Campaigning for Christopher (25 page)

“I don’t know,” she said in a small, miserable voice.

“It sounds like a great opportunity,” he said, flinching inside. It would break him to lose her, now that he knew the softness of her body pressed against his, the sweetness of her cries as she climaxed in his arms. The way she told him that she loved him without hesitation. It would break him for sure, but it was her decision to make, not his.

“Offer me something better,” she said, flattening her hands on his chest, which flexed under her palms.

“Better than an exclusive modeling contract? I can’t compete with—”

“Yes, you can.”

He licked his lips and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, gazing down into her infinite dark eyes. Was she asking to go to Washington with him? Could she possibly want to give up the career opportunity of a lifetime to join him in Washington? Working a low-level bureaucratic job at the BIA or somewhere similar while he slogged away as the most junior member of Congress?

I love it here.

At the inn?

Yes. No. I mean Washington. I’ve really loved it here.

“Jules, I can’t ask you to—”

“I’m in love with you,” she said. “I never want to be farther apart from you than I am right this minute. If you asked me to go to Washington with you, I would thank every star in the sky.”

He felt the smile cover his face, lifting his lips, softening his worried eyes. “You’d give up New York . . . to be with me?”

“Of course.” She gulped, her chest pushing relentlessly into his as she nodded. “I don’t want to be the face of a cosmetics company. That’s not my dream. Washington is my dream.
You’re
my dream. I want my life to make a difference. Just like yours.”

I love you . . . love you . . . love you . . . love you . . .

As though he’d yelled the words into a cavern, they returned to him, the echo crowding his head, filling his chest, threatening to water his eyes and burst through his throat. He held his breath, listening to them, saving them, savoring them.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

“Chris,” she sobbed, dropping her weary head on his shoulder.

“Come with me to Washington,” he said close to her ear. “Whether I win or not, it’s where I belong. I think it’s where you belong too.”

“Yes,” she said, raising her head. Her eyes were watery, but her lips tilted up into a beaming smile.

“Yes?” he confirmed, searching her eyes for doubt or hesitation and finding neither. “You’re sure?”

“Of course,” she answered, beaming at him.

“Would you be okay knowing that I spoke with someone at the BIA yesterday and found out that they have two entry-level positions available?”

Her eyes widened. “Would I . . . Chris, are you saying—”

“I’m saying that Secretary Poser will put in a good word for you if you don’t mind starting small.”

“Starting small,” she repeated with whispered incredulity, reaching up to wipe a tear from the crest of her cheek. “Washington? The BIA?
You?
That’s not starting small. That’s my best and biggest dream coming true.”

He pulled her into his arms, sighing as she rested her cheek on his shoulder, her sweet breath blessing his throat.

“Washington,” he said, his voice lifting with excitement, with the feeling of utter fulfillment that came from finding yourself on the right path with the right person. “Together.”

His cell phone rang, and Christopher reached for it, pressing it to his ear. “Lori?”

“Chris, what’s the story?”

“We watched it.”

“And?”

“She didn’t sign a contract with Skid City, and she’s not going to New York. Whatever happens next Tuesday, we’re both headed to Washington.”

Lori sighed. “Thank God. The phone’s been ringing off the hook. I don’t suppose you two . . .”

“What?”

“A little press conference? Just to set the record straight?”

Chris turned to Jules, taking in her tousled hair, and tugging the sheet away from her gorgeous breasts as she looked up at him with heat in her widening eyes.

“Give us an hour.”

***

Back in front of campaign headquarters, where they had given their first press conference together, Julianne marveled at how much her life had changed over the past few weeks. Just as before, she stood beside Christopher with his arm around her waist, but this time her body was tender from their lovemaking, and her heart swelled with love and pride as her boyfriend stepped up to the microphone and cleared his throat.

“Thanks for joining us today, folks. I know it’s Sunday, so I’ll keep my remarks short and sweet.” He paused for a moment, adjusting his hand on her hip. “You all know my girlfriend, Julianne, and no doubt you’ve heard the rumors this morning about Jules moving to New York and us splitting up.” She turned her neck to look up at him, and he smiled down at her before turning his attention back to the crowd. “But Julianne has decided not to take the position in New York. Whether I am lucky enough to be your next congressman or not, we’ll be heading to Washington together this November.”

