Книга - Risky Business of Love

Risky Business of Love
Yahrah St. John


Reporter Ciara Miller is working the congressional beat, waiting for the big story that will earn her a spot on the evening news. Then she meets senatorial candidate Jonathan Butler.He's powerful, charismatic and the sexiest man Ciara has ever seen. The chemistry they share is hot, thrilling and risky. But their illicit affair is about to lead Ciara to an unexpected crossroad–a choice between ambition and love….A Washington insider, Jonathan knows the political game well. He knows romance with a reporter is playing with fire. And yet, he's willing to take a chance with Ciara, until dirty politics, betrayal and scandal shake up his world and his feelings for Ciara!









Risky Business of Love

Yahrah St. John





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Contents


Acknowledgement

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16




Acknowledgement


I am blessed to have many family members and friends who support me and my writing career. They understand my need for space or my lack of free time when it comes to my writing. I wish I could thank them all, but there wouldn’t be enough space. So, let me thank my family first—the Mitchells, the Smiths and the Bishops.

My father Austin Mitchell for his enthusiasm, support and faith in my abilities. Gita Bishop for not just being my cousin, but a big sister, as well. You’re always looking out for me. To my second moms, Aislee Mitchell and Beatrice Astwood, for their love and dedication.

My friends until the end, Tiffany Harris, Therolyn Rodgers, Dimitra Astwood and Tonya Mitchell, and my sister Cassandra Mitchell for listening to my story ideas, reading drafts and offering advice and suggestions.

Finally, I’d like to thank my readers for their continued support of a new writer such as myself. You make me want to be a better writer!

All of you are a source of great strength, and contribute to my success.




Chapter 1


“You’re on in five.” Cameraman Lance Johnson pointed the lens on Ciara Miller, general assignment reporter for Philadelphia’s WTCF-FOX Channel Twenty-Nine News.

“Wait a sec,” Ciara replied, smoothing down her shoulder-length hair with one hand while holding the microphone in the other. She was about to speak when the roar of ambulance sirens screamed in the background. Once they were no longer within earshot, she turned away from the devastating murder-suicide scene in front of her on a balmy afternoon in early July.

Lance smiled as he looked through the lens. Ciara was breathtaking. He was captivated by her smooth bronze skin, brilliant hazel eyes, full lips and defiant chin. Ciara had a way of seducing the camera with her delicately carved features and exotically high cheekbones. The honey-blond hair surrounding her oval-shaped face only added to her allure. The new hair color was daring but not too bold as to offend viewers. She’d said she wanted to make a statement, and that she had. Ciara was always the epitome of fashion and today was no exception. She was wearing killer-red Prada pumps, a slim black skirt and a vibrant red silk blouse.

He’d known Ciara for the last five years since they’d both begun working at WTCF fresh out of college. Barely making minimum wage, they’d been paired together and had instantly developed a rapport. Their long hours and grunt work had paid off as they’d steadily moved their way up the newsroom ladder. Ciara was now a staff reporter and Lance an assistant photographer, but Ciara had bigger dreams and he knew she would achieve them; the girl had tenacity.

Lance gave her a thumbs-up signal, lifted the camera on his shoulder and directed it her way. Poised and ready for battle, Ciara gave the on-screen intro to her package for the second block of the five o’clock news.

“The scene here today turned deadly for a young wife and mother,” Ciara said as the camera focused in on the Spanish-style home that now served as a crime scene. “Hector Rodriguez accused his wife of infidelity and then turned the gun on her and then himself late yesterday evening. Witnesses say that Mrs. Rodriguez came home yesterday to discover her husband enraged after she was late coming home from work. Neighbors say they heard loud voices before hearing gunshots. Authorities indicate that Hector Rodriguez trashed the home in a jealous rage before shooting himself and his wife. Detectives indicate that a full investigation will take place. This is Ciara Miller reporting for WTCF-FOX News.” Ciara smiled into the camera.

“How was I?” she asked, batting her long curly eyelashes at her best friend and coworker. She absolutely adored Lance. He knew her inside and out. She could always be real with him. It was a shame he was so darn smart and good-looking, and with that athletic physique she could eat him up with a spoon. “Unh, unh, unh, unh,” Ciara murmured, shaking her head. But she couldn’t go there, they’d decided a long time ago that they’d rather have a platonic relationship than ruin a great friendship.

“Beautiful as always,” Lance replied, turning off the camera and closing the lens cover. “And you know that.” He set the camera inside the open OB truck that he used to send live feeds back to the newsroom.

“Yeah, I do,” Ciara said grinning, “but a little praise never hurt.” She watched the medical examiner’s van drive away as the police secured the perimeter of the crime scene.

Lance wrapped the cord around his arm and walked it back to the truck. “Since when do you need to be told you’re fabulous? You know you’ve got what it takes.”

“Have you told that to Shannon recently?” Ciara asked. “Because she won’t give me a break. She keeps sending me out for lightweight entertainment stories. Today was the first time I’ve gotten to report breaking news.”

Ciara had tried for months to convince WTCF’s new television director, Shannon Wright, that she was more than a pretty face, to no avail. Had Shannon even looked at her résumé?

She’d been at the top of her class at Johns Hopkins and had obtained a master’s degree in journalism at Columbia University. She’d worked at Columbia’s television station, the Columbia Daily Spectator and the yearbook. She was a member of the National Association of Black Journalists and had worked at the station for over five years. She’d started out as a production assistant before moving on to become a general assignment reporter.

Ciara excelled at pushing herself. So what if that interfered with her cultivating lasting personal relationships; she was willing to make the sacrifice to get to the top of the heap. Her looks wouldn’t last forever. Talent was the key.

“You’ll have your day,” Lance said. “You just have to be patient.”

“As you well know, patience is not one of my virtues,” Ciara replied.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Lance laughed, opening the passenger side. “You’d better get in. I’ve got to get back and edit the footage.”

Ciara hopped up in the van and buckled her seat belt while he closed the door. Lance may have thought that was the end of it, but Ciara had other ideas.



“Now is not the right time for me to announce my candidacy,” Jonathan Butler said to his father, Congressman Charles Butler, and Reid Hamilton, his father’s chief of staff and personal adviser. They were in his father’s office strategizing on Jonathan’s campaign while his father paced the floor reciting the speech he was going to give to the press the following day. “I should let you step down first. I don’t want to appear overly zealous.”

Charles smiled as he watched his son. Admiration shone through in his oval-shaped brown eyes at his son’s stately presence. Six foot three with massive shoulders, his son towered over other men, including him. He carried himself with the same dignity and grace that Charles had conveyed during his twenty-five-year tenure serving the good people of Philadelphia. He had a bright future ahead of him and had done the right thing starting off in law before becoming an alderman. Charles was sure that Jonathan would be as capable a leader as he was. It was just a shame that he had to step down because of a heart condition.

“Why not announce it at your father’s retirement press conference tomorrow? It would be a prime opportunity with maximum coverage,” Reid replied.

“I agree with Reid,” his father said. “Capitol Hill has been rumoring for months that you’ll take over my seat. Why not end all the speculation?” Charles was sure the press would be eager to meet his handsome, dark-haired son.

“How would it appear to the public if I announced my candidacy directly after your speech? It would show a complete lack of respect for what a wonderful congressman you’ve been. The public would see me as a capitalist.”

“There will never be a right time,” Charles Butler returned.

“That may be true, Dad, but now is definitely not it. I haven’t even hired a campaign manager or a media consultant.” He’d done some preliminary legwork by getting an office, but there was still more to be done.

Jonathan saw the shocked expression on Reid’s face. Reid must have assumed that because he served as his father’s campaign manager that he was the logical choice for Jonathan. Jonathan, however, had other ideas. He appreciated Reid’s input thus far, but he wanted someone he knew and trusted leading his campaign, and his best friend, Zach Powers, was just that man.

Jonathan intended to speak with Zach over lunch. Zach had just finished a successful campaign with Governor Green and Jonathan was sure Zach could do the same for him.

“I’m sorry, Reid.” Jonathan folded his arms across his chest. “I meant to speak with you. I hope there are no hard feelings?” Jonathan extended his right hand.

“No, not at all.” Reid returned the handshake and faked a smile.

His father spoke up on Reid’s behalf. “Jonathan…”

“It’s okay, Charles,” Reid interrupted him. “If Jonathan wants to hire his own right hand, leave him be.”

“No, it’s not fair,” Charles Butler huffed. “You’re practically a member of this family. Jonathan, why would you even think of going with a stranger?”

“Dad, I’ve made my choice and I don’t intend on arguing about this. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few items to attend to.” Jonathan grabbed his overcoat and leather briefcase sitting on the floor and headed out the door.

Once the door closed, Charles faced his best friend and closest adviser. “Don’t worry, Reid. I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t bother,” Reid said. “If your son feels he can find a better man to lead his team then by all means let him.”

“Thank you for understanding.” Charles patted Reid’s back and walked back to his desk.

“No problem,” Reid said and grabbed the folder of notes he’d previously prepared on Jonathan’s campaign and walked to the door. “I’ll leave you to your speech.” Reid closed the door behind himself.

Livid, he stalked back to his office and shut the door. He slammed the file on his maple desk and plopped down in his swivel chair.

How dare that two-bit snot disrespect him in such a manner? After everything he had done for the Butler family, after all the hours he’d spent, the personal sacrifices he’d made and Jonathan dared hire another manager? Who did he think had helped Charles get elected? Reid was responsible for Charles Butler’s successful twenty-five-year run in Congress every bit as much as the man himself.

