Secret Fantasy

Doug extended his hand and the senator shook it warily. “I take it you’ve spoken to your daughter,” Doug said.

“Long enough to know you’ve been busy.”

He accepted the intended criticism with a nod of his head. “Not as busy as I might have been if I’d spent the last day and a half writing an article instead of traveling to find you.”

“Then I’m sure you have something important to say.” Senator Stanton gestured for Doug to take a seat, then settled into the leather oversize armchair behind the desk. “Don’t tell me you traveled all this way to warn me about your expose. Journalists don’t usually extend such courtesy.”

“Especially ones who’ve hurt an innocent woman, you mean?”

“Touche. And your words, not mine, but in this case they’ll do fine.”

“Sir, I have an idea that will keep your daughter out of the paper completely. My paper, at least. I can’t control what others print but I can damn well control what I write.” And thanks to Juliette and her warmth and sensitivity, she’d taught him to give his words careful consideration.

The older man leaned forward in his seat. “And why would you want to do that?”

Doug drew a deep breath. “Because I love her,” Doug said the words out loud for the second time in as many days.

His heart pounded hard and fast in his chest as he realized just how much he cared for the redheaded beauty. Just knowing her had redeemed him. Having her love would make him whole. The man sitting across from him was his only chance at proving his worth and his word to the woman he loved. He cared more that Juliette believe she hadn’t let herself be duped again than he did about the lonely life ahead of him if she turned him away. Something he had no desire to face. He stood before her father, hoping the older man’s reputation for fairness and understanding would hold long enough for Doug to make his point. After that, all bets were off.

Senator Stanton tapped his pen against his cedar desk. “Assuming I believe you-and, to be honest, I’m reserving judgment-don’t expect me to go to bat for you. Juliette deserves to make up her own mind-especially regarding the issue that you hurt her badly, yet proclaim to love her.”

Doug nodded. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, I’m a writer. I expect my words to speak for me.” Or rather, the words he left out of his article would speak for him, Doug thought. Because, if things went as planned, he could print his expose and never once mention Juliette Stanton’s name.

“You’ll have to use more than fancy words to sway my daughter now.”

Doug glanced at the older man. He’d dealt with the senator before but never on such an intimate level and he both respected and liked the older man’s defense of his child.

“May I add one more thing, sir?”

The senator nodded.

“I wouldn’t presume to ask you for a thing, except your approval if I can get your daughter to come around to my way of thinking on her own.”

Reluctant admiration lit the older man’s gaze. “I’ve only just come into possession of the disturbing truth about my protege. Then I heard about your more recent role.” The older man met and held Doug’s stare-an imposing man who held an imposing position in the country, but it was his role as father that was the most intimidating now. “You know, under other circumstances, I might like you, Houston.”

An unexpected grin worked at the corners of Doug’s mouth and he laughed, feeling more optimistic than he had since leaving Juliette on Secret Fantasy. “Give me ten minutes and you still might.”

“MMM, THIS is delicious. I haven’t had a good bagel in…”

“Over a week,” Gillian said, laughing. “Didn’t you eat on that island?”

Juliette chewed and swallowed the dough and cream cheese. Her father had returned home for the weekend in time for meetings and Sunday breakfast with his girls. Four days had passed since her return with no word from Doug. No news at all, she thought.

Not that the Runaway Bride bit had gotten old. The reporters still staked out her home and followed her around, speculating this time on why she’d disappeared for a few days. They’d traced her as far south as Miami. Apparently Merrilee had managed to fudge things from there. A miracle as far as Juliette was concerned, but it was only a matter of time until all things came to light. But at least here at the family home at eight a.m., things were quiet. A typical family breakfast wasn’t news.

But Juliette appreciated her family these days more than ever. “The island was different. We had sweet stuff there, like Danishes.” And kisses, Juliette thought. Delicious, intense, soul-deep and prolonged kisses.

“And Florida orange juice, I’ll bet,” Annabelle Stanton said. “I think we’re overdue for a vacation, don’t you, Len?”

Her father covered his wife’s hand. “Next break, okay?”

Juliette watched the easy give and take between her mother and father, the genuine love and caring-and her heart, already bruised, came close to breaking. She’d wanted that, wanted it for herself and Doug. No matter that they’d known one another a short time, she’d believed they each had enough strength to make a relationship work. But she hadn’t counted on the lies.

Her mother shook her head. “Don’t lie to me, Len.”

An eerie feeling swept over Juliette as she listened to her mother’s laughing words.

“We’ll plan a trip and then something will come up and you’ll have to stay close to D.C.” Annabelle laughed once more. “Don’t think I don’t know the routine. Tell me what you think I want to hear and hide the rest so I’m less hurt and disappointed in the end.”

They were an old married couple who knew one another so well, they accepted each other, faults and all. Juliette shivered.

“At least retirement’s around the corner,” her mother continued. “Girls, do you think we can keep your father so busy he won’t miss Washington?”

While Gillian and their mother began a recitation of activities her father enjoyed, he leaned closer to Juliette. “One week at home and I’ll be climbing the walls.”

She laughed. “You’ll survive, Dad. There’s plenty of good you can do outside the Senate.”

“That’s my girl. Always worried about the right thing to do. If I’m not mistaken, that’s how you ended up engaged to Stuart.” He laughed but his eyes were concerned and serious. “Maybe it’s time you take the less politically correct road.”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you already. I tried something like that and ended up hurt.” Juliette had gone straight from the airport to her father’s house because he was leaving for D.C. in the morning and what she had to tell him couldn’t wait.

They’d sat up for hours, she, her mother and father, Juliette alternately crying and unburdening herself like she had as a child. He’d been disappointed and disillusioned in Stuart, yet understanding about calling off the wedding. He’d just wished she’d come to him sooner to spare herself the ensuing pain. As for what happened next, her father had promised not to make a move until he gave the situation careful consideration and until he figured out a way to protect everyone who could be damaged by the information. But he was aware of Doug’s possession of the news and therefore knew he had time constraints on his actions.

Juliette wondered what had gone on over the weekend but wanted just a normal family breakfast too badly to ask now. Reality would intrude soon enough. She looked around at the people closest to her. She was so lucky, so fortunate with the lot she’d drawn. Unlike Doug. The thought came unbidden.

“Juliette.”

She hadn’t realized her father was calling her name. She shook her head. “Sorry. I was distracted.”

“By that man.”

“That man, has a name.” Juliette glanced up to see her father grinning. “I don’t know what’s so funny,” she muttered.

“He affects you, honey. That’s not funny, it’s serious.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Everything about Doug affected her-his touch, his warm breath in her ear, and when they lay flesh to flesh, the way his heart pounded against hers, like they were one. And when his body joined with hers, they had been one. Juliette trembled. The good memories affected her most and made it difficult to believe everything had been a lie, part of an agenda to get a story.

“Sounds to me like you two have unfinished business,” her father said.