Julianne beamed at the collection of reporters and stepped up to the microphone. “While I very much appreciate the opportunity offered to me by Skid City, I won’t be able to accept it. I have the utmost respect for the world of modeling, but it’s not the right path for me. My future lies in Washington . . .” She looked up at Chris, at his grass-green eyes and long lashes, at the lips that had touched every inch of her body last night, leaving her aching and satisfied, yet still wanting more. “. . . with Chris. And if he’s headed to Washington, that’s where I’m going too.”

Christopher dropped his lips to her in a sweet kiss that made her toes curl with the promise of later.

“So, Jules,” asked a reporter in the front row, beaming up at her, “you’re willing to give up your career for Chris?”

“Politics and making a difference have always been a goal of mine, Max. I don’t think of this decision as giving up—I think of it as moving forward.”

“Washington’s one thing,” shouted another reporter, “but you can’t blame the City of Brotherly Love for getting a little loud when the Big Apple threatens to take what’s ours! Just remember you’re a Philly girl, Jules!”

“Like you’d let me forget it, Johnny!” she answered with a touch of sass.

Julianne grinned at him, wondering when and how a Lakota girl from South Dakota had become a Philly girl and surprised to find that she didn’t mind the title at all.

“So, Chris,” said a female reporter, holding her voice recorder in her hand. “We found out about Julianne five weeks ago, and now she’s following you to DC. Care to tell us how everything moved so fast?”

He turned to Julianne again, and the tenderness—
the love
—in his eyes took her breath away. “Her eyes are like the night sky . . . the universe . . . the heavens . . . and a million stars. None of you know the odds she overcame to make it to Philadelphia. She has spirit and drive, integrity and character. And her heart.
God,
did I mention her heart? Its kindness and patience? Its beauty and sweetness? There’s only one woman I want by my side, whether we’re in Philly, Washington, New York, or Timbuktu.” He reached up to palm her cheek. “My sweetheart. My love.
My
Jules.”

He dipped his head and kissed her—a real kiss, like they were the only two people in the world, that spoke of his trust and commitment and love. And as Julianne Crow closed her weary eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, she realized one amazing truth:

Though she had campaigned for Christopher Winslow, she had somehow ended up winning . . . his heart.

One week later

“Julianne!” said Elise, beaming as she and Chris walked into the billiard room at Westerly, where the Winslow brothers and their significant others were crowded around the huge TV watching the election returns. “You’re finally here!”

Julianne smiled at her friend, taking her proffered hands and leaning forward to brush cheeks. “Chris had a few last-minute calls to make from headquarters. Simon, Lori, and Slater were right behind us. They should be here any minute.”

“It’s looking good for Chris!” said Elise, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

Julianne crossed her fingers, “God, I hope so.”

“TV crews have been camped outside the gates of Westerly for hours,” said Margaret, greeting Julianne with a welcoming grin. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Meggie.”

“Jules,” said Julianne, shaking the pretty brunette’s hand.

“And I’m Skye,” said a gorgeous blonde whom Julianne recognized from Jessica Winslow’s wedding. “Brooks’s fiancée.”

Julianne smiled at Skye, her eyes dropping, just for a moment, to the little swell under Sky’s blouse. “You’re expecting.”

“We’re
all
expecting,” said Margaret, rubbing her belly. “A word of caution, Jules: be careful. The Winslow brothers don’t shoot blanks.”

Julianne giggled with the other three women, marveling at the feeling of kinship, of acceptance, such that she hadn’t known since leaving her
Ina
and
Unci
at Gray Elk. She blinked back tears, realizing how much she’d missed the camaraderie of other women during her lonesome time in Philadelphia and desperately hoping that she could build friendships with these other three Winslow women.

“You’re assuming that they’re . . .,” said Elise to Margaret, raising an eyebrow at her future sister-in-law.

“Oh, they definitely are,” said Skye, grinning at Julianne. “Look at that blush.”

Julianne’s hands shot to her cheeks, where she felt the sudden heat rising from her skin.

“And I’m guessing,” said Margaret, looking across the room at Cameron, who caught her eyes in a hot, steady look, “that he’s another Wild Winslow.”

“Quit it!” exclaimed Elise. “That’s her business, not ours.”