Reid knew the ins and outs of politics more than most. He’d had over thirty years in the business. He’d run all of Charles Butler’s campaigns and won every single one of them. Jonathan had no idea what it took to win an election. What he needed was to be taught a lesson—he couldn’t mess with a real man. Reid would show him that he would not be tossed away like the gum on the bottom of his preppy-boy shoe.

Oh yes, Reid mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Jonathan Butler was in for a rude awakening.



Ciara and Lance returned to the station with a few hours to spare to put the entire piece together for the five o’clock news.

They rushed down the hall, parting ways at the studio control complex and newsroom. The studio was bustling as the stage crew prepared for the evening’s newscast. WTCF-FOX Channel Twenty-Nine was one of the smaller television stations in Philadelphia and that was fine with Ciara. Opportunities were always more plentiful at a local station.

Ciara walked over to her desk and turned on her computer while listening to the police and fire department scanners for breaking stories. She was organizing her notes when her boss, WTCF’s television news director Shannon Wright, stopped by her desk.

Tall and frail with dull, lifeless red hair and brown eyes, Shannon wasn’t much to look at and could use a serious makeover, but when it came to the station, Shannon was the top dog and Ciara was stuck with her.

“So, how’d it go? Did you have any trouble?”

Ciara turned around and stared at Shannon. What did Shannon think—that she was a newbie? She was capable of putting a package together.

“Yes, Shannon, I have it all together,” Ciara replied, placing her notes back in the folder.

“Were you able to get an interview with a member of the family?”

“No, I’m sorry. They weren’t giving any interviews.”

An annoyed look crossed Shannon’s pale face. “Did you try, Ciara?”

“Of course I did, Shannon,” Ciara said exasperatedly. “No one else got interviews either. The grandparents arrived and spirited the children away before the press could ask any questions.”

Shannon nodded. “What’s your angle then?” Shannon sat beside Ciara’s desk.

“How abuse can happen in a small neighborhood and no one knows anything about it. Thought maybe I could explore further and do a piece about women’s shelters.”

Shannon smiled. “Sounds preachy, Miller.” She stood and folded her arms across her chest. “As reporters, we’re supposed to report the news, not make broad assumptions.”

“I know that, Shannon, I just thought we could make this story more human and not focus solely on the victims.”

“You’re too soft, Miller,” Shannon lectured. “You’ve got to toughen up or you won’t last long in this business.”

Shannon swiftly walked away, leaving Ciara feeling completely defeated. Why did she insist on riding her so hard? From day one she’d taken an instant disliking to Ciara and she couldn’t figure out why.

Ciara took a deep breath and calmed herself. It would not be to her advantage to get on Shannon’s bad side. Without her approval, a reporter’s packages might never see the light of day. Somehow she had to convince Shannon that she was a valuable part of the WTCF family. She had to believe that one day soon Shannon would realize what a gem she had.

After Shannon had left, Ciara walked down the hall to the studio control complex, hoping to review Lance’s footage for the day, when she received a call on her cell.

Opening her flip phone, Ciara answered, “Hello?”

“Baby girl, is that you?” Diamond Miller asked from the other end.

Ciara rolled her eyes heavenward. “Who else would be answering my phone?” she replied sharply.

“No need to get snippy, Ciara,” Diamond replied.

“Sorry,” Ciara apologized halfheartedly. “What can I do for you, Diamond?” She called her mother by her first name because Diamond refused to be thought of as the mother of a twenty-eight-year-old daughter.

“Well, uh…” Diamond paused as she flipped open her baguette purse and pulled out a box of slim cigarettes. “I was hoping you might be able to spare a little cash.” She smiled at the bartender as he pushed a free cocktail in front of her. Diamond gave him her best head toss and wink. He beamed. Works every time, she thought. She returned her attention to her only daughter. “I’m a little short on cash. C’mon, help your mama out.”

Ciara sighed. “I just lent you money last month, Diamond. Really, this borrowing has got to stop. I’m not made of money, you know.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Diamond laid it on thick. “It’s just that I had a bad night at poker with the girls.”

Ciara doubted that was the real reason. Since she’d been a child, Diamond had been terrible with money. Ciara supposed that it was because even at forty-five her mother still looked like a goddess. Nary a wrinkle could be found on her smooth brown skin, and dancing had kept her fit. But what could Ciara expect from a former Las Vegas showgirl?

“Diamond, I don’t know if I can swing it. I’ll have to check my finances and get back with you.”

“Promise me it’ll be soon.”

“I promise,” Ciara said, closing the phone. What had she ever done to deserve a mother like Diamond?



Jonathan was in the middle of reviewing a case he was consulting on with a colleague when his father walked into his office at City Hall later that afternoon.

“Jonathan,” Charles Butler began. “We need to talk.” He closed the door behind him and came toward Jonathan’s large cherrywood desk.

“I suppose you’ve come to plead Reid’s case,” Jonathan stated, putting the confidential file in his desk drawer.

“Of course,” his father replied. “Reid has been a big part of this family for years. He deserves your respect.”

“He’s been part of your life, Dad,” Jonathan replied. “Not mine.”

“Because of Reid, I never lost an election. I am retiring undefeated.”

“Bully for you,” Jonathan returned, “but that doesn’t change my feelings on the subject. I have never cared for Reid and I most certainly don’t want him running my campaign.”

“I understand,” Charles sighed. “To each his own, but you understand I had to try.”

“And your opinion is duly noted.” Jonathan stood. “But I’m my own man, Dad. And I decide who I want to run my campaign.”

“Fine, but at least throw him a bone.” His father would not let up. “Let Reid be your adviser. You know, make suggestions on the campaign.”

“That’s what I have Zach for,” Jonathan replied.

“I know. But do this for me.”

“All right, Dad,” Jonathan conceded. “Just as long as Reid and you understand that I run the show.” The days of Charles Butler running the show were over.

And to prove it, he met up with his best friend, Zach Powers, for dinner later that evening at the Prime Rib in Center City.

Jonathan had known Zach since boarding school, where they’d been roommates and had played lacrosse together. Even when they’d gone their separate ways in college, they’d still remained friends. Jonathan trusted Zach to have his back.

Jonathan smiled as Zach approached the table. Elegantly dressed in a tailored Gucci suit and Italian leather loafers, Zach was a major player and he knew it.

“It’s good to see you, Zach,” Jonathan said as his best friend joined him.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but why are we here? Why all the secrecy?” Zach asked, taking a seat opposite Jonathan.

“C’mon. You know the press as well as I do. If they smelled a story, it would be front-page news,” Jonathan replied. He paused when the waiter came over and filled the water glasses.

“I wanted to ask you in person to be my campaign manager.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard correctly. I want the best and brightest on my team. And that’s you.”

Jonathan had seen what Zach had done for Governor Green and Mayor Floyd. Both had been new to the political arena and had been facing tough competition from the incumbents, but Zach had adeptly convinced the public to vote for them. Zach was a skilled campaign manager and Jonathan intended to capitalize on his success, and it just so happened that he was finally available.

“You don’t have to lay it on so thick, Johnny boy. I’m your friend, so you know I’ll be there to support you. Whatever you need, I’m your man.”

“Thank you.” Jonathan shook Zach’s hand. “I knew I could depend on you.” He turned around to give the waiter his dinner selection of rack of lamb.

“What I don’t understand though, is why not Reid Hamilton?” Zach inquired. “He’s been your father’s right-hand man for years.” He stopped and gave the waiter his menu. “I’ll have the roast prime rib.”

“Reid may be the right man for my father, but he most certainly is not the right man for me,” Jonathan stated.

“Is there some sort of bad blood between the two of you?” Zach inquired, sipping on his mineral water.

Jonathan shook his head. On the surface, Reid was slick and smooth. Jonathan didn’t know if it was his smugness or the way he always seemed to know it all, but something about Reid rubbed him the wrong way. Call it intuition if you will, but he’d never liked the man.

“No, I simply don’t trust him.”

“Well don’t be afraid to speak your mind,” Zach replied. “Though I’m flattered by your faith in me, but are you sure you’re ready to go out into the minefield that is the political arena? You know there’s nothing but lions and bobcats.”

“I’m well aware of all the players,” Jonathan said confidently, “and I’m ready to play the game.”

“Are you sure?” Zach asked. “I thought you were having fun in the city council.”

“I was,” Jonathan replied, “but I’m ready for something new. Something bigger.”

“And are you ready for all the ladies that are about to fall into your lap? As a single congressman, every socialite on Capitol Hill is going to want to snag you.”

“The socialites you speak of are all interchangeable. I haven’t found a unique one out of the bunch.” He’d spent his life enjoying the fairer sex. It was no secret that he loved women, but none had ever sustained his attention for long.

“Maybe you’re expecting too much,” Zach offered.

“I want the total package. Attractive. Intelligent. Articulate. A sophisticated woman with a body made for sex.”

“You sure don’t want a lot,” Zach chuckled.

“I know, I know. It’s a tall order. Do you think such a woman exists?”

“Ah, you never know,” Zach said. “Mrs. Right could be right around the corner.”




Chapter 2


After a working dinner, all Jonathan wanted to do was kick back and relax. He found himself at a local bar in Center City. Ordering a Corona, he took a seat on a stool and soaked in the scenery around him. The bar didn’t consist of much: a small dance floor, a pool table and a dartboard in the corner.

