Will winning the race mean losing her love?

The third son of a powerful Northern California dynasty, Nico Drake has dreams of one day becoming governor of his state. First item on his agenda—beating his newest mayoral challenger. Ivy League dazzler Monique Slater is already swaying voters with her innovative ideas…and arousing an irresistible desire in the heart of her unattached opponent.

Monique has big plans for the small scenic town of Paradise Cove—plans that don’t include falling for her sexy political rival. Keeping their sizzling relationship under wraps while running against each other is a tightrope act. Now someone is trying to not only ruin Monique’s reputation, but also make sure Nico does not win the race. With both their futures on the line, can Nico convince Monique that there are no losers when it comes to love?

“It’s going to be all right, Monique.”

He felt her shoulders heave and thought she’d pull away. Like all the other times. But she didn’t. She leaned into him, and placed her arms around his waist. He pulled her closer to him and began rubbing his hand across her back. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can let go. We’re all very concerned. Everything is going to be all right.” He brushed his lips across her temple and kissed her there.

She stilled. Her arms around him loosened slightly. Niko silently chided himself. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. It was a reflex, pure and simple. She pulled back. He lifted his head, ready to apologize. Until he saw the look in her eyes, and how they quickly shifted from looking into his eyes to looking at his lips. Just before she leaned in and joined hers to them. She did this, but moved no further. So Niko took over. He slowly moved his head, rubbing his lips across hers, creating a delicious friction that immediately increased the heat. Her mouth opened, and it took all of his restraint not to plunder her sweetness like a love-starved youth. But she didn’t need that type of treatment right now. She needed gentleness and kindness and understanding. He was there to give it all.

ZURI DAY

snuck her first Mills & Boon romance at the age of twelve from her older sister’s off-limits collection and was hooked from page one. Knights in shining armor and happily-ever-afters filled her teen years and spurred a lifelong love of reading. That she now creates these stories as a full-time, award-winning author is a dream come true! Splitting her time between the stunning Caribbean islands and Southern California, she’s always busy writing her next novel, but Zuri makes time to connect with readers and meet with book clubs. Contact her via Facebook, www.facebook.com/haveazuriday, or at Zuri@ZuriDay.com.

Secret Silver Nights

Zury Day

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Dear Reader,

Volunteering on the presidential campaign and then attending the historical 2009 inauguration in Washington, D.C., was an incredible experience, one of the more memorable of my life.

As it turns out, some of the Drakes were there, too!

Niko is particularly inspired, so much so that after a long talk with his grandfather Walter and his family he decides to test the waters of a political career by running for mayor of Paradise Cove. The politics there are on a much smaller scale, and Niko feels a win is already in the bag, until a formidable opponent shows up and makes the race interesting in more ways than one. Ooh…I love it when a confident man gets his cage rattled by a sexy surprise!

Niko’s family rallies around him for support, including his sister, Teresa. Her story is next. In the meantime, I’d love to hear from you at zuriday.com.

One love!

Zuri

A huge shout-out and thank you to “Team Zuri” and the Z-Nation!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dear Reader

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Copyright

Chapter 1

“Niko. Heads up, guy. We’ve got a problem.”

Attorney Nicodemus “Niko” Drake barely glanced away from the speech he was tweaking as his campaign manager threw down the day’s Cove Chronicle newspaper next to the iPad that had his attention. April had turned to May, but that hadn’t stopped the rain. And that it was Saturday didn’t deter this perpetual go-getter from showing up at the office or his loyal sidekick from following suit. On Monday, Niko was speaking at a dinner for the members of the chamber of commerce. He wanted to make sure that the speech was just right.

“Niko, did you hear me?”

“How could I not hear you, man?” He didn’t look up. “Even this early, seven in the morning, your voice reverberates off the walls.”

Bryce Clinton plopped into the seat behind a desk that was a mere six feet away from where Niko sat. “All right. Don’t pay attention. But later today when you get blindsided, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

At six foot one and a lean one hundred and ninety-five pounds, Niko rarely felt he had to be warned about anything. So Bryce’s comment got his attention. He reached over the iPad and picked up the paper. The headline caught him at once: Newest Mayoral Candidate Promises A New Day.

Hmm, interesting. So far there’d been only two other residents silly enough to not drop out of the race the moment he’d announced his candidacy. So who was this fool?

He unfolded the newspaper to read the article and was hit with his second surprise of the morning. The photo of said “fool.” Someone he not only knew but had actually sparred with...and lost.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“He finally gets it,” Bryce announced to an imaginary audience. Bryce was not only Niko’s campaign manager but one of his best friends for the past twenty-plus years. Having grown up together in the tony Golden Gates neighborhood of their town, Paradise Cove, the two had lost contact during their college years. But after running into each other at one of the local restaurants and discovering that they’d both returned to their roots, they’d reconnected around eighteen holes and a couple of beers. Their friendship continued as though no time had been lost.

“So what are you going to try to do with this one?” Bryce asked, eyeing his laptop and flipping through a myriad of emails. “She’s not from around here, so your name is likely not to have the same effect that it did on your previous rivals.”

“I know her.”

Bryce’s head shot up. “Huh?”

“Mo is Monique. I would have never made the connection.”

“‘Mo is Monique’? You’ve lost me.”

“Monique Slater,” Niko continued. “Successful attorney who practices in Los Angeles, or used to. Steel fist in a velvet glove who takes no prisoners, who’s known for chewing up prosecutors for breakfast and spitting out judges for lunch.”

Bryce pushed away from his desk, turned toward Niko and laced his hands behind his head. “How do you know her?”

Niko relaxed his position as well, stretching his long, muscular legs out in front of him, and picked up the newspaper again. “I debated her once in college, the most important tournament of my undergrad career. It was for the national championship. She kicked my then overly cocky behind.” He ignored Bryce’s raised brow that pointedly took issue with how far in the past Niko’s arrogance was. “I guess I can’t say I know her exactly. We never talked outside of that one very significant college encounter. So needless to say, I am going to need a résumé on her ASAP, got it?” He continued reading for a bit, then looked up to make sure he had Bryce’s attention. “Beginning with the answer to the question of how she moved here, gathered signatures and secured the Democratic Party nomination without me or someone in my family knowing about it.”

“I gave you the names of those seeking both the Democratic and Republican noms months ago.”

“Her name totally slipped by me. Didn’t recognize it at all. Guess I was too focused on building my independent platform.”

“Well, buddy, you know it now.” Bryce nodded toward the paper. “How she did it, and why her candidacy is potentially problematic, is all there in black and white.” He replied to a text message and stood. “I have a meeting with a couple pastors about your speaking to their congregations. Let’s talk after you finish the article and discuss how you want to handle this unexpected development.”

“All right. Will do.”

