Call My Name (19 page)

For practical purposes her work was done. The markup had produced a new wording of the bill that she found to be surprisingly strong and much to her liking. Having been put together in subcommittee following the hearings, the new bill was sure to pass on through the full committee and be put on the Senate schedule for a vote. From here on in, she was primarily a spectator. Now, arriving early at Drew’s spacious office, she listened to the squawk box that relayed the on-going discussion on the Senate floor. There was more than a little regret that her time in Washington was nearing its end. Perhaps this was what he had wanted to see her about—a good-bye.

“Ah, good! You’re here!” Half expecting that the beautifully familiar voice had come from the small desk speaker, Daran bolted in surprise when a firm hand settled momentarily on her shoulder before he strode past her to the other side of his desk.

The sparkling amber of her gaze reflected her confusion. “
You’re
here! I-I thought you were still on the Senate floor.”

The devastating grin threatened to further discompose her, but he went on to explain. “You must have heard the buzzers too. There was that one important roll call. Now, however, my colleagues are stuck with a pretty boring battle of words between Hodgkins and Mareno; it could go on for hours. And I was in no mood to stay.”

Relaxing once more in the comfort of the large leather chair, Daran spoke freely. “It’s odd how often the chamber is nearly deserted. It must be disillusioning for those guests in the galleries who come to see government at work. They see a handful of senators babbling on and on.”

Having listened to her with an indulgent smile, he eased himself against a corner of the desk, temptingly close to where she sat. Now an arched brow chided her. “You should have been there an hour ago. It was as busy as it gets. But I see what you mean. It is pretty ludicrous at times.” He paused, stroking the roughness of his lean jaw absently. Then, his gaze caught her once more. “The
whole
thing has something pretty ludicrous to it, if you stop to think about it. As the years have passed, senatorial staffs have grown larger. With the increase in the number of aides each senator has, there has been an increase in the amount of work—committee assignments and so on—he can handle. So he is inundated with issues, and finally has to hire more staff. It’s a never-ending circle—”

“Which you love!” The softness of her voice as it interrupted his revealed her sincerity, as did her expression. Drew’s gentled in its wake.

“Yes,” he admitted, quietly but firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Which I love.”

That was the bottom line, as she had known it would be. Now, strangely, she was at a loss for words. Silently the two stared at one another, the faint drone of the squawk box the only sound in the room. For a minute she saw the hint of tension that had lain beneath the veneer of his carved features during the past week. Then, it had been attributed to the climax of the hearing; now, that conclusion was in doubt.

“Are you pleased with the outcome of your work?” he finally asked. The piercing of his eyes enforced the personal nature of the question.

“It’s
your
work,” she corrected him lightly, “and, yes, I am pleased. I’m not quite sure why you let Leo include some of my very pointed suggestions though.” There was skepticism in her soft accusation which he sought immediately to overcome.

“It’s all a matter of compromise, Daran. If we aim higher than we are actually willing to settle for, we have something to bargain with.”

Her nod signaled her understanding and agreement. Once more a silence settled in the air, broken only by the dim cackle of the transmitter. Their eyes locked and held. Though his thoughts were an enigma to her at that moment, her own were not. She had come to feel very strongly about this man; where she was to go from here, she was not sure.

His oath preceded a totally symbolic gesture of gruffly leaning toward the squawk box and shutting out all sound of the Senate. A strong hand reached toward her, and she took it, allowing herself to be drawn from her seat to stand between his legs, which were casually draped over a corner of the desk. With the very softness she had missed so desperately over the last weeks, he kissed her, holding her quivering body close to his, pressing a hand on the small of her back to arch her ever nearer, Drawn into the vortex of his appeal, she coiled her slender arms around his neck, returning his kiss with every bit of the feeling she could not yet identify. It was only the sudden opening of the office door that broke the spell.

“Drew, oh, excuse me.” Red-faced, John Hollings remained at the door, tactfully giving the two an opportunity to compose themselves. The fact that he did not leave at once spoke for the urgency of his mission.

