Sweet Promise Page 2

  A deep baritone carried through the oak door. Opening it partway, Joanna poked her head around the edge. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

  Surprise flickered across Matt's rugged face, but it was followed quickly by a pleased smile. "Sure. Come on in." Tossing aside his pencil, he leaned back in his chair and motioned toward the rust suede sofa opposite his desk. "Have a seat."

  When she had complied Matt smiled again and raised his dark brows. "Is there something I can do for you?"

  Trust Matt to get straight to the point, Joanna thought with faint amusement. He was a "take the bull by the horns" type, as different from her own father as night and day. Senator Joseph Andrews had been a born politician: diplomatic, smooth talking, clever, evasive when need be, a master at convoluted maneuvering and manipulation. Matt was direct, bold and decisive.

  Which, Joanna freely admitted, was why he was such a force to be reckoned with in Washington. He knew the rules, written and unwritten, and when the occasion called for finesse, Matt could employ it with exquisite delicacy. But basically he was a mover and shaker, a man who was known for getting things done by going right to the heart of the matter.

  "Yes. At least, I hope so. I have a favor to ask."

  Matt's keen blue eyes sharpened ever so slightly. "Oh? What's that?"

  "Well... uh, how do you feel about Sean running for the Senate?"

  If Matt was surprised by her question he didn't let it show. Pinching his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger he tugged on it meditatively. "Actually, I think he's an excellent choice. Probably the best New-comb and his group could have made. Sean's a good man, and he's had plenty of experience. He's a little weak when it comes to public exposure but that shouldn't be a problem. When he puts his mind to it, that Irish devil can charm the birds right out of the trees." Matt pinned Joanna with his penetrating stare. "Why do you ask?"

  "Because Senator Hartwell and several others agree with Harry Newcomb. They all think that Sean should seek the nomination. The consensus is that he can easily beat the opposition's candidate. But, as you saw last night, for some strange reason Sean is being—" Joanna lifted both hands, palms up, then let them drop back into her lap "—noncommittal. Which is why I'm here, You see, Senator Hartwell thought that since you and Sean are such good friends, maybe you could persuade him to run."

  "Ah, I see." The thoughtful expression on Matt's face did not alter one whit, but inside he was filled with reluctant amusement. Subtle pressure. That was the way the game was played. Though she didn't know it, he had pulled a few strings to get Joanna her job on Senator Hartwell's staff. Normally he didn't resort to such tactics, but Claire had been worried about Joanna, and to ease her mind he had used his influence. And now the Senator was pulling a few strings of his own and using Joanna to do it.

  But Matt didn't give in to pressure easily.

  "I don't think that's a good idea. After all, it's Sean's decision, and he's perfectly capable of making it on his own."

  "Yes, of course he is," Joanna agreed quickly. "And the Senator says he is seriously considering it. But it's such a big step, I thought.. .that is, Senator Hartwell thought that it wouldn't hurt if he got some encouragement from you. Oh, Matt, please talk to him," Joanna pleaded. She sat forward on the sofa, leaning toward him, her face animated and full of hope. "A nudge from you is probably all he needs."

  "I don't know..." Frowning, Matt braced his elbows on the arms of the chair and pressed his spread fingertips together, gazing over them out the window at the crisp winter day. The flurries of the night before had stopped, and now a thin layer of patchy snow lay like tattered fleece over the rolling Virginia hills. As Matt idly watched, one of his thoroughbred mares trotted across the near paddock, her breath coming out in puffs of white mist that trailed away in the wind and vanished.

  But Matt's mind wasn't on the mare or the scenery, or even the classified papers he had been studying, but on his stepdaughter's request. Sean was well suited for politics. Matt had no doubts on that score. But he knew that it was useless to pressure him. Many people were fooled by that laid-back easygoing veneer. Few realized that behind it was a razor sharp mind and a fierce determination. Or that those slumberous black eyes could snap with temper. No, Sean Fleming was not a malleable pawn. If that was what Senator Hartwell and the others thought they would be getting they were in for a shock. Sean was his own man. When he wanted advice, he asked for it. He would listen to your opinion, weigh it carefully, but in the end he always made up his own mind. He was not a man you could prod.

