as she looked at his arms. The combination of his question and his stance told her his offer of coffee wasn’t a social one. She took a deep, calming breath before speaking again. “And I’d rather work in the Senate than the House. I’m also interested in environmental issues, and Senator McEvoy sits on the Energy and Natural Resources Committee.”

  “Sounds good.” He ushered her into the elevator. “But what does your dad think of you working here?”

  “When I told my dad I was applying for this internship, he shrugged it off. He thinks I’m young and naïve. You know, like why else would I want to work for a Democrat?”

  “But he didn’t stop you?”

  “Oh, he and my mom gave me a few warnings, telling me I needed to
think about what I was doing, but that’s it. They always say my brother and I are allowed to make our own mistakes.” She smiled and shook her head. “How’s that for confidence in your kids?”

  “That sounds like something your dad would say.” He chuckled as they exited the elevator into the Hart Building basement.

  “I guess you know enough of his sayings from the papers.”

  “Yeah. Elton has a way with words.”

  Things were quiet between them as they walked into the cafeteria and got their coffees. When they sat down, he quizzed her on the latest gossip in Summit County. It didn’t take long before he asked the question, giving away the real reason behind the impromptu coffee date.

  “And what do you think about Dan Langford?” he asked, leaning back in his seat.

  “Langford?” she asked, though she knew exactly where he was going. “I don’t know. He and my dad are friendly. I’ve met him a few times.”

  “So tell me what you think about him.” He sipped his coffee. “Your father’s a Republican, Dan’s a family friend, but you’re working for Senator McEvoy. What’s the deal?”

  “Well, obviously I don’t agree with him on anything,” she answered and raised a hand in self-evidence. “Langford’s way more to the right than my dad, and I think my dad’s already pretty conservative—at least for me. I’m the black sheep in my family.”

  “If you didn’t say you disagreed with them, I’d kick you out of our office immediately.” He laughed.

  “You know, I really appreciate that I got this job, despite my father.”

  “Aw, hell. It’s Colorado. Everybody is related to a Republican somehow.”

  The next morning, one of the receptionists called in sick, so Anne covered the office phones for the day. It was easy enough work, and she liked talking to constituents, even if they were angry. When the waiting area quieted around midmorning, the other receptionist went on a break. Anne took the opportunity to study for a class, and the few minutes of silence lulled her into complete focus on her reading. When the office door opened, she jumped and slammed the book shut.

  At first, it only registered that a good-looking man had entered the room. Soon his face clicked, and she found her wits. “Good morning, Senator McEvoy.”

  “Morning,” he muttered as he strode past and into the main office.

  His brief glance felt more like a glare to her. She sighed and told herself not to take it personally. She was an inconsequential intern; it had nothing to do with her. She should get used to it. But she wondered if she had done something wrong. Looking around, she tried to see if there was a task she’d missed. If the phones were silent and the office empty, there was little to do. Would he rather have seen her surfing the web or playing solitaire than reading a book? She shook her head and went back to reading.

  Normally, Stephen wouldn’t think twice about the receptionists in his office. He’d give them a perfunctory “hello” in the morning and “good-bye” at the day’s end. Otherwise, he ignored them as he came and went throughout the workday.

  With Anne at the front desk, it was different. Each time he walked by, he noticed her because she stood out compared to the usual receptionist in her place. The pimply guy, straight out of Georgetown, had been replaced by an attractive woman. Of course Stephen would eye her.

  Stephen believed Greg’s report that Anne wasn’t engaging in political espionage in his office, yet he still wondered about her. From the snippets he caught of her conversations with constituents, she had perfect manners, even when taming callers angry over one of his votes. She also read a lot, both books and newspapers. Occasionally, he caught her tapping away on her phone. He assumed the texts were to a boyfriend.

  While Stephen pondered Anne, she never acknowledged him again. After their terse exchange that morning, she decided it was best to keep her head down and concentrate on the task at hand when he was around.

  Toward the end of the day, she was again alone in the reception area. The door swept open, and she raised her head only long enough to see it was him. Back to her reading, she sensed he’d walked past her, but there was more movement. She spotted dark pants in front of the desk. Folding the paper, she asked dutifully, “May I help you?”

  “You know . . .” he said, pointing to the page. “. . . they say no one under the age of thirty reads print newspapers anymore.”

  “Well, I guess I’m an exception.” She wore a proud smile. “I’ve always loved them.”

  “Why is that?”

  “When I was growing up, Silverthorne was really tiny. Nothing like it is now.”