Setting her back from him, though not releasing the armhold on her shoulder, Drew stood. “What is it, John?” Suddenly he sounded tired, more so than she had ever remembered him being.

“It’s on those confirmation hearings, Drew. Brown and MacIntyre want to know where you stand. They’re trying to schedule the thing for sometime next month.”

The senator inhaled deeply, dropped his hand from her shoulder, then slowly exhaled. “Give me a minute, John. I’ll be right with you. And … are those people from Avon here yet?” He looked down to explain softly to Daran. “There’s been an uproar about polluted wells in Avon—illegal dumping of petroleum waste.” Then the gray eyes shot back to his administrative assistant.

The latter put him at ease. “Not yet. Give them another fifteen minutes or so.” Without further word, he stepped back and closed the door, leaving Daran and Drew alone again.

Drew’s sandy head shook as a hand massaged the muscles at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Daran. That was bad timing.” Was he worried that John had seen something? she wondered.

“That’s all right,” she began in an attempt to make light of the situation. “It was just a good-bye kiss. I have to be leaving.”

Sharp gray eyes speared her. “I thought you were staying until tomorrow.”

His near anger puzzled her. “I am. But I’m tired. I’ll just be going back to the hotel for an early evening.” At that moment a lump formed in her throat. Swallowing it convulsively, she grabbed her bag and headed for the door. “Bye-bye.” It was a mere whisper, spoken without another glance back at the leanly masculine figure behind her. John’s presence just outside the office precluded any further conversation. A deliberately paced walk took her out of the suite, down the corridor and the stairs, and out to the street, where the tears that had brimmed slowly trickled down her face. Sunglasses were her only foil.

Alone finally in her room, she gave way to sobs, venting an emotion whose depth terrified her. What were her feelings toward this man with whom she had worked for the past two months? Respect and admiration were givens; she had seen him at work, serving his state and the country in the most outstanding way. But adoration—that was something in a different league. Yes, she adored Drew Charles. But then, didn’t most of his female constituents? He held a charismatic quality so few leaders possessed; she had fallen prey to it.

There was only one rationalization for the future. Tomorrow morning an Eastern shuttle would take her back to her home in Connecticut. From there, if she wished, she could watch the comings and goings of Senator Drew Charles through the press. Her own work would consume her once more, as she willed it to, and there would be nothing but fond memories of this phenomenally exciting time in her life.

Armed with this resolution, she relaxed beneath a warm shower, threw on her robe, then ensconced herself in an armchair to watch the evening news. Within minutes a knock at the door startled her.

“Yes?” she called out, slowly approaching it.

Low and clear, the voice seared through the door, then her. “It’s me. Drew.”

An unsteady hand unbolted the door and turned the knob. His face was in shadow, the hall light dim behind him. “I’m not dressed!” she apologized, distraught at having been caught in such a state, praying that her eyes did not reflect her great distress. “I didn’t expect you.”

“That’s obvious.” The element of tension was thick in his tone. “May I come in?”

Gesturing with her hand, she stood back to let him pass, closed the door, then headed for the bedroom. “I’ll get something on—”

“No. You don’t really have to change. I won’t be that long.” There was a flatness to his expression that disturbed her and she was unable to interpret. Oblivious to her quandary, he dropped into the nearest chair and proceeded to watch the rest of the news program.

Unsureness held her rooted to the floor for long moments before she finally allowed herself to take the chair opposite his. Fatigue, tension, irascibility all seemed to have taken over his normally placid body. Her amber eyes beamed their concern as she watched him, but he was oblivious to that too. It was only when the final credits appeared on the screen that he reached forward, switched off the set, and turned to her.

“I’m expected at a reception at the Portuguese embassy by nine o’clock. I just wanted to give you this.” The hand that had taken refuge in his jacket pocket now emerged bearing a small box, wrapped simply in white with a delicate red bow.

Daran stared at it in astonishment. Words escaped her in the confusion that engulfed her. What was this? A proper send-off? Was this a custom for all of his workers whose tour of service had ended?

The tanned hand nudged the gift toward her. “Take it. It’s a birthday present.”

