The Best-Kept Secret

“Or I’ll do it for you.”

“And bully Roger into leaving.”

She was breathing heavy and so was Hud. He hadn’t experienced a good fight in a long time. He was angry and frustrated and trying not to be desperate. But what was most surprising was how alive Rosie DeWitt made him feel, how he wanted to twine his fingers through her long springy curls while they sparred. Hud could tell from the intensity of her glare that she felt the same way. Adversaries sometimes made the best lovers. Not that pursuing a relationship with his campaign manager would help Hud’s image. He’d learned over the last few years that short-term attraction distracted him from his long-term goals. But that didn’t mean Hud couldn’t use this spark between them to his advantage.

Hud grinned. “I can wait all day.” Because he was going to get Rosie’s endorsement for mayor if he had to follow her home.

“PERHAPS I SHOULD CALL HUD.” Vivian fiddled with the stem of her wineglass as she sat across from Walter in one of San Francisco’s most exclusive restaurants.

Walter put his chin on his hand and studied her intently, much the way he’d been doing all through lunch, as if he’d just met her and was trying to figure her out. “Why? He’s a grown man.”

“I know, but I want him to be happy.”

“After age eighteen, they have to be in charge of finding their own happiness. I think I told you as much twenty years ago.”

Vivian attempted a smile. “I didn’t listen then, either.” She’d spoiled Samuel because Hamilton had been so hard on Hud. It had taken Samuel a long time to grow up, but eventually he had, going so far as to receive a graduate degree from Berkeley before joining the army. When he was killed in Afghanistan, Vivian was glad she’d made his short life so special.

“Adversity builds character,” Walter pointed out, reaching for her hand. He was so supportive, always there when she needed him. A decade ago Walter had stood by her side when Hamilton passed away from complications created by his diabetes. He’d helped Hud see her through the loss of Samuel nearly five years later and had been one of the few people who didn’t disappear when things went sour for Hud in the Senate. When she’d called earlier in the week to discuss Hud’s options, Walter had been the one to suggest Rosie and she’d readily agreed, knowing he’d use Vivian’s name to smooth things over for Hud.

With her hand enveloped in Walter’s larger one, Vivian felt safe. “We’ve had enough adversity in our lives. Hud doesn’t need any more.”

“Hudson is young enough to weather a few more storms.” Walter stroked his thumb across the back of her hand, sending an almost forgotten thrill skittering across her skin. “You’re the one I want to see happy.”

She tried to ease her hand back, but Walter only held on tighter. If she had any sense, she’d think her old friend was making a move on her. But Vivian knew better. She was nearing sixty-five with skin that had lost its elasticity and body parts that drooped. Powerful men like Walter pursued young, nubile bodies.

Vivian patted Walter’s hand and gently extricated herself, because she knew what he wanted even if he seemed not to at the moment. “I am happy.”

With a significant glance at his empty hand, Walter’s dark eyebrows went up a centimeter or two. They both knew that was a fib. She’d spent the last two years moping around her office and home. A change of subject was in order.

“Why on earth are you considering Roger Bartholomew? He was one of Samuel’s friends.” One of his wilder friends and someone Vivian considered an extremely bad influence on her son in college. “And he’s too young.”

“I chose two candidates that I’m certain will make Rosie’s recommendation an easy one.” And that was as close as Walter would come to admitting he’d stacked the deck in Hud’s favor. “I thought you didn’t want Hudson back in politics.”

“I’ve grown accustomed to the peace and quiet.”

“You’ve retreated from the world but you can’t quite give up influencing it. You can’t have it both ways, Viv.” Walter gave her a half smile.

She laughed. “When you’ve done all I’ve done, why be bothered with all this?” Vivian gestured to the room full of men and women in suits.

“Do you want me to buy you some support hose and a rocking chair?”

“I don’t consider myself elderly.” Vivian bristled.

“Then don’t act like it.” There was that spark of male interest in his eyes again.

Vivian didn’t want to admit that she longed for a rocking chair and a lap filled with babies more than she longed to stand behind Hud while he gave speech after speech. Anybody could do that. “Maybe I want something different. Maybe I want to be…” Needed.

“What?”

