The Candidate, page 18
Alex bit back a smile. “Thinking is sometimes highly overrated, you know.”
Jane hesitated before smiling through her tears. “In my line of work, and I imagine yours too, Alex, thinking is kind of critical, wouldn’t you say?”
Alex was about to zing a comeback at Jane when she was overcome with the desire to kiss her. Their faces just inches apart, Alex’s mouth closed the distance with lightning quickness and captured the velvety heat of Jane’s. Alex ignored the soft cry from Jane—unsure whether it was one of surprise or pleasure or protest—and kissed her soundly. She was elated when Jane’s body melted into hers.
Alex felt her arousal awakening deep within her, knew that she would soon be twitching for relief. She had come to say good-bye, but now as she kissed Jane and held her in her arms, she knew she was in trouble—knew her will was quickly crumbling. It was so damned hard to be strong in her presence and especially in her arms like this. Whatever Jane wanted from her, she would happily give it. If Jane wanted a closeted and infrequent affair with her, she would do it. Anything that would mean more moments like these.
“Alex,” Jane said, gently pulling away from the kiss. Her hands framed Alex’s face, her fingers soft and tender. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Alex.” Her eyes were equally gentle and tender as they settled on Alex’s. “This is so hard for me, Alex. I want you so much. But I just can’t. We can’t.”
Alex felt—again—like she’d just been kicked in the stomach. It hurt to breathe. She had half expected this, but it didn’t lessen the pain. God. She just wanted so much to be near Jane, however infrequently. She realized now how much she’d missed Jane these past months, how empty she felt. She was used to putting her body on the line for Jane, but now it was her heart she was offering up so easily, and she couldn’t stop herself. It was like being on the edge of a cliff and letting the momentum push her over.
“Jane,” Alex said hoarsely, her body still prickling with unspent desire. “Let me make love to you. Let me touch you.” She breathed heavily, her body trembling. “Let me make you come. I want to so badly.”
Alex saw the desire rise like a flame in Jane’s eyes. She pressed into Alex, slipped her hands around Alex’s neck and kissed her with desperation. Oh, yes, she wants me just as much. Alex hungrily sucked at the soft, full lips, her energy matching Jane’s spirited desire. She circled her hands in small caresses along Jane’s back, gently moving them to Jane’s waist, and felt the heat of their bodies fuse. Alex felt Jane tense as her fingers slid to the robe’s silky belt. If I could just touch her skin . . .
Roughly, Jane pulled back and scurried off the couch. “Alex,” she said huskily, running her fingers coarsely through her hair. “I can’t think when you do that to me.”
“I don’t want you to think. I want you to just feel. I want you to just be.”
“Oh, Alex.” Jane frowned, sadness darkening her face. “Don’t you know that’s impossible? If I could be with anyone right now, it would be you.”
Alex was exasperated. They’d already parted on poor terms once, and she would not see that happen again. And then she felt her anger relent to pity for Jane, who, she realized, could not find it within to allow herself real happiness and fulfillment. It was a gift Jane could not give herself. Strangely, her vulnerability and inherent loneliness made Alex love her even more.
“Jane, honey, it’s all right. I can accept that we can’t be together . . . that you can’t love me.” She looked at Jane imploringly. “At least let me see you once in awhile . . . as friends . . . as . . . as whatever you want.”
Jane smiled dolefully and carefully sat down beside Alex, taking her hand in hers. Their fingers found each other’s like they’d held hands a thousand times before.
“Alex, you’re the sweetest, most wonderful, giving woman I’ve ever met. I mean that.” She bent and kissed Alex’s hand. “You are ready to love again, Alex. And I’m so happy that you are.” She looked heavenward before closing her eyes tightly, and Alex could see the agony and disappointment in her face. “It just can’t be with me, Alex.” When she looked back at Alex, her resolve was firm. “And I won’t have secret, fleeting trysts with you. You’re too special for that. You deserve so much more.”
