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Eddy smiled as he came to his feet. “I’ve watched you in action, remember? You’ve got that tension around your mouth that says you haven’t gotten off lately. I recognize the black scowl. You might be running for public office, but you’re still Tate Rutledge. Your cock doesn’t know that it’s expected to be a good little boy until you get elected.”
“I’m investing my future in this election, Eddy. You know that. I’m about to realize my ambition to go to Washington as a senator. Do you think I’d risk that dream on twenty minutes of marital infidelity?”
“No, I guess not,” Eddy said with a rueful sigh. “I was only trying to help you out.”
Tate stood and offered a crooked smile. “The next thing you’re going to say is, what are friends for?”
Eddy chuckled. “Something that trite? Are you kidding?”
They headed toward the door leading into the main part of the house. Tate companionably rested his arm across Eddy’s shoulders. “You’re a good friend.”
“Thanks.”
“But Carole was right about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You are an asshole.”
Laughing together, they entered the house.
Fourteen
Avery slid on a pair of sunglasses.
“I think it would be better not to wear them,” Eddy told her. “We don’t want it to look like we’re hiding something unsightly.”
“All right.” She removed the sunglasses and pocketed them in the raw silk jacket, which matched her pleated trousers. “Do I look okay?” she nervously asked Tate and Eddy.
Eddy gave her a thumbs-up sign. “Smashing.”
“Lousy pun,” Tate remarked with a grin.
Avery ran her hand over the short hair at the back of her skull. “Does my hair…?”
“Very chic,” Eddy said. Then he clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “Well, we’ve kept the baited hounds at bay long enough. Let’s go.”
Together, the three of them left her room for the last time and walked down the hallway toward the lobby. Good-byes to the staff had already been said, but good-luck wishes were called out to them as they passed the nurses’ station.
“A limo?” Avery asked when they reached the tinted glass facade of the building. The horde of reporters couldn’t yet see them, but she could see outside. A black Cadillac limousine was parked at the curb with a uniformed chauffeur standing by.
“So both of us would be free to protect you,” Eddy explained.
“From what?”
“The crush. The driver’s already stowed your things in the trunk. Go to the mike, say your piece, politely decline to field any questions, then head for the car.”
He looked at her a moment, as though wanting to make certain his instructions had sunk in, then turned to Tate. “You can take a couple of questions if you want to. Gauge how friendly they are. As long as it’s comfortable, milk it for all it’s worth. If it gets sticky, use Carole as your excuse to cut it short. Ready?”
He went ahead to open the door. Avery looked up at Tate. “How do you abide his bossiness?”
“That’s what he?
?s being paid for.”
She made a mental note not to criticize Eddy. In Tate’s estimation, his campaign manager was above reproach.
Eddy was holding the door for them. Tate encircled her elbow and nudged her forward. The reporters and photographers had been a clamoring, squirming mass moments before. Now an expectant hush fell over them as they waited for the senatorial candidate’s wife to emerge after months of seclusion.