But Vivian wasn’t ready to tell Walter that she had no reason to get up in the morning and no reason to climb into her empty bed at night.

ROSIE’S PHONE BEEPED. Somehow in the midst of all the arguing and male posturing, she’d missed a call. A quick check of the screen revealed the words Rainbow Day Care. Caught up in the excitement, she’d lost track of time. Using her bad-mommy antennae, Ms. Phan had probably sensed Rosie would be hung up and called to remind her.

It was one-fifteen. Rosie was going to be late and Casey, bless his heart, was going to forgive her like he always did. “I’ve got to go.”

“Wait,” Hudson said. “Tell me if my figures are stronger than Roger’s.”

“I have to pick up my son.” Grabbing her things, Rosie wended her way to the door. On her way out, she left money with the maitre d’.

“Do you have an umbrella?” the maitre d’ asked. “It’s really coming down.”

Glancing up, Rosie saw the downpour. Idiot. She’d left Casey’s Spider-Man umbrella in Hudson’s office. She’d have to admit to Casey that she’d lost it. He’d find this infraction harder to forgive than her being late. It was two blocks to a bus stop, and at least four to BART. Getting a taxi during lunch hour in the city was always challenging, but during a rain shower would be next to impossible. She’d show up late, drenched, without Casey’s umbrella.

Rosie called Selena, who had a car and as an artist had a more flexible schedule than most of her friends. She’d picked up Casey before when Rosie got in a jam. But Selena’s phone rolled to voice mail.

A hand touched her shoulder. Rosie jumped and twisted her ankle as her slender heel gave way, not noticing a steadying grip on her arm until she regained her footing.

Hudson’s brown eyes were the color of strong whiskey, a potent, overwhelming force. “Let me give you a ride.”

She’d never liked whiskey. “I’ll get a taxi.” Rosie tried to remember where the nearest hotel was. That would be her best bet for a cab. The last thing she needed was Hudson hounding her all across town. In addition to the flaws Samuel had pointed out to her all those years ago, his brother had no manners.

“You’ll need this.” He pulled Casey’s small Spider-Man umbrella out of his inner raincoat pocket. “My assistant realized you left without it.”

She was saved. “That was very nice of you.” He’d carried it all this way. Rosie couldn’t imagine Samuel doing such a thing.

“Unexpected, I see.”

“It certainly is. You could have given it to me in front of Roger.” And tried to humiliate her.

Hudson shrugged, grinning as if he didn’t often get caught being nice. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

“Neither do you.”

The rain came down so hard it sounded as if there was a train outside.

“How about we declare a truce?” Hudson rubbed the back of his neck, looking contrite. “You’ll never get a cab and my driver is just around the corner.”

“Fine.” Even with Casey’s umbrella, there was no way Rosie would find a taxi in time. While Hudson called his driver, Rosie stepped out of her Jimmy Choos and stuffed them into her slender briefcase, managing to zip it closed. The money she’d paid for those shoes would have been better spent on Casey’s college fund. Chalk up another bad decision on the long list of her parenting mistakes.

“INNER SUNSET, PLEASE,” Rosie said, bending forward so that Graham, Hud’s driver, could hear the rest of her directions. Then she sat back, opened her briefcase and pulled out her precious shoes, dragging out a file bursting with clippings, photos and papers in the process. The file tab bore his name.

Hud recognized the edge of one of his Senate campaign photos. His fingers twitched as he wondered what else was in there.

“They didn’t get wet,” she murmured, reverently placing the shoes on the seat between them before sinking back and closing her eyes. She curled her wet toes, shimmering with pink polish, into the carpet. “I’ll just sit here and pretend I’m invisible and that the past two and a half hours didn’t happen. Can you wake me when we get to my son’s day care?”

Most women Hud knew would have harped on about what he’d just done. But then, most women didn’t have an inch-thick file on Hud or such a disappointing set of beliefs about him. There had to be a way to change Rosie’s mind. Caving in to his curiosity, he flipped her file open to an editorial on his Senatorial campaign viewpoints. Rosie had written “fair assessment” in the margin as well as underlining a passage claiming Hudson was passionate but too young and green for the responsibilities of office.

“What are you doing?” She turned her head slightly to look at him.