He was discussing the pool game with the bartender when she walked in. She was stunning in a red silk blouse with a deep V neckline and a short black skirt that revealed a killer set of legs. She oozed sex and it made Jonathan immediately want the siren in his bed. He’d never picked up a woman before with the sole intention of sleeping with her, but then again there was a first time for everything.

Straight honey-blond hair hung generously down her shoulders, making him want to reach out and run his fingers through it and make it unruly. He tightened the grip around his bottle and groaned.

“Ummm, now there’s a hot one,” the bartender commented, filling up several bowls with beer nuts.

“Have you seen her in here before?” Jonathan inquired.

“Not that I can remember.”

“Hmmm.” That meant like him, she’d come for a break from reality as well.

Sultry and sexy, she strutted past him and went straight to the pool table. She struck up a conversation with several of the bar patrons already engaged in a game. They were as mesmerized as he was and easily allowed her access.

He watched her sashay over to the wall and grab a cue stick. One of the men, more bold than the others, came over as if to show her how to hold a stick, but she shook her head. Clearly, she was self-confident about her pool game. With all eyes in the room on her, she leaned down and swiftly hit a ball into the left corner pocket. Two more followed suit amid whistles and catcalls.

Walking around the pool table, she handled the cue stick with ease, landing several more shots. And just as easily as she’d insinuated herself into their game, she exited and came toward the bar.

Ciara sighed wearily. She hated coming to places like this. They reminded her too much of her mother’s dancing days, but oddly enough it was bars like this that made her feel the most comfortable after a long, hard day.

“Can I get a whiskey sour?” she demanded, leaning back against the bar and surveying the room.

“Mighty strong drink for a lady,” Jonathan stated.

Ciara squared her shoulders. “And how would you know what I need?” she asked defensively. She’d had a hard day at work with Shannon riding her tail and she was in no mood for a do-gooder. All she wanted was to drink in peace.

Jonathan grinned. Apparently, the lady had a hell of an attitude. “I don’t, but if you want to drive home this evening then you had better not have too many of those.”

“And how do you know I intend to drive home?” she asked, glaring at him.

Jonathan noticed that anger had caused her hazel eyes to turn slightly green. He felt his manhood swell immediately. It had been too long since a woman had turned him on this quickly.

The bartender slid the drink her way and she wasted no time in emptying the contents of the glass and pushing it back his way.

“Another, please,” she said with authority. Perhaps she had something to prove.

“Slow down,” Jonathan said. “Those things can creep up on you.” He took another swig of his beer.

“Thanks for the advice, but I know how to take care of myself,” Ciara replied, finally turning in his direction. When she did, she was blown away.

She didn’t think they even made ’em as delicious as him anymore. Tall. Broad shoulders. Skin the color of buttermilk. And that square jaw and those chiseled cheekbones. Ciara felt herself warm instantly. Back in her college days, a tall, fair-skinned, attractive brother would not have remained single for long.

“I’m sure you can,” he replied, raising his bottle and clicking it against her glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Ciara attempted a smile. “Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I had a bad day at work and I just came here to get a drink and decompress.”

“I understand.” His face split into a wide grin. “Mine wasn’t the best either.” Outside of Zach agreeing to be his campaign manager, he hated being bullied into letting Reid be his adviser, but he didn’t want to be at odds with his father. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Her eyes rolled upward and Jonathan took that to mean she didn’t want to talk. And that was fine with him. He’d be content just sitting beside her and looking at her. She was a beautiful woman and it had been a while since he’d felt an instant attraction to someone. It surprised him because he was usually cautious by nature. Hell, in his profession he had to be. He always thought first before acting, but this time was different. This time he wanted to act on his desires.

Ciara caught the passionate stare from the stranger at her side. It was pretty hard not to. He made no effort to hide his obvious interest in her.

Ciara lifted the glass to her lips and gulped some of the fiery liquid. Warmth immediately flooded through her veins. Maybe a little fun with a mysterious stranger might do her some good. Get her mind off her lack of upward mobility in her career.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Ciara suggested, brushing her arm against his. The sheer magnitude of his presence both overwhelmed and excited Ciara, causing her to feel a vibration deep within the pit of her stomach and that was from only a touch. Imagine what the full-court press would feel like?

Jonathan raised a brow. If he understood her intent, then she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“Are you sure about that?” Jonathan asked because once they got started he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

A spark of fire flashed in Ciara’s hazel eyes.

“Then let’s get out of here,” Jonathan replied, tipping back his head and draining the contents of his bottle. He grabbed his suit jacket off the back of the bar stool, grasped her by the hand and quickly led her out of the bar.

They were both quiet on the short drive to his penthouse. Jonathan secretly wondered if she wanted to back out. He sure hoped not; they had come this far and there was no turning back now. He’d been on edge the moment he’d seen her walk into the club. He’d known from the way she’d seductively stuck out her fanny while playing pool that this moment was a foregone conclusion.

With the late hour, traffic was light and they were at his building within minutes. When the car came to a complete stop, excitement surged through every fiber of Ciara’s being. She hadn’t been this naughty in quite a while, but boy did it feel good! Making love with this stranger would not only be scandalous, but totally sinful. He looked like a man familiar with a woman’s body and how to please it. Ciara easily imagined those big strong hands roaming over every inch of her body and she was ready to get it on.

She didn’t wait for Jonathan to come around and open the passenger door. Instead, she hopped out and followed him. He punched the up elevator button and impatiently they waited for it to arrive.

On the ride up, they were both silent for several minutes, each electrified by the other’s nearness. Jonathan was the first to give in and pull Ciara into his arms. Dipping his head, he did exactly what he had wanted to do since first spotting her and that was kiss her senseless. Ciara responded with equal enthusiasm to his hard and searching kiss. She blocked out where she was and focused on the exciting stimuli of Jonathan’s soft lips and warm tongue as it dove inside her mouth. Her breasts grew heavy and the place between her thighs became slick with moisture. When the elevator finally came to a jolting halt, they separated slightly dazed.

“This way,” Jonathan said, exiting the elevator and pulling Ciara toward his penthouse apartment. Reaching inside his breast pocket, he pulled out his key, but fumbled inserting it into the cylinder, so Ciara took it from him, inserted it herself and entered the foyer.

As he followed her inside, Jonathan realized that he didn’t know her name. “Don’t you think it’s time we finally exchanged names?” he asked, kicking the door shut.

“Why? Isn’t it better this way?” she replied. “You know, less complicated.”

“I suppose.”

“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re going to chicken out now that I’m here?” Ciara teased.

Jonathan thought about it for a minute. She was challenging him to live dangerously. Do the unexpected. The problem was he was so used to being predictable that he didn’t know how to proceed. Maybe she was right. It would be less complicated this way. Clearly she had no idea who he was and that he was running for office. If she had known, she could decide to use it against him down the road. Maybe it would be better not to exchange names. “If that’s the way you want it,” he said finally.

“Yes, it is,” Ciara stated emphatically. She wanted one passionate night in this stranger’s embrace and afterward they would go their separate ways. Just how she liked it. “Can you handle that?”

“If you can, then I’m game,” Jonathan said, hungrily staring at her.

Ciara’s anticipation heightened at his intense gaze and the thought of him tantalizing her entire body for the rest of the night. “I hope you know that I didn’t come out tonight with the intention of getting laid.”

“Neither did I,” Jonathan admitted. “But I’m sure glad we met.” Whether it was due to her come-hither look or her amazingly curvy body, all Jonathan knew was that any resolve he’d had vanished. Bracing one hand against the wall over her head, he leaned in and pressed her body against the wall. He moved his groin against her hot flesh and swiftly, he covered her mouth with his.

The gentle caress of his lips was a delicious sensation that Ciara wanted to savor over and over again. She parted her mouth and allowed him to deepen the kiss and stroke his tongue intimately with hers. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a fabulous kisser?” Ciara said, pulling away from him and tossing her purse on the hall counter. She was completely aroused.

Jonathan smiled. “A time or two.” He wanted her so bad he wasted no time tossing his overcoat on the floor. He hastily started undressing as he made his way to the living room.

A sense of urgency rose in Ciara, too, as she followed him. “Let me help you with that.” She reached down and helped him unbuckle his pants. Once his belt was unlooped, she threw it across the room and his pants fell in an instant. “A briefs man. Oh, I like,” she growled, kicking off her pumps.

Jonathan’s libido was in overdrive. He quickly unbuttoned her silk blouse, which revealed a lacy bra underneath. Earlier he’d wondered how her breasts would look and now he would find out. Quickly, he unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. He was immensely pleased by the sight before him; her full C-cup breasts were ample and he hungered to taste them, but first he wanted to rid her of all clothing.

Lowering the zipper, he helped her wiggle out of her skirt with trembling fingers until it fell in a puddle on the floor. Ciara watched Jonathan’s gaze travel down to the scrap of material covering her feminine mound and heard him utter a low groan beneath his breath. It didn’t take long for Ciara’s damp bikini panties to soon follow the same path as her skirt, until she stood naked in front of him.

Jonathan’s eyes raked boldly over her and mere seconds passed before they both reached for each other at the same time. He curled his arm around her waist and pulled her firmly against his full arousal. He wanted her to know how turned on he was. Ciara understood his meaning and, instead of backing away, she grabbed both sides of his face and brought his mouth firmly down on hers and they fell to the couch.

Jonathan was completely in charge, using one hand to bring both her arms above her head. Then he nuzzled and nibbled at her earlobes and neck. He continued his ministrations by planting tantalizing kisses along the hollow of her neck, causing Ciara to throw her head back in abandon and moan aloud.

