The Candidate (Romantic Suspense) (The Candidate Series) by Josie Brown

friends. We’re coming up to another fundraising deadline, and things are tight.”
    “Let me see what I can do,” she murmured. 
    Within a week’s time, Andy’s off-the-cuff comments were less caustic regarding his own party, and Abby was hosting some private teas at their Georgetown townhouse with some very influential wives, including Rosalyn Davenport.
    Before the end of the month, the Davenports sent in two checks for $250,000 each. 

Chapter 21
     
    The paid agitators sent to the Tampa “Andrew Mansfield for President” rally by Talbot’s handlers were kids in their twenties: actors, really, not the fresh-faced college kids they were pretending to be. They carried placards with anti-war slogans, and their chants—hollered at the top of their lungs—accused Mansfield of being a warmonger. The worst kind at that—one who’d bombed innocent civilians from the safety of his fighter jet. 
    Instead of having his security detail throw them out before some of the hotheaded vets in the audience could beat them bloody for disrespecting country and flag, Mansfield invited them onto the stage with him. 
    Scripted chants were one thing; improv against one of the Senate’s best extemporaneous orators was another. The faux protesters knew they were out of their element. Thrown into the spotlight with Mansfield, they listened, slack-jawed, as he described the depth of his loss after the untimely death of his parents; the fellowship and sense of purpose he found in the Marine Corps; and yes the horrors of war, even as seen from the cockpit of an F-4S. “Great nations, those with the will and the might, must use it sparingly. Only when attacked. And never to claim the natural resources of another country.” 
    It was the perfect segue into Mansfield’s speech on 100 percent energy independence. His eyes never once wavered from the protesters as he talked.
    Afterward, when buttonholed by an NBC reporter, one of the agitators proclaimed he was voting for Mansfield. Another said he was joining the Marines.
    Talbot fired his Missouri state campaign manager that night.

Chapter 22
     
    By June Maddy no longer left before dawn, but lingered in Ben’s bed with him. 
    On the few Sundays he found himself in town, she allowed him to make her breakfast in bed. Then they’d share the Washington Post while lounging out on his postage stamp-sized deck for an hour or two, before she disappeared again—for a night, or a day, or a week. 
    He soon learned not to count the many days they were apart, but to appreciate the precious hours they spent together.
    Then in July, something changed. She showed up at his place with a sack of groceries and proceeded to make him the most delicious overcooked spaghetti he’d ever eaten. He was well aware that they had finally turned a corner.
    In August, when she wrote down her cell phone number for him and stuck it on his fridge under a Mansfield for President magnet, he realized they were finally a real couple. 
    That’s when he suggested she join Abby, the senator and him on one of their many out-of-town campaign trips.
    Because it was Maddy he was asking, he knew he was going out on a limb to even suggest it. Still, he wasn’t prepared for her reaction. The way she laughed at him—raucously, incredulously—rubbed against the rawest spot on his ego.
     “What’s so funny?”
    “I don’t know. I just assumed there were enough campaign groupies out there already.” She busied herself with the Post’s crossword puzzle. “I’d hate to cramp anyone’s style.”
    “Yeah, sure, I turn a head or two, but you know I’m a true blue guy.” It was the truth. If he were a horn dog, if he weren’t so head over heels in love with her, there were plenty of opportunities for one-night stands. “And you’re no groupie, you’re my girlfriend. Only you won’t let anyone know that.”
    “You’re wrong, Ben. I’m not your girlfriend. You’re my lover. And no one else knows that because