“Fancy, please,” Zee remonstrated. “One difficult child at a time is enough.” She pleaded fatigue herself and offered to skip the rally and stay with Mandy.
“Thank you, Zee,” Avery said. “That would be a help. I don’t think she’s fit to meet the public tonight. Nelson, you take Dorothy Rae and Fancy now. I’ll
come along later.”
Nelson began to protest. “Dirk and Ralph said to ”
“I don’t care what they said,” Avery said, butting in. “Tate wouldn’t want me to leave Mandy with Zee while she’s behaving this badly. Once she’s in bed, I’ll
take a cab. Tell them I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
The three of them filed out of Mandy’s bedroom, part of a three-room suite assigned to Tate’s family. “Now, Mandy,” Avery said reasonably, “eat your
supper so I can brag to Daddy how good you’ve been.”
“I want my surprise.”
“Eat your dinner, dear,” Zee pleaded.
“No!”
“Then would you like a nice, warm bath?”
“No! I want my surprise. Daddy said I’d get a surprise.”
“Mandy, stop this,” Avery said sternly, “and eat your dinner.”
Mandy gave the room service tray a push. It went crashing to the floor. Avery shot to her feet. “That settles it.” She yanked Mandy out of her chair, spun her
around and swatted her bottom hard several times. “I won’t put up with that from you, young lady.”
At first Mandy was too stunned to react. She looked up at Avery with wide, round eyes. Then her lower lip began to quiver. Enormous tears rolled down
her cheeks. She opened her mouth and let out a wail that would awake the dead.
Zee reached for her, but Avery edged her aside and gathered Mandy against her. The child’s arms wrapped around her neck. She burrowed her wet face
into Avery’s shoulder.
Avery rubbed her back soothingly. ‘Aren’t you ashamed of yourself for having to get a spanking? Daddy thinks you’re a good girl.”
“I am a good girl.”
“Not tonight. You’re being very naughty and you know it.”
The crying jag lasted for several minutes. When it finally abated, Mandy raised her blotchy face. “Can I have my ice cream now?”
“No, you can’t.” Avery pushed back strands of Mandy’s hair that tears had plastered to her cheeks. “I don’t believe you deserve a treat, do you?” Her lower
lip continued to tremble, but she shook her head no. “If you behave now, when Daddy gets here tonight, I’ll let him wake you up to give you your surprise.
Okay?”
“I want some ice cream.”
“I’m sorry,” Avery said shaking her head no. “Bad behavior doesn’t get rewarded. Understand Mommy?”
Mandy nodded regretfully. Avery eased her off her lap. “Now, let’s go take a bath and put your pajamas on so you and Grandma can go to bed. The faster
you go to sleep, the sooner Daddy will get here.”
Twenty minutes later, Avery tucked her in. Mandy was so tired, she was almost asleep by the time her head hit the pillow. Avery was also exhausted. The
incident had sapped her stamina. She was in no frame of mind to quarrel with Zee, whose compact body was quaking with disapproval.
“Tate will hear about the spanking,” she said.
“Good. I believe he should.”
She was on her way into the connecting room when the telephone rang. It was Tate. “Are you coming, or what?” he demanded without preamble.
“Yes, I’m coming. I had a problem with Mandy, but she’s in bed now. I’ll get a cab and be there ”
“I’m downstairs in the lobby. Be quick.”
She did the best she could in five minutes’ time, which was all she dared allow herself. The results weren’t spectacular, but good enough to make Tate do
a double take as she stepped off the elevator.
The two-piece suit was smart and sassy. The sapphire blue silk enhanced her own vibrant coloring. The curl in her hair had been sacrificed to the
humidity, so she’d opted for a sophisticated, dramatic effect and capped it off with a pair of bold, gold earrings.
“What the hell’s going on?” Tate asked as he ushered her toward the revolving door. “Dad said Mandy was upset.”
“Upset, my foot. Mandy was being an absolute terror.”
“Why?”
“She’s three years old, that’s why. She’d been cooped up in a car all day. I understood why she was behaving the way she was, but understanding only
stretches so far. I hate to spoil Zee’s surprise, but I spanked her.”
They had reached the car parked beneath the porte cochere. He paused with his hand on the passenger door handle. “What happened?”
“It got her attention. It also worked.”
He studied her resolute expression for a moment, then bobbed his head and brusquely ordered, “Get in.”
