The Best-Kept Secret

CHAPTER TWO

“COME IN AND SIT DOWN.” Hud’s mother held the door as the jury filed in with a verdict—salvageable candidate or not. The quality of the campaign manager Walter O’Connell selected would be telling.

Hud stood and came around his desk to shake hands with Walter, who held the fate of his family’s political legacy in his hands. Hud nodded to Stu, but didn’t see anyone behind the chairman’s large frame. His shoulders sank. So, they’d decided Hud was unmarketable. He turned back to his desk.

His mother cleared her throat, inclining her head almost imperceptibly toward the door. Hud looked around to face a pixie with big dark eyes and long, wild black curls, including one artfully arranged on her cheek.

“Rosie DeWitt.” Cheeks flaming, she thrust out her hand.

Hud took Ms. DeWitt’s hand gingerly in both of his, afraid his normal grip might crush her delicate bones. Warm and soft, her hand fit nicely between his. Despite her solid reputation, there was no way Rosie DeWitt was capable of the cutthroat behavior that Hud needed from his campaign manager. Her hands were more suited to stroking a lover than greasing palms and salvaging careers.

As if sensing his assessment, her eyes flashed. She gripped his hand as firmly as any man ever had, gave it a good shake and pulled away. “You don’t want to shake a woman’s hand like that.”

The absence of her warmth robbed him of speech.

A state his mother never experienced. “Why ever not? I think it’s a sweet gesture.”

“Women see it as something more subtle and…” Ms. DeWitt gave Hudson a sideways glance as she crossed the room to set down her slender leather briefcase. “A bit suggestive.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t.” Ms. DeWitt cut him off, digging in her briefcase. She knew he was lying. He could tell by the lingering bloom of color on her cheeks that she’d felt the attraction between them and was as surprised as he was by it. “But not everyone else knows your touch is platonic.” She pulled out a sheaf of papers and sank into a chair, gesturing for everyone to be seated as if this was her office, not his.

“Walter, what kind of game are you playing?” Hud asked, giving the woman a wide berth on the way to his chair. If he so much as brushed up against her she’d probably accuse him of sexual harassment.

“The kind of game you should have played when you were Senator McCloud.” Ms. DeWitt looked past his shoulder in the direction of Alcatraz. “Play up your strengths, admit your mistakes and move on. Do you want me to continue?”

“No,” Hud said at the same time his mother said, “Yes,” arching her brows at him when he frowned.

Okay. Points to Mother. This was going to be painful just as she’d predicted. Hud was tired of hearing advice on what he should have done. He wanted advice to help him today. His father’s clock ticked off the seconds Hud was wasting until Ms. DeWitt spoke again.

“According to a poll conducted by the party this week, one-third of registered voters believe Hudson did the honorable thing by stepping down, one-third considered his resignation an admission of guilt and one-third couldn’t care less about him.” Ms. DeWitt spoke directly to Hud’s mother, as if she knew Hud would be annoyed that they’d conducted a poll already. It gave them ammunition he didn’t have. “Now, if you look at women, two-thirds considered what Hud did honorable. We’ll need to keep the female vote happy, but at a distance. We can’t have as much as a breath of scandal.”

That explained her aversion to his handshake. Hudson made a derisive noise and rolled his eyes. “Fortunately, I’m not the womanizer my brother Samuel was,” he said before he realized his mother might be offended by his comment. Samuel had been her favorite.

But everyone ignored his outburst, including Ms. DeWitt. “We also asked who voters would prefer sitting down to dinner with—Hudson or the president—and they chose our commander in chief. Then we gave them a choice between Hudson or Samuel—and they chose Samuel.” She seemed unexpectedly pleased that Hud had failed both questions.

“What kind of question is that?” And how had Hud lost to his irresponsible, dead brother?

“It’s a standard question we ask,” Walter explained. “If voters don’t like you, they won’t vote for you.”