Niko’s gaze was speculative as he turned toward the window that looked out onto one of Paradise Cove’s busiest streets. In the heart of downtown, he’d opted to run his campaign from this virtual epicenter where 75 percent of the businesses were located instead of from the stately offices of Drake Realty Plus, located closer to the Golden Gates community. So far the move had proved highly beneficial. On any given day he rubbed shoulders with company owners and their staff, and customers of the gift stores; art gallery and framing shop; travel agency; insurance companies; coffee shop; medical and dental offices; dog-grooming service; floral shop; New York–style deli; and middle-to-upscale boutiques. Once or twice a week he made sure to eat at Acquired Taste, one of the larger restaurants in the city, and made an equal amount of appearances at The Cove Café, the town’s casual diner.

With six months to go until the election, he felt he’d locked up at least 60 percent of the vote. The other opponents weren’t exactly lightweights, but didn’t carry Niko’s kind of clout. Monique was new in town. No one knew her. “Who in the heck is Mo Slater?” he’d asked himself when reading the name. Some local nobody, he vaguely remembered thinking. With almost no name recognition, how did she figure she could compete against one of the town’s most popular native sons? The Republican candidate, Dick Schneider, had the seniors, Buddy Gao, a Libertarian, the fringe element. Which only left everybody else: the liberal Democrats, progressives, independents, those fifty-nine and younger and most of the town’s female population. One would be shortsighted to leave out this pivotal bloc of voters.

As far as he’d been concerned a mere ten minutes ago, this election was in the bag. That was until Monique Slater, the only woman who’d beaten him at almost anything, had entered the picture and put a hitch in the proverbial giddy-up. He’d dismissed that guy named Mo with a wave of his long, thick well-groomed fingers. But not this woman; not Monique. He’d underestimated her once before and paid the price.

Never again.

Picking up the paper once more, he studied the image smiling back at him. She was prettier than he remembered; softer, more feminine. Perhaps it was because in this photo her shoulder-length hair fell in soft curls around her face and neck, and her smile was bright and welcoming. The day of the debate, which was coming back to him as if it were yesterday and not over a decade ago, she’d worn her hair in a bun secured at the nape of her neck, as stark and conservative as the dark-colored pantsuit she’d also worn. Niko’s thoughts whirled as he continued to study her picture. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that aside from the debate question and the fact that she blew his argument to smithereens, he didn’t remember much else about her. Had they even had a conversation beyond the stage? He didn’t think so. He remembered being angry and embarrassed at being out-argued, especially for the national trophy. The team had tried to ease his guilt and humiliation through teasing. A steely glare and a curtly delivered message left no doubt that for him there was no humor in any part of the affair. That night, he’d returned to California and walked straight into the arms of his latest love interest, one who’d undoubtedly been all too ready to offer comforting hugs and warm kisses to make him feel better. In time, this solid trouncing became a distant memory in what was otherwise a stellar debating record and career during a fun-filled, sexually adventurous four undergrad college years.

His thoughts returned to Monique. She was attractive, but off-limits. Aside from the obvious improprieties of dating a political opponent, she seemed hardly his type. Serious. Conservative. That was what he remembered. Probably more than ready to give him a run for his considerable money. He hoped things wouldn’t get ugly but would be prepared for all outcomes. Because winning the mayoral seat was only the first rung in the ladder of success he’d envisioned since attending the inauguration of the country’s first African-American president. So whether or not he would win and begin this political climb was not something up for debate.

* * *

Monique took one final look in the mirror before stepping from the master bath in her newly purchased two-bedroom condominium and entered the spacious adjoining suite. She’d been very pleased to snag one of the few remaining units in the stylish Seventh Heaven complex, located adjacent to the more upscale community of Golden Gates and a mere three blocks from the neighborhood’s award-winning golf course. That she’d been able to purchase anonymously had been even more satisfying and part of the larger plan to catch her mayoral competition totally by surprise. It was also why, until this week, no pictures of herself had accompanied the ads, articles and scant required information on Mo Slater. If what she’d been able to gather from her godmother was any indication, she’d totally succeeded.

A small smile danced across her face as she entered her walk-in closet and reached for the garment hanging on a wall hook. It was one of her power suits, simply designed and tailored to perfectly fit her five-foot-seven, toned-yet-curvy frame. She ran a hand over the soft fabric, a light wool blend in charcoal-gray, and imagined the look on Niko Drake’s face when he saw the morning paper. Her assistant had rushed out before 5:00 a.m. to get a copy of the Cove Chronicle and had brought it over before Monique had enjoyed her first cup of joe, which she had, immensely. The well-written article officially announced her winning the Democratic vote for mayor and explained in clear, concise detail why she was the best person for the job of running the affairs of Paradise Cove.

Donning the Victoria’s Secret lingerie that made her feel sexy and girlie beneath the ultraconservative pantsuit, Monique thought back to that first conversation she’d had almost two years ago with Margo Gentry, her godmother and the one who’d approached her with the idea of running for mayor on the Democratic ticket. Her first reaction had been a resounding no, followed by several reasons why the idea was impossible: too many cases, too many clients, no desire to enter politics and no desire to move from metropolitan Los Angeles. Margo had listened and then, in her gentle way, had reminded Monique of her godfather’s expressed wish before he passed. This reminder had caused Monique to give the request due consideration. She dearly loved her father, but the sun had risen and set on her godfather, Claude. Mr. Slater was a reserved, serious, hardworking man who rarely laughed or showed affection. Growing up, he was the provider and authority figure who demonstrated love in practical ways. Claude Gentry was colorful, boisterous, sympathetic and infinitely supportive of the career he’d encouraged Monique to pursue. As a retired attorney, he could relate to her educational and career challenges and had offered sage advice that helped her successfully navigate the legal field. The one goal he’d dreamed of but never achieved was becoming mayor of the city he’d helped found, the goal that before dying he’d asked Monique to complete.

Not long after this poignant moment, a series of events made moving away and taking a break from law an attractive idea. She posted her candidacy just days shy of the cutoff for nominees, hired her godfather’s best friend’s grandson as her campaign manager and then silently and strategically began building her base, her funders and the focus of her campaign.

The results had come in just one week ago. Due to their hard work and her godmother’s considerably liberal social circle, she’d secured the highest number of signatures and therefore the Democratic nomination for the mayoral race. Her very first thought after this confirmation? That she and Niko Drake would be squaring off once again. With even higher stakes this time.

A ringing cell phone brought her out of her musings. Monique looked at the caller ID and forced a smile into her voice. The woman on the other end of the line was known as a busybody who seemed to know, or think she knew, a little something about everybody in town. But she also owned the most popular salon, one that boasted nail care, facials, lash extensions and massages along with hair treatment, and one that was visited by women of all classes and colors. Joy DeWitt’s active participation in her campaign could help Monique swing the female vote to her favor, and when it came to taking away women voters from Niko Drake’s side, Monique knew that she’d need all the help she could get.

“Good morning, Joy,” she answered, placing the call on speakerphone. “Are we all set for my visit?”

“My girls passed out flyers all last night, and with our offering twenty percent off all services except hair appointments, I expect the shop will be full all day.”

“That sounds great. I really appreciate your help.”

“You’re welcome,” Joy responded before lowering her voice and adding, “Helping you beat Niko Drake will be my pleasure.”