He quickly tipped the doorman who’d been keeping an eye on the car, got behind the wheel, and drove cautiously out into the street. The windshield
wipers clacked vigorously, but fought a losing battle against the heavy rainfall.
Tate headed north on Main Street, rounded the distinctive Tarrant County Courthouse, then drove across the Trinity River Bridge toward north Fort Worth,
where cowboys and cutthroats had made history in its celebrated stockyards.
“Why did you come to get me?” she asked as the car streaked through the stormy night. “I could have taken a cab.”
“I wasn’t doing anything except hanging around backstage anyway. I thought the time would be better spent doing taxi duty.”
“What did Dirk and Ralph say about you leaving?”
“Nothing. They didn’t know.”
“What!”
“By the time they figure out I’m not there, it’ll be too late for them to do anything about it. Anyway, I was goddamn tired of them editing my speech.”
He was driving imprudently fast, but she didn’t call that to his attention. He seemed in no mood to listen to criticism. His disposition seemed black all
around. “Why were we summoned to join you?” she asked, hoping to find the root of his querulousness.
“Have you been following the polls?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know that a change of strategy is called for. According to my advisers, desperation measures must be taken. We embarked on this trip to
pump up enthusiasm, gain support. Instead, I’ve lost three points since we started.”
“Nelson said something about your maverick image.”
He swore beneath his breath. “That’s how they think I’m coming across.”
“They?”
“Who else? Dirk and Ralph. They thought the bulwark of a family standing behind me would convince voters that I’m not a hothead. A family man projects
a more stable image. Shit, I don’t know. They go on and on till I don’t even hear them anymore.”
He wheeled into the parking lot of Billy Bob’s Texas. Touted as the world’s largest honky-tonk, complete with an indoor rodeo arena, it had been leased
by Tate’s election committee for the night. Several country and western performers had donated their time and talent to the fund-raising rally.
Tate nosed the car up to the front door. A cowboy wearing a yellow slicker and dripping felt Stetson stepped from the alcove and approached the car.
Tate lowered the foggy window.
“Can’t park here, mister.”
“I’m
“You gotta move your car. You’re in a fire lane.”
“But I’m ”
“There’s a parking lot across the street, but because of the crowd, it might already be full.” He shifted his wad of tobacco from one jaw to the other.
“Anyhow, you can’t leave it here.”
“I’m Tate Rutledge.”
“Buck Burdine. Pleased to meet ya. But you still can’t park here.”
Buck obviously had no interest in politics. Tate glanced at Avery. Diplomatically, she was studying her hands where they lay folded in her lap and biting
her lip to keep from laughing.
Tate tried again. “I’m running for senator.”
“Look, mister, are you gonna move your car, or am I gonna have to kick ass?”
“I guess I’m gonna move my car.”
A few minutes later, he parked in an alley several blocks away, between a boot repair shop and a tortilla factory. As soon as he cut the engine, he looked
across the interior of the car at Avery. She glanced at him sideways. Simultaneously, they burst out laughing. It lasted for several minutes.
“Aw, Jesus,” he said, squeezing the bridge of his nose, “I’m tired. It feels good to laugh. Guess I have Buck Burdine to thank.”
Rain was coming down in torrents and sheeting against the windows of the car. The streets were virtually deserted on this rainy weeknight. The
businesses that sandwiched them were closed, but their neon signs projected wavering stripes of pink and blue into the car.
“Has it been horrible, Tate?”
“Yeah. Horrible.” Mindlessly, he traced the stitching around the padded leather steering wheel. “I’m losing ground every day, not gaining it. My campaign’s
on the wane here in the final weeks, when it should be picking up momentum by the hour. It looks like Dekker is going to pull it off again.” He thumped the
steering wheel with his fist.
Avery shut out everything except him. She gave him her undivided attention, knowing that he needed a sounding board that didn’t talk back. He hadn’t had
to tell her that he was tired. Lines of weariness and worry were etched at the sides of his mouth and around his eyes.
“I’ve never once doubted that it was my destiny to serve this state in the U.S. Senate.” He turned his head and looked at her. She nodded in agreement
but said nothing, uncertain how she should respond. He wouldn’t tolerate banalities and platitudes.
“I even skipped running for state representative and went after what I ultimately wanted. But now, I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve been listening to people
who only told me what I wanted to hear. Have I got delusions of grandeur?”
“Undoubtedly.” She smiled when he registered surprise over her candor. “But name one politician who doesn’t. It takes someone with enormous selfconfidence
to assume the responsibility for thousands of people’s lives, Tate.”