“I would have chosen the president, too,” Stu inserted almost absently.

His mother shushed their family’s longtime assistant.

Ms. DeWitt nodded. “If Hudson is serious about the election, he’ll have to publicly address what happened in D.C.—”

“The past won’t come into play here,” Hud interjected. “This is about the future.”

Ms. DeWitt’s brow creased ever so slightly. She turned to his mother, no longer acknowledging Hudson’s presence. “And create a more appealing persona.”

Hud’s jaw tightened. The verdict was in. The party didn’t want him. In fact, Rosie DeWitt, who had a reputation for doing the impossible in politics, didn’t like him.

“If the party chooses to back Hudson, we’d be taking a huge risk since the Republican opponent will most likely attack Hudson’s Senate record relentlessly. That’s what I’d do in their shoes.” She gave Hud a look that dared him to contradict her. “So, Hudson, why don’t you tell us why you think the Democrats should take this risk?”

“My son has the highest ethical standards,” his mother bristled. Too late, Hudson realized how hard this must be on her. Perhaps he should have insisted she stay out of this meeting.

Walter started to speak, but Ms. DeWitt held up a hand. “To win, he’ll need both voter trust and liking. How do you expect to increase your chances?” She didn’t measure Hud with her stare but rather dared him to defend himself.

It had been years since anyone had challenged Hud, much less a miniature woman with too big of an ego. “I thought the party paid you to improve my numbers. Where do you categorize yourself on that poll you referenced earlier, Ms. DeWitt?”

“Excuse me?” Something flared in Ms. DeWitt’s eyes. She may have dressed in designer clothes and spent hours to get that hair of hers to fall artfully over her face, but she wasn’t an all-fluff, no-substance debutante. Her fact gathering proved that, and her nearly black eyes accented with a thick carpet of eyelashes and minimal cosmetics told him she was no nonsense.

No fun, either. Despite the unexpected physical spark between them. But Hud doubted if anyone dared contest Ms. DeWitt when the decision over their careers rested with her. For an instant, Hud considered retreating, but he was done sidestepping battles. “Did you vote for me to go to the slammer because of my handshaking style or did you think I should be acquitted of all charges?”

Hud half expected Ms. DeWitt to blush again, but she didn’t. Her gaze hardened the way only seasoned back-room dealmakers could when someone got in their way. Hud spared a glance to Walter. What bonus had the party offered Ms. DeWitt to work on his campaign? She certainly wasn’t one of his supporters.

“My personal opinion of you doesn’t matter. It’s my professional opinion you should be worried about. I don’t back candidates that don’t have what it takes to win.” In that moment, her eyes blazing and her dark hair spiraling in wild waves around her face, Hud wanted to have her.

The reaction gave him pause.

“Walter?” His mother turned to the chairman.

Walter cleared his throat and Hud silenced him with a gesture before he could enter the fray. “What makes you think I don’t have what it takes to win?”

SHE’D COME ON TOO STRONG. Hudson had gotten Rosie out of rhythm. From the get-go, his touch had thrown her off with his unexpected animal magnetism. She’d seen him speak before but never actually met him. Up close, he was tall—taller than Samuel—and so perfectly put together—not a strand of black hair out of place or a wrinkle in his suit—with a penetrating gaze that challenged as intensely as it beckoned.

Yet she knew from what Samuel had told her that Hudson didn’t care about others beyond how he could use them to garner more power. A man like that would never swallow his pride. She’d played to that, only she’d played a bit too hard and upset the McClouds.

Rosie stared at her hands, realizing she should have turned this meeting down and suffered the career setback. But in addition to fulfilling an obligation to Vivian McCloud and testing the waters that led to presidential campaigns, she’d wanted to see for herself if she was making the right decision by keeping Casey a secret from this side of his family tree. And by showing up and taking the offensive right away, she’d made things ten times worse.