His tongue’s path continued downward, stopping only when he came to the swell of her breasts. That was when Jonathan lowered his head and latched on to her right breast, sucking generously as if he were a newborn baby getting milk from its mother. While his tongue teased and pleased her upper body, Jonathan used his hand to slide down her taut stomach until he reached her core. When he did, he lightly stroked her womanly nub as if he were gently stoking a growing fire until she became slick and wet.

Ciara moaned her pleasure when Jonathan turned his attention to the other breast, laving the nipple with his tongue until it turned into a rocky pebble. “Yes, oh yes,” Ciara said.

“That feels good,” she whispered, encouraging him. But she wanted more. She wanted to feel his hot, enlarged shaft pulsating inside her.

“I want you now,” Ciara ordered.

“I want you, too,” he said, but he wanted to do it the right way and take her in his bedroom and make love to her slowly. His body couldn’t wait, though; his manhood was throbbing for release.

“Then take me,” Ciara said, boldly meeting his molten stare. She wanted him right then. Wherever and however.

Jonathan bent down, grabbed his pants and pulled a condom out of his wallet. He quickly sheathed his enlarged penis, protecting them both. Lifting Ciara’s leg, he plunged deep inside her moist haven. He pulled back slowly, allowing Ciara’s body to register his thick, hard member inside of her before filling her completely. Then he began a steady pumping motion, bringing them to the edge of a precipice before slowing the pace again.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said, bodily lifting her off the couch. When he ground his hips intimately against her and squeezed her buttocks, exquisite pleasure took hold of Ciara, causing her to clench her thighs tighter and tighter. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she kissed his ears, neck and chest, inhaling his musky masculine scent.

Jonathan uttered a low growl in the back of his throat when he felt her muscles contract around him. As their bodies rocked with that age-old rhythm, Ciara’s breathing became more shallow and she gasped for breath. And when Jonathan gave one final thrust, a burst of bright light surrounded Ciara as she spiraled out of control and into the abyss. Seconds later, a shudder racked Jonathan’s body and he fell on top of her. After a moment, he rolled over onto his side.

“Wow!” Jonathan whispered in her ear, smoothing down her hair with one hand.

“That was pretty amazing!” Ciara exhaled as she finally caught her breath and laid her head down against his chest.

“You’re telling me,” Jonathan said. He wiped his brow and swallowed hard, hoping to force more air into his lungs.

“Ready for the next round?” Ciara inquired.

Jonathan smiled. The woman was insatiable! “Slow down, we’ve got all night.”



The next morning Jonathan awoke feeling alive and exuberant, but when he turned to gather the mystery woman in his arms, he found the bed empty. The only reminder of the night before was an indentation of where her body had lain.

Disappointed, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He’d hoped to share breakfast with the woman who’d sated his every desire last night and this morning. But instead of sleeping over, she’d skulked off. He guessed she didn’t want to be reminded of her scandalous behavior in the morning light. But oh how great it had been! Whoever she was, she’d known exactly how to please him.



Twenty minutes later, Ciara inserted her key into the lock and rushed inside the apartment she shared with her sister.

It was nearly seven o’clock and if she didn’t hurry, she was going to be late for work and Shannon would probably have a cow. She was heading toward her bedroom door when the bathroom door opened and Rachel appeared through a cloud of mist.

“And look who shows up the next morning,” Rachel commented, cinching her robe tighter around herself. “Do you know how many calls I made when you didn’t come home?”

Ciara hung her head low. “I’m sorry, sis,” she replied, rushing to her room. Rachel followed behind her and watched Ciara sort through her closet for something to wear.

“It would be nice if you’d called. I was worried,” Rachel said, sitting down on Ciara’s four-poster bed. “It was so unlike you to stay out all night. You always come home.”

Ciara smiled when she looked at Rachel because it was like looking at a younger version of herself, except Rachel was several inches taller and had darker hair. She had similar facial features as Ciara and the same almond-shaped eyes.

“I know, I know,” Ciara said as she undressed. “It’s just that the mystery man last night was so different from all the other men I’ve been with. I can’t explain it, really.” Once she was in her undies, she grabbed her robe from the bedpost and tied it around her middle.

“It was that good, huh?” Rachel asked.

“Better.”

“Just be careful,” Rachel advised. “You know nothing about this man. He was a complete stranger.”

An image of his naked form flashed before Ciara’s eyes, causing her to smile naughtily. “I know enough.” Who could forget those big strong hands and that big powerful member as it thrust into her aroused flesh over and over. Ciara had to blink several times to control her racing hormones.

“Besides that,” Rachel sighed.

“C’mon, Rach, you’ve got to know what an adrenaline rush it is when you’re with a man.” Ciara’s hazel eyes lit up as she spoke. “It’s like when you’re on a really great roller coaster and it’s so thrilling that you have to get back on again and again. Just to feel that rush of excitement. Well that’s what this feels like.” Ciara left her bedroom and grabbed a fresh towel out of the hall closet.

“Well, then I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Rachel said.

Ciara wondered if her comment was genuine because Rachel was much more cautious than she was. She rarely dated while Ciara was known for leaping before she looked.

“So are you going to see him again?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because it was a one-time thing never to be repeated,” Ciara replied. “Although I must admit he totally relaxed me last night. You should try it sometime, little sis.” Ciara smacked her on the butt with the towel and rushed off to the bathroom, leaving Rachel to stare openmouthedly after her retreating form.



“Are you ready?” Charles Butler asked as he rose from behind his desk and stood in front of his son, Jonathan. They were in his office and on their way to his resignation speech at Independence Hall later that morning.

“Give me a minute, okay?” Jonathan said, pushing past his father and adjusting his tie in front of the mirror. With all the people surrounding him of late, Jonathan couldn’t breathe.

“Here, let me do that, honey.” Dominique Butler jumped up from the couch and helped her son with his tie. As she stared into his piercing brown eyes, Dominique couldn’t be more proud of her handsome, articulate and charismatic son. She had little doubt that all of her husband’s constituents would be lining up to vote for her son.

“Is all this hoopla really necessary?” Jonathan wondered aloud to whoever was listening. “I’m not even announcing my candidacy.” You’d think he was, considering how his parents were wound so tight. But he guessed he shouldn’t be surprised; he’d been working toward this moment his entire life.

For years, he’d worked on his father’s campaigns, had stood by his father’s side countless times when he’d run for Congress. Not to mention the fact that he’d run his own successful campaign for city council. Now that his father was stepping down from his congressional seat, Jonathan was more than ready for this next challenge in his career. He’d dreamed of this moment.

“You have no idea,” Charles Butler said, grabbing his son’s shoulders. “You may not be announcing today, but rest assured the press is scrutinizing your every move. They didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. They know an announcement is forthcoming so you’ve got to be on top of your game.”

“The press are like vultures,” Reid Hamilton chimed in. “They are always looking for a crack in your facade.”

Of course he would agree, Jonathan thought. Reid knew how to suck up to his father. Jonathan had never much cared for the man. Thought he was too smooth and slick, but his father had always thought the sun and moon shone on Reid.

“All done,” Dominique said, patting her son’s chest. He peeked over her shoulder. His mom sure made a damn good tie. Then again, she’d had years of practice.

“Thanks, Mom.” He softly kissed her cheek. “And I appreciate all the advice, guys, but I’m prepared for the challenges ahead.”

“Don’t let your arrogance stand in your way,” his father criticized.

“I’m not arrogant, Father,” Jonathan returned, picking up his speech notes and glancing over them. “I’m just confident in my abilities. How much longer?”

Just look at him, thought Reid, inwardly seething. So smug and so sure of himself. Who did he think he was? Reid glanced down at his watch. “The press conference will convene in about fifteen minutes.”

“Reid, could you give us a minute?” Charles asked his soon-to-be ex-chief of staff.

Once the door was closed, Charles laid into his son.

“All right, son. Before we go out there, is there anything you want to ask me?”

“Just one thing,” Jonathan asked. “How did you manage to do this job for so long?

Charles Butler chuckled. “A stiff stomach.”



Ciara was on her way to check the assignments board when Shannon stopped her later that morning. Ciara suspected it was because she’d missed the daily meeting. “Ciara, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Shannon said.

“Why? What’s going on?” Ciara asked excitedly. Maybe Shannon was finally giving her a story she could sink her teeth into.

“Becky started having some abdominal pains, so I sent her off to the hospital.”

“Oh no, what about the baby?” Ciara asked. Her colleague Becky was only six months pregnant. It would be much too soon for a delivery.

“We can only hope that she’s okay,” Shannon replied.

“Well, Becky will be in my prayers.” Ciara started down the hall, but Shannon stopped her.

“That’s good to know, but that isn’t why I was looking for you. Becky’s absence has left a hole on the political beat and I need someone to replace her quick.”

Ciara shook her head. Please not her. Ciara hated politics. It was as boring as a pile of rocks. Ciara had seen poor Becky going to the endless benefits, fund-raisers and rallies, and she wanted no part.

“Shannon, please.”

“Sorry, kid. No can do,” Shannon replied. “I need a reporter and you’re it. Congressman Butler is announcing he’s stepping down today and I need someone there like yesterday.”

“And that’s news?” Ciara asked.

Shannon rolled her eyes upward. The kid still had a lot to learn—news wasn’t all about homicides or weather disasters.

“I’m just joking,” Ciara replied. “When and where?”