  Besides, even if he had been, Matt didn't believe in pressuring a man on a career decision.

  Still, he hated to turn Joanna down flat. Claire was worried about her. With good cause, Matt felt. In the past three and a half years Joanna had changed drastically. Before, she had been a spoiled, self-centered brat, but at least she had been full of spirit, a vibrant, sparkling girl, filled with the zest and eagerness of youth.

  Matt's eyes narrowed on his stepdaughter. They had once been enemies. Unconsciously, his jaw clenched as he remembered that time. Even now, when he thought about how close he had come to losing Claire, he felt a cold trickle of fear race down his spine. Dear Lord! Life without her would be unbearable.

  But he had won, Matt reminded himself. Now he could afford to be compassionate.

  Joanna's scheme to come between him and Claire had backfired on her. In the end she'd had to face a lot of unpleasant truths, perhaps the hardest being that the father she had idolized had not been the golden god she had thought him to be. Since then she had been subdued and serious—too much so for her mother's liking. His too, for that matter, Matt admitted. After that fiasco, Joanna had done an abrupt about-face. She had worked hard in college and had graduated with honors, and during the past six months, had buried herself in her job to the exclusion of everything else.

  Matt cast a curious glance at Joanna's anxious face, his eyes narrowing once again. This was the first time in almost four years that she had shown even a trace of her old enthusiasm.

  "Why is it so important to you that Sean run for Congress?" he asked quietly.

  "Well....because I think he'd make a terrific senator, of course," she said in a voice that was just a shade too assertive, a shade too high. Not quite meeting Matt's eye, Joanna waved her hand vaguely. "He's bright and young and honest. Likeable. And as you said, he has that charismatic charm. He shouldn't have any trouble pulling in votes, and our party needs another seat in Congress."

  "Mmm." Resting his chin in his palm, Matt studied her flustered face and waited for her to continue.

  Joanna shifted restlessly on the plush sofa. After a while, she looked up and met Matt's steady gaze guiltily. "All right. I admit my motives aren't totally altruistic," she said with a rueful twist of her mouth. "If Sean does decide to run, I'm hoping I can get a job on his campaign staff."

  Amusement tugged at the corners of Matt's mouth. "Things too dull for you in Hartwell's camp?"

  "Something like that. Oh, Matt, he doesn't even come up for reelection for years yet. And anyway, he's held that office for so long he's practically an institution in his state. I'd like to be involved in something... I don't know...something with a little more challenge to it I guess."

  Yes, Joanna was a campaigner, Matt recalled. She thrived on the excitement and challenge, the constant thrust and parry of a hard fought political race. Four years ago, during Claire's bid for her late husband's Senate seat, Joanna had worked tirelessly and had loved every minute of it. Claire's ultimate withdrawal from the race had been one of the biggest disappointments of Joanna's life.

  Disillusionment. Disappointment. It had been a difficult time for the girl, Matt mused. Joanna was a mature, responsible, even loving young woman now, but sadly, she had had to gain her maturity the hard way.

  Matt drummed a pencil against the desk top. If Sean did decide to seek the office, she would be an asset. There was no denying that. But still, even if it were possible, he cou
ldn't in good conscience talk a man into making that kind of decision just to give Joanna's life a boost.

  He was about to tell her so when Claire tapped on the door and poked her head into the room. "Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?"

  The smile that wreathed Matt's features was warm and loving and heartstoppingly tender, transforming his rugged face into gentleness. "Come in, sweetheart," he said in that soft voice that was reserved just for Claire, holding out his hand to her.

  An indulgent smile curved Joanna's mouth as she watched Claire give her husband a kiss, then perch rather precariously on the arm of his chair. She looped one arm across his broad shoulders. The other she placed on the turgid roundness of her protruding belly, in an unconscious protective gesture.

  "So, what's going on?"