Rosie stood, capturing Hudson’s gaze, ignoring the stubborn cleft to his chin. “I’m no different than any other voter. I want to believe that you’re a good person worthy of my trust. I’ll even forgive you a few mistakes as long as you own up to them and apologize. But you haven’t told me anything to keep those beliefs alive, not two years ago and certainly not today.”

Hudson’s mouth thinned into a hard line. He didn’t say anything. Rosie’s gaze drifted past him, but the spectacular view was hidden behind oppressive rain clouds.

“I’ll tell you why you can’t win. Voters want to back someone with a captivating personality. If you’re intriguing, you don’t let anyone see it.” Disregarding a twinge of discomfort that she was being brutally cruel to Vivian’s son in front of her, Rosie locked gazes with Hudson. “You’re not married. You don’t date. You don’t show up at ball games or the beach. Everything about you, from this high-rise office suite to the domineering expression on your face shouts, ‘stay away from me.’”

Chairs on either side of her creaked with disappointment, fueling the growing unease eating at Rosie’s composure. Walter was letting her hang on this one. Her chances of being blackballed by Vivian now outweighed her chances at the presidential campaign. Ever.

She forced herself to face Vivian, hoping Casey’s grandmother might understand, hoping she wouldn’t hold Rosie’s rejection of Hudson against her. But as a mother, Rosie wouldn’t forgive anyone who stood in the way of her son’s dreams. “I was hoping your son was someone honorable, someone I could trust to watch out for the interests of my son. I’d pour my heart into a campaign for someone like that, regardless of what his last name was.” She’d said too much, looked too weak.

And there was no sign of forgiveness in Vivian McCloud’s expression, only a sad resignation as if she was sorry to have to end Rosie’s career.

Rosie picked up her briefcase. “Excuse me. I have another appointment.”

“WELL, THAT’S THAT,” Hud’s mother announced brightly.

“You agree that my political career is over because I have no personality?” There was so much adrenaline pumping through his veins, Hud could barely sit still. He disagreed with everything Ms. DeWitt said, but the Democratic chairman hadn’t supported or refuted her judgment, so Hud hadn’t argued with her toward the end of her insulting diatribe.

“Rosie’s assessments are usually right on the money,” Walter said, showing his true colors.

“She’s a regular firecracker,” Stu said. “I’d pay to see that again. Do you want me to go get her?”

“No.” His mother waved a weary hand. “At your age, you’d never catch a determined woman like that. It’s for the best.”

“Yes. Rosie is long gone.” Walter looked apologetic. “She’s having lunch with Roger Bartholomew.”

“Is she dating him?” Stu asked before Hud could.

Roger Bartholomew lied and cheated his way through life and seduced women he had no feelings for. Among the social elite of the city, Roger made Samuel look like a saint. Although Ms. DeWitt dating Roger would explain why she and Hud didn’t get along, Hud suspected something far worse. “You’re considering Roger for mayor, aren’t you? This was all a show. You were never seriously considering me.”

“There’s been many a politician who overcame worse than you’ve experienced, and their last name wasn’t McCloud. Rosie told you what you needed to do. I’ve never known her to steer someone wrong.” Walter stood. “It was an interesting idea, Viv. Now, just so I don’t feel as if I wasted the trip from Los Angeles, would you like to go to lunch?”

The party didn’t think Hudson was a failure? Ms. DeWitt thought he had a chance?

“I’m always free for lunch with you, Walter,” his mother replied with an apologetic look in Hud’s direction. “Perhaps we can talk about Hud’s prospects over lobster salad at Aqua?”

Walter’s laughter dissolved into a fit of coughing. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. That little lady has never led me astray in my decision of who the party backs.” Walter buttoned his suit jacket. “I imagine after lunch at Plouf, she’ll recommend the party back Bartholomew.”

Without even a cursory shake of Walter’s hand, Hudson sprinted toward the door.

“WELL, I…” Vivian didn’t know what to say as she watched Hudson’s retreating back.