“We’re all egomaniacs, then?”
“You have a healthy self-esteem. That’s nothing to be ashamed of or apologize for. The ability to lead is a gift, like being musically inclined or having a
genius for numbers.”
“But no one accuses a mathematical wizard of exploitation.”
“Your integrity wouldn’t allow you to exploit anyone, Tate. The ideals you espouse aren’t just campaign slogans. You believe in them. You’re not another
Rory Dekker. He’s all wind. He’s got no substance. In time, the voters are going to realize that.”
“You still think I’m going to win?”
“Absolutely.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
It became very close and still within the car while the rain continued to beat against the roof and lash at the windows. He reached across the car and laid
his hand flat on her chest, his thumb and little finger stretching from collarbone to collarbone.
Avery’s eyes closed. She made a slight swaying motion toward him as though being tugged by an invisible string. When she opened her eyes again, he
was much nearer. He had moved to the center of the bench seat and his eyes were busily scanning her face.
His hand slid up her throat and curled around the back of her neck. When his lips touched hers, spontaneous combustion consumed them. They kissed
madly while their hands battled to gain ground. His smoothed down her chest, over the tailored suit jacket, then up again to knead her breasts through the
quality cloth.
Avery caressed his hair, his cheeks, the back of his neck, and his shoulders, then drew him against her as she fell back into the corner of the seat.
He unbuttoned the two buttons on her left shoulder and wrestled with the row of hooks running down that side of her torso. When he shoved open the
jacket, the gold locket now containing his and Mandy’s pictures slipped into the valley between her breasts. The neon lights made a nighttime rainbow of
her skin. Streams of rainwater cast fluid shadows across her breasts which were swelling out of her bra.
He bent his head and kissed the full curve, then the dark center. Through the lace, his tongue flicked roughly, hungrily, lustfully.
“Tate,” she moaned, as sensations swirled from her breast throughout the rest of her body. “Tate, I want you.”
Clumsily, he freed himself from his trousers and carried her hand down. Her fingers encircled the rigid length of his penis. As she caressed its velvety tip
with the ball of her thumb, he buried his face between her breasts and gasped snatches of erotic phrases and promises.
His hands slipped beneath her narrow skirt. She helped him get her underpants off. Their lips met in a frantic, passion-driven kiss while they sought a
workable position within the impossible confines of the front seat.
“Damn!” he cursed, his voice sounding dry and raw.
Suddenly he sat up and pulled her over his lap. Holding her bottom between his hands beneath her skirt, he positioned her above his erection. She
impaled herself. They gave glad cries which, within seconds, diminished to pleasurable groans.
Their lips sought and found each other while their tongues were rampant and quick. He squeezed the taut flesh of her derriere and stroked her thighs
above her hosiery and between the lacy suspenders of her garter belt. She used her knees for elevation that teasingly threatened to release his cock
before sinking down onto it until it was fully imbedded again. She rode him, milked him.
“Damn, you can fuck.”
Having rasped that, he nuzzled his head against her breast until he had worked it free of her brassiere cup. He laved the raised nipple with his tongue,
then took it into his mouth. He slid one of his hands between her damp thighs and entwined his fingers in the soft hair, then slipped them into the cleft and
stroked the small protuberance.
Avery’s breathing became choppy and loud. She bent her head over his shoulder. Tensing around the hardness within her and grinding against the magic
stroking finger without, she had a very long, very wet climax that coincided with Tate’s.
They didn’t move for a full five minutes. Each was too weak. Finally, Avery eased herself off his lap and retrieved her underpants from the floorboard.
Wordlessly, Tate passed her a handkerchief.
Selfconsciously, she accepted it and said, “Thank you.”
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
“No, why?”
“You… you feel so small.”
Her eyes were the first to fall away after a long, telling stare.
Once she had tidied herself and straightened her helplessly wrinkled clothing, she flipped down the sun visor and looked with dismay at her reflection in
the vanity mirror.
Her hairdo had been ravaged. Clumps of moussed hair surrounded her head like a spiked halo. An earring was missing. Carefully outlined lipstick had
been smeared over the entire lower third of her face. “I’m a wreck.”
Tate made his body as straight as the accommodations would allow and tucked in his shirttail. His necktie was askew and his coat was hanging off one
shoulder. He fumbled with his pants zipper and cursed it twice before closing it successfully.
