Free A Man for All Seasons by Diana Palmer Page A

reply for an instant. “That, and because Marsh is involved in a lot of illegal activities. He’s been trying to shut him down for years. Now we’re involved in a high-profile murder. Everyone wants to make sure the investigation is done properly.”
    â€œAnd Simon’s letting that Langley woman mess it up. How stupid!” Silvia said.
    â€œShe has a degree in criminal justice, and she’s worked for Simon for two years,” Marc said, defending her against his will.
    â€œShe’s personally involved in this case. So are you. Neither of you should get involved.” She turned to Bib. “Call someone important and tell him to pull Marc and that woman off the case!”
    That went right through Marc. “Do it,” he invited,silver eyes glaring at her, “and I’ll call a press conference myself and tell the world why I’m off the case.”
    Silvia gasped. “Well! And I thought you were our friend!”
    â€œI am your friend,” he returned curtly, looking at Bib, not at her. “But the law is the law. I won’t have interference in a case this sensitive.”
    Silvia glared at him. Her hand, holding the glass, shook. She slammed it down on the porch, shattering it. “You stupid idiot!” she raged at Bib. “You’re such a wimp! You never do anything right!” She whirled and went back into the house with her eyes flashing. She muttered curses as she slammed the door furiously.
    She wasn’t quite normal, Marc thought, and not for the first time.
    Bib just shook his head. “Seven years of that,” he murmured heavily. “She’s a good politician’s wife, and she loves television appearances and society bashes. But there are times when I wish I’d married someone less explosive. I’m afraid I fall far short of Silvia’s expectations. She’d have left me long ago if I’d been poor or had a dull social life.”
    â€œShe loves you,” Marc said, although he wasn’t convinced.
    â€œShe owns me,” Bib laughed hollowly. “Well, I’dbetter go back inside and kiss a little more butt. They’re potential contributors to my senate campaign.” He lifted both eyebrows. “Going to vote for me?”
    â€œNo,” Marc said, deadpan. “You’re corrupt.”
    Bib laughed with pure delight. “We’re all corrupt,” he agreed. He studied the other man curiously. “This must be painful for you,” he added perceptively. “You and the Langley girl were an item back then.”
    Marc didn’t say a word.
    Bib shrugged. “Okay. I’ll let it drop. We’ll be heading up to our place in San Antonio this weekend. Drop by for a drink if you have time.” He leaned closer. “Sil’s going to Dallas to shop on Saturday morning. We can sneak down to the corner coffee shop and eat doughnuts while she’s gone!”
    â€œWon’t she let you have them?” Marc asked, surprised.
    Bib patted his flat stomach. “I have to have a nice, lean figure for the publicity shots,” he confided. “I can’t have anything sweet if she’s within smelling distance.” He shook his head. “Dear, dear, the things we give up for public office.”
    â€œYou’re a good politician,” Marc replied. “You have a conscience. And a heart.”
    â€œLiabilities, old friend, nothing but liabilities. I lackthe killer instinct in campaigns. Fortunately, Silvia has it. You have a safe trip back to San Antonio.”
    â€œSure. You take care, yourself,” he added quietly. “There may be more to this case than meets the eye. Do you have a bodyguard?”
    He nodded. “T. M. Smith. He was army intelligence in Operation Desert Storm. He can deck most men in hand-to-hand, and he’s a crack shot.”
    â€œKeep him close. Just in case,” Marc added, and smiled to soften what sounded like an