Reluctantly, Alex stood up to go. She appraised Jane speculatively. “You deserve more than that too, you know.”
“Maybe one day I will.”
Chapter 11
The rest of the summer came and went in a blur for Jane. And while the season was changing, her hectic pace was not. The cities and faces had become indistinct and merged into one another, like the lines on the many highways she traveled. Though the end of the campaign was nearing, she could no longer fathom what it would be like not to hit the trail day after day: the speeches, the walkabouts, the interviews, ribbon cuttings, even christening a new freighter in Detroit named after her father. She wouldn’t miss the exhaustion, but a part of her would miss the adventure and the ever-changing landscape.
“Three weeks to go, and things couldn’t look better,” Jack Wilson gushed at their morning briefing. Usually dour and serious, the chief of staff’s mood had seemed to lighten with each passing week of the campaign.
“Howard’s been a lame duck for awhile, but now he’s basically a dead duck,” Jack said triumphantly. “Especially after tonight,” he grinned from behind the rim of his coffee cup.
Jane sipped her own coffee contemplatively. She was confident about the television debate tonight between herself and the incumbent vice president, Ben Palmer. She and her staff had been spending part of every day for the last couple of weeks practicing, and an expert from Collins’s team had already prepped both she and Collins, who would debate President Charles Howard tomorrow night in the same studio.
“Let’s not get too cocky,” Jane cautioned. They all knew that Howard and Palmer were proving to be poor opponents so far. In fact, Jane and Dennis had been feasting on them and their poor records, and the polls reflected the unevenness of the contest. But overconfidence could turn voters off, she knew. So could attacks that appeared too vicious. She would have to walk a fine line between confidence and humility, decisiveness and thoughtfulness.
Steph Cameron clattered into Jane’s hotel suite, her bulging leather briefcase in hand. She was grinning. “Top of the morning to you both. Nervous?” She winked at Jane before heading for the carafe of coffee at the breakfast bar.
Jane reclined on a loveseat with her coffee cup, her feet on the coffee table. “What do you think?” She smiled back at her aide and old college friend.
Steph took a seat beside Jack on a facing sofa. “I’d say you look like you’ve got the cat by the tail, which, by the way, you do.”
Jane sipped her coffee, luxuriating in the Colombian aroma and knowing it was probably among her few quiet moments of the day and evening ahead. “Nervous, no. Not yet. But I’m not ready to say I’ve got the cat by the tail, as you put it.”
“Well, you’re wise to be a little cautious,” Steph replied. “At least let the rest of us indulge in a little arrogance.”
Jane laughed shortly. “Too much work to do yet before we celebrate. And besides, something unexpected could happen to turn things on a dime. Howard does have the advantage of being the President of the United States right now, which means it’s his to lose and not ours to win.”
Steph pouted.
“What time do I need to be at the studio?”
“Six. That’s two hours before the debate starts.”
“Lord, don’t tell me I need that much time in makeup and wardrobe. I know the campaign has taken a toll on me, but do I look that bad?”
Steph and Jack laughed in unison.
“You look that good,” Jack said through a smile. “Collins was told to be at the studio three hours before his debate starts!”
Jane smiled, not at all concerned about her looks, but at least the topic was a momentary distraction. “Okay, well, that makes me feel better. And I’ll feel even better than that if you tell me my opponent is pulling into the studio . . . oh, about now,” she said, glancing at her watch.
Steph grinned. “Well, I’m not sure about that. But you’ve got nothing to worry about, Jane. You’re going to look gorgeous and you’re going to knock them dead.”
Jane frowned. “Gorgeous, I don’t care about. I want to look . . . I don’t know, big-sisterly and CEO-ish all at once. And then I want to sound like the next Vice President of the United States.”
“Don’t worry,” Steph said. “You’ll be in a nice Versace suit, and I promise they won’t go too nuts on the hair and makeup. And you are the next Vice President of the United States.”
