him. "Yes, yes, of course. And we'll bring out a special vintage wine for you while you wait--on the house, of course, sir!"
"Come on, Bryn, back to the terrace. I've got a few words to say to you before the others join us."
"I...uh...later, Lee.I have to find the ladies' room.""Bryn!" "I'm sorry!"
She fled before he could stop her and decided that she had better really head for the ladies'
room--whether she needed to or not. But she had barely woven her way through the crowd when she found herself walking right into the politician who had just turned away from the reporters.
Startled, Bryn just stood there staring at the man. It was Dirk Hammarfield, the man she had watched on the news last week. And as his features crinkled into a friendly smile, she decided that he definitely did have a lot of charisma. His eyes were cornflower blue; he was a nice trim six feet, and his hair was light and tousled. What an all-American candidate, she thought. "I'm so sorry!" he apologized. "My fault, I'm afraid, Mr. Hammarfield." "Ah, so you know me!" He beamed. Bryn suddenly looked beyond his shoulder. Even through the crowd her eyes were riveted on another man.
Lee. He had followed her. And he now was watching her.Quietly, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, his hands in his pockets, his eyes narrowed and hard.
Bryn gave the young politician a magnificent smile. "Of course I know you, Mr. Hammarfield. I've been following your campaign closely! I'm sure you'll beNevada's next senator!" She noticed dimly that Lee had disappeared. Suddenly none of it seemed to matter. Dirk Hammarfield kept beaming, and he started to chatter about something, but all she wanted to do was get away.
"Who is the young lady with the camera, Dirk?" Bryn jumped as a new voice cut in on the conversation.
She glanced quickly at the man who had joined Dirk Hammarfield. "Miss...?" Dirk queried hurriedly.
"Keller. Bryn Keller."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Miss Bryn Keller, meet my aide-de-camp, Pete Lars.""How do you do?" Bryn stretched out her hand, feeling uneasy.Aide-de-camp? The man was short, and not fat, but squat, and as solid as a rock. He was in a dark, nondescript suit. And his features, she thought quizzically, were just the same: totally nondescript. He looked more like a hit man from an old gangster movie than an aide-de-camp.
' 'Whatwere you taking pictures of, Miss Keller?'' Pete Lars asked politely.
"Lee Condor and his group," she returned. She was equally cordial, but she wished she could just get by them both.
"How nice.He's quite famous, isn't he?"
"Yes, I believe so. Well, it's been a pleasure to meet you both. Good luck with the campaign."
She managed to brush past both the clean-cut politician and his gruesome gorilla friend, and then she sped into the ladies' room.
She was shaking, and she didn't know why. Maybe she was afraid she had pushed too far, and that this time Lee Condor would fire her. Or maybe she was afraid that he was somehow beginning to overwhelm her every time he was near, and that she would be the one to break, and go running to him, begging that he hold her close for just a moment and allow her to believe that there could be a forever-after for her....
She ran a brush through her hair and decided that she was going to have to face the music. When she emerged she saw that Lee had come inside again and been pinned down by a number of autograph seekers.
She slipped past him and started for the terrace, only to findherself hemmed in at the front doors again.
Another group of autograph seekers had surrounded a man she was certain she had never seen before.
Trying to be polite, she wedged her way through the sea of people, only to find herself pressed against the man receiving all the attention, and she didn't even know who he was!
A quick glance at his sport shirt and trim figure told her that he was a golfer. He was about thirty-five, wore his brown hair
"Come on, Bryn, back to the terrace. I've got a few words to say to you before the others join us."
"I...uh...later, Lee.I have to find the ladies' room.""Bryn!" "I'm sorry!"
She fled before he could stop her and decided that she had better really head for the ladies'
room--whether she needed to or not. But she had barely woven her way through the crowd when she found herself walking right into the politician who had just turned away from the reporters.
Startled, Bryn just stood there staring at the man. It was Dirk Hammarfield, the man she had watched on the news last week. And as his features crinkled into a friendly smile, she decided that he definitely did have a lot of charisma. His eyes were cornflower blue; he was a nice trim six feet, and his hair was light and tousled. What an all-American candidate, she thought. "I'm so sorry!" he apologized. "My fault, I'm afraid, Mr. Hammarfield." "Ah, so you know me!" He beamed. Bryn suddenly looked beyond his shoulder. Even through the crowd her eyes were riveted on another man.
Lee. He had followed her. And he now was watching her.Quietly, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, his hands in his pockets, his eyes narrowed and hard.
Bryn gave the young politician a magnificent smile. "Of course I know you, Mr. Hammarfield. I've been following your campaign closely! I'm sure you'll beNevada's next senator!" She noticed dimly that Lee had disappeared. Suddenly none of it seemed to matter. Dirk Hammarfield kept beaming, and he started to chatter about something, but all she wanted to do was get away.
"Who is the young lady with the camera, Dirk?" Bryn jumped as a new voice cut in on the conversation.
She glanced quickly at the man who had joined Dirk Hammarfield. "Miss...?" Dirk queried hurriedly.
"Keller. Bryn Keller."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Miss Bryn Keller, meet my aide-de-camp, Pete Lars.""How do you do?" Bryn stretched out her hand, feeling uneasy.Aide-de-camp? The man was short, and not fat, but squat, and as solid as a rock. He was in a dark, nondescript suit. And his features, she thought quizzically, were just the same: totally nondescript. He looked more like a hit man from an old gangster movie than an aide-de-camp.
' 'Whatwere you taking pictures of, Miss Keller?'' Pete Lars asked politely.
"Lee Condor and his group," she returned. She was equally cordial, but she wished she could just get by them both.
"How nice.He's quite famous, isn't he?"
"Yes, I believe so. Well, it's been a pleasure to meet you both. Good luck with the campaign."
She managed to brush past both the clean-cut politician and his gruesome gorilla friend, and then she sped into the ladies' room.
She was shaking, and she didn't know why. Maybe she was afraid she had pushed too far, and that this time Lee Condor would fire her. Or maybe she was afraid that he was somehow beginning to overwhelm her every time he was near, and that she would be the one to break, and go running to him, begging that he hold her close for just a moment and allow her to believe that there could be a forever-after for her....
She ran a brush through her hair and decided that she was going to have to face the music. When she emerged she saw that Lee had come inside again and been pinned down by a number of autograph seekers.
She slipped past him and started for the terrace, only to findherself hemmed in at the front doors again.
Another group of autograph seekers had surrounded a man she was certain she had never seen before.
Trying to be polite, she wedged her way through the sea of people, only to find herself pressed against the man receiving all the attention, and she didn't even know who he was!
A quick glance at his sport shirt and trim figure told her that he was a golfer. He was about thirty-five, wore his brown hair
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