Prince Of The City

A sharp rap of the brass doorknocker interrupted any further argument her sons were about to give. They looked at each other, though, and then they looked at Eloise, each of them offering her an identical teasing grin.

“Mom, the door,” Carl prompted when she continued to stand and stare at them, her heart suddenly pounding, her purse and her coat gripped tightly in her hands.

“Yeah, Mom, the door,” Henry urged.

“Want me to get it?” John took a step forward.

“I’ll get it,” she said, her voice sounding odd—almost breathy—to her own ears.

She crossed the living room to the small foyer slowly, the boys naturally trailing along in her wake.

“Hey, he’s just an old friend with an opposing viewpoint,” Carl reminded her kindly when she hesitated a long moment, her hand clasping the brass doorknob.

“Right,” she muttered casting him a grateful smile.

“You look great, Mom,” Henry said, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat.

“And you’re smart, too,” John added for good measure.

Also just the tiniest bit terrified of what’s waiting for me on the other side of my front door, Eloise added silently, for her benefit alone. Then, drawing a steadying breath, she turned the bolt lock decisively.

She opened the door with a welcoming whoosh, then stood absolutely still, staring at Bill Harper with a barely contained gasp of astonishment.

She had thought she had been prepared to meet him again face-to-face for the first time in seventeen years. She had seen his picture in the paper often enough, as well as his image on the television screen. But he had been removed to a sure and certain distance on those occasions.

The lines and angles that made his face so appealingly attractive, the vitality in his bright blue eyes, the power and strength of his long, lithe frame had always been muted. Lounging casually on her doorstep, as he now was, elegantly dressed in a black tuxedo, his short salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed, his gaze direct, the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth warm and gracious, he was downright devastating, as were the memories that all too suddenly flooded through her.

As Eloise continued to meet his steady gaze, the years seemed to melt away under a rush of warmth edged with a longing that caught her completely by surprise. In those first few moments, she could think of him only as her old friend, her once dearest, most beloved friend—the man she could have married, would have married…if only. And she imagined, for the space of a heartbeat, how wonderful it would be to step into his arms that very moment, to hold him close and be held, in turn, by him.

Then, remembering that her sons stood right behind her, taking in the scene, no doubt much more avidly that she would have liked, Eloise gave herself a firm mental shake. Bill Harper had been her friend once, emphasis on had been. Now, as Carl had so nicely put it, he was her adversary. And as such, he threatened everything she had worked for with a fund-cutting flourish of his mayoral pen.

“Mr. Mayor,” she greeted him politely, offering her hand along with a dignified smile. “Come in, please, and let me introduce you to my sons.”

“Please, Eloise, call me Bill,” he replied, his tone equally polite.

He wrapped her hand in both of his far larger and much warmer ones, then held on to it just a tad longer than absolutely necessary, his blue eyes sparkling just as devilishly as her sons’ eyes had earlier.

“Of course…Bill.” She felt her cheeks warm as she finally managed to pull her hand free. Gesturing to each of her sons in turn, she added, “Carl, John and Henry.”

“Mr. Mayor, nice to meet you,” each said as he shook hands with them, showing the same warmth he’d shown her.

“Boys, nice to meet all of you, too.” He glanced at Eloise, his tone suddenly teasing as he added, “How on earth do you tell them apart?”

“It’s not always easy,” she admitted with a wry smile. “But I have my ways.”

“I’ll bet you do,” Bill said, his smile widening. “She’s not easy to fool, is she?” He directed the question to her sons.

“No, sir, not at all,” Carl replied as John and Henry exchanged amused glances.

“It’s good to know some things never change.” Bill favored Eloise with a look that struck her as all too familiar, not to mention much too knowing. Then he glanced at his heavy gold watch, the only jewelry he wore. “I suppose we’d better go. We don’t want to keep my constituents waiting, do we?”

“Not tonight,” she agreed, trying, unsuccessfully, to ignore her nervousness.

“Why don’t you let me help you with your coat?” Reaching out, Bill took it from her.

“Yes, of course. Thank you.”

Eloise glanced up at him again, and her cheeks warmed even more at the intensity still evident in his eyes, still plainly directed her way. Turning, she slid her arms into the silken sleeves of her coat as he held it open for her. As she fumbled with the rhinestone buttons, her fingers refusing to work properly, he put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently as if to reassure her in some way. The deft flex of his fingers through the fabric of her coat was not only heartening, but also disturbingly distracting.

Startled by an unexpected wave of heat that welled up deep within her, Eloise cast another wordless glance at Bill. His smile now had a mischievous hint to it, making her realize—as he must—just how easily she could once again become putty in his all-too-clever hands.

Taking a firm grip on her rioting emotions, and a decisive step away from the mayor, Eloise directed a stern look at each of her sons in turn.

“Bed by ten,” she reminded them.

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.

“I have my pager in my purse in case you need me for any reason.”

“We won’t,” Carl assured her.

“I doubt I’ll be out all that late,” she added.

Though she couldn’t say for sure, Eloise didn’t think Bill would want to spend any more time with her than absolutely necessary, especially once he’d attained maximum benefit from the photo ops attendant upon their being seen together in public. And, of course, she had no desire to linger in his company, either.

“You’d better not, Mom. You have to go to work tomorrow, and we all know how cranky you can be when you don’t get a good night’s sleep,” John admonished, his expression mockingly stern.

“Ah, so the lady still has to have a full eight hours of sleep to function,” Bill said, more than a hint of laughter lacing his voice. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Exchanging what appeared to be conspiratorial glances with her sons, Bill shook hands again with each of them, then opened the door and gestured with a stately flourish.

“Eloise…”

Feeling just the slightest bit at a disadvantage, she lifted her chin, forced herself to meet his gaze and attempted a haughty smile as she stepped into the hallway.

“Thank you, Bill.”

She couldn’t think how she had expected the evening to unfold, but she was fairly certain she had already lost most, if not all control of the situation, and they weren’t even out of her apartment building yet. She also knew she should be trying to eliminate what seemed like a serious disadvantage on her part. But oddly enough, she couldn’t seem to get motivated in that particular direction.

Not when Bill took her arm and escorted her onto the elevator. Not as they rode down to the lobby in silence, his presence beside her comfortingly familiar. Not when the doorman greeted them politely, and not when the driver did likewise as he opened the door of the long, black limousine for them.

Only as Bill settled close to her on the richly upholstered leather seat and the door closed with a solid thunk, sealing them into luxurious privacy did her heartbeat quicken. The warning bells that should have been ringing all along finally went off in her head, but it was too late—much, much too late. They were alone together, shut off from the world, if only momentarily. And Mayor Harper—Bill Harper—her former friend and lover, and now the perpetrator of the possible undoing of all she’d worked so hard to achieve the past twelve years, was reaching out, taking her small, cold hand and folding it into his much larger, warmer one.

“I haven’t told you yet how good it is to see you again, have I, Eloise? And it is good to see you, finally face-to-face. Not just good, great, really, really great…” he said in the same soft, low, utterly sexy voice that still sometimes haunted her dreams.

She knew she should offer him a snappy comeback, curt words cut with just the right amount of irony. Instead she clung to his hand unabashedly, unable to stop herself from allowing her truest, deepest feelings to be revealed. She had loved Bill Harper once, and that love had never completely died. To pretend that it had, no matter how important the reason, was something she was simply too honest to do.

“It’s good to see you again, too, Bill,” she said at last. “Really, really good…”