“At Independence Hall at 11:00 a.m.”

Ciara glanced down at her watch. It read ten o’clock. “Thanks a lot, Shannon. That sure doesn’t give me any time.”

Shannon shrugged her shoulders. “Then I guess you had better get a move on it, hadn’t you?”

When Shannon turned and walked away, Ciara rolled her eyes upward. She would show that witch what she was capable of and then Shannon would be begging her to take the top anchor’s spot. Grabbing her notepad and tape recorder, Ciara went in search of Lance.

An hour later, she pushed her way through the crowd of reporters to get a prime location for Congressman Butler’s resignation speech at Independence Hall. “Excuse me. Excuse me.” Lance was right behind her, serving as a shield when some reporters gave her dirty looks.

“Okay, this is perfect,” said Ciara once they’d finally made their way to the front of the pack. “I want you to get a good shot of Congressman Butler.” They’d discussed what she was looking for and her expectations for the story on the drive over.

“Will do,” Lance said, focusing his camera on the podium. “Have you heard that his son may be running for office?”

Ciara turned around to face him. “Yes, I’d heard that rumor, but nothing’s official yet. Though I’m sure he’s a shoo-in. He comes from a political family with a spotless reputation.”

“Have you seen him before? I heard he’s quite attractive,” Lance teased. He knew how Ciara enjoyed pretty boys.

“Hmmm, I doubt he’s all that,” Ciara commented. “Those political types are always stiff fuddy-duddies.”

“Is that right?” Lance asked as the Butlers took the opportunity to appear at just that moment. Ciara would sure be surprised though because Jonathan Butler was a far cry from one of those political types. Matter of fact, he looked exactly like Ciara’s cup of tea.

“Well, of course.” Ciara whirled around, but when she did she nearly lost her balance because the drop-dead gorgeous Jonathan Butler was not a stiff fuddyduddy at all, but the sexy mystery man from last night.

Ciara was completely thrown as the Butlers stepped onto the podium. Charles was first, standing center stage, while his wife, Dominique; son, Jonathan; and campaign manager, Reid Hamilton, flagged either side of him. Several female reporters nearly pushed her aside as all eyes focused on the handsome specimen of a man standing in front of them.

Charles Butler approached the mike and gave a brief speech that summarized what the press already knew—that he’d enjoyed his tenure in office, but after twenty-five years he was stepping down due to angina.

Ciara heard none of it though because her heart was thumping so loudly in her chest, she could hardly think.

How could her one-night stand be Jonathan Butler? It hardly seemed possible. Maybe she should make a fast exit before he noticed her.

Lance looked down at his counterpart, saw how fixated she was on the dazzling politico and asked, “What was it you said about political types?”

Ciara blushed. “Ummm, I don’t remember,” she lied. She knew exactly what she’d said, but that statement didn’t apply to a man like Jonathan Butler. He was an enigma, to say the least.

If she ran away, she’d appear like a coward, kind of the way she had earlier that morning. No, she had to face Jonathan Butler head-on, and her job gave her the opportunity to catch his attention. Ciara pushed her way back up to the front of the pack. Thankfully, her mother had taught her how to stop a man in his tracks. Charles Butler surveyed the crowd and Ciara raised her arm, hoping he would call on her, and after several questions about his health, she got her wish.

“The lady in the front, you have a question?”

“Congressman Butler, some might consider the announcement that you’re stepping down as a prime opportunity to introduce your son, Jonathan Butler, as your successor. Would that be a valid statement?”

Charles Butler was temporarily flabbergasted. “Well, uh…” Charles Butler stammered. Jonathan couldn’t remember a time when his father had gotten flustered by a pretty face, so he stepped to the podium to cover for his smitten father.

And that was when he saw her.




Chapter 3


She was stunning. Jonathan would never forget how that honey-blond hair had luxuriously lain across his pillow. From where he was standing, she was as delicious a sexpot in the morning light as she’d been in the moonlight. A hint of cleavage peaked out of her buttercup suit jacket, making any man curious to find out what other pleasures she hid underneath.

“I’m here in an unofficial capacity. I’m here as a son, supporting his father,” Jonathan replied, smiling down at Ciara. She returned it with a knowing smile of her own. So, she recognized him from last night? Let the games begin, he thought.

“Well, that doesn’t exactly answer my question, now does it, Mr. Butler?” Ciara replied silkily, looking up at him beneath heavy eyelashes.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at her unwillingness to take no for an answer. And was she giving him that same come-hither look? Because if so, he would and could most certainly oblige.

“Do you intend to run at some point in the future, Mr. Butler?” Ciara flashed Jonathan a sexy grin, eager to be the first to get the scoop.

Lance looked down at Ciara. He couldn’t believe Ciara’s boldness. Here she was flirting with Jonathan on-screen. He hoped Shannon didn’t see this.

“I may run for public office at some point in the future,” Jonathan answered evasively.

More like the immediate future, Ciara thought but she let it rest. She’d hit her mark! Jonathan Butler was flustered.

“One final question for Congressman Butler. What’s next on the agenda for you?” Ciara asked, batting her eyelashes at the senior Butler.

“Mostly a whole lot of golf,” Charles Butler replied.

“And with that last statement, the press conference is concluded,” Reid said, coming forward to the microphone. “We thank all the members of the press for their attendance.” Then he turned and glowered at Jonathan. He couldn’t believe that young snot was flirting with a reporter in the middle of a conference. Didn’t he know how unprofessional his behavior was? Jonathan Butler had no place in the public arena and Reid was determined to ensure he did not succeed in his election quest.



“Son, I think you…” Charles Butler began, but Jonathan shooed him away.

“Not now, Dad,” he said, his eyes never leaving Ciara’s. He longed to have her tiger eyes gaze at him again, and no one was getting in his way.

“Excuse me for a moment.” He patted his father on the shoulder and stepped down from the podium.

When he reached his destination, he found her speaking with her cameraman. Jonathan tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, do you mind if I interrupt?” he asked Lance, eager to talk to the woman who’d garnered his attention the moment he’d laid eyes on her at the bar.

His eyes traveled slowly down her curvy frame, taking in her buttercup pantsuit and low-cut jacket with one of those lacy things underneath. He loved the vibrant, sun-kissed hair, pert breasts and long, shapely legs that the formfitting fabric clung to. Her beautifully clear café au lait skin was perfect with the exception of a sexy mole near her mouth.

He seized her beautifully manicured hand and lightly brushed his lips across it. A tingle of excitement rushed through Ciara at the feel of Jonathan’s lips on her skin. She remembered what it felt like to have his lips on other parts of her body, which caused her skin to color a bright red.

Another reporter bumped into Ciara. Jonathan’s reflexes were impeccable and he placed his hand on the side of her back to steady her, sending an electric current right through Ciara’s spine.

“My, my, my, Mr. Butler, you certainly are gallant.” Ciara fanned herself.

“My pleasure,” Jonathan said, honoring her with a breathtaking smile, all the while inching closer. Ciara stepped backward to escape the heat being generated by his nearness.

“You know that’s quite a bold move you made earlier, calling me out on my announcement.”

“Really?” Ciara touched her chest, drawing Jonathan’s attention to her sumptuous endowments. “C’mon, you’re the news story here. Not your father. Everyone wanted to know if you were running for office. All I did was let the cat out of the bag.”

“So your cornering me on live television was strictly for the public?” Jonathan asked, captivated by the honey-coated tone of her voice.

“No, not completely.” Ciara smiled. “It was personal as well as professional.”

“So you were trying to be provocative?” Jonathan queried.

“The public loves it and my news director will eat it up.”

“Well, your plan worked. You most certainly know how to titillate and not just the public,” Jonathan replied, remembering how he’d felt planted inside the tight warmth of her cocoon.

Ciara flushed. “Now, now, Mr. Butler, remember we are in public.”

“I know exactly where we are,” Jonathan replied smoothly. “And since I have you cornered,” he whispered in her ear, “perhaps you can tell me why you snuck out of my bed last night.”

Ciara boldly looked up at him. “I didn’t sneak out of your bed. I walked. And furthermore, our evening together was over.”

“And I take it that’s how you would like to keep it?” Jonathan inquired.

“Wouldn’t you?” Ciara asked. “I doubt your father would approve of your one-night stand with a member of the press.”

“I do not need my father’s approval. I see whom I choose.”

“Very well stated but hardly true, Mr. Butler. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re smack-dab in the public eye,” she said, whirling around so Jonathan could view several curious sets of eyes watching their every move.

“I think it would be prudent to leave our one night together as just that, one night. No matter how enjoyable.” She smiled seductively at him, revealing a set of pearl-white teeth. “It would not be wise for us to continue our association.”

Jonathan leaned down so that only she could hear him. “Don’t tell me, you’re afraid of a little challenge?”

Ciara breathed in his musky masculine scent. It was very intoxicating and she instantly stepped back. “No, not at all,” she replied.

“Then join me for dinner tonight.”

As much as she might want to join Jonathan Butler for dinner, her mind cautioned her against it. He oozed charm and was dangerous to her peace of mind. Last night had been about more than just buck-wild sex; he’d gotten to her and that would never do.

At this point in her career, she couldn’t afford to get tied up in all that messy love stuff. She needed to focus her energies on becoming an anchor. Of course, a high-profile relationship with a would-be congressman just might do that. Perhaps she should reconsider. She could enjoy him as well as boost her career.

“Are you asking me out on a proper date this time?”

Jonathan grinned. “As I recall, that wasn’t what you were looking for last night.”