“He’s usually very steady.” Stu filled in the void.

“I’m sure he is,” Walter said. “I’m still free for lunch, Viv.”

From the day her husband had introduced Vivian to the tall, broad-shouldered politician, Walter had called her Viv. She’d always been Vivian to Hamilton, yet there was something about the way Walter said the nickname that she’d always liked. “Do you think Hud went after her?”

“If he wants to reenter politics, he better be hightailing it after her.” Walter gestured for Vivian to precede him out of Hudson’s office, then called his driver requesting he bring the car around.

“I’m sure he’ll set things right.” She still wasn’t sure she wanted Hud back in politics. Vivian was proud of Hud and the choices he’d made, but even she had to admit he came across as a stuffed shirt. It would take a lot to get him to loosen up.

Walter helped Vivian into her raincoat. After he smoothed her collar, his hands drifted down her arms in an intimate manner and then fell away.

Vivian froze. Walter was always such a gentleman. She’d probably misread the moment. They were friends. That touch…that touch was just supportive. What had they been talking about? Uh… “It takes a strong woman to go out in Jimmy Choos on a day like today with only a Spider-Man umbrella.”

“Most admirable.” Walter held the door and bid goodbye to Stu.

Vivian passed Walter, her walk unusually self-conscious. “How are your kids?”

“Healthy. Still married. Financially sound.” Walter reached in front of Vivian to press the elevator button. He had solid, strong fingers. “Now that the grandchild is talking, I’ve found he’s actually interesting.”

“Really?” Vivian suppressed her envy. With her husband and Samuel gone, her life was too empty. Not that she wanted it filled with politics again. She’d lost most of her friends in D.C. after Hudson stepped down, which just proved they weren’t really her friends. Vivian forced herself to smile. Walter didn’t deserve her melancholy mood. “You’re too young to be a grandfather.”

He chuckled, the textured sound filling her chest in an odd way. “I’m old enough to be a widower, as are you. Fifteen, twenty years ago when our kids were in high school we were old enough to be grandparents. We were just lucky, that’s all.”

“You don’t fit the mold of any grandparent I know,” Vivian said, stepping into the empty elevator, noting how thoughtful he was to have a hand on the door.

“Let me tell you about today’s grandparents.” Walter crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He was one of a few men from their generation who was considerably taller than she was. “Grandparents nowadays still vote, but they travel and go out to eat at nice restaurants, and every once in a while, if they’re lucky, they have sex.”

Just the word sex was enough to send Vivian’s pulse racing. She’d given up on the idea years ago and now Walter had reawakened a need. Vivian was going to have to check her medication because she had to be having a hot flash.

“IT’S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU.” Many women probably found Roger Bartholomew attractive, but his highlighted blond hair and average chin didn’t make near the impression on Rosie that Hudson’s presence did. Roger cradled Rosie’s hand in both of his smooth, pale ones without shaking it at all.

Rosie extracted herself and tried to lift at least one corner of her mouth in a weak interpretation of a smile. Still reeling from the awkward scene with the McClouds, Rosie needed Roger to be a stellar candidate. And quickly, because she had to pick up Casey early today. Once she settled into a chair across from Roger, Rosie looked up to find Hudson McCloud at the maitre d’ stand. Their gazes collided, sending her heart pounding.

He knows about Casey. Why else would Hudson be here except to demand visitation and subject Casey to the kind of media circus he’d grown up with?

Because he’s a conceited nuisance who wants to be mayor. Sanity returned, along with a steadier heartbeat.

“Would you excuse me, Roger?” Rosie hurried to the front of the restaurant, grabbed Hudson by the arm and tugged him over toward the restrooms out of Roger’s line of vision should he look. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re not finished with your assessment of me.” Hudson thrust his hands into his raincoat pockets. “We didn’t talk about my ideas for the city.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.” Even in her heels, Rosie had to tilt her head back to look at Hudson, to take in his determined expression on his much too handsome features framed by crisp, well-behaved dark hair. Although her time with Samuel had been brief, she’d appreciated the fact that the hair at the nape of Samuel’s neck curled uncontrollably and his nose was a bit crooked. Perfection like Hudson’s was intimidating.