Jane shrugged, her mind drifting. “When does my mother arrive?”
“She’ll be coming in sometime before the debate starts,” Jack said.
“Damn,” Jane muttered. “You couldn’t talk her out of it, huh?”
“You know her. She wants to be there, and once she’s made up her mind . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just afraid I’ll get nervous knowing she’s in the audience. She’ll probably start giving me hand signals or something.”
“Is that legal?” Steph asked, only half joking. “Anyway, once you get going, girl, nothing’s going to make you nervous out there.”
Jane swallowed a mouthful of coffee, hoping Steph was right. Between her mother’s presence and Collins watching from the wings, which also meant Alex would be there . . . The cameras and the millions of people watching wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Where are you going?” Jack asked her as she stood up.
“I think I need a long, hot bath.”
Jane was quietly going over her notes in her expansive dressing room at CBS Studios at 524 West 57th Street. The hair and makeup people had finally left her alone, and her dark blue jacket and skirt hung from a nearby hanger, ready for her. She wanted to prolong her peace and quiet and the wearing of her old jeans and denim shirt for as long as she could before she had to be on stage under the hot glare of the lights and the cruel scrutiny of the cameras.
A light knock on her door preceded a rush of energy into the room.
“Mom!”
Maria Kincaid looked striking in a bright green dress and a short, cream-colored jacket cut neatly around her trim waist. She gave Jane an animated hug. “Darling, it’s so good to see you. Let me look at you.”
Maria stood back appraisingly.
“Mom, I know what you’re going to say. I haven’t been eating or sleeping enough.”
“I see you’ve developed the ability to read minds now. That will serve you well as vice president, you know.” Maria smiled proudly. “You look . . . wonderful.”
Jane frowned, detecting a trace of reproach in her mother’s voice. “What?” she said, hands on her hips.
“Nothing, dear.”
“Mother. What’s bothering you?”
“I just wish there was someone taking care of you, since you’re not the best at taking care of yourself. That’s all.”
“Mom, I’m fine. Really. Just tired. You know what it’s like.”
Maria sighed dramatically. “I wish Alex Warner were back on your detail. I’d feel so much better knowing she’s there. Why can’t you get Collins to give her back to you?”
It had actually been days since Jane had thought about Alex, which was very unusual. She saw her almost weekly, whenever she and Collins campaigned together. They were cordial, almost friendly. But they’d never again discussed their last intimate conversation—Alex’s declaration of love and her very tempting offer of sex, and Jane’s gentle and somewhat tenuous rejection. Spending too much time with Alex, especially any alone time, was lethal, because Jane had still not gotten her out of her system. But if she were at least beginning to think about Alex less frequently, it was a start.
“Mom.” Jane grew impatient and snapped, “I have more to worry about right now than who my agents are. And I haven’t exactly seen Alex busting down my door demanding to come back.”
“I know, dear. It’s just that she promised me she’d take care of you. I don’t understand.”
Jane felt her heart lurch at her mother’s revelation. When had Alex promised to take care of her? She couldn’t allow herself the luxury to imagine what it would feel like to have someone “take care” of her. To come home to at the end of the day, to share a laugh with and a hug. “I don’t need taking care of,” Jane answered pointedly. “I’m doing fine.”
Maria quirked a skeptical eyebrow. “I hope so. Still, I miss Alex. She’s a good woman.”
Jane blinked at the simple statement. Yes. She is a good woman.
The door thudded open and Will Carter barged through, looking both nervous and excited. “They’re ready for you, Jane.”
Jane’s first and, she hoped, last moment of distress came in Vice President Palmer’s on-air greeting.
“My. You’re even prettier in person.” He smirked as he looked from Jane to the camera. “She really is, you know,” he said coyly to the TV audience.