The two chatted a few more moments and then Monique hung up the phone. She thought about the story that Joy had shared about why she detested the Drakes. She had given strong consideration as to whether or not she should have someone with such animosity as a visible supporter. At the end of the day, it came down to this fact: stopping short of something illegal, the ends justified the means.

After a last look in the walk-in closet’s full-length mirror, Monique grabbed her oversize bag and set of keys and was out the door. She pointed the remote lock toward her newly leased luxury hybrid sedan and ignored the slight drizzle of rain as she headed toward the center of town. Ten minutes and she was there, having to park down the block for the amount of cars already lining the street, cars of customers who were no doubt in Joy’s shop, enjoying the catered-in breakfast burritos, Danishes, juice and tea that had been provided and waiting to hear what Monique had to say.

“Let’s do this, girl,” she mumbled, encouraging herself as she locked her car, popped open her umbrella and began the short walk to the salon. “You’ve beaten Mr. Niko Drake once before. Let’s see if you can do it again.”

Chapter 2

Niko left the men laughing as he exited the chair from his weekly haircut at the barbershop. That he’d given up his personal in-home treatment in favor of this public establishment had proved a good political move. Roy wasn’t as good with a pair of clippers and scissors as the barber who regularly came to the Drake estate and groomed all the men, but the camaraderie he’d established with Roy’s regulars, along with the votes he’d likely garnered as a result, was worth a temporary trade-off from being pampered inside the Drake estate walls. After leaving a generous tip and a supply of promotional campaign cards, he walked to his sports car and, after another stop, made quick work of the few blocks that separated the barbershop and the beauty salon that he also visited weekly, a shop co-owned by an ex-girlfriend and her mother. Later, when the weather warmed, he’d do more walking, but on a cool and damp day like today, he was glad not to have to.

He neared Joy’s House of Style and immediately noted more cars than usual. “Hmm, wonder what’s going on here?” he pondered aloud, looking for a close parking space and finding none. The word has probably gotten out that I show up most Saturdays, he thought with a wry smirk. No better marketing than word of mouth. He looked in the backseat and wished he’d bought more than the two dozen roses he’d picked up on the way here, a practice he’d begun during his first visit, when a vendor selling flowers had come into the shop. He’d bought the lot and given them out to every woman present. So as not to be seen as chauvinistic or pandering toward these women, he’d coined a phrase. “Women are like flowers,” he’d say as he shared them. “There’s more to you than just the bloom.”

Two steps into the shop and three things assailed him: the chatter of what sounded like dozens of women, the smell of food and a nearly life-size poster—okay, maybe he was exaggerating a bit but...wow—of his latest mayoral rival. Below the image of a smiling Monique Slater wearing a conservative black suit and a pleasant smile against a backdrop of law books and the American flag were the words New Mayor, New Vision, New Day. He’d barely had time to drink in the changes to the lobby when he heard applause coming from the back of the shop.

“Good morning, Niko!”

So caught up was he in all of these changes, he’d not even noticed the attractive receptionist always ready to flirt. He walked over to where she sat behind the receptionist counter. “Hello! Looks like you guys started the party without me.”

“You’re late, Mr. Mayor,” the receptionist purred, batting stark blue eyes and flipping thick, raven-colored hair over her shoulder. “Someone beat you to us this morning, and if the impression she’s making on our customers is any indication...you just might have a fight on your hands.”

“Oh, really?” Niko leaned forward, his eyes twinkling as he asked in a conspiratorial tone, “Who’s dared to come into my territory and challenge me?”

“I have.”

The unexpected declaration from behind him threw Niko for an unexpected loop. But only temporarily. Within seconds he’d regrouped, turning around and greeting his opponent with a sincere smile.

“Monique Slater,” he said, walking toward her with hand outstretched. “It’s good to see you again.”

Monique’s brow rose. “Is it?” She returned his handshake, firm and assured. Her eyes held a saucy mixture of intelligence and tease. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember our one and only former meeting.” She continued, her voice lowered so that only Niko could hear. “As I remember, things didn’t fare too well for you that day. Come November, I’m planning a similar outcome.”

“I’m sure you are,” Niko smoothly replied, allowing just a hint of bass into his voice. “I, on the other hand, am confident that there will be a very different ending. Though I must admit, your surprise strategy was quite effective, at least with me.” To her arched eyebrow he further explained, “Mo Slater.”

“Ah, yes. I was christened that in law school by a group of lovable jerks determined to make me hard as nails. They said Monique was too sexy, too feminine.”

“You are that,” Niko easily drawled.

Ignoring his comment, she replied, “Mo is friendly, casual, comfortable, a bit no-nonsense.”

“And unisex.”

“Yes.”

A very attractive woman wearing jeans, a silk sweater and five-inch heels rounded the corner. “Oh, there you are!” she said to Monique with a grin.

“Hello, Joy.”

“And with company, I see.” For Niko there was no smile; hadn’t been one since he’d broken up with her daughter, even though he and ex-girlfriend Ashley were on friendly terms. Joy turned back to Monique. “Some of the ladies who’ve offered to volunteer on your campaign wanted to know if you needed help today.”

“That’s very kind of them, but no, not today. Once they call the office, their names and contact information will be entered into our database, and they’ll be assigned to the appropriate committee or team. I’ll go back and explain myself so that they’re clear.”

Niko turned to the woman conspicuously ignoring him. “Hello, Joy. Didn’t know you were helping the competition.” He smiled. “But I’ll still give you a rose.”

He held one out to her. She refused it.

“Flowers are fine. But breakfast was better.” She turned to Monique. “Mo, where did you get those breakfast burritos? And that sauce that tastes like grape jelly? Amazing!”

“From a caterer who came highly recommended,” Monique responded. “I’m glad everyone enjoyed them.”

“If you ladies will excuse me,” Niko interrupted, not surprised at Joy’s rudeness but a tad chagrined. Out publicly for mere hours and the new candidate was already trying to steal some of his shine. “I’ll be on my way. Monique.” He held out his hand. “I look forward to a fair, friendly, yet hard-fought race.”

“You can count on it,” Monique replied as Joy chuckled.

Niko nodded at both women, then turned the corner into the shop’s main room. Soon, thoughts of what had just occurred were forgotten as he engaged the roomful of women in conversation. His topics shifted along with his personality; he was slightly flirtatious yet professional, down-to-earth yet knowledgeable, highbrow yet practical. Yes, this was a beauty shop, but some of the questions coming at him were intellectual and well thought out while others were simple and straightforward.

“We need more affordable housing,” one woman boasting big plastic rollers said. “Everyone isn’t wealthy like you. Do you have a plan for dealing with us regular folk?”

“What is your name, ma’am?”

“Diane,” she stated with a smile.

