The Marriage Campaign

“No one does. It’s called retirement,” Lisa said flatly.

“I’m only doing this job until I settle down,” Andrea proclaimed. She wobbled a little on the two-inch heels she’d worn to bring her almost to Lisa’s five-eight height. Lisa had to admit that Andrea was cute, which hopefully for some man made up for her singular desire to be wed.

“Just make sure you have all the place cards in the correct spots,” Lisa said as she turned her attention back to her own tasks. She’d been idealistic once—leave college, find the right job, find the right man and live happily ever after. The day of graduation she’d toasted to her future, sharing a bottle of champagne with her three best friends in the world. They’d held their glasses high, proclaimed they weren’t going to settle for anything until they had the proverbial brass ring tight in their grasps.

But life wasn’t perfect. Brass rings tarnished.

Tori, the computer-science major in the group, had been ready to make Microsoft worry. She’d joined an upstart St. Louis–based computer company called Wright Solutions, where she’d fallen into a rut.

Cecile Duletsky had been determined to be Norman Lear, Sidney Sheldon or Aaron Spelling and develop television shows. She’d made it as far as working behind the scenes on a talk show.

And Joann, the woman with the promising television news anchor job ahead of her? Less than three months after graduation she’d learned that she was pregnant, married her college sweetheart and become a stay-at-home mom of three with a diploma that collected dust. Lisa had her suspicions that, while Joann was happy, she still had some regrets.

As for Lisa, she finally had the right job but hadn’t found the right man. Oh, she’d thought she had, until he’d broken it off and subsequently married. Politics was all about alliances, and Lisa had learned that particular lesson the hard way a little over a year ago.

And Bradley Wayne was still her boss. Although she’d branched out and formed her own company, until Herb’s campaign was over, she reported to Bradley.

She surveyed the ballroom again, her radar not sensing any current doom on the horizon. The fact that Professionals for Business Growth had endorsed Herb was excellent. While Herb was a shoo-in for winning the party primary in August, he then would have to defeat Anson Farmer. Even though Herb was ahead in the popularity polls, most analysts predicted that November’s gubernatorial election would be close.

But when Herb did win in November, he would become her most successful and highest placed political candidate ever. That feather in her cap would make the endless apartments and lack of permanent furniture worth it. She’d fill a position on his staff. Herb had further ambitions beyond reviving Missouri, and Lisa could picture him in the White House. She planned to do all his campaign fund-raising and ride his coattails all the way there.

“There you are.” Mrs. Herbert Usher—or Bunny, as she was known—swept into the hotel ballroom like a woman on a mission. At fifty-seven, Bunny had let her hair turn white and the locks waved around her ears. She reminded Lisa of a younger Barbara Bush. “Lisa, Herb’s speechwriter came down with a stomach bug and Herb’s not satisfied with tonight’s address. He wants you to fix it.”

That was Lisa, jack-of-all-trades. “Tell Herb not to panic, and as soon as I finish the final meeting with security, I’ll head up to the suite and do a quick rewrite. I also have some thank-you cards Herb needs to sign so that I can pass them out at the end of the evening.”

Bunny appeared relieved. “Wonderful. Between us girls, I’m late getting my hair done. Appearance is everything, especially with Anson Farmer’s young wife being a former model. The press fawns on her, salivating fools.”

“Everything will be fine,” Lisa said, touching her own hair to make sure that the redone style hadn’t budged. It would crush somewhat when she put the headset on, but that didn’t matter; being in touch with her crew was more important. Nothing would go wrong tonight—she wouldn’t let it. She’d climbed too far to fail now.

Two years ago, when Lisa had begun working for Bradley, Herb had used multiple political fund-raisers and campaign managers. In the past few weeks Herb had narrowed his focus to one fund-raiser—Lisa—and one campaign manager, Bradley Wayne, her ex. Technically Bradley was the boss, Lisa second in command. Lisa supervised four area assistants who were also technically self-employed: Andrea in St. Louis, Kelsey in Kansas City, Drew in Springfield and Duane in Jefferson City. Duane had taken Lisa’s place last week when Herb had promoted Lisa to oversee the entire state, at which time Lisa had relocated to campaign headquarters—St. Louis, Herb’s hometown.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” Lisa said, concentrating on the task at hand. “We’ll have no complications tonight. You’ll see.”

“That’s great,” Bunny said as she pulled out her cell phone and prepared to take flight. “I’ll see you upstairs in a few minutes.”

The first complication Lisa faced came in the afternoon, when the hotel banquet staff made a substitution on the dinner menu. Thankfully she caught the problem early enough and handled the situation easily. The second issue was more difficult.