Skye nudged Elise in the hip. “You’re one to talk! The way Pres looks at you? We practically need a fire hose every time you two are in the same room.”

Margaret started laughing again, and Julianne couldn’t help joining her, relieved that she wasn’t the only one blushing now, as Elise’s cheeks turned a bright pink.

As the other three women continued to tease each other, Julianne looked across the room at Chris, who caught her eyes, gazing at her with tenderness and love.

You okay?
he mouthed.

She nodded, grinning at him, and he winked at her before turning back to the TV.

Well
, she thought, turning to the entrance of the room as the last Winslow sibling arrived,
I was
.

***

As Jessica swept into the room, with Alex on her heels, Christopher darted an uneasy glance to Jules.

“Jess,” he said, embracing his sister. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“I wasn’t,” she answered tartly, “but you’re my brother, and it’s a big night for you. I couldn’t miss it.”

She kissed his cheek, then turned to look around the room, her eyes finally settling on Julianne. As Jules lifted her chin, Christopher fought the instinct to cross the room and stand beside her, intervene, protect her. But she shot him a quick, clear look telling him—in no uncertain terms—to stay out of it. His body rigid, he crossed his arms over his chest and stayed where he was.

Jessica crossed the room to join the four women her brothers had chosen.

Stopping in front of Jules, she sized up the other woman. “Hi.”

“Hello,” answered Jules.

“Jessica English,” said his sister, holding out her hand.

“Julianne Crow,” said Jules, taking it.

Dropping Julianne’s hand, Jessica spoke in a frank, level voice. “Don’t ever hurt my brother again.”

Jules flashed Christopher a quick look, and he saw it in her eyes—the softness, the promise, the love. “Don’t worry.”

Jessica nodded, dropping Julianne’s hand and leaning toward her conspiratorially. “Are you pregnant?”

“N-no!” exclaimed Julianne, her expression shocked and amused.

“Thank God,” sighed Jessica, grinning at her. “How about a glass of wine?”

“Sounds good,” said Jules, smiling back at Christopher’s sister, who insisted that Margaret accompany her on a trek to the wine cellar for a “kick-ass Champagne.”

There are some moments
, Christopher thought, crossing the room to touch her because the ten empty minutes they’d just spent apart were already too long,
that are perfect
.

No, he hadn’t won the election yet, but, right here, right now, surrounded by his brothers, sister, and their loves, he felt whole. He felt happy and loved and hopeful.

The success of a life isn’t measured by one victory
, he thought,
but by the sum of all
. And with Jules on his side—in his arms, in his bed, in his heart—the scales were tipped in his favor.

He put his arm around her waist and brushed the hair off her neck, leaning forward to rest his lips briefly on the soft, hot skin of her throat.

“What was that for?” she asked, turning to smile at him, her dark eyes luminous.

“For loving me,” he answered.

“You make it easy,” she replied, turning into his arms and pressing her body against his. “No matter what happens tonight, I’m so proud of you, Chris.”

“No matter what happens tonight, I still win,” he said, “because I’m the man you love. And because I’m the man who gets to love you back.”

Her eyes watered, as they always did when he told her he loved her.

“You love me, huh?”

“I do,” he answered with quiet conviction, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. It’s new, but it’s real.”

Her breasts pushed against his chest as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. “I love you too.”

The simple sweetness of the moment was short-lived.

“Chris!” yelled Simon, who had just arrived. “The results are in!”

Christopher backed away from Jules, looking down into her excited, hopeful eyes. “You ready?”

“For anything,” she said, reaching for his hand and pulling him over to the TV.

“This just in from our Philadelphia affiliate station: the Seventh Congressional District results for the state of Pennsylvania are in, and we can confidently announce that Christopher Winslow, running on an Independent ticket, has won his first congressional race.”

The room exploded into whoops and congratulations with brothers hugging brothers, Slater jumping up onto the couch, and Lori collapsing into Simon’s arms.

Julianne looked up at Christopher and grinned as he pulled her into his arms.

“Washington, here we come,” he said.

“You did it,” said Julianne, her eyes sparkling with the light of a million stars.

“No, sweetheart,” he amended, his lips dropping to hers. “
We
did it, Little Star. Together.”

THE END