“First of all, that is a very good question,” he began after addressing her personally and embracing rather than running from the issue of his wealth. “The fact that my family has been very successful in the area of local real estate puts me in the very unique position of being able to personally help oversee this task. As many of you know, Drake Realty has been around almost as long as this town has been incorporated. We’ve worked hard to present a variety of living options based on consumer needs. As our town has grown and expanded, so has the diversity of its citizens. One of our latest projects was designed with this changing demographic in mind. The Seventh Heaven complex offers competitively priced housing, including condominiums, for our middle-income citizens. Now we’re turning our focus to apartment buildings, for those in the low-to-mid-income range. I can’t guarantee how large a supply we’ll have at this level, but I do know that there will be some opportunity for renters, and those who’d like to buy a lower-priced home will have more variety from which to choose.”

“Monique.” The woman behind Diane looked over Niko’s shoulder. He wasn’t aware she’d come back into the main salon room. “Where do you live?”

“I purchased one of those middle-income condominiums that Niko spoke of,” Monique answered. “In Seventh Heaven. Yet I’m also all too familiar with the myriad of families and working people who can’t afford the homes in my neighborhood, and others for whom a community such as Golden Gates may as well be in Beverly Hills for the likelihood of their living there. In my practice as a defense attorney, I know what poverty and lack of opportunity can do for a neighborhood and to a soul. Paradise Cove is a beautiful part of California’s landscape, and I’m here to ensure that every citizen, from the richest to the poorest, gets the chance to enjoy what you can currently afford, and to provide the resources so you can aim even higher.”

“Ms. Slater is absolutely correct,” Niko countered, using a debate tactic whereby the debater agreed with their opponent only to later use their very words to dismantle them. “The average person can’t afford to live in the gated community my family helped develop. Starting with my grandfather, Walter Drake, we worked our butts off to establish and grow our company and used blood, sweat and tears to establish our brand. I have not nor will I ever either misrepresent who I am and where I come from, nor apologize for the blessings that this hard work has produced. The story of my family, who rose from humble Louisiana country beginnings to the top of the real-estate and architectural industries is one that is well-known to almost everyone with deep roots in Paradise Cove, and one that everyone who is new to our community will undoubtedly hear.” He shot a friendly glance over at Monique and relaxed his stance. “I’m sure that Monique and I don’t want to get into a debate about which of us cares more for all of the citizens of this community. It is clear that we both do. What you’ll have to decide is who’s best equipped to take us to a better future—someone born and raised in the midst of you or someone who’s just arrived.” He looked at his watch. “You ladies are as wonderful and intelligent as you are beautiful, and I’d love to spend more time answering your questions, but duty calls for me to move on to the next appointment. And considering that you were just given breakfast this morning, compliments of my opponent, I can’t see why my office can’t continue the gratuitousness set with these actions by offering everyone in the salon a fifty percent discount on their next salon visit. Just make the appointment with Joy and one of my staff members will be by next week to work out the details for receiving our matching payment.”

The unofficial debate ended with women surrounding both Niko and Monique. He shook hands, signed marketing cards and gave hugs as he surreptitiously made his way to the front door, determined not to be late to the fundraising luncheon that had been organized by his staunchest supporter, his mother, Jennifer Drake. This event was as good an excuse as any for the whole family to get together. Quite frankly, Niko was looking forward to basking in their unwavering love.

“Thank you so much,” he said to one ardent supporter, determined not to let her pass until she’d given him an enthusiastic hug.

“Send your concerns to my office,” he heard from a little ways behind him. Monique was having just as hard a time leaving the packed salon as he was.

Finally they made it out of the crowd and onto the sidewalk.

“I guess that was our official beginning as political rivals,” he said, calmly straightening the tan suit coat that he wore over a black button-down shirt and black jeans.

“I’m surprised you chose to enter into a debate,” Monique responded, falling in beside him in a comfortable stroll toward their cars.

Niko’s laugh was as hearty as it was genuine. “It’s obvious that lone college victory gave you the confidence needed to throw your hat in the ring against me.” He stopped, turned toward her. “But please understand. I’m no longer that inexperienced sophomore trying to make a name for himself in the academic community. I am now a confident, successful businessman with nothing to prove, who knows that hands down I am the perfect choice for mayor of Paradise Cove.”

“Well,” Monique said, reaching her car and pointing the remote to unlock it, “someone who’s confident, successful and perfect surely has nothing to worry about.” She got into her car, started the engine and rolled down the window. “Except for someone who’s not at all intimidated by him. See you on the circuit, Niko,” she finished, with a casual wave of her hand.

“Not so fast.” Lightly grabbing the hand she’d just waved, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a business card. “Let’s keep in touch.”

“Okay.” She pulled her hand from his and took the card.

“Don’t I get one?”

Monique eyed him for a second before reaching into her card case and handing him one.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She maneuvered her car out of the parking space and was gone.

Niko watched her car travel down the street, noting the Slater: Slated for Success and New Mayor, New Vision, New Day stickers that decorated her bumper. He walked the few yards to his own vehicle and got inside, trying to shake the feeling that he’d just been one-upped by Monique Slater. More than fifteen minutes later, as he pulled up to the entrance to Paradise Cove’s exclusive Golden Gates community, he was still rattled. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear that the ultraconfident, business-savvy sister had just thrown down the gauntlet. Niko exited his car and walked toward his parents’ front door, feeling more than ready, willing and able to accept Monique’s challenge. The next time he saw her, he had only two more words to say before pulling out all the stops: game on.

Chapter 3

She thought she’d prepared herself, had felt she was ready for being face-to-face and up close and personal with the devilishly handsome Niko Drake. But the truth of the matter was that seeing him in person after so many years had almost taken her breath away, had brought back all of those girlie feelings of the secret college crush she’d had from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him in the auditorium on the day of their debate. A crush that she’d hidden, not only because of her introverted nature and inexperience but also because Niko had barely given her the time of day. Outside of their arguments, he hadn’t shared a word with her and after an obligatory handshake had left the stage without a backward glance.

She’d gone back to her room, fired up her computer and learned everything about him that was online: about his successful family and deep roots in Northern California and about his love of sports and being a member of the college tennis team. In the ten years since their last meeting, she’d conducted an online search from time to time and checked out the images available. There were lots of them, mostly society related, with him attending this star-studded fundraiser or that charity ball, almost always with a stunning model type by his side.

It was in these moments that she’d push the old crush back to the recesses of her memory, where it belonged. She wasn’t a match for him then, and even now, with workouts, fashion consultants and career success, she still didn’t feel that she was his type. Although the other points were legitimate, having to regularly see and interact with Niko was the single main reason why when Margo first approached her about living in Paradise Cove, let alone running for mayor, she’d balked. It had been enough to keep him off her mind while hundreds of miles apart. But now? Having to not only see him but interact, hobnob and, at times, debate? Really, she’d done some crazy things in her life: zip-lined, parasailed, bungee jumped; she’d even participated in a flash-dance mob in New York’s Times Square. But purposely create a life that had her in constant proximity to her college crush? One who’d gotten even finer in the past ten years? One who by just grabbing her hand had almost brought her to orgasm? What the heck was she thinking?

