Journey by Danielle Steel

He had been a wonderful dinner partner, and at the end of the evening, he offered to drive her home, but she told him she had a car and driver with her.
    “I'll look forward to seeing you at the next meeting of the commission. It's such an intriguing, eclectic group, isn't it? I don't feel as though I have much to offer. I'm not very knowledgeable on the subject, at least not in the areas of abuse, or domestic violence. I'm afraid my brush with violence is a little unusual, but I'm flattered that Phyllis asked me.”
    “She knows what she's doing. I think we'll make a good team once we focus on our direction. I'm hoping that we get some media attention. People need to have their eyes opened on the issues concerning abuse and women.”
    “You'll make an excellent spokesperson for us,” he said as she smiled at him again, they chatted for a few minutes, and then she went home, and found Jack reading in bed, looking relaxed and peaceful.
    “You missed a good party,” she said, taking off her earrings, and stepping out of her shoes as she stopped to kiss him.
    “By the time we finished, I figured you'd be through with dinner. Anyone interesting there?”
    “Lots of people. And I ran into Bill Alexander. He's a nice person.”
    “I've always thought he was pretty boring.” Jack dismissed him and closed his book with an appreciative glance at his wife, even without her earrings and shoes, she looked particularly smashing. “You look great, Mad.” He looked as though he meant it, and she leaned down to kiss him again.
    “Thank you.”
    “Come to bed.” He had a familiar gleam in his eye that she recognized instantly, and a few minutes later when she joined him, he was more than willing to prove it to her. There were some benefits to not having kids. They never had to pay attention to anyone else, all they had to concentrate on, when they weren't working, was each other.
    And after they made love, Maddy lay in his arms and snuggled next to him, feeling comfortable and sated.
    “How did things go at the White House?” she asked sleepily with a yawn.
    “Pretty well. I think we made some sensible decisions. Or the President did. I just tell him what I think, and he puts it in the hopper with what everyone else says, and figures out what he wants to do about it. But he's a smart guy, and he does the right thing most of the time. It's a tough spot to be in.”
    “Worst job in the world, if you ask me. You couldn't pay me all the money on the planet to do it.”
    “You'd be great at it,” he teased, “everyone in the White House would be well dressed, they would be beautiful, the White House would look wonderful, andeveryone would be polite and compassionate and thoughtful about what they said, and all your Cabinet members would be bleeding hearts. A perfect world, Mad.” But in spite of the seeming compliment, to her it somehow felt like a put-down, and she didn't answer. As she drifted off to sleep, she forgot about it, and the next thing she knew it was morning, and they both had to get to work early.
    They were both in the office by eight o'clock, and she and Greg sat down and did some work together on a special he was working on about American dancers. She had promised to help him with it, and she was still in his office at noon, when they both became aware of a lot of scurrying and running around in the hallway.
    “Now what?” Greg asked as he looked up, wondering what had happened.
    “Shit. Maybe things are heating up in Iraq. Jack was with the President last night. They must be cooking up something.” They both walked into the hallway to see what people were saying. Maddy was first to collar one of the associate producers. “Anything major?”
    “A flight to Paris just blew to smithereens twenty minutes out of Kennedy. They claim you could hear the explosion all over Long Island. No survivors.” It was the abbreviated version of what had happened, but as Greg and Maddy checked the news desk, they