  Matt reached up and tweaked one of Claire's short blond curls. "Joanna thinks I ought to persuade Sean to run for Congress. I was just about to explain to her I can't do that. I've already pointed out to Sean all the reasons why he should seriously consider running. I'm afraid that's all I can do. It's his decision to make."

  "Oh, but—"

  "Matt's right, Joanna," Claire said quickly, cutting off her daughter's protest. "It's his life and his future. And Sean wouldn't appreciate our interference."

  Disappointment poured through Joanna. She had been hoping to get her mother's support. She knew that it was almost impossible for Matt to deny Claire anything, especially now. But it was obvious from their expressions that she was wasting her time.

  Still, she wasn't going to give up. Rising to her feet, Joanna squared her shoulders determinedly. "Maybe. But someone has to talk some sense into that hard-headed Irishman. I can't just let him throw away a chance like this."

  Without another word, she walked out, and Claire looked at Matt, her expression a mixture of bemusement and worry.

  Matt grinned. "She wants a job on Sean's staff," he explained. "And you know Joanna. Once she's got the bit between her teeth there's no stopping her."

  "Yes, I know," Claire murmured, nibbling worriedly on her lower lip. "Oh, Matt, maybe we should try. Joanna can be so headstrong. She has a tendency to just rush into things without thinking. If she angers Sean—"

  "I know, I know. But, darling, you can't have it both ways. You've been wanting her to show some of her old spunk and enthusiasm. Well, now she has." A speculative gleam entered Matt's eyes as he stared at the doorway through which Joanna had just sailed, and slowly an amused smile curved his mouth. "It should be interesting, though. I've always wondered what happened when an irresistible force met an immovable object."

  Chapter Two

  The moment Joanna stepped on board someone called out "Smile," and a flashbulb went off. She stiffened and glared at the photographer, but in the next instant realized that they were taking pictures of everyone as they came on the ship.

  Feeling foolish, Joanna handed the purser her boarding pass. Good grief, you're getting paranoid, she chastised silently. But she knew her reaction was a conditioned reflex, the result of a lifetime of having flashbulbs go off in her face. It was part of the price she had paid for having a famous mother whom the public idolized... the part that Joanna hated.

  "Ah, Miss Andrews. We're honored to have you with us," the purser said as he checked the slip she'd handed him against the list on his clipboard. Glancing back over his shoulder, he motioned for the young man just behind him to step forward. "This is Riley, Miss Andrews. He'll see you to your suite. Please let us know if there is anything you need."

  With a smile and a quick thank-you, Joanna turned to follow the white^jacketed young man.

  They passed through what seemed like miles of carpeted passageways with literally hundreds of doors opening off them and climbed several flights of stairs. Within minutes Joanna was thoroughly lost... and thoroughly intrigued. There was an air of excitement and anticipation among the other passengers and crew members that was infectious, and with every step she felt a growing eagerness, a sense of adventure. Joanna had come on this trip for a purpose, but now, for the first time, it occurred to her that there was no reason why she couldn't enjoy herself while she was about it.

  Her guide kept up a steady chatter, pointing out the main dining room and the shopping arcade, the gym and the various clubs. They passed dozens of people, all anxiously peering at the numbers on the cabin doors and checking them against the keys they held in their hands. A wry grimace curled Joanna's mouth as she noticed that she seemed to be the only one with a personal escort. She couldn't help but wonder if she was receiving this preferential treatment because she had been recognized.

  Her mother had grown up in the spotlight, the daughter of one of the country's most powerful senators, and later, the wife of another. Joanna had always detested the lack of privacy that went with her mother's fame, and knowing that, Claire had done her best to shield her from the constant publicity. Still, there had been enough over the years that Joanna was often recognized. And the result was nearly always gaping stares or fawning attention.

  "Here we are," her guide announced when he finally stopped before a cabin door and opened it with a flourish.

  The moment Joanna stepped inside and looked around at her plush accommodations, her uneasy suspicion faded, and she chided herself for her conceit. No doubt anyone who booked one of these luxury suites received the royal treatment.