“Touché.”

“How about dinner?”

“Perhaps,” Ciara answered. “Only if it includes dessert.” She winked at him.

Jonathan couldn’t resist smiling at her audacity and rose to the occasion. “That could be arranged.” He grinned. “How about seven-thirty?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at the studio.”

Ciara thought about that and shook her head. She in no way wanted their relationship to leak out to the rest of the press.

“No can do. Why don’t I meet you?”

“Capital Grille on Chestnut Street at seventy-thirty.”

“I look forward to it,” Ciara tossed over her shoulder and started toward the door, but Jonathan halted her.

“Wait, I still don’t know your name,” Jonathan commented.

“It’s Ciara. Ciara Miller,” she replied, sauntering over to Lance.

Ah, now there was an unusual name, Jonathan thought as he rejoined his father’s contingent, but one that fit her extremely well.

Lance joined up with Ciara at the door and asked, “So, what happened?”

Ciara turned around and noticed Jonathan watching her backside from across the room, but he quickly looked away when she caught him.

“I have a date with Jonathan Butler tonight,” Ciara said once they were outside.

Lance opened the van door and began hauling his equipment into the back of the truck before joining her inside. “I’m not surprised you snagged a date, especially after the way you out-and-out flirted with him at the press conference.”

“Who me?” Ciara asked, feigning ignorance.

“Yeah, you,” Lance said, nudging her in the middle. “You better hope Shannon doesn’t pick up on the vibe.”

“Oh please,” Ciara said. “Shannon wouldn’t know flirtation if it hit her with a ten-foot stick.”



“Son, what are you thinking?” Charles berated his overly eager son after the reporter had left. “Fraternizing with a member of the press. Do you even realize how every aspect of your life is scrutinized?”

“The press is just waiting for you to screw up. So they can be there like a pack of wild dogs to pick up the scraps,” his mother added.

Jonathan patted his father on the back. “Trust me, Dad. I know what I’m doing. It’s just dinner after all.”

Reid laughed inwardly at Jonathan’s public display. Here he was on the eve of an election that was practically guaranteed and he was hooking up with a pretty television reporter, of all people. Reid couldn’t ask for better luck for Jonathan to get his comeuppance.

“Do you even realize how lucky you are, Jonathan? To be in the position you are?” his father queried. “People are waiting for you to fail.”

“Of course I do, Dad.” Jonathan’s voice rose slightly and several reporters looked over at them. “Because you never let me forget it,” he snapped underneath his breath. All he’d heard all his life was that he was next in line. He had to do everything perfectly or be prepared for the consequences, and when his father was Congressman Butler, those were always stiff.

When he’d been in boarding school, he and a couple of other ninth graders had played a prank on the dean by toilet papering his house. Jonathan had hoped he’d be kicked out and allowed to be normal like other kids instead of going to social functions playing the dutiful son, but it was not meant to be. He’d thought he could get away without his father ever finding out, but not so. Charles Butler had shown up to the Phelps School in all his glory and had caused quite a commotion. Pretty soon, Jonathan had been back in school and under strict supervision in detention.

Reid jumped in. “Can we have this conversation in the car, please?” he implored as he directed the Butlers toward the exit.

Jonathan looked down at Reid’s hand on his arm and glowered at him. Reid quickly removed it.

Jonathan sucked in a deep breath once they were outside. He allowed his parents and Reid to precede him before entering the limousine Reid had waiting. He was so tired of his father ruling his life. He was a grown man capable of making his own decisions.

After several long moments, he got inside the vehicle. Jonathan seethed while en route back to his father’s office because his father kept hounding him.

“Who is this woman, really?” his father asked aloud. “You know absolutely nothing about her.”

“Your father’s right,” Reid agreed. “All of a sudden she shows up just when you’re about to announce your candidacy. It could be a setup. What’s her name?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Jonathan said, ignoring Reid’s question. He had no intention of giving him her name so he could treat her like a common criminal. “You guys are making too much of one date.” All of this cloak-and-dagger stuff truly wasn’t necessary. Why? Because his father may know about politics, but Jonathan knew women. He would know if he was being played.

“And you are taking this too lightly,” Reid countered.

“Maybe, Reid, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to date,” Jonathan said, taking a dig at his father’s right-hand man. “But for the rest of us, when you meet someone you like and they like you, you go out on what’s called a date. It’s as simple as that.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to wait and see if she has an ulterior motive,” Reid replied, putting on his sunglasses and looking out the window. He couldn’t believe how arrogant Jonathan Butler was.

“Yes, we shall,” Jonathan said.



When she returned to the studio to prepare for the twelve o’clock newscast, Ciara ran right into her coworker, Chelsea Allen.

It didn’t bother her one bit that one of her closest friends at the station was Caucasian, though it may have bothered some. Ciara was color-blind. Furthermore, there was none of the backstabbing that came with competing for the same positions. Chelsea was the antithesis of Ciara. A brunette with pale skin, Chelsea wore baggy clothes to hide her size-fourteen figure. But she sure was the best makeup artist Ciara had ever come across.

“Ciara, where have you been? Shannon’s been looking everywhere for you.”

“Oh, Lord.” Ciara rolled her eyes. “Is she breathing fire?”

Chelsea appeared stumped. “Isn’t she always?”

Ciara laughed. “I suppose you’re right. So what does the dragon lady want now?”

“Something about a story she wants you to cover.”

“Am I the only reporter around?” Ciara wailed, grabbing Chelsea by the arm and pushing her into the ladies’ room nearby.

“Is it me?” Ciara pulled a brush out of her purse and proceeded to smooth her golden locks until they shone. “But doesn’t it seem like she enjoys giving me a hard time?” Ciara asked, surveying herself in the mirror. All in all, she was pleased with her appearance and turned to face Chelsea.

“You’re her whipping boy—I mean, girl—right now,” Chelsea said, touching up her lipstick with a fresh coat.

“I wish she’d find someone new to pick on. I mean, it’s not like I’m not a seasoned reporter. I’ve been at the station for five years.” Ciara folded her arms and pouted.

“Cheer up.” Chelsea patted her shoulder. “Pretty soon, Shannon will find something or someone new to focus her energies on.”

“Maybe she should get herself a man, release some of that pent-up energy, then she wouldn’t be so focused on the rest of us.”

“It sure couldn’t hurt,” Chelsea chuckled. “Wait a sec.” She stared into Ciara’s eyes. “Does this mean that you’ve found yourself such a man to relieve stress?” she teased.

“Who me?” Ciara played coy but couldn’t resist grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah you,” Chelsea replied. “Don’t you hold out on me. You know I’m living through you vicariously.”

“Well.” Ciara paused for effect. “If you must know. I’ve met a truly amazing man. He’s absolutely gorgeous, tall and has the most well-defined body I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Chelsea’s eyes grew wide at every adjective Ciara used to describe her fine mystery man. “And? Who is he?”

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” Ciara said, glancing around the restroom to make sure they were the only two people there. She bent down and peeked under the stalls, but didn’t see anyone.

“Well? Spill the beans,” Chelsea said, frustrated.

“It’s Jonathan Butler,” Ciara said. “We met last night at a bar and the sparks flew.”

“You mean that gorgeous fox that’s supposed to run for his father’s congressional seat?”

“Nothing’s official yet,” Ciara said.

“Yeah, but we all know it’s going to happen,” Chelsea responded. “So when are you going to see him again?”

“I’m not going to say anything more. You know the walls around here have ears.” Ciara glanced around the restroom. “And I don’t want this to leak until I’m ready to use it to my advantage.” She had probably said too much, but she was so giddy with excitement, she couldn’t contain herself.

“Okay,” Chelsea replied. “We’ll talk more over lunch.”

“As long as I’m not stationed in Timbuktu, I’m all yours,” Ciara said, shutting the door behind her. Neither of them heard the toilet flush several moments later or saw Shannon exit from the restroom with a broad smile on her face. The station manager wanted ratings; well, Shannon had just hit the jackpot.



Lunch with Chelsea was all girl talk as always. Ciara enjoyed filling her best pal in on all the details of her date with Jonathan and watching her eyes bulge out with envy, but unfortunately she had an unenjoyable task ahead of her and her name started with a D.

Her mother, Diamond Miller, telephoned her three times at work, asking Ciara when she would come by with the money. Why couldn’t she get the money from her boyfriend? thought Ciara as she drove up South Street. Although known for its ten blocks of party bars, some areas were somewhat sleazy with homeless people, hookers and drug dealers. It was the slums and, although it may have been her roots, she hated being reminded of her humble beginnings. But every time she visited Diamond, it was unavoidable. She’d tried to get Diamond to travel to her side of town, but Diamond refused.

Afraid to park her car in the rear, Ciara parked in front of the bar instead. Situated on the corner, the exterior of the Oasis was in desperate need of a coat of paint and some serious siding. As she pulled open the door, Ciara took a deep breath and steeled herself to prepare for another of one Diamond’s dramas. She found the bar relatively empty except for a few lone patrons.

“Vince.” She nodded at the barkeep, who just so happened to be dating her mother. Balding, middle-aged and overweight, Vince was loud and crude with a thick New York accent and he should have been every woman’s nightmare; instead, he’d found solace in the arms of her ditzy mother. “Is my mom upstairs?” Ciara asked.

“Yeah, she’s up there doing her nails or something. You be sure to tell her that she’d better call Suzy and make sure she’s covering for Candy. Otherwise we’ll be one short for tonight’s show.”