“Do the best you can,” he said, passing her the earring he’d just sat down on.
“I’ll try.” With the cosmetics in her purse, she repaired the damages to her makeup and did what she could with her coiffure. “I guess we can blame my hair
on the weather.”
“What’ll we blame the whisker burns on?” Tate touched the corner of her mouth. “Do they sting?”
She gave a small, unrepentant shrug and smiled shyly. He smiled back, then got out and came around for her.
By the time they reached the backstage area where Eddy was pacing and Ralph was jingling change in both pockets, they truly did look the worse for
wear windblown and rain-spattered, but inordinately happy.
“Where the hell have you been?” Eddy was almost too livid to form the words.
Tate answered with admirable composure. “I went to pick up Carole.”
“That’s what Zee told us when we called the hotel,” Ralph said. He was no longer rattling change. “What possessed you to pull such a damn fool stunt?
She said you’d left half an hour ago. What took so long?”
“No place to park,” Tate said tersely, disliking this cross-examination. “Where are Jack and the others?”
“Our front trying to keep the hounds at bay. Hear that?” Eddy pointed toward the auditorium, where the crowd could be heard stamping in beat to a
patriotic march and chanting, “We want Tate! We want Tate!”
“They’ll be all the more glad to see me,” Tate said calmly.
“Here’s your speech.” Eddy tried to thrust several sheets of paper at him, but he refused to take them.
He tapped the side of his head instead and said, “Here’s my speech.”
“Don’t pull that disappearing act again,” Ralph warned him bossily. “It’s stupid not to let at least one of us know where you are at all times.”
Dirk hadn’t said a word. His dark face was even darker with fury. It wasn’t aimed at Tate, but at Avery. He hadn’t taken his beady eyes off her since their
breathless arrival. She had withstood his baleful glare with aplomb. When he finally spoke, his voice vibrated with rage. “From now on, Mrs. Rutledge,
when you want to be screwed, do it on your time, not ours.”
Tate, making a savage, snarling sound, launched himself against the other man. He would have knocked him off his feet if he hadn’t flattened him against
the nearest wall. His forearm formed a bar as hard as steel against Dirk’s throat and his knee plowed high into his crotch. Dirk grunted with surprise and
pain.
“Tate, have you gone completely crazy?” Eddy shouted.
He tried to remove Tate’s arm from Dirk’s throat, but it wouldn’t be budged. Tate’s nose wasn’t even an inch from Dirk’s. His face was smooth and blank
with the single-mindedness of a man bent on murder. Dirk’s face, by contrast, was growing progressively bluer.
“Tate, please,” Avery said desperately, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Never mind him. What he says doesn’t matter to me.”
“For God’s sake, Tate.” Frantically, Eddy tried to wedge himself between the two men. “Let him go. Now’s not the time. Jesus, think!”
“If you ever,” Tate said in a slow, throbbing voice, “ever insult my wife like that again, you’ll die choking on it. You got that, you son of a bitch?” He dug into
Dirk’s testicles with his knee. The man, whose small eyes were bugging with fear, bobbed his head as much as Tate’s arm beneath his chin would permit.
Gradually, Tate’s arm relaxed. Dirk bent from the waist, clutching his balls, coughing and sputtering. Ralph rushed to assist his cohort. Tate smoothed
back his hair, turned to Eddy, and said coolly, “Let’s go.” He reached for Avery.
She took his extended hand and followed him on stage.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Mandy insisted on substituting her nightgown for the T-shirt Tate gave her, even though it was long after midnight and closer to breakfast than bedtime.
“Now you’re an honorary Dallas Cowboys cheerleader,” he said as he slipped it over her head.
She admired the gaudy silver lettering on the front of her new shirt, then smiled up at him beguilingly. “Thank you, Daddy.” Yawning hugely, she retrieved
Pooh Bear and dropped back onto her pillow.
“She’s learning to be a woman, all right.”
“Exactly what does that comment imply?” Avery asked him as they went into their bedroom on the other side of the parlor.
“She took the goods, but didn’t come across with a hug or a kiss.”
Avery propped her hands on her hips. “Should I warn the female voters that behind your public feminist stand on issues, you’re nothing but a rotten
chauvinist at heart?”
“Please don’t. I need all the votes I can get.”
“I thought it went very well tonight.”
“Once I got there, you mean.”
“And before, too.” Her confidential inflection brought his head up. “Thank you for defending my honor, Tate.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that.”