  It was gorgeous. And huge. She hadn't expected that, even knowing that there were only two of these deluxe suites on board.

  She had expected round portholes. Instead, there were two large rectangular windows. Between them a tufted brown leather sofa sat along the outer wall. Flanking h were Queen Anne end tables, which held exquisite lamps made of brass and polished walnut. At right angles to the sofa were two matching brown leather easy chairs and in the center of the grouping stood an oval, marble-topped coffee table. A copper bowl in the center of the table contained an arrangement of dried flowers in autumn colors that blended with the rust carpet and draperies and the soft rust, green-and-yellow stripes in the wall covering.

  Through the large windows, Joanna could see the sunlight sparkling on the waters of Miami harbor. As the steward bustled, pointing out the small refrigerator and bar and rattling off information about the temperature controls, Joanna walked to one of the windows and watched another cruise ship glide gracefully by, heading out to sea.

  "And through here is your bedroom," the young man announced.

  Joanna turned in time to see him throw open the double doors set in one of the side walls. Bemused, she wandered over and peeked in, her eyes widening at the sight of the king-size bed and the long vanity console. The color scheme was ivory and pale green, but this room, too, was flooded with light from two large windows.

  "It's lovely," Joanna said, and the young man beamed proudly.

  They heard a noise in the passageway, and he turned and headed for the door. "That's the porter with your luggage. I'll get it for you."

  When he had carried her bags into the bedroom he told her there would be a lifeboat drill shortly before they got under way. "Just follow the instructions here on the back of the door," he said as he turned to leave. "They tell where your lifeboat station is and how to reach it. When you hear the announcement over the intercom just grab a life jacket out of the closet and take the forward stairs to the deck above."

  As the door closed behind him Joanna stood in the middle of the sitting room, her eyes growing wide with panic. A lifeboat drill? Oh, Lord. She hadn't counted on that. She had planned to remain in her suite until they were well out at sea.

  Joanna chewed worriedly at her lower lip. It was entirely possible that she might run into Sean. With a bit of discreet probing, she had discovered when she booked the cruise that his cabin was just down the passageway from hers. It stood to reason that his lifeboat station would be close by also.

  Maybe I could just ignore the announcement and stay here.

  "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Joanna," sh
e muttered impatiently the moment the thought flickered through her mind. "They would just come looking for you if you didn't show up." She walked into the bedroom and snapped open the case that lay on the luggage rack. Scooping up a stack of frothy lingerie, she began to move methodically back and forth between the open case and the built-in dresser. "Besides," she said stoutly as her normal self-confidence reasserted itself. "With hundreds of passengers on board, surely you can lose yourself in the crowd for a few minutes."

  As she hung her clothes in the roomy closet behind the mirror-covered sliding doors, Joanna glanced around at her opulent surroundings and grimaced. She hadn't planned on booking the most expensive suite on the ship, but it had been the only thing available when she'd made her reservation.

  Joanna stopped in the act of hanging up a cotton sundress and giggled as she recalled her conversation with Senator Hartwell five days ago. He'd been enthusiastic about her plan, so much so that in a fit of generosity he had offered to pay for her cruise.

  "It's a good thing I didn't take him up on his offer," Joanna thought, chuckling. "He'd have had a fit when he found out how much this suite costs."

  She wasn't too thrilled about it herself. She could afford it easily, of course, thanks to the generous trust funds both her father and grandfather had set up for her, but under normal circumstances, she, would not have booked anything so grand just for herself.

  Fifteen minutes later a repetitive gong signal came over the ship's intercom followed by a calm voice instructing everyone to go to their lifeboat stations. Joanna's heart skipped a beat and she hesitated for an instant. Then, abandoning her half-empty suitcase, she snatched the garish orange vest from the closet and hurried out the door.

  By the time she reached the stairwell the companion-way was filled with people, all wearing the bulky Mae West life preservers. Most were laughing and joking as they trouped up to the next deck. Joanna joined the throng, confident that her presence would go undetected in the crush.