“Lisa, Larry Smith isn’t coming!” Andrea’s words blared into Lisa’s ear.

“Larry Smith?”

“Yes. I had him scheduled to pass the hat.”

“And he’s a no-show?” Lisa said into her headset, a twinge of panic constricting her chest. Now five-thirty, people had been entering the ballroom since five for the six o’clock dinner, and Lisa stood near the podium, once again double-checking that everything was ready for Herb’s arrival. She’d left this part of the event totally to Andrea.

“Yes, he’s a no-show,” Andrea repeated, her own panic evident. “He sent his son instead. What are we going to do? When I set this up weeks ago, I didn’t think this would happen.”

“It did,” Lisa said, her mind churning. Unlike Andrea, Lisa wasn’t a nervous newbie. Still, Lisa took a moment to berate herself. She’d had to train Duane and his staff or she’d have been in St. Louis earlier to supervise. And Andrea had assured her…. Lisa focused.

All problems had solutions—she just had to find them. She reviewed what she knew. Larry Smith was an old colleague of Herb’s and he was to make the first two-thousand-dollar donation and start “Pass the Hat.” While the fund-raising dinner brought in soft money from charging exorbitant meal prices, Pass the Hat was a fun event where the hard money was tossed in.

Tonight’s event had five hundred people who had spent five hundred per plate. If an average of one thousand dollars per guest was received, Herb would gain five hundred thousand in hard money for his campaign coffers. That had been the goal Lisa had set.

“You said he sent his son instead,” Lisa said.

“Yes,” Andrea answered. “Larry Smith was going to bring his wife. His son arrived by himself. Now there’s an empty space at that table.”

Empty spaces were not great but certainly livable.

“Calm down and let me think. Ambruster’s out, and so is Bennington,” Lisa said, naming some of Herb’s friends. They’d agreed to pass the hat at future events that were equally important, so she’d prefer not to use them now. Larry Smith was the vice president of Professionals for Business Growth, hence his suitability tonight. Perhaps all wasn’t lost if he’d sent a replacement.

“I want to talk to Larry Smith’s son,” Lisa said suddenly. “Maybe his father told him what’s going on. Where is he?”

“He’s the hot one by the door, talking to the woman with the silver hair and glittery red dress. You can’t miss him. I told you there’d be single guys here tonight.”

Lisa couldn’t care less about the younger Smith’s marital status. She trained her gaze across the wide expanse of the ballroom. Hot one by the door? Mere seconds elapsed before she located the man to whom Andrea referred. Even from across the room, his magnetism commanded. The guy defined tall, dark and handsome.

She could tell he wore custom tailoring, he was at least six feet tall and he had a full head of dark, silky hair. Her breath lodged in her throat as he laughed at something someone in the small circle surrounding him said. He reminded her of the man from the funeral.

No wonder Larry Smith’s son had such a multiage group of ladies crowding about. The man knew how to exude sex appeal. But none of that mattered to Lisa, not when her evening, her career and five hundred thousand dollars were at stake.

“I’ve spotted him,” Lisa told Andrea via the headset. “I’m making my way over there now.”

“I’ll handle him if you’d like,” Andrea said hopefully.

“I’ve got it,” Lisa commanded. “Hey, the St. Louis County executive is coming through the doorway.”

Andrea sighed her disappointment. “I’m on it.”

Lisa wove her way across the ballroom. Her target grew larger than life as she closed in, and she could see his hair wasn’t one solid color: the ballroom chandeliers illuminated natural highlights that lacked any hint of early gray.

Close-up, the man was even more impressive, with wide shoulders and narrow hips. Lisa predicted that under his perfectly pressed shirt there was probably a washboard stomach without an ounce of fat. Even from behind she could tell he was the entire package: the gorgeous, moneyed exterior and the type of male physique that, when naked, was every woman’s fantasy.

Lisa swallowed and reminded herself that, like this morning, she didn’t have time for fantasies or dalliances, even if the man was so gorgeous he made Tom Cruise and Colin Farrell look ugly.

Besides, she hadn’t had much appetite for a social life this past year. Concentrating on her career was much smarter than embarking on another futile search for a man. Lisa wasn’t a woman who had an issue with sleeping alone. This situation was nothing she couldn’t control. “Mr. Smith?”

He turned, leveling a dark brown gaze at her.

Lisa froze as her breath lodged in her throat.

Damn. How dare the fates be unkind? Come on, what were the odds? St. Louis had well over a million people. Smith was a common last name. Everyone called his dad Bud, not Larry. But the memory raced back, proving that eight years was not enough time. How dare it be…him.

Chapter Two

“Lisa?”

She swallowed once and plastered on her most professional and courteous smile. “Hello, Mark.”