Love Is Elected (4 page)

Shivering, she looked out the window. Rain was coming down in sheets again, and now she could hear the low rumble of thunder in the distance. How she wished she could open the door to let some of the warmth of the fireplace into the bedroom. But that was impossible with Matt Jordan in the cabin.

Kara switched on the waterbed heater and crossed to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and washed her face before quickly changing into her gown. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she realized her nightdress was more revealing than she remembered. But it wouldn't matter since she wasn't planning to see Matt Jordan until she was fully dressed in the morning.

Crawling into the waterbed, she pulled the covers up to her chin. The bed swayed beneath her weight and the sheets were still cold. The unaccustomed motion made it hard to get comfortable. For warmth, she drew up her knees and tucked her head under the covers, leaving the barest air hole for breathing. How am I ever going to get to sleep? she thought, feeling the waterbed move under her body. Outside, in the main room, she could hear Matt Jordan poking up the fire. Was the lock on her bedroom door strong enough to keep him out? she wondered. But she knew it should be, since Uncle James always made sure everything in his cabin was the best.

It was hard for Kara to settle down, but the events of the day had left their toll on her body as well as her mind. Finally she drifted off into a restless, troubled sleep.

Suddenly she was jolted from an uneasy dream by an awful crash above her head. Sitting bolt upright, she heard herself scream. Had the deafening noise been part of a nightmare? It wasn't a dream—something was happening. The house shook as another crash sounded in her ear and she looked about wildly, finally looking up. Plaster was falling from above where the huge limb of a tree protruded through the ceiling. The heavy branch shook, spattering icy water about the room.

Kara threw the covers aside and rushed from her bed. She fumbled for the light switch and flipped it. But nothing happened. At the same time, she heard Matt Jordan's concerned voice through the closed door.

"Kara, what's happened? Are you all right?" he questioned urgently. She could hear him rattling the lock.

"I—I don't know," she stammered, feeling dazed and disoriented. Just then the tree above her gave a groan and shifted further into the ceiling. A branch raked through her thick black hair, holding her prisoner. She screamed again, beside herself with hysterical terror. The more she struggled, the tighter the prickly branches clutched her.

"Unlock the door," Matt Jordan ordered. But she was unable to obey.

"All right, then stand clear. I'm coming in." She heard the lock give under the thrust of his powerful shoulder. In a moment he was beside her. Taking in the situation in one, comprehensive glance, he disengaged her tangled hair and folded her into the protection of his strong arms. She felt the soft flannel of his robe against her cheek.

"This tree could fall at any minute," he rasped. "Let's get out of here." Lifting her effortlessly in his arms, he carried her into the living room where he sat down and cradled her gently on the blanket still spread in front of the fire.

Kara clung to his strong body like a frightened child, shaking as another bolt of lightning hit close to the house.

"It was horrible," she sobbed.

"It's all right; you're safe now," he soothed, gently stroking her hair as he rocked her back and forth in his arms. His strong hands were amazingly gentle as they massaged the back of her neck and her shoulders, easing the tension from her body. Gradually she relaxed in his arms.

"Please, don't leave me alone," she murmured as she snuggled closer to his protective presence. For an answer he drew the circle of his arms tighter.

Her last thought before she drifted into a peaceful sleep was that his embrace was like a calm harbor in the storm. She was unaware when he gently lowered her to the blanket, lay down beside her, and covered them both with the quilt he had pulled from the arm of the couch.

Kara awoke with a start. She was suddenly aware of several very disturbing sensations. Her shoulders were cold, for the blanket had slipped away in the night leaving her upper body covered only by the silky nightgown. A muscular arm was wrapped around her waist and her hip was pinned beneath a hard, unyielding male thigh. And she could hear sounds of car doors slamming outside and crunching footsteps approaching the house.

"The roads were so muddy I wasn't sure we were going to make it," a disgruntled voice said.

"Oh, come on, you'd go barefoot through a monsoon to get an interview like this," an answering voice jibed. "Just be glad this place is on high ground and Jordan didn't have to swim for it last night."

"Good heavens, look at that tree," a female exclaimed. "It's gone right through the roof. I wonder if Jordan's all right."

In the next instant the cabin door was flung open and several people crowded into the room. The chattering of the intruders stopped abruptly as they took in the still entwined twosome on the floor in front of the huge stone fireplace. Kara stared in horror as realization dawned.

"Oh no!" She shuddered, noting the shocked expressions in the seven pairs of eyes looking down at her. It was obvious what they were thinking. Expressions of astonishment, anger, chagrin and sly amusement crossed their faces as they gazed at her almost naked body pinned beneath Matt Jordan's powerful sleeping form.

"Well now, doesn't that make a pretty picture," one man commented wryly, grinning and lifting the camera hung around his neck to his face. A flash bulb popped, and in the next instant Matt Jordan sat up.

