Grace never watched the news. It wasn’t that she didn’t care what was taking place outside of her immediate world. She did. And whatever small amount of time was spent with her father—or in the vicinity of his staffers—always resulted in her being educated on world politics. The shortcomings of the current administration’s foreign policy. Cabinet changes, Main Street, Wall Street, health care. As if that wasn’t enough, when her father had made the decision to run for president, she’d been placed with tutors who’d filled in any remaining blanks, then quizzed her on everything from first ladies to first pets.
So when it came to watching television, she avoided any mention of the upcoming election like the plague. The Discovery Channel usually won her vote—especially programs about bears. Or anything about abandoned structures that had deteriorated over time. The latter made her sad—seeing places once filled with life and laughter being left to rot—so she usually only watched them when something was bothering her, but needed that extra push into a therapeutic cry.
Crying might have helped her unsettled state this morning, but she wasn’t ready to let go of the agitation just yet. Her fingers fidgeted in her hair, feeling for the ribbons she’d tugged free last night. She’d only had them in for a few hours; they shouldn’t have made themselves feel so permanent. Every time she assured herself severing ties with Aaron had been the smart move—the move that would eliminate any inner conflict—she remembered his concentrated expression as he cut his tie. The way she’d opened her eyes that time as he kissed her and seen his own shut so tight. So tight. The heat of his body when he hovered close, the rasp of his clothing, his breath.
Wasn’t this what people like Aaron did, though? Create a false sense of security? Make a person feel wanted? We’re in this together. There’s no one else. If your family cared about you, they wouldn’t have sent you away for two months.
Grace slumped down onto her couch, gasping under the impact of the unexpected flashback. She’d gone years without hearing that voice, the one that used to haunt her relentlessly, long after it had been silenced. Needing to replace the lingering echo, her hand fumbled for the television remote, her intention to switch on the Discovery Channel losing momentum when Aaron’s face greeted her. No…that couldn’t be right. She was seeing him now because her thoughts had been full of him all morning. That had to be the explanation.
She reached down and pinched her arm. Along with the twinge of pain came a sinking sensation in her stomach. It was Aaron. On television, beneath the words From an earlier broadcast. She couldn’t be imagining his presence on the screen because she’d never seen him so disheveled. Stubble covered the lower half of his face, dark shadows cupping the bottoms of his eyes. His hair…if she didn’t find the situation—and her bone-liquefying reaction to his appearance—so alarming, she might have laughed. It stuck out in six angles, like he’d just come from an orgy, filled with handsy women.
For once, Grace didn’t appreciate where her imagination went. Didn’t like the idea of Aaron being fondled by a sea of hands. Really, really didn’t like it. Anxious for Aaron’s voice, needing it to banish the mental orgy taking place in her mind, Grace turned up the volume and listened.
“What is your name? State your name toward the camera, please.”
“Is it true you stole thirty thousand dollars in campaign money from Senator Pendleton and left it at a YouthAspire shelter last night?”
“Do you consider yourself a modern-day Robin Hood?”
Grace’s hands rose to cover her mouth, her head shaking in slow denial. Oh God. She…they hadn’t planned for the worst-case scenario, but they’d landed smack dab in the center of it nonetheless. The scene outside Aaron’s cabin faded, replaced by grainy camera footage of Aaron walking up the pathway to YouthAspire the night prior, two pillowcases dangling from his hands.
This couldn’t be happening. How was this happening?
She could read Aaron’s mind, knew he was asking himself the same questions. And not for the first time, she witnessed his intelligence without him having to say a single word. This was where he shined, even if she preferred him speaking without having a strategy. Saying whatever truth occurred to him without having a chance to censor himself. Yes, she could see engines cranking behind his tired eyes, see the way every reporter in the frame quieted and snapped to attention when he finally addressed them.
“I’m Aaron Clarkson.” His charming smile sent white streaking across the television screen. “Although given a choice, this isn’t how I would have made my first impression as Senator Pendleton’s newest advisor.”
A burst of questions and flashes, one of them breaking through as the most prominent. “If you work for the senator, why would you steal from his campaign?”
Aaron smoothed the wrinkled collar of his shirt. “Stealing is a strong word,” he admonished with a wink, making Grace fall back against the cushions, barely able to recognize him anymore. “The senator is well aware of the donation—it was his idea. Senator Pendleton is a passionate supporter of youth causes throughout Iowa and nationwide. This campaign is about giving back—about earning the respect of America’s young people—and this gesture was meant to bolster that foundation.” Another devastating smile that even had Grace sighing like a lovesick teenager flashed across the screen. “Unfortunately, the senator wasn’t interested in taking credit for his idea, so I was the lucky one sent out in the snowstorm to deliver his gift.”