There was only one other person on the planet who’d known how Monique felt about Niko during those years, Monique’s college roommate, Emma White. They’d gotten along famously during those years. After graduation, Mo continued on to law school while Emma married her college sweetheart. Distance and lifestyle kept them from regular meetings, but they maintained a close friendship through phone calls and emails. Emma was quiet, smart and filled with a good dose of small-town Midwestern common sense that made her wise beyond her years. Monique felt she could use that type of wisdom right now.

She looked at her watch. Thirty minutes before my meeting with the farmers association. She pulled into a parking lot and dialed up Emma. Hearing her good friend shout at children in the background made her instantly feel better.

“Sorry about that, Monique. The holy terrors are placing their emphasis on the last word today.”

“Ha! In the throes of some imagined story line, no doubt.”

“You know them too well.”

“Who are they playing today?”

“Thor and Odin, this week’s superheroes. I’m trying to convince them to move their battlefield from my living room to the backyard before something gets broken!”

“Sounds like a plan, and they sound like a handful. How are you, Em?”

“Currently, I’m under the belief that I’ve lost all semblance of sanity and control.”

“Why?” Monique asked, with concern.

“Because as crazy as these boys have made us, we’ve decided to do it again.”

“Do what again?”

“Uh, that wasn’t a trick question, Ms. Attorney. Surely you can follow that clue.”

“You’re pregnant!”

“Bingo! Now there’s the brain that helped my friend pass the bar first try.”

“Okay, I’ll admit I’m sometimes slow when it involves family business. Plus, you and Steve swore that you were... How did you guys put it?”

“Two and through.”

“Exactly.”

“And we meant it. But looks like a little sperm wiggled its way past my totally tied tube, joined forces with an errant egg and now Hunter and Cody are about to have a sibling.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Don’t know yet, but we’re hoping for the latter.”

“I’m happy for you, Em.”

“Thanks, Monique. But enough about me. What’s going on with you?”

“I guess you could say I’ve lost my mind, too. I took a leave from my job at the firm and am running for mayor.”

“Oh, my gosh! You’re running for mayor of Los Angeles?”

“Ha! My goals are lofty but not quite that high. It’s a small town of almost four thousand people in Northern California, called Paradise Cove.”

Silence. Crickets. For a full five seconds.

“Em?” Monique looked at her phone. “You still there?”

“I’m here. And this is the first time I’ve been speechless since Steve proposed to me at the top of a Six Flags roller coaster.” Monique could hear Emma bustling around and imagined that she chewed her lower lip, something her friend was prone to do when thinking. “Okay, first question. Where in the heck did you get such a cockamamy idea to quit your job and run for mayor, and secondly, where is Paradise Cove?”

“Long story short, it was my godfather’s dying wish. He ran for mayor twice and lost. During one of our last conversations before he passed, he asked if one day I’d give it a shot. To appease him I said yes, but didn’t take the request that seriously. Margo, my godmother, did. When the man who’s been mayor for the past twelve or more years decided not to run for reelection, she called and reminded me of my promise. Paradise Cove is a small yet impressive community in Northern California, a little more than an hour southeast of San Francisco.”

“What’s the name again?”

“Paradise Cove.”

“Why does that name sound familiar?”

“Because over the years it’s one I’ve probably mentioned a time or two as the place where Niko Drake was born and still resides.”

“Right.” The word came out slowly and dripped speculation. “Very interesting. Do tell me more.”

“Well, I established residency about a year ago and moved into my condo here a few months later.”

“A year ago? And you’re just now telling me?”

“I thought I’d sent a text saying I’d moved.”

“Yes, and that’s all it said. I assumed it was across town, not out of town, and certainly not to your heartthrob’s neck of the woods.”

Monique sighed. “I didn’t say anything more at first because I wasn’t sure I’d get the nomination. Once that looked likely, my hands were full with relocating, closing out or reassigning cases and the election. And, by the way, he’s not my heartthrob.”

Emma chuckled. “No worries, Mo. I totally understand. So you’re the Democratic candidate?”

“Yes, it’s official as of this past week. I ran a very secretive campaign until I locked up the ticket.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to secure the nomination before officially coming out, thereby enjoying the element of surprise.”

“Did it work?”

“For months I’ve been able to quietly campaign under the radar. Now that the announcement has been officially released in the town’s newspaper...we’ll see.”

“What about the man who you insist isn’t your heartthrob? Have you seen him?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I totally wanted to jump his bones, though I tried to appear unmoved.”

The women cracked up.

“It’s a very small town. I’ll be seeing quite a bit of him from now until the election in November.”

“Wait a minute. What does Rob think about all this? Did he move, too?”

“Well, that’s the other thing. We broke up.”

“No! From what you told me, he seemed like such a nice guy.”

“He is a very nice guy and will make someone a wonderful partner. Just not me.”

“What happened?”

“I loved him, Emma. But I wasn’t in love. Once I made the decision to move to Paradise Cove, I also decided to end a relationship that really wasn’t working.”

A few seconds passed. Monique imagined Emma was digesting this news. “Monique, are you sure that the breakup with Rob wasn’t because of your age-old crush on Niko?”

“Girl, I’ve already admitted he’s hot, but any type of infatuation dissipated a long time ago.”

“Hmm, if you say so.”

“I say so.”

“Your life is nothing if not interesting. Moves, breakups, running for office. Reconnecting with Niko sounds promising,” Emma cooed, with a smile in her voice. “Rob’s a nice guy, but Niko Drake is a really nice guy, and superhandsome to boot. You guys might even start dating.”

“Debating, not dating.”

“Why? Is he married?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Then who knows what the future holds?”

“Niko is my opponent, Emma. He’s running for mayor, too.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Earlier we held a debate. Our first in over ten years.” She filled her in on the morning’s impromptu meeting. “I must have been crazy to agree to this madness. May my godfather rest in peace.”

“Let’s not draw any hasty conclusions. This might be just the perfect setting to finally snag the man you’ve been in love with since college.”

“Emma White, stop the foolishness! I am not nor have I ever been in love with Niko Drake.”

“Is that why you’ve only dated a handful of guys since I’ve known you, and why you dragged poor Rob along for the past, what, three or four years?”

It was true. Monique and Rob Baldwin had met at a First Fridays event and bonded over lattes and shared political views. They’d begun dating not so much because Monique was head over heels but, well, because he was a good, decent man and because he was there. She no longer had to worry about who would escort her to office parties or industry events. She had someone with whom to share dinners, movies and occasional trips. He was safe and predictable, which up until Niko Drake had reentered her thoughts had suited her just fine. She’d never admit this truth, of course, not even to herself.

“Rob is a grown man. Had he been unhappy with our status, he could have left at any time.”

“Sounds like you were the unhappy one. But—” Monique heard a loud crash. “Monique, I’ve got to go. The boys staged their joust indoors, and once again, as I feared, my china has been the only thing defeated.”

“I don’t know how you do it. Let me let you go be mommy.”

“I will, but not before I give you what you called for even if it’s not what you asked for.”

“What’s that?”