Hands trembling, she followed his instructions. Unwrapping the present was a minor issue; stemming the tears that threatened when she saw its contents was something else. Her voice was barely audible when finally she spoke.

“They’re magnificent. Drew, you should never have—”

“Try them on.” It was an order as forceful as any he had given her.

With some difficulty, considering her unsteadiness, she removed from her ears her usual gold hoops and inserted the small diamond studs that had been in the box. In lieu of a mirror, her eyes flew to Drew’s. His smile of satisfaction, the first spark of pleasure since he had arrived, told her all she wanted to know. Yet, at a loss for other conversation, she asked anyway.

“How do they look?”

Her face was radiant in his gaze, now suddenly warm and melting, and he answered her softly. “
You
look beautiful. To hell with the earrings.” Then he paused, as though to make a decision. “Daran, I know that you have to get back tomorrow. You’ve been wonderful, rearranging your schedule for us this summer. But I wonder if I might ask you a final favor?”

The strangely beseeching glaze that coated his entire expression turned her stomach to putty. “Of course.” She shrugged gently, smiling through her bewilderment.

“The floor fight—I’d like you to be here for that, and for the final vote on the bill. You’ve been … so much a part of it, that I want you to see it through to the end.”

Her eyes flooded once more, but she managed a bright smile. “I’d love that!”

Drew’s tawny eyebrows lifted in inquiry. “You can manage your own things around it?”

Dark waves bobbed about her robe collar as she nodded. “Very easily. The month of August is pretty dead anyway. And I had planned to take some time off then.”

As though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he stood to leave. “I’m glad. And … happy birthday, Daran!”

Shyness attacked her suddenly. “It’s not until Saturday.”

“But you’ll be home by then. This is
our
celebration.” When he took her into his arms, she lifted her mouth to thank him properly for the gift and, more important, the thought behind it. For such a busy person to have remembered this occasion touched her more deeply than she could have imagined. The iron band of his arms held her to him, his hands moving up and down her back, molding her firmly against his body.

“My God!” he exclaimed. “I’ve got to go!” The breathlessness of his voice told her that he had discovered the full state of her undress. Yet he indulged himself a moment longer, pressing his lips gently to hers as he caressed her body a final time. Flames of desire whipped through her, threatening to spark an explosion at the core of her femininity. When he released her, she would have called him back, had he not headed straight for the door and left. It was much as she had done that afternoon, though his own feelings were as yet unknown to her.

The only thing she
did
know was that, given this reprieve and the hope of seeing him in less than a month’s time, it would be a very lonely few weeks she had to survive first.

CHAPTER 8

The issue of survival went much further, however, than the next eighteen days. It would be much too easy to fall in love with Drew Charles—if she hadn’t already. Such was the gist of her contemplation as she resumed the life she had once found so pleasant. With the exception of classes, which were suspended for the summer, work awaited her. Glen was at her office more often than ever, wanting the latest rundown on chances for passage of the Rights of Minors Act, She spoke regularly with Hamilton Brody at Trinity, George Imlatt at the hospital, and, of course, every Sunday, her mother. The emotional needs of her clients remained high, demanding her usual intensity of concentration during counseling sessions. And there was always some new emergency crying out for attention.

Yet, despite the rapid pace, there was an inevitable letdown from the excitement of life in Washington to the more plebeian existence in Connecticut. Where once she had thrived on its orderliness, now she missed the other and, most specifically, the spontaneous activity that Drew’s presence had assured. More than once she looked up from work in her garden to study the adjoining woodlands, listening for that telltale footstep on the dried twigs, watching for that sunbaked torso and the compelling face above it.

But all was quiet. To her knowledge Drew was in Washington for the entire period, foregoing the trips home, which had been more frequent in the past few months, to concentrate on the inundation of legislative work that always preceded the approach of the session’s end. Neither did he send word of any sort to her, though she chided herself for hoping, much less expecting, that he would. After all, he was a very important individual, one sought out by many other than herself. And she had already gotten far more than she bargained for.