The Best-Kept Secret

“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.