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A bloodthirsty squeal.
“All his veins at once? Yes, that sounds about right.”
“Enjoying yourself?” Mat wandered onto the sun-porch, both hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.
Button shot him a look of betrayal and turned her face into Nealy’s breast. Nealy felt so blissfully happy that she wanted to sing. “You’ve got some big making up to do. With both of us.”
Guilt oozed from him. “Come on, Nealy. She’ll recover. And it had to be done.”
“Button doesn’t think so, do you, sweetheart?”
The baby stuck her fingers in her mouth and glowered at him.
He tried to brazen it out, but he was so obviously upset that Nealy took pity on him. “She’ll forgive you soon.”
“Yeah. I guess.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“How did you manage to get Lucy to go along with you?”
“Bribery. I promised her we’d stay a couple of extra days if she cooperated.” He looked uncomfortable. “It probably wasn’t smart since I’m just postponing the inevitable, but I did it anyway.”
Her emotions shifted from joy at having a few more stolen days to growing dread over the girls’ future.
If only . . .
The Willow Grove Inn was an old stagecoach stop that had been recently refurbished with lots of warm wood and chintz. Mat cased the place for terrorists and stray lunatics, then decided she’d be safest outside on the enclosed flagstone patio.
Nealy’s frivolous haircut floated in wisps around her face as she walked toward the table, and her dress swirled above her knees, while the little beaded heart tickled the hollow of her throat. Her heels clicked on the flagstones and Armani’s newest fragrance drifted from her pulse points. The vaguely stunned look on Mat’s face when she’d come downstairs had been her reward.
She wasn’t the only one who had taken special pains with her appearance. He looked devastatingly handsome in light gray slacks and a pale blue shirt. The gold watch at his wrist glimmered against his suntanned arms as he seated her, then picked up the wine list to study. Although the decorative wrought-iron chair was too small for his big body, he settled back into it with perfect ease.
The waiter gave Nealy a disapproving look when Mat chose an expensive wine. “Doctor’s orders,” Mat told him. “She has a hormonal condition that requires alcohol.”
Nealy smiled and bent her head to study the menu. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been unobserved in a restaurant. Behind them, a trellis holding deep purple clematis and coral roses bloomed, and the nearest table was just far enough away to give them a delicious sense of privacy.
They chatted about nothing until the waiter returned with the wine, then took their orders. After he left, Mat lifted his glass and touched it to hers. His smile bathed her in sexual promise. “To wonderful food, a hot summer night, and my very beautiful, very sexy First Lady.”
She tried not to drink in Mat along with the wine. It was difficult when the knowledge of what would happen between them tonight seemed like a third guest at the table. Suddenly she wanted to rush through this meal she’d been anticipating all day. “You steeltown boys sure are smooth talkers.”
He settled back in the too-small chair. Like her, he seemed to realize that they’d combust before dinner arrived if they didn’t steer the subject toward cooler waters. “Only a minor-league smooth talker compared to your crowd.”
“There’s that cynicism I’ve come to know and adore.”
“It’s amazing how many ways your pals in Washington manage to avoid ever speaking the truth.”
She instinctively responded to the light of challenge gleaming in his eyes. “You’re boring me.”
“Spoken like a born and bred politician.”
When politics had come up that night at the campground with Bertis and Charlie, she hadn’t been able to participate, but tonight she could. “Cynicism is easy,” she retorted. “Easy and cheap.”
“It’s also democracy’s best friend.”
“And its biggest enemy. My father raised me to believe that cynicism is nothing more than an excuse for underachievement.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that it’s easier to criticize others than do your part to fix a tough problem.” She leaned forward, relishing the chance to lock horns with him, especially concerning something she felt so passionately about. “Cynicism gives decent people an out. They can assume a posture of moral superiority without ever getting their hands dirty coming up with real solutions.”