"What the hell is going on?" he exclaimed, brushing back a lock of dark hair that had slipped over his forehead and glaring at the crowd of reporters and cameramen confronting them.

"Shouldn't we be the ones asking that question?" snapped a female voice. Kara looked up at the tall redheaded woman in the finely tailored wool suit who had made the remark. The redhead's hard green eyes swerved to Uncle James' still astonished face.

"I see you provide your politicians with fringe benefits," she observed cattily. A dull red flush crept over the older man's wrinkled visage. His heavy eyebrows snapped together in anger as he took in her meaning.

"Wait until they see this one on the six o'clock news," she added. "Matt Jordan won't look like a knight in shining armor when the voters see what his extracurricular activities consist of."

A TV cameraman had already aimed his minicam at the startled couple in front of the fireplace. But Uncle James interposed his short, rotund form between them.

"Just a minute here," he said, wiping beads of perspiration from his brow. "You can be sued for invasion of privacy if you publish…" he sought for words, "if you photograph an intimate scene of a honeymoon couple without their permission. Jordan and my niece obviously didn't realize that we'd be coming so early—the roads were under water last night you know," he said, thinking quickly.

Kara's jaw dropped open. She gasped and crossed her bare arms protectively in front of her breasts. Expressions of surprise from the intruders mixed with nervous laughter greeted her ears. She blushed.

"Oh no," exclaimed Kara, "we were… I mean I was," she stammered. But her explanation was quickly stifled by Matt Jordan who had seized her upper arm, wrapping his hard fingers around it tightly. She flinched.

"Be quiet. You got us into this. Don't make it any worse," he murmured through clenched teeth. "My career is at stake."

Futilely she tried to jerk her arm free from his iron grasp. Looking to her uncle for help, she met only his frowning stare. His stern expression told her to be silent. Dimly Kara was aware of a blonde young woman directly behind her uncle. The woman stepped forward to touch James' arm in a fruitless attempt to calm him. But the irate politician shook her off.

She must be one of his new girlfriends, Kara thought fleetingly. But her uncle's meaningful gaze brought her quickly back to the situation at hand.

Adroitly the aging politician announced to the curious onlookers, "We hadn't planned to make this public until the end of the press conference, but now is as good a time as any—my niece Kara Barnett and Matt Jordan were married in a private ceremony yesterday. They came here to honeymoon before Mr. Jordan's press conference."

Excited chatter and nervous laughter filled the room.

"You can sure keep a secret, Frank," Kara heard a reporter needle a tall, thin man with colorless hair.

"Well, even a campaign manager doesn't have to tell everything," he responded weakly.

"How long have they been engaged?" the reporter persisted. But before the campaign manager could answer, a loud voice in the crowd asserted itself.

"What county did you get married in?" the redheaded television reporter inquired sharply of Matt Jordan. "I'm sure our viewers will be fascinated and would love to know all the details." She emphasized the word "love," but the expression on her face was anything but warm. "Matt—aren't you the sly one-running off with this little girl," she shot Kara a look of amused condescension. "You're full of surprises —but then so am I."

The reporter turned to face Kara, her brilliant crimson lipstick outlining a tight smile. "I've been working very closely with Matt, and I'm interested in making sure he gets good press," she purred. "So naturally I'm fascinated by this
terribly
romantic development." Her appraising green eyes raked over Kara's flimsy blue nightdress. "I'm Vera Caldwell," she continued. "I'm sure you've seen me on the Channel 12 news. I specialize in political stories."

Kara felt ridiculous—like some foolish secretary caught on the boss' lap with her blouse undone. But she hadn't spent years in a girls' boarding school where verbal duels were a daily occurrence without learning a tactic or two to defend herself. Mustering her strength, she looked back at the smartly dressed television reporter.

"No, I don't think so, but then I only have time to watch the more important local stations," Kara shot back. An unattractive flush of anger crossed the reporter's carefully made up face, but before she had an opportunity to retaliate, Kara, determined to keep her dignity, stood up and walked resolutely to the half-open bedroom door. But she was forced to stop abruptly when she remembered the tree. Quickly she recrossed the room, acutely conscious of everyone's eyes upon her partially clad body and disappeared into the guest bedroom. As soon as she had closed the door behind her, she collapsed on the bed, confused, angry and tearful.

She was just trying to pull herself together a few minutes later when Matt Jordan, toting his carryall and her overnight bag, joined her.

"How could you?" she flared at him angrily, looking up from where she still huddled on the bed. "How could you agree that we were married?"

"What the hell else could I do?" he retorted, setting down the luggage and grasping her bare shoulders in his strong, warm hands. "Now listen to me. You got me into this and you're going to get me out. We'll have to get married."

"Married!" Kara shrieked, almost beside herself. "Are you crazy?" Instantly Jordan clapped his forceful hand over her mouth and held it there despite Kara's struggles to free herself.