“Sound advice.” Emma paused, and Monique found herself leaning toward the car’s speaker so as not to miss a single word. She shouldn’t have worried. There were only a few of them, delivered in that no-nonsense Midwestern style that Monique loved.

“Stop overthinking the situation. If you get a chance at what you really want, take it. And this campaign and your running for mayor is not what I’m talking about.”

Chapter 4

Monique was still pondering her good friend’s words when mere seconds later her phone rang again. “Monique Slater.” She looked at her watch and, with only ten minutes before the farmers meeting, started her car and drove out of the lot where she’d stopped to call Emma.

“Hello, Monique. It’s Niko.”

The way her body reacted to the sound of his voice was totally unexpected. Muscles tightened in obscure places and butterflies lined her stomach walls. Breathe, Monique. She did, and a good thing, too. Hard to drive a car if one passed out.

“Niko. I guess it shouldn’t have been unexpected, but I am surprised to hear from you.”

“You’re right. After asking for your card, hearing from me should have been totally expected.”

There it was again, those squiggles traveling from her core to her vagina and bursting within. His voice, deep and soothing, swept over her like a Southern summer breeze, causing inappropriate mental pictures to float through her mind. And try as she might to turn away these thoughts and focus on practicality and politics and Paradise Cove, all she could imagine right now was the strong, tall body she’d admired earlier that day hovering naked over hers.

Shaking her head to rid herself of the images, she spoke with a forced casualness and calm. “What can I do for you, Mr. Drake?”

The length of his pause made her immediately regret—or was it applaud?—the way she’d worded the question.

“There are several possibilities that come to mind,” he finally responded, his voice one of professionalism while Monique imagined that his thoughts were anything but. “However, joining me for dinner is my first request.”

“Thank you for the offer, Niko, but I’m not sure our being seen dining together is such a great idea. We are adversaries, after all.”

“We don’t have to be. There’s nothing wrong with two people going after the same goal doing so while getting along. It’s one of the reasons I’d like to talk with you. This morning our meeting was unexpected. We jumped into a debate almost before we said hello. I didn’t have the opportunity to congratulate you on your stellar law career or even welcome you to Paradise Cove.”

Monique reached her destination, a plain, small building in Paradise Valley, a farm community of rolling hills, herds of cattle and, most recently, vineyards, just east of the incorporated town of Paradise Cove. She pulled into a gravel-coated parking lot already filled mostly with Dodge and Ford pickups and SUVs.

She turned off her motor, checked her phone and saw that the meeting began in five minutes. “I’m heading into a meeting but have a minute or two.” Silence. “Niko?”

She was rewarded with his laughter, rich and throaty and filled with genuine cheer. In spite of herself she could imagine his smile, could see his sparkling teeth and the hint of a dimple in his left cheek. Today she’d noticed how perfect his lips were, and right now thoughts of what else those lips could do besides form a coherent sentence were about to be her undoing.

“I like your style. Quick and to the point, straight, no chaser. But I’m more deliberate in my approach and would really appreciate the opportunity to congratulate you in person. Say tonight, around seven or eight o’clock?”

“Fine,” Monique said, having once again glanced at her watch as two more cars drove up and the occupants went inside. “Text me where you’d like to meet. Eight o’clock is fine.”

“Thanks, Monique. I look forward to seeing you tonight.”

She tried to hide it, tried to put on her professional, I’m-totally-in-control face as she entered the open room and began to shake hands. But her insides were smiling as if she’d just won a case. She continued to fool herself and act as though tonight’s dinner was just another necessity on the political trail.

But deep down, Monique knew better. And if she didn’t...her heart did.

* * *

Niko walked to the door of his father’s study, where he’d gone to make the call to Monique in private. Now that he’d done what had been on his mind since arriving at his parents’ fundraiser, coordinated the plans to see her again as soon as possible, he felt that maybe he could totally focus on the dozens of well-wishers milling around to ensure a November win.

One of Niko’s younger brothers, Terrell, who was also one of the family’s busybodies, saw him as he stepped out of the office and closed the door. “Is it all set?”

Niko placed his arm around Terrell’s shoulders as they walked toward the great room and adjoining pool and patio area, where most of the crowd had gathered. “Is what all set, brother?”

“That hot date for tonight.”

“What date?” Niko removed his arm and gave his brother an innocent look.

“The one that had that cheesy grin on your face when you closed the door. I saw it. And I know that look, man. It was the ‘I got this’ grin,” Terrell continued, using air quotes. “The victory smile when you’re going in for the score.”

“Are we talking about women or sports? Show respect, son,” Niko replied with a slap on the back, thankful to see his parents as soon as he turned the corner. Terrell’s sure-to-be-sarcastic response would have to wait for another time.

Niko’s parents, Ike Sr. and Jennifer, were talking to their neighbors who owned several manufacturing plants around the country. Their citizen advocacy organization was one of the largest contributors to Niko’s campaign.

“We were just talking about you,” Jennifer said, beaming as her son approached.

“All good, I hope.” Niko shook hands with the husband and hugged the wife.

“Well, son, that depends on how you feel about locking up the vote from the manufacturers union.”

Niko again shook the neighbor’s hand, exclaiming, “That’s good news indeed!”

For the next two hours, he and his family made the rounds, quietly encouraging huge bids for items being sold during the silent auction. His parents went well beyond their goal of raising a million dollars for their son’s campaign. After a short speech and a quick toast thanking the guests for their presence and support, Niko begged off the continued requests for his charismatic presence, citing another engagement. That the engagement was with the very woman this group’s funding would help him beat was—for him—beside the point. Ever since their phone call and her agreeing to dinner, the serious yet sexy Monique Slater hadn’t been far from his mind.

“Nicodemus!”

Niko had reached the marble-floored foyer but stopped at the sound of his mother’s voice. Aside from his grandparents and very occasionally his father, his mother was the only one who called him by his given name. And usually only when she had something very serious, or chiding, to convey. He took a breath to prepare himself and turned around.

“Yes, Mother?”

“I just wanted to remind you about tomorrow’s Sunday brunch. It’s been almost a year since I’ve had almost all of my children in one zip code, and I want everyone at the table.”

“You’ve already reminded me, Mom, remember? Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

“Well,” she said, straightening the silk tie that perfectly matched his tailored suit, “I’m just making sure.”

“What would make you think I’d not come after giving my word?”

Jennifer’s voice dropped. “Whatever or whoever has you almost running from a very successful fundraiser with a gleam in your eye.”

Geez, am I that obvious? Maybe, but once again Niko answered by not answering. He kissed his mother on the forehead. “Thank you so much for everything you did today. Without your great taste and keen eye, this affair would not have been nearly as successful.”

Jennifer chuckled. “Nice try, son, but I don’t distract so easily. Feel free to have her join us if you’d like.”

“Goodbye, Mother. See you tomorrow.”

“Love you, son.”

“I love you more.”

Walking to the car, his phone rang. “Hello, Ashley.”

“Hey. What are you doing?”

“Just left a fundraiser, now headed home to change before going to dinner.”