  “That’s true. It’s changed a lot. It’s gotten to be pretty commercial.” He grimaced in agreement.

  “Exactly. So newspapers were like these windows to a whole other world beyond the mountains. I read The Denver Post every day. It was different reading the actual paper, rather than the words on a computer screen. Seeing things in print and feeling a paper in my hands made the rest of the world seem more real. Anyway, that’s why I read the paper.” She considered who she was talking to and shrugged. “It probably all sounds silly to you. You’re from the city.”

  “No, it doesn’t sound silly.” He stood at ease and smiled. “I had somewhat the opposite experience.”

  “How so?”

  “I was stuck here during the school year while my dad was in the Senate, but I spent my summers at our ranch outside Kremmling. I loved it there. I never wanted to leave.”

  “It’s pretty out there,” she said as she envisioned the next county over from hers.

  “It is. And much more fun than St. Albans all-boys School here in D.C.”

  “I imagine,” she said with a light chuckle.

  “I hated leaving the ranch. For years, I’d hide the day we were supposed to leave. It drove my parents nuts.”

  “Where would you hide?” She grinned at what she thought was an adorable story, especially coming from him. Until that moment, she hadn’t thought him very human.

  “I don’t know . . . closets, cabinets . . . sometimes the hay in my horse’s stall.”

  “Aw,” she said, resting her chin on her hands. “I don’t miss home at all. I thought I would, but I don’t. I do miss my horse, though. It doesn’t make sense. I leave him every year for school and don’t think about him. Now, I move here, and I’m texting my mom just to see how he’s doing.”

  “What kind of horse is he?”

  “A black Morgan named Orion, but I call him Orie.”

  “Sounds like a handsome guy.”

  “He is. Do you have a horse?”

  “No. Not anymore.” He sighed. “My family has a working ranch, so we have some there, but none of them is mine. I don’t have the time.”

  Anne sensed he didn’t like his predicament. The look in his blue eyes was also blue, and she felt badly for him. She offered some encouragement. “But you’re lucky to see them when you can.”

  A few seconds lapsed as he held her gaze. A touch of anxiety hit her when she thought he might be debating what to say, but then he nodded and smiled. “You’re right. I am lucky. I should remember that.” As he turned to leave, he said, “Have a good night.”

  “Thanks. You, too.”

  She opened her newspaper again, though she didn’t read. She imagined the handsome Senator McEvoy as a sad little boy hiding in the hay. It was a sweet image, and it seemed to hold true today. Why couldn’t he remember his luck in life? He was a McEvoy and the son of the revered Patrick McEvoy. His father had recently died, which was tragic, but Stephen was appointed to complete his term in the Senate. No one would say he was unlucky. Her brow furrowed. I wonder what that’s about.

  The following day, Stephen spied Anne through the window as he approached his office. Pretending to check his phone, he stopped in the hallway for a minute to watch her as she read. He liked the way she answered his newspaper question the day before. He envisioned a sheltered girl studying the paper every day for news of life outside her tiny Colorado
town.

  With a loose braid over her shoulder, he thought she looked pretty. She touched the plait as she read, and he wondered what she was concentrating on.

  “Good morning, Anne,” he greeted as he walked inside.

  Her eyes flew up from the page, and she closed the book. “Good morning, Senator. How are you?”

  “Good, and you?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  He glanced at the book’s cover, John Rawls’s A Theory of Justice. “Doing some light reading?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” She smiled. “It’s for a class.”

  Remembering the book from his own school days, he asked, “And what do you think of it?”

  “Well, it’s a little dry, but I think his thesis is right. Justice should also be about economic fairness.”

  “You really think that?”

  “I told you the other day, my dad is the Republican. Not me,” she said with a wry grin.

  “I know that’s what you said—”

  “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

  “I suppose I will.” He’d said it jokingly, but the meaning was serious. She worked in his office; he had to trust her, and at that moment, he wanted to trust her because he wanted to talk to her more. She was funny and cute and made him smile. As they shared a grin, he felt off-balance, and he nodded at the door. “I’ve got a meeting. Have a good day.”

  When the receptionist came back to work the next day, Stephen was disappointed to see the pimply guy at the front desk, but he told himself it was a good thing. Anne was too appealing to be around all the time.

  A few days later, Stephen and Megan walked down the office hall, rehashing their latest meeting. In the middle of the same hallway, Anne and another intern stood studying the giant map of Colorado covering the wall. Stephen wondered what they were pointing at, but he planned on walking right by them.

  Megan was always polite, though, and stopped to greet them. “Hello, Anne. Hello, Keith. What are you doing?”