“I’ll be sure and do that, Vince,” Ciara said sarcastically, sauntering past him toward the dressing rooms. Who did he think she was—his secretary? Ciara climbed up the back staircase to the small apartment Diamond and Vince shared and knocked on the door.

“Coming,” a voice rang out from inside. Diamond opened the door seconds later and Ciara was rewarded with a loud screech.

“Ciara! Oh, baby girl, it’s so good to see you.” Diamond kissed either cheek and squeezed Ciara’s shoulders. A hug that Ciara did not return. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you since yesterday.”

Ciara looked her mother up and down and was embarrassed. Her mother was overly made-up, wearing a tight bustier that revealed her ample bosom. She’d paired the bustier with some tight leather capris. How did Diamond always manage to find clothes that made her look trashy? She was forty-five years old for heaven’s sake. Why didn’t she dress like it?

“I do have a life, Diamond,” Ciara replied, walking inside. She looked around the modest apartment for a place to sit, but the tiny living room was cluttered with clothes and paper. Diamond didn’t work and could easily clean up the place. What did she do all day? Ciara wondered as she stepped over clothes and brushed some newspaper onto the floor and off the couch to make room for a place to sit.

“Don’t be a grouch.” Diamond closed the door behind her daughter and plopped down in her recliner to watch Judge Mathis. Picking up her bottle of ruby-red nail polish on the coffee table, she returned to polishing her toenails.

“I’m not a grouch,” Ciara said, throwing her purse on the side table.

“If you say so,” Diamond huffed. She knew her daughter didn’t approve of her, but she didn’t care. As long as she was happy with herself that was all that mattered.

“Well?” Ciara raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, Diamond? Because I’m on my lunch hour and have to get back to work.”

“It’s like I said when I called,” Diamond replied. “I need to borrow a little cash.”

“Why? Isn’t Vince bankrolling you?”

“The bar isn’t doing so good,” Diamond replied, “as you can probably see from the lack of customers downstairs, and I need a few things. And Vince is being a real tightwad with his cash these days. He says I’m spending too much.”

“Is that true?” Ciara asked. She was sure it was. Diamond went through cash like water.

Diamond smiled guiltily. “I suppose I may have overspent a little, but I just had to have a pair of these tall four-inch boots that were on sale at Macy’s. Wait here and I’ll show you.”

Diamond rushed off toward the bedroom and minutes later returned carrying a pair of tiger-print leather boots with a four-inch heel. “So, what do you think?”

Ciara shook her head in amazement. Her mother would never change. She had no idea about the value of money because she’d never stayed in one place long enough. She’d always gone from one man to the next; moving her and a young Ciara from place to place after each one of her relationships had successively failed.

Ciara had hated each and every one of them. Every guy was usually only after one thing and poor Diamond never figured it out until it was too late and he was moving on to the next person. Until Paul Williams had come along. Nearly forty years her senior, he’d married Diamond and had later left her his fortune, which she’d had the bad sense to waste. “Diamond, how much did those boots set you back?” Ciara asked.

Diamond looked down sheepishly and didn’t answer.

“Diamond, how much?” Ciara’s voice rose an octave.

“Oh, two hundred dollars,” Diamond whispered.

“Two hundred dollars! Are you insane?”

“I know, but I just had to have them,” Diamond explained. “They fit my new knit jersey dress to perfection.”

Ciara was so frustrated at her mother’s lack of discipline. Every time she was low on cash, she came knocking on her door.

“And you want me to bail you out, I presume. Why do you always do this, Diamond? Do I look like your personal ATM?”

“Of course not,” Diamond replied and on cue tears began to form in her dark brown eyes. “It’s just, you know I haven’t had an easy life. I grew up on the streets and had to raise you all on my own.”

Ciara sighed. She’d heard this song and dance a million times. Diamond had run away from home at sixteen and had met up with some Las Vegas showgirls who’d taken her under their wing and taught her how to get by. Ciara understood all that because she’d lived through it with her, so she would not be made to feel guilty because Diamond was a spendthrift.

“It’s not my fault you ran off with another man and didn’t tell Daddy. He would have helped, you know. Taken care of the both of us.” From what she’d heard, her father had adored Diamond and when she’d become pregnant, they’d quickly gotten married. Diamond hadn’t been content as a married housewife and mother, but she’d been young and gullible and had run off with the first smooth talker she’d met, leaving Ciara’s poor accountant father with a broken heart. And when that relationship had failed, Diamond had returned to the only thing she knew how to be: a Las Vegas showgirl.

“So, you blame me for your horrible life?” Diamond questioned her.

“Who else should I blame? You are the parent. Aren’t you?” Of course, Ciara wondered about that sometimes. Many a time, she’d had to help a tipsy Diamond up the stairs after one too many or had been forced to listen to her get it on with some stranger.

Diamond shrugged her shoulders. “What’s done is done, Ciara. I can’t make up for it, baby girl. But you are in a position to help your mama. You’re a big-time reporter now.”

Little did she know, thought Ciara. Her reporter’s salary barely fed her. Ciara stood up abruptly. “I have to go or I’ll be late.”

“And the money?” Diamond turned on the puppy-dog eyes. Ciara shook her head. She should let Vince kick Diamond out, maybe then she would learn her lesson. Of course, then she would have no place to go and where would she end up? At Ciara’s doorstep. No, no, it was better she give her the money and hope for the best.

“I don’t have two hundred.”

Diamond smiled and lightly touched her cheek. “Whatever you could give me would be great.”

Ciara leaned over, grabbed her purse and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from her wallet. “How about one hundred?” Ciara held up the money.

Diamond quickly snatched it and stuffed it down her bustier.

“Thanks, kid, you’re a real lifesaver.”

Ciara glanced down and her watch read a quarter to two. “I’ve got to go, Diamond.”

“Listen, Ci-Ci, I really appreciate your coming by. You always help your mama out when I need it.” It meant the world to Diamond that even though her daughter had moved up in the world, she hadn’t given up on her.

“Please don’t get all mushy and sentimental, Diamond. It doesn’t suit you,” Ciara retorted, walking to the door. She may have agreed to help her, but Ciara didn’t get the warm fuzzies from her mother.

“Okay, okay.” Diamond knew a good thing when she had it and wouldn’t push. “I’ll see you later,” she said, closing the door behind her.

Ciara breathed a sigh of relief and took the stairs two at a time to get out of the dingy bar. Thank God that was over, she thought rushing back to her car. Now she could look forward to her evening with Jonathan and all that implied.




Chapter 4


When Ciara arrived at Capital Grille, she found Jonathan waiting for her at the bar having a Scotch neat. Ciara was somewhat nervous about her attire. “I hope this is okay?” she asked, referring to her buttercup business suit. She hadn’t had the time to go home and change.

“Of course it is.” Jonathan grinned widely. “You look beautiful.” From where he was, he liked everything he saw.

“Have a seat, you’ll love this place. They make the best lobster bisque.”

“Ooh, it sounds delicious,” Ciara said. “And I’m starved.”

“CG has excellent entrées and a great selection of wines.”

“Sounds mouthwatering,” Ciara licked her lips in anticipation.

Jonathan followed the tiny action, mesmerized by her mouth.

“Your table is ready,” the hostess said, interrupting them.

“I’m curious as to why a guy like you would choose to get involved with me, a television reporter. I’m sure your family advised against it.” Once they were seated, Ciara wasted no time cutting to the chase.

“True, they don’t agree,” he replied. “But I make my own decisions.”

“In a political campaign, I doubt that’s even possible,” Ciara said aloud.

“So you think I’m a puppet and my father pulls the strings?”

“No, no, no,” Ciara explained herself. “I merely meant that you probably have a lot of people telling you how to dress, how to talk, how to act. It must be extremely difficult. I’m sure they’re the reason you didn’t announce your candidacy today. I think that was a wise decision.”

“Thank you.” Jon smiled. At least someone appreciated his game plan. “I thought I might appear too eager to the public and not respectful of my father’s tenure if I announced my candidacy five minutes after he resigned from office.”

“I agree with you. The public can be somewhat fickle, but that’s what makes the news so exciting and unpredictable.”

The way she talked about her job with such passion made Jonathan envious. It must be nice to decide for yourself the direction your life would take. For him, his life had been planned out since birth: private school, Harvard, law school, and now running for office. “Have you always known you wanted to be a reporter?” Jonathan asked. “Because you seem to enjoy what you do.”

“Well, of course,” Ciara replied as if the thought to do anything else had never crossed her mind. She’d always wanted to be a reporter. That was why she’d run her high school and college newspapers. “I love what I do. Being a journalist is in my blood. I live it, I breathe it, 24-7.”

“Wow, say how you truly feel!” Jonathan said, overwhelmed by the sheer enthusiasm in Ciara’s voice. He wished he knew what that felt like. Yes, he was good at being a lawyer and politician. He’d trained his whole life for it, but was it his true passion? He didn’t know. He’d never been allowed to find out.

“Don’t you love what you do?” Ciara asked.

“No, not always,” Jonathan answered truthfully.

Ciara was surprised by his answer. Did the golden boy have problems like the rest of the human race? What troubles could someone like him, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, ever have that couldn’t be solved by one flick of his father’s wand?

“Why not?” Ciara asked. “From what I can see you’re a natural. The camera loves you,” she said. She wondered if she could get an exclusive interview for WTCF.

“Thank you.” Jonathan blushed, causing Ciara’s heart to go pitter-patter.