Jane was stunned, totally unprepared for his comment. She had not expected her looks to come up in the campaign, but she should have, she realized. Her opponents might try to imply that she was too pretty to be taken seriously on the world stage. And anyone who didn’t know Jane or who hadn’t been paying attention to her campaign might believe it. She was not naïve about her looks. She knew they had opened doors for her. But opening a door and staying there were two different things.
Palmer took her silence as his cue to keep at it. “Your beauty, Ms. Kincaid, could almost make one forget the issues.”
The live audience laughed, but Jane only gave a perfunctory smile. “Lucky for you, Mr. Palmer, I’ll remind you pretty quickly.”
The audience laughed again, and Jane relaxed, though she was still not done with her opponent. Humor and wit would make her point much better than ruthless aggression. “I’ll even give you a nice, glossy eight by ten if you’ll let me get on to the real issues this country wants to talk about.”
The audience guffawed and she knew she had struck a point. She caught a nod of approval from her mother off in the shadows.
The moderator jumped in with his first question. “Ms. Kincaid. Are you ready for the second most powerful job in this nation?”
Jane smiled warmly, in contrast to her words. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be wasting everyone’s time.” She looked directly at the camera. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. But it’s not just about whether I’m ready. I think it’s about whether this country is ready for a change, and I believe it is. Our economy is in worse shape than it was four years ago, and that means we have people who aren’t eating as well and who aren’t getting proper medical care. We have people losing their houses, their jobs. We’ve also lost another couple of thousand soldiers who have been toiling without the progress they need to justify their being there. We’re all ready for a change.”
“Mr. Palmer?”
The vice president’s face had reddened a shade. “I agree with some of Ms. Kincaid’s points about the last four years. But that’s what is key here—four years. One term is not enough to do everything we want to do. We have the foundation now. We need another term to watch our programs and policies really flourish and result in positive changes.”
Jane was shaking her head. She couldn’t resist interrupting, even though she knew it was forbidden. “A house built on a weak foundation is sure to fall down, Mr. Palmer.”
The moderator held up a hand. “You’ll get time for a rebuttal later, Ms. Kincaid. Mr. Palmer, the question was, are you the better choice here?”
Palmer smiled cockily, his fleshy neck bulging over his collar. “Of course I am. I have had many years in government. And experience is no match for a fat bank account and a well-known family name.” He shot a look of disgust at Jane.
“Ms. Kincaid?” the moderator prompted.
Jane quietly seethed, but she would not be drawn into a personal attack. She steadied herself before she answered. “There’s an old quote that says, if you want your place in the sun, you have to get out of the shade of the family tree. I think I’ve done that. Helping people and trying to make a better world can’t happen if you don’t venture off the family farm, Mr. Palmer. And it doesn’t happen if you never leave your ivory tower, either.”
The audience clapped their approval, and Palmer gave a small scowl. Jane smiled sweetly.
“Ms. Kincaid. The billionaire Warren Buffet recently said he thinks the wealthy aren’t paying enough taxes. That he’s taxed at a lower rate than some of his employees. Do you agree with his point of view?”
“I think we all want an America where everyone has an equal chance. Where your family background or the color of your skin don’t predetermine your future. I think those who are better off have a responsibility to the community and to those around them. So, yes, I do think the rich aren’t taxed enough. And I think President Howard’s tax cuts have decimated our social system, and that is something I would work to change.” Jane stared into the camera, her fist clenching the lectern. “It all comes down to what kind of a society we want to live in.”
“Mr. Palmer?”
“A welfare society is what you’re talking about, Ms. Kincaid.” Palmer was condescending now. “I don’t think that’s the society anyone wants us to live in.”
Jane smiled knowingly. “I’m not talking about charity, Mr. Palmer. I’m talking about equality. I’m talking about an equal playing field. I’m talking about honoring hard work and not just rewarding wealth. That’s the kind of society we want.”
The audience applauded, and it wasn’t just out of politeness. Jane knew her verbal punches were landing.
