forests in this state."
Phil raised his eyebrows. "Not even if it's the only way to win this race?"
Adam glared at his old friend. "Hell, Phil, you of all people should know me better than that."
"I know you want to win."
Adam nodded. The prospect of defeat left a sour taste in his mouth. "I do, Phil. I do. But I want to win without selling out. I want to do it the right way, not like --" He broke off abruptly, scowling.
"Not like your father and grandfather?"
"Don't you start psychoanalyzing me, Phil." Adam tried to turn it into a joke, but his laughter sounded strained and bitter. He leaned forward again and rubbed his aching eyes. "Give me a couple of days to think about this. I can't make any decisions tonight."
"Time to call it a day?"
"Absolutely. Would you tell Julia I'm ready to go?"
"Why don't I send her in so you can tell her yourself?"
Adam frowned. "Phil. . . ."
"I saw you and Julia after the debate -- very touching -- but there's still something that needs talking about, isn't there? You're two of my favorite people, you and Julia."
Now, as Phil waited, Adam nodded slowly. "Fine," he said. "You win. I'll talk to her."
Phil flashed him a gentle but triumphant smile as he closed the door behind himself. Adam slumped down in his chair.
He wanted Julia with a bone-deep intensity he'd never felt before. His heart still beat a ragged tattoo against his ribs whenever he remembered their few brief kisses. He hadn't missed the way Julia had looked at him in the kitchen the night before, either. Unlike most of the sophisticated, carefully controlled women he'd known, Julia seemed incapable of hiding her emotions.
When he'd taken her hand, he'd seen desire soften those indigo eyes to a clear and dreamy blue. She had actually trembled at his touch. Her response had sparked an equal need in Adam, as well as a tenderness that was all new to him.
He heard a tentative knock on his door. "Come in," he called.
Julia stepped into the office. She looked startlingly attractive in a deep green silk shirt. A black wool skirt skimmed her slim hips and ended halfway down her slender thighs. She wore her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, made sophisticated by a sterling silver clip. "You wanted me?" she asked.
Adam barely managed to suppress a smile at Julia's choice of words. Hell, yes, he wanted her, more than he dared admit. "I'm about ready to call it a day," he said. "I wondered whether you're ready to go home."
She nodded. "I'm ready whenever you are. You do look tired."
Adam stood up, stretched, and began to gather up the papers on his desk. He shoved them into his briefcase and snapped the lid shut. "I am tired. Julia. . . ."
"Yes?"
He rounded his desk and stood in front of her. His eyes locked on hers. "Thank you."
She stared at him blankly. "For what?
"For coming to the debate. For being honest me. Oh, hell, I don't know. Somehow I just feel better whenever you're around."
She shot him a tremulous smile. "Why, Adam, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"Really? I'll have to work on that."
He reached down and took her hand. She stiffened, but didn't pull away. Adam sucked in a deep breath. He wasn't sure where to begin. How ironic that the politician who was never at a loss for words now found himself nearly speechless.
"Julia. . . ."
"Is something wrong?" She frowned, and Adam found himself admiring even the tiny wrinkle between her dark, delicately feathered brows. In fact, he fought the urge to kiss it away, to draw his lips over the fine-boned arch above her eyes and then drop tiny, stinging kisses onto her eyelids. Her eyes tilted up slightly at the corners. He'd never noticed that before. There were a thousand things he wanted to notice about her, a thousand things he wanted to know.
"Adam, what is it? You're scaring me."
"Nothing's wrong, except --" He paused, and cleared his throat, but his voice still came out husky. "Julia, remember what I said on our wedding
Phil raised his eyebrows. "Not even if it's the only way to win this race?"
Adam glared at his old friend. "Hell, Phil, you of all people should know me better than that."
"I know you want to win."
Adam nodded. The prospect of defeat left a sour taste in his mouth. "I do, Phil. I do. But I want to win without selling out. I want to do it the right way, not like --" He broke off abruptly, scowling.
"Not like your father and grandfather?"
"Don't you start psychoanalyzing me, Phil." Adam tried to turn it into a joke, but his laughter sounded strained and bitter. He leaned forward again and rubbed his aching eyes. "Give me a couple of days to think about this. I can't make any decisions tonight."
"Time to call it a day?"
"Absolutely. Would you tell Julia I'm ready to go?"
"Why don't I send her in so you can tell her yourself?"
Adam frowned. "Phil. . . ."
"I saw you and Julia after the debate -- very touching -- but there's still something that needs talking about, isn't there? You're two of my favorite people, you and Julia."
Now, as Phil waited, Adam nodded slowly. "Fine," he said. "You win. I'll talk to her."
Phil flashed him a gentle but triumphant smile as he closed the door behind himself. Adam slumped down in his chair.
He wanted Julia with a bone-deep intensity he'd never felt before. His heart still beat a ragged tattoo against his ribs whenever he remembered their few brief kisses. He hadn't missed the way Julia had looked at him in the kitchen the night before, either. Unlike most of the sophisticated, carefully controlled women he'd known, Julia seemed incapable of hiding her emotions.
When he'd taken her hand, he'd seen desire soften those indigo eyes to a clear and dreamy blue. She had actually trembled at his touch. Her response had sparked an equal need in Adam, as well as a tenderness that was all new to him.
He heard a tentative knock on his door. "Come in," he called.
Julia stepped into the office. She looked startlingly attractive in a deep green silk shirt. A black wool skirt skimmed her slim hips and ended halfway down her slender thighs. She wore her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, made sophisticated by a sterling silver clip. "You wanted me?" she asked.
Adam barely managed to suppress a smile at Julia's choice of words. Hell, yes, he wanted her, more than he dared admit. "I'm about ready to call it a day," he said. "I wondered whether you're ready to go home."
She nodded. "I'm ready whenever you are. You do look tired."
Adam stood up, stretched, and began to gather up the papers on his desk. He shoved them into his briefcase and snapped the lid shut. "I am tired. Julia. . . ."
"Yes?"
He rounded his desk and stood in front of her. His eyes locked on hers. "Thank you."
She stared at him blankly. "For what?
"For coming to the debate. For being honest me. Oh, hell, I don't know. Somehow I just feel better whenever you're around."
She shot him a tremulous smile. "Why, Adam, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"Really? I'll have to work on that."
He reached down and took her hand. She stiffened, but didn't pull away. Adam sucked in a deep breath. He wasn't sure where to begin. How ironic that the politician who was never at a loss for words now found himself nearly speechless.
"Julia. . . ."
"Is something wrong?" She frowned, and Adam found himself admiring even the tiny wrinkle between her dark, delicately feathered brows. In fact, he fought the urge to kiss it away, to draw his lips over the fine-boned arch above her eyes and then drop tiny, stinging kisses onto her eyelids. Her eyes tilted up slightly at the corners. He'd never noticed that before. There were a thousand things he wanted to notice about her, a thousand things he wanted to know.
"Adam, what is it? You're scaring me."
"Nothing's wrong, except --" He paused, and cleared his throat, but his voice still came out husky. "Julia, remember what I said on our wedding
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