“You’re welcome. But I’m sure I’m not telling you something you haven’t been told before. You have the it factor, now you just need to show that you can back it up.”

“Well, that’s exactly what I intend to do. I intend to showcase issues important to my community like educating our children and taxes.”

“Sounds like you know the issues and that’s important. Because trust me, the press won’t let you get away with a pat answer.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jonathan replied.

The waitress came back with their lobster bisque and placed it in front of them. “This looks delicious.” Ciara wasted no time in digging her spoon into the creamy mixture with chunky bits of lobster. She tore into the bowl and it was empty before Jonathan had hardly had a bite.

He’d been so busy watching her facial expressions as she devoured the soup, he’d barely touched his. She’d looked up several times and found him openly staring.

“Mmmm, was that good,” Ciara commented. She placed her spoon in the empty bowl and peeled a nibble off the warm loaf of bread the waitress had brought to accompany the soup.

“I can tell.” Jonathan leaned over and wiped some of the liquid off the corner of her mouth with his finger and licked it off with his tongue.

Ciara was the first to break their gaze and speak. “Enough about our respective careers. I’m curious as to what makes a man like you tick.”

“What do you want to know?”

“C’mon, something tells me you’re a man of many talents,” Ciara replied flirtatiously. “You’re surrounded by all that money and power, it must be intoxicating.”

“Sometimes it is,” he responded. And sometimes he wished for a moment of peace. Over the next three months he wouldn’t have much of it with the special election coming up in November. That was why he’d been so hell-bent on keeping his date this evening. The women he typically dated were all the same.

Beautiful, well-bred socialites skilled in the art of conversation, parties and none of whom had the least bit of substance, which was why Ciara Miller intrigued him. He was sure he’d barely touched the surface of such a complex woman.

“And you’re unattached because?” Ciara asked.

“I choose to be. And you? Why is a beautiful woman like you still single?”

“I’m not the settling-down type,” Ciara stated. “I didn’t grow up with a white picket fence with dreams of having a family. I was raised by a single mother and grew up poor with barely a roof over my head.” Ciara drew her water glass to her lips and took a generous sip.

Jonathan’s brow rose. Her statement revealed a lot about Ciara. Clearly there were some things in her past that had affected her deeply because hurt was etched across her face, but just as soon as it surfaced, the pain was gone.

“I can’t wait for dinner,” Ciara said, smiling again while she changed the subject. “Because if that bisque was any indicator, dinner ought to be darn good.”

After a leisurely dinner and light conversation about their various interests, they shared a decadent chocolate mousse that afterward left Ciara feeling frisky. Could it be because Jonathan had removed his overcoat, rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his top button? Just that little bit of skin was making Ciara all kinds of horny. What was it they said about chocolate?

“Listen, I enjoy my freedom,” Ciara said after regaling Jonathan with tales of her bad-girl youth. “No restrictions. You know what I’m saying. I like being completely uninhibited.”

“I like uninhibited,” Jonathan said, leaning in closer until their arms touched.

“Do you?” Ciara scooted closer and lightly rubbed his arm.

At the slightest touch of her hand, all the hairs on Jonathan’s arm stood up at attention. He was more aware of her than ever.

“Yes, I do,” Jonathan said. He appreciated a woman in touch with her sexual side and one so completely unpredictable. “So let’s get out of here and perhaps we can get uninhibited together.”

“No can do, sweetheart,” Ciara replied and rose to her feet. “I have to work tomorrow and with the way my boss has been riding me I can’t afford to be late again.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” Jonathan pouted.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Ciara replied, seductively leaving Jonathan no doubt of her intentions.

“Promise?” Jonathan raised a brow.

“I promise.”



“I’m home,” Ciara yelled later that evening as she walked inside the apartment.

Rachel poked her head out from the kitchen and wiped her hands against her flowery apron. “How was your day?”

“Oh, it was rough,” Ciara said, kicking off her shoes and flopping down on the chaise on their sectional sofa. She tucked her legs underneath her and laid her head against the armrest.

“How about a glass of wine?” Rachel suggested.

“That sounds wonderful,” Ciara said, massaging her temples.

Ciara smiled at her younger sister. Poor thing couldn’t dress worth a darn. Rachel was more comfortable in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt than in Ciara’s high-fashion wardrobe. Rachel was wearing a pair of old sweats and her long hair hung in a ponytail.

Rachel returned several minutes later carrying two glasses of red wine and sat beside Ciara. “Mine wasn’t any better. My professor ripped apart my psychology paper.”

“Guess who I saw today?” Ciara asked, taking a sip of wine.

“Please don’t tell me it was Diamond,” Rachel guessed correctly. Ciara nodded. “Asking for money no doubt?”

“Which I don’t really have, but…”

Rachel turned and glared at her sister. “Please tell me you didn’t give it to her?”

Ciara shrugged her shoulders. “Why do you let her do this to you, Ci-Ci?” Rachel called Ciara by the nickname she’d come up with when she was two years old and hadn’t been able to say her name. “You let Diamond run a guilt trip on you every time because she had a hard life. Well so did you, sis. That woman dragged you around the country. You don’t owe her anything.” Rachel had seen Diamond come time and time again to Ciara for a handout and she was sick of it.

“I know, I know,” Ciara said. She hadn’t forgotten being kicked out of their apartment because Diamond couldn’t pay the rent or doing her homework in the back of some scummy bar. All because Diamond refused to grow up and keep a job. “But I can’t just leave her hanging in the wind. She’s my mother.”

“Yes, she is. But she’s a grown woman and quite capable of taking care of herself,” Rachel replied. Every time Rachel saw her, Diamond had another man on her arm. So why was she always looking to her daughter for a handout? “I’m tired of seeing her use you, Ciara. You have to stand up for yourself and stop letting her walk all over you. She only does this because you let her get away with it.”

Ciara stood up and walked over to stare out the window at the passing cars. “I know you’re right, Rachel. But you just don’t understand the bond Diamond and I share. Despite her shortcomings, we’ve always been there for each other through all the ups and downs. I don’t know how to walk away from that.”

Rachel jumped up, came over and squeezed her sister’s shoulders. “Ci-Ci, I’m not asking you to walk away from Diamond. I just don’t want to see Diamond continue to take advantage of you.”

Ciara patted Rachel’s hand and pulled away. “I know you mean well, Rachel, and I thank you for your concern, but I’m going to have to deal with Diamond myself.”

Rachel threw up her hands. “Okay, okay. It’s your funeral. I’ve spoken my piece. I told Dad I would have a talk with you and I did.”

“So Dad put you up to this?” Ciara inquired. “I should have known.” Diamond was Robert Miller’s least favorite person, which was surprising considering they’d once had a grand love affair. But then again, her father had been young and naive and maybe somewhat of a risk taker. And of course now after twenty-five years with her stepmother, Pilar, Robert had become somewhat of a stuffed shirt. “Well you can tell him that I’ve been properly warned, but that I’ll take it from here.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Rachel couldn’t resist delivering one final comment.

“Duly noted,” Ciara said.



Jonathan began his Friday clashing with his father’s expert opinion even though he’d rather have spent a leisurely morning making love to Ciara. He’d already prepared himself to hear about the dangers of dallying with the press because his father would have had overnight to think of an appropriate lecture.

True to form, when he arrived at his campaign headquarters, Zach, Reid and his parents were already huddled together in the conference room.

“Good morning,” Jonathan said to the elderly woman serving as his receptionist. A retiree, she’d generously volunteered her time as a contribution to his campaign and she just so happened to make the best cup of coffee Jonathan had ever had.

He was dropping his briefcase in his office and walking toward the conference room when Dorothy handed him a mug. “Thanks, Dorothy, you’re a doll.”

Dorothy returned a generous smile right back at him. She just loved it when the young man showed his pearly whites.

Jonathan knocked on the door before entering. “Can anyone join in this conversation? Or should I make myself scarce?”

“Come on in, Johnny boy,” Zach said, rising from his seat and shaking his best friend’s hand, “because we have a lot to discuss.” As Jonathan entered, Zach closed the door behind him.

His father didn’t waste any time laying into him. “You can’t get involved with a member of the press. Do you have any idea the damage you could do or might have already done? And the campaign hasn’t even started yet.” Charles Butler shook his head.

Jonathan took a seat at the head of the table. They must have thought he had never been in a campaign before. “I’m well aware of my actions, Dad. I’m not five years old.”

“Then you must know how precarious this situation is.”

“Jonathan, you know we only want what’s best for you.” His mother tried the maternal approach. “Perhaps you should end things with this Ciara Miller before it begins.”

“So you know her name,” Jonathan said. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. But what all of you need to know is I won’t be interrogated by any of you. This is my life and I choose how to live it.”

“Once you become a politician and are in the public eye,” his father said sternly, “you give up all rights to life solely as you see fit. I urge you to reconsider this behavior. It could be detrimental to your campaign.”

“I have to agree with your father.” Zach looked at Reid, who was sitting next to Jonathan. Reid stood up and moved to another chair down the table. “Listen, to me, Jonathan.” Zach scooted his chair next to his friend. “How do you know this Miller woman isn’t setting you up for some sort of scandal? That she hasn’t been paid off by the opposition to bring you down?”

“I don’t, but I will keep my eyes wide open,” Jonathan said defensively. He didn’t know why he was fighting so hard to maintain contact with Ciara; he barely knew her. Could it be because Ciara had completely surprised the heck out of him? Sure, they’d had great sex, but it was more than that—she excited him more than any woman ever had.





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