“I won’t lose. I’ll just wait by the door for you to realize I’m a better risk than Roger.” True to his word, tall, dark and annoying went to stand in the foyer.

His political career was so over.

As she walked past him, Hudson leaned close. “What did you think of his handshake?”

Rosie didn’t want to admit that Roger’s handshake gave her the heebie-jeebies. With only two candidates on Walter’s radar, if Roger had other qualities that were marketable, Rosie was recommending him. Handshakes could be fixed. Personality flaws like Hudson’s could not.

“I’m sorry for the interruption.” Rosie arranged her napkin in her lap and looked about the table. “Didn’t we have menus?”

“I ordered for you while you were in the ladies’ room.”

Rosie tried to mask her irritation at Roger’s presumptuous behavior. “We’ve never met before. How did you know what to order?”

“I know what women like.” Something sexist dripped from each word and Roger’s smile was condescending.

If it wasn’t for Hudson McCloud standing watch, Rosie might have left. Instead, she vowed to get the upper hand. “Never presume, Roger.” Flagging down a waiter, Rosie requested a menu.

“I apologize.” Roger looked quite unattractive when things didn’t go his way.

Rosie was familiar with the French seafood bistro and knew what she wanted, but she still gave the menu a cursory glance before ordering an endive salad and lobster ravioli. “Why don’t you tell me why you want to be mayor?”

“My family settled in the city nearly one hundred years ago and it seems like a good place to start a political career.”

That wasn’t an answer. Rosie knew Roger lived off his family’s wealth rather than working, as Hudson did. According to Walter, his charitable contributions paled next to Hudson’s. She needed to uncover any advantage Roger had over Hudson. She tried again. “If you were mayor…” Rosie trailed off as she caught Roger’s attention drifting after a twiggy woman in a too-short skirt passing their table.

Roger gave Rosie an unrepentant grin, as if this were a common occurrence a female campaign manager wouldn’t find both insulting and problematic. “I’m always on the lookout for the next Mrs. Bartholomew. I’ve heard it’s easier to get into office as a married man than as a single one.”

Oh, pul-ease. Why had Walter set up this lunch? Roger was not politician material. Rosie didn’t need any more time to make that judgment, but she couldn’t bail with Hudson waiting. If she had to grin and bear Roger through lunch, she was going to need a glass of wine. Rosie held up a hand and signaled another waiter. At least the service at Plouf was excellent.

“Rosie?” Hudson appeared next to their table with a practiced, easy grin. Heaven forbid he show too many teeth. “I thought that was you. And then you waved and—”

“I did not wave at you.” Rosie glared at Hudson. “Did you think I was asking you to join us?” No one could be that obtuse.

“May I?” Hudson greeted Roger, shook his hand and sat beside Rosie, ignoring the look she gave him and nodding his head toward the awestruck woman at the next table. “The place is packed.”

“We’re having a private conversation,” Roger said, his brows pitching downward.

Hudson pointed at the two of them. “I’m not interrupting something romantic, am I?”

“No!” Rosie felt like jabbing an elbow in Hudson’s rib cage.

“Good. Just pretend I’m not here. I need to check e-mail anyway.” With that, Hudson pulled out his BlackBerry and started scrolling through his messages.

Where was that waiter?

CHAPTER THREE

ROGER LOWERED HIS VOICE. “The lady wants you to leave.”

“Given your track record, I prefer to stay. The lady needs protection.” From both Roger and her own mistaken impressions. Hud leaned back in his chair and put his arm across the top of Rosie’s chair. Somewhere between his office and Plouf she’d become someone who believed in him, however reluctant that belief might be, and he’d started thinking of her as Rosie.