“Then my timing is perfect. I haven’t eaten, either. Tell me where you’re going and I’ll meet you there.”

“This is a business dinner.”

“Oh, okay. Listen, I wanted to thank you for the generous arrangement you made with our customers earlier today. We’re booked solid for the next two weeks.”

“My newest mayoral rival provided breakfast. I had to step up my game.”

“Mo Slater? She’s been cozying up to my mom, who’s taken the bait. I think she’s an opportunist, and I think you have nothing to worry about.”

“I appreciate that.”

“So...what are you doing after dinner?”

“I have plans but appreciate your support. Take care, Ashley.”

Niko loosened his tie as he arrived at his home, mere blocks away from his parents’ abode. He thought about what his grandfather had told him when he’d shared his plans to enter politics.

“Your life won’t be your own,” Walter Drake had told him, a few terms as city councilman in his native New Orleans giving him a personal perspective from which to speak. “Your time, either. Get ready for everyone to want a piece of you. But being a dedicated public servant has its own unique rewards.”

Niko had listened keenly to his grandfather, who he now counted as one of his most valued political consultants. On one thing Niko most definitely agreed. There were rewards to throwing one’s hat into the political ring. Niko wondered if there was any possibility that tonight’s date could prove to be one of them.

Chapter 5

Monique stepped inside the entrance to the exclusive Paradise Cove Supper Club, located just inside the city’s equally elite golf course available by membership only. While not an avid golfer, she’d been to the course and had also dined at this restaurant. Thanks to her godmother, she knew firsthand about the skillful hands of its classically trained Brazilian chef, who loved to add new twists to traditional dishes. She also made sure she dressed to impress, and this time she didn’t even lie to herself about the reason. Niko was why she’d chosen the never-before-worn Calvin Klein sheath dress that was simple but tailored to fit like a glove, caressing but not squeezing every one of her curves. The royal-blue color highlighted her deeply tanned skin, and the softly rounded neckline, jeweled choker and gently upswept hair with wisps remaining against the crook of her neck gave special emphasis to that area. She’d kept her makeup minimal—a dusting of powder, mascara and gloss—letting her designer silver slingbacks adorned lightly with crystals provide just the right amount of understated bling.

“Good evening.” The genteel-looking man made a slight bow as he greeted her.

He was so formal in his demeanor that Monique almost felt she should curtsy in response. Instead, she graced him with a smile. “Good evening.”

“Forgive my presumptiveness, but a woman as beautiful as you is surely not dining alone. Are you perhaps here to meet Mr. Drake?”

“I am,” Monique responded, hiding her surprise. “Has he arrived?”

“He has indeed, Ms. Slater, and instructed me to have you join him at once. Please, come this way.”

Monique held her smile, discreetly looking around the restaurant and nodding at those who met her eye. She was also trying to see Niko, trying to get in that first look, the one that seemed to take her breath away no matter how often she saw him. But they walked through the entire main restaurant and she hadn’t seen a trace. When the maître d’ turned down a short hallway, Monique was even more confused. I wasn’t aware of another section. This place must be bigger than I thought.

They reached an ornately decorated set of brass double doors. The maître d’ knocked twice, paused a couple of seconds and then turned the knob. “After you,” he said, holding the door as he stood back.

Monique walked through the door and was immediately grateful for the discipline that allowed her to calmly watch as Niko stood next to a table set for two and continue the steps to meet him. Especially when her insides quivered, her panties instantly moistened and once again the air managed to leave the room. He was handsome. Even a blind woman could see that. But living in L.A. and spending as much time on the beach as her schedule allowed, she saw gorgeous, well-chiseled Adonises all the time. What was it about this man, Monique wondered, that made her lose all semblance of control? It was a trait that had served her well all of her life and now it was as if she couldn’t even spell the word let alone possess an ounce of its attributes. The room was small and intimate, yet in the steps it had taken to reach him she’d been able to steady her breathing and find her tongue.

“Good evening,” she said, holding out her hand. “Thanks again for inviting me to dinner.”

After giving an almost imperceptible nod to the maître d’, Niko enveloped her small, dainty hand in his strong, masculine one before lifting it to his lips for the wispiest of kisses. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Slater.” He stepped away from her and pulled out her chair. “Please.”

She sat, trying very hard not to imagine that she was Cinderella and Niko her prince. “Thank you.”

She lowered her head to place the napkin on her lap. But that didn’t stop her from stealing a couple of discreet glances as he walked over to his chair and sat down. She noticed that he too had changed from the flattering slacks, shirt and pullover that he’d worn at the beauty salon. The navy-colored suit that now graced his body was immaculate and looked so soft that she wanted to squeeze his arm. Not only to touch the fabric but to see if the biceps she’d perceived beneath the cloth was real. In a field dominated by men wearing nice suits, she should have not been bothered in the slightest. But there was something about Niko that made him stand out. It was the combination, she decided, smiling over her glass as she took a sip of water. Looks, brains, money and class mixed with just the right amount of swagger and sex appeal. Lethal. Dangerous. And damned if she didn’t want to go ahead and play with fire, even knowing that there was a strong possibility that she could get burned.

“This is nice,” she said into the silence, as she looked around to keep from connecting with the dark bedroom eyes that gazed upon her. “I didn’t know this room existed.”

“Not many do, unless you’re a lifetime member. My parents have belonged to the club forever, so the children gained entry pretty much by default.”

“How many children are in your family?” Monique eased back against the cushioned chair, thankful that she finally felt that she was in familiar territory—subtle interrogation.

“There are eight of us.” Niko leaned back, as well. “All of us live here in Paradise Cove except for Reginald, whose wife has deep and abiding ties with New Orleans, where they reside, and my youngest brother, Julian, who’s studying in New York.” He took a sip of lemon water. “What about you?”

“One brother, a doctor. He practices at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.”

“A doctor and a lawyer, huh? Your parents must be proud.”

“They are. Both were overachievers and encouraged their children to be the same. Are any of your siblings involved in politics?”

The smooth grin that spread across Niko’s face was enough to make a nun rethink her celibacy. He looked absolutely decadent, Monique imagined, and she would have bet a year’s salary he tasted just as sweet. “Come on, now. You’re an attorney. We’ve both done our homework, scoped out the terrain. If there was another Drake involved in politics, that information would be on the internet, and you would know about it.”

“Which is why I’m sure my brother’s occupation is no surprise. Nothing wrong with including the question in a bit of friendly conversation, is there?” Monique’s eyelashes fluttered as she looked at him, a move that was totally against the game plan. Do not flirt with him, Monique Slater. Do. Not. Flirt! Before this thought could completely make the rounds from her head to the body parts that needed the directive, a giggle had escaped her lips and she’d reached up to place an errant tendril of hair behind her ear.

Wait, was that me? Did I just giggle? I never giggle. I’m too old and too grown to giggle. She gave herself a silent chiding and vowed to behave.