An extended silence ensued, but the flashes didn’t stop. Without Aaron making any actual poses, Grace had no doubt he would look incredible in every shot. Several questions were fired at Aaron, but he deflected them with a good-natured wave. “If you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of making myself look human.” Tentative laughter. “My boss is a stickler for punctuality, so I’m blaming all of you for making me late.”
With that, he turned and executed a perfect jog up the cabin steps and disappeared into the cabin, leaving Grace sitting openmouthed on her couch. The beginning of a smile had just started to warm her mouth when she heard the crunch of gravel in the distance. Intuition sparkling in her nerve endings, Grace rose from the couch and looked out the window, unsurprised to find Aaron climbing out of his Suburban in front of her family home. Not the guesthouse. Although, upon removing his sunglasses, he glanced in her direction, igniting a pulse in the southern region of her body. “Yowza,” she whispered, pressing a hand to the spot.
When Aaron continued up the porch to her parents’ front door, disappearing from view, Grace spun on a heel and ran toward the bedroom, jumping over her discarded boots along the way. A flood of thoughts and reactions to what Aaron had done on national television bombarded one another, but one took precedent. She couldn’t allow Aaron to face her father alone. Whatever her feelings toward his profession—and they hadn’t changed overnight—the theft and delivery of the campaign money had been her idea, her actions. Letting him take the fall would be wrong.
Grace threw her double closet doors open and scooped up the first two items of clothing she laid eyes on. Which happened to be a sweater…and tights with a pattern making them look like garter belts. She could change later, though, when her sole focus wasn’t being there for whatever went down between Aaron and her father. Making sure she took responsibility for what she’d done.
After slipping her feet into untied boots, Grace flew from the guesthouse, raced across the lawn, and went in through the back door leading to the kitchen. Her mother and sister were late risers and obviously still in bed or they would be drinking coffee at the table, going over the day’s agenda. When she heard raised male voices coming from her father’s den, Grace slowed her pace on the way through the house. It wasn’t eavesdropping, right? She was just taking her time getting down the hallway…
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t have you arrested,” her father seethed.
Aaron didn’t miss a beat when he said, “Your resurgence in the polls this morning.” A light rustling of papers. “You’ve already gone up two percentage points since the segment began airing.”
“Oh, I don’t believe this. You’re actually here seeking gratitude?”
“I don’t want gratitude until you’re elected.” Aaron sounded so calm compared to how panicked he’d been last night, when she’d explained they couldn’t see each other again. How odd, when so much was at stake. His career. “Look, they put me on the spot and I ran with what I had. If you don’t see the value in that, maybe I should offer my services elsewhere.”
Grace realized she’d stopped breathing when her chest started to protest, her father’s rejoinder urging her closer to the den. “Even if I was a big enough moron to overlook your unauthorized distribution of funds…” A slam—fist hitting wood—jolted Grace back a step. “Spending time with you in any capacity does not benefit my daughter. Whatever has…happened, I don’t want to know. But it needs to end.”
That was her cue. With a deep breath, Grace stepped into the doorway, waiting for her father to acknowledge her presence. When it became obvious he was too absorbed in a stare down with Aaron, Grace rapped on the door frame. “Dad…”
If possible, his demeanor went even more rigid. “Grace, this does not—”
“Concern me? Yes, it does.” Aaron’s expression was guarded as he glanced over his shoulder, but she couldn’t focus on trying to read him now. She’d resolved last night to stop trying. Nothing had changed. Nothing. That reminder didn’t stop her from cataloging every detail of his appearance in one, quick sweep, however. He’d clearly showered and changed since the television interview. Face freshly shaven, hair styled, suit impeccable, he could have been a prince of some foreign country. Every maiden in the kingdom would swoon at his feet while he stepped over them, bored out of his mind. There was nothing boring in the way he looked at her, though. Oh no. She was locked in the prince’s crosshairs and a crack of lust’s whip tightened her muscles.
Focus. “Aaron…Mr. Clarkson…and I met two nights ago,” Grace started shakily. “He didn’t know who I was, but we made a deal. He didn’t realize keeping up his end of the bargain meant stealing the money. It’s my fault. I lied by omission. You know this whole plan was mine.”
“Of all places, Grace.” Her father deflated a little, massaging the back of his neck with a vigorous hand. “It had to be YouthAspire? After what happened to you there, I—”
“I know. You think I’m punishing you,” she interjected quickly, feeling Aaron’s attention zeroing in on her father’s words. “It’s the opposite, actually. I’m freeing all of us from what happened. I wish you could see it through my eyes.”