They exchanged a long gaze before Avery turned away and began removing her clothes. She slipped into the bathroom, took a quick shower, put on a
negligee, then relinquished the bathroom to Tate.
Lying in bed, Avery listened to the water running as he brushed his teeth. From sharing other hotel suites, she knew that he never replaced the towel on
the bar, but always left it wadded in a damp heap beside the sink.
When he emerged from the bathroom, she turned her head, intending to tease him about that bad habit. The words were never voiced.
He was naked. His hand was on the light switch, but he was looking at her. She rose to a sitting position, an unspoken question in her eyes.
“In the past,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “I could block you out of my mind. I can’t anymore. I don’t know why. I don’t know what you’re doing now that you
didn’t do before, or what you’re not doing that you once did, but I’m unable to ignore you and pretend that you don’t exist. I’ll never forgive you for that
abortion, or for lying to me about it, but things like what happened tonight in the car make it easier to forget.
“Ever since that night in Dallas, I’m like an addict who’s discovered a new drug. I want you a lot, and I want you constantly. Fighting it is making me crazy
and nearly impossible to live with. The last few weeks haven’t been fun for me or for anybody around me.
“So, as long as you’re my wife, I’m going to exercise my conjugal rights.” He paused momentarily. “Is there anything you have to say about that?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“Turn out the light.”
The tension ebbed from his splendid body. A grin tugged at one corner of his lips. He switched out the light, then slid into bed and pulled her into his arms.
Her nightgown seemed to vaporize beneath his caressing hands. Before Avery had time to prepare herself for it, she was lying naked beneath him, and
he was stroking her skin with his fingertips. Occasionally his lips left hers to sample a taste of throat, breast, shoulder, belly.
Desire rivered through her, a constant ebbing and flowing of sensation until even her extremities were pulsing. Her body was sensitized to each nuance of
his from the strands of hair that fell over his brow and dusted her skin each time he dipped his head for a kiss, to the power in his lean thighs that entwined
with hers before gradually separating them.
When he levered himself above her, poised for entrance, she prolonged the anticipation by bracketing his rib cage between her hands and rubbing her
face in his chest hair. Her lips brushed kisses across his nipples. The sound of Tate’s hoarse moan was her reward.
Hungrily, their mouths found each other again. His kisses were hot and sweet and deep… and that’s what he said of her body when he claimed it.
Mandy, riding on Tate’s shoulders, squealed as he dipped and staggered as though he were about to fall with her. She gripped double handfuls of his
hair, which made him yelp.
“Shh, you two!” Avery admonished. “You’ll get us kicked out of this hotel.”
They were making their way down the long corridor from the elevator to their suite after having eaten breakfast in the restaurant downstairs. They’d left
Nelson and Zee drinking coffee, but Mandy had been getting restless. The formal dining room was no place for an energetic child.
Tate passed Avery the key to their suite. They went inside. The parlor was full of busy people. “What the hell’s going on in here?” Tate asked as he swung
Mandy down.
Eddy glanced up from his perusal of the morning paper and removed the Danish pastry that he’d been holding between his teeth. “We needed to meet
and you have the only room with a parlor.”
“Make yourselves at home,” Tate said sarcastically.
They already had. Trays of juice, coffee, and Danish had been sent up. Fancy was polishing off a bagel as she sat crossed-legged on the bed, flipping
through a fashion magazine. Dorothy Rae was sipping what looked like a Bloody Mary and staring vacantly out the window. Jack was on the phone, a
finger plugging one ear. Ralph was watching the “Today Show.” Dirk was riffling through Tate’s closet with the appraising eye of a career shopper at a
clearance sale.
“You got a good review last night,” Eddy commented around the sweet roll. “Good.”
“I’ll take Mandy into the other room.” Avery placed her hands on the child’s shoulders and steered her toward the connecting door.
“No, you stay,” Dirk said, turning away from the closet. “No hard feelings about last night, okay? We’ve all been under a lot of pressure. Now the air’s been
cleared.”
The man was insufferable. Avery wanted to slap the phony, ingratiating smile off his dour face. She looked at Tate. Ignoring the campaign expert, he told
her, “I guess you’d better stick around.”
Jack hung up the phone. “All set. Tate’s got a live interview on channel five at five o’clock. We need to have him there no later than four-thirty.”
“Great,” Ralph said, rubbing his hands together. “Any word from the Dallas stations?”
“I’ve got calls in.”
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