Niko eyed her intently but said nothing as the sommelier entered the room and presented Niko’s wine choice. After he tasted and nodded his approval, the handsome young blond nodded, turned on his heel and quietly left the room.

Pouring their glasses of wine hadn’t taken long, but fortunately it had been enough for Monique to regain her professional-woman, top-notch defense-attorney senses. By the time he held up his glass, she was ready for those sexy brown eyes, cushy-full lips and dimple that winked every time that he smiled. Salivating, lust-filled, but ready.

She picked up her glass. “To what shall we toast?”

“What about to what was earlier suggested? A fair, clean, positive campaign?”

“Sure.”

They clinked glasses and took small sips of the vintage-year cabernet.

Monique took a second drink and set down her glass. “You said that too fast for it to have been an off-the-cuff response.”

“It’s one of the reasons I invited you here. I know that modern-day politics have been reduced to negative ads and smear campaigns. But that’s not my style. And while I don’t know very much about you—the second reason why I requested the pleasure of your company—I get the feeling that it’s not your style, either.”

“I definitely plan to run on the merits of my education, experience and qualifications to lead this town into an exciting and prosperous future.”

“What type of excitement do you have planned?”

There it was again, a flirtatiousness executed so deftly and gone so quickly that she questioned whether it was real or imagined. Perhaps this was just his personality and, as such, she shouldn’t get her hopes up that he was interested in her in that way.

And just what way is that, Monique Slater? This question in her mind she heard in her mother’s no-nonsense voice. It was a good question. Because Monique wasn’t interested in Niko like that. She’d had a crush on him, sure. Probably along with thousands of other college-aged girls. She found him attractive. So what? Anyone with eyes would feel the same. But any thoughts of anything ever happening between the two of them were beyond wishful thinking; they were flat-out ridiculous. She wasn’t his type, nor he hers if she really thought about it. Even though she’d ended their relationship, she belonged with a man more like Rob: solid, steady and...safe. And most of all? They were adversaries in a political campaign. It would be the height of scandal if anything untoward ever happened between them. No, their interactions would be totally innocent and strictly professional. How it should be. How it must be.

So why did this thought make Monique feel like crap?

“Strategizing against me?”

Monique looked up from the wineglass, where she’d been idly running her finger around the rim. She hadn’t realized she’d grown silent, had no idea how long she’d been lost in her own thoughts. “Forgive me. There’s a lot on my mind.”

“Running for elected office is definitely hard work.”

“I also have a couple cases to wrap up before I can immerse my head totally in the game.”

“You’re still handling clients?”

“I took a leave of absence from the firm but retained a couple cases that I felt too involved in to turn over. I’m also mentoring a young man who was paroled to my care. His name is Devante.”

“He lives with you?”

Monique shook her head. “He and another young man share an apartment.”

“That’s dedication.”

“Or narcissism. Right now, I can’t tell which.”

“Ha!” A waiter entered the room pushing a tray containing a bowl of wilted arugula salad and warm, freshly baked rolls. “I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of planning our menu. The choices in here are different than those offered in main dining.”

“Really? I’d looked forward to the chef’s succulent filet mignon.”

“Ah, so you’re familiar with Esteban’s culinary skills.”

“Probably not as intimately as you are, but I really enjoy the way he prepares that cut of meat. I’m not that picky of an eater, however. I’m sure that whatever you’ve ordered is fine.”

She enjoyed a bite of the salad that had been placed down in front of her. “This is delicious. I love the blend of sweet and bitter.”

“Yes, that’s one of Esteban’s signature dressings, a pomegranate vinaigrette.”

“So you’re not only successful, but cultured, too.”

“I guess you can say that my mama raised me right.” Monique laughed and he continued. “We were always learning, school or no. The world was our classroom and it was always in session. She encouraged us to be curious, to ask questions and to not be afraid to try new things. Then, it wasn’t always appreciated, but now I’m reminded of the foundation she and Dad provided every single day.”

“Do you personally know the other men running? Dick Schneider and Buddy Gao?”

“Dick’s a good old boy I’ve known for most of my life. He’s old-school, traditional, conservative. His father’s a retired judge with connections. Fortunately they’re largely Republican while ours is a more liberal town.”

“And Buddy?”

“Good kid, former immigrant reform activist who cut his political chops in Berkeley after graduating from the university there. He’s only twenty-six years old, but will probably be a contender in the future.”

“He’s twenty-six and you call him a kid? How old are you?”

Niko smiled. “Thirty-one. My grandparents say I have an old soul. What about you? Or are you one of those women?”

“Thirty-three,” she responded, ignoring his jab. “And, by the way, you do look good.”

“Thank you,” he responded, obviously appreciative of her remark.

“For an old man.”

“Ha!”

The easy banter continued through an entrée of perfectly prepared chateaubriand served with grilled asparagus and jasmine rice, and a three-berry crisp with whipped cream for dessert. They talked generally about the political landscape and the upcoming national elections, but also learned a bit more about each other. Niko was pleased to learn that Monique was an avid tennis fan who played on occasion, and Monique found it interesting that the chic, fashion-forward Niko rode horses and liked to fish. One topic was pointedly not discussed: their romantic lives.

After being let out through a private side door, Niko walked with Monique through the parking lot. “Thanks again for a lovely evening,” she said, after he’d insisted on opening her car door. She held out her hand.

He looked at it and then at her. “My roots are Southern,” he said easily. “We prefer hugs to handshakes.”

He took a step and in the next second she was enveloped in his strong, comfortable arms. As soon as her soft breasts met his hard chest, she felt it, an attraction so strong it was electric and real, traveling from her core to her toes and back up to her heart. Her nipples pebbled and once again muscles that hadn’t been used for months tightened with desire, even as she felt her mouth go dry. Niko must have felt something too because he abruptly ended the hug and stepped back.

She didn’t want to look at him, sure that blatant desire, ardent lust and thoughts of good old booty bumping showed on her face. But since it would seem even stranger to say goodbye with her face obscured, she did face him, totally prepared to see a cocky, knowing look in his eye.

But she saw something different—hunger, desire—before he blinked and the moment was gone.

“See you on the campaign trail,” she sang, trying to sound casual and unaffected, getting into her car before she did something crazy like throw caution to the wind and kiss the lips that had tempted her all evening.

“Be safe,” he responded.

She pulled away, then looked into the rearview mirror to find him still standing there, staring. Something had happened tonight, when they’d hugged; something innate yet palpable, something ethereal yet all too real. Monique had no doubt that she’d felt it and she was positive that Niko had sensed it, too.

On the drive home she tried to redirect her thoughts about him, focus solely on the fact that they were opponents in a coveted mayoral campaign. But such attempts were futile. The race was on, of that there was no doubt. Whether it ended in a boardroom or a bedroom, now, that was the question. That Monique was leaning toward the latter as her ending of choice was creating a problem, one that would only escalate in the coming months if there were more intimate meetings like this.

From now until November their seeing each other was a given. With that in mind Monique determined that it was best to keep her meetings with him as public and professional as possible. Because she could not be responsible for her actions with that man behind closed doors.

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