“I’m sorry.” He threw up his hands. “I can’t. I never will.”
Grace nodded, attempting to gather herself, but what Aaron said next silenced her. “I came here with a proposal, Senator. Would you like to hear it?”
Her father ran a hand over his mouth, grimacing when his office and cell phones began ringing at the same time. “Anything to avoid the goddamn fallout I’ll be dealing with from the contributors—who could very well want a refund on their donations, daughter.”
She flinched at the venom in her father’s tone, grateful for the way Aaron interceded smoothly, although there was definite tension around his mouth now. “We need to run with this, like it or not. There are news vans lined up down the block looking for a statement from the new, local hero. Not using this to your advantage would be a wasted opportunity.” He rolled his neck, giving Grace a fleeting touch of eye contact. Fleeting, but powerful, because he couldn’t hide his irritation. At the way her father spoke to her? Yes. But there was more. It was reassurance. And coming from Aaron, it might as well have been a sword battle in her honor. Warmth spun around like a top in her stomach, picking up speed when he spoke again.
“Let’s get every available staffer on this. Let’s organize committees to find causes—such as YouthAspire—and show voters you’re a man of the people. Respect. Giving back. It’s your new platform and it will work, if we don’t let them get interested in something else first. Because believe me, your opponent it looking for a fucking dinner bell to ring as we speak.”
This was good. This reminder that Aaron didn’t see people, he saw numbers. Graphs. Polls. Demographics. She needed to remember that whenever his eyes threatened to convince her otherwise. And most of all, most important, she couldn’t let the good thing they’d done together last night be exploited. “I want in.”
Her father did a double take. “Excuse me?”
“I want to help.” She advanced farther into the room, noticing Aaron’s gaze dip to her legs. He quickly glued his attention above her neck, but not before he started a race of tingles speeding up her spine. “I know where volunteers and money will be put to the best use. Around Des Moines, especially. I can finally be useful to this campaign—”
Grace broke off when her father held up a hand. “I’m already questioning my sanity by considering Mr. Clarkson’s idea. If you think I’m going to reward your illegal behavior and total disregard for the rules, which were put in place for your own good, you have another think coming.”
Embarrassment was an emotion Grace rarely experienced, but the easy dismissal of her plea caused heat to bloom in her cheeks. Because Aaron was watching? Probably. Whatever the reason, her recessive stubborn gene chose that moment to go radioactive. Her spine turned to steel, her lungs seeming to expand with a sudden rush of energy. “I never ask you for anything. This is important to me.”
The office phone began ringing again, but when her father leaned down to answer, Grace placed a hand over the receiver to prevent him. “What are you doing?” he said.
“I’m not asking anymore.” Gripping tight to her courage, Grace lifted her chin. “You’ve kept everything about my experience away from the media, like it never happened. I’m not sure you did that for me, or yourself. But if you shut me up in that guesthouse and don’t give me this chance to—finally—do something I’m passionate about?” She wet her parched lips. “I’ll go public with everything. Believe me when I say, I don’t care who knows. But you do. This campaign does.”
Grace must have been desperate for comfort, because Aaron’s arm brushing against her left elbow forced her to stand her ground, remaining strong in the face of her father’s disbelief. And the longer she stood there, refusing to bat an eyelash, the easier it became, until she almost wanted to argue more.
Her father lowered his voice and moved close. “Grace, you know why we think it’s in your best interest to stay out of the public eye.”
“It’s not.” She shook her head. “I know I’m not polished like my mother. Or accomplished like Emily. But I have something to offer. You have to let me give it.”
A deafening pause ensued while her father scrutinized her. She could see the ideas popping into his head, being discarded. Strategies being dissected. Straightening to his full height, he looked over at Aaron and Grace’s stomach seized. “You haven’t given a shit about propriety so far. Don’t start now.” He tilted his head in Grace’s direction. “Will she hurt or help us?”
Grace became winded, reminding her of the time she’d gotten nailed in the stomach with a kickball. Feeling the remains of her courage slipping away, she pasted a calm expression onto her face and turned to Aaron, who watched her from behind an invisible brick wall. “Help.” His tone was brisk as he looked down, began arranging the paperwork he’d stacked on the desk. “If we want your name to stay in everyone’s mouth come tomorrow, we need someone who knows the local landscape. The Pendleton campaign has five days remaining in Iowa before the campaign gets back on the trail. I doubt she can do any damage between now and then.”
“See that she doesn’t.” Her father finally answered the phone, but kept one hand cupped over the receiver as he regarded Aaron for one beat, two. “I haven’t forgotten what landed you on your ass. Any sign of inappropriate behavior and I’ll cut you off at the knees, Clarkson.”