Free The Candidate's Wife by Isabella Ashe Page B

sometimes brutal wit, or he'd turn Norris into an object of sympathy. . . .
    The end of Adam's speech and the crowd's thunderous standing ovation cut into Julia's thoughts. Danny bounced up from his seat. "Mom? Can I go talk to Mr. Green?"
    Julia nodded. Her son had struck up an instant friendship with the senator's campaign manager. She watched Danny go, then settled back in her chair with a sigh. She wasn't looking forward to her next encounter with Adam.
    "Mrs. Carmichael?"
    Julia turned around in her seat. A pudgy, pasty-faced man in his mid-twenties stood behind her. He wore a press badge clipped to his breast pocket and clutched a skinny notebook.
    Immediately wary, Julia crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes?"
    "I'm Howard Jenkins, of the Times. I'd like to ask you a few questions."
    Julia frowned and shook her head. Even she wasn't green enough to make the error of speaking to a reporter. "I'm sorry, that's not possible. You'll have to contact Tom Brannon, our communications director."
    The reporter's eyes narrowed unpleasantly. "Tom's pretty close-mouthed when I mention your name."
    Julia shrugged. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I can't help you."
    Jenkins lowered his voice. His tone was confiding, but also slightly confrontational. "Mrs. Carmichael, there's some talk that your marriage is -- well, rather nontraditional. Some of my sources say you didn't even know the senator before last week. Is that true?"
    Julia struggled to keep her expression bland, but her insides twisted nervously. "No comment. Now, if you don't mind --"
    He leaned closer. "Mrs. Carmichael, you'd better believe I'm going to find out what's going on here. I'll be watching every move you and your 'husband' make. I think I understand your game, and when I can prove it --"
    "Mr. Jenkins. How nice to see you again." Adam materialized behind Julia and caught her arm in a vise-like grip. He spoke with a smile on his face, but his silky-smooth voice failed to conceal a dangerous edge. "I hope you're not bothering my wife."
    The reporter blanched and took a step back. "No, sir, of course not. Just trying to get my questions answered."
    "In that case, you can call my office tomorrow." Adam pulled Julia tight against him. She felt the coiled anger in his body, and hoped it was aimed at the reporter rather than at her.
    Incongruously, Adam flashed his most charming smile. Before she could protest, his lips brushed her cheek. Confusion and desire coursed through her veins. "I hope you'll excuse us, Mr. Jenkins," Adam said. "My bride and I are eager to spend some time alone, as you can well imagine."
    "Sure, I understand," the reporter said. He looked flustered and intimidated by Adam's towering presence, but he watched them go with a sullen expression. Julia felt certain that she hadn't seen the last of him.
    Adam pulled her away to a semi-private corner of the room. Again, his fingers tightened on her upper arm. "Where's Danny?" he demanded.
    "He's with Phil, over there by the podium. Adam, you're hurting me."
    He relaxed his grip, but his eyes still flashed dangerously as he moved closer and nuzzled her cheek. Julia shivered as his mouth approached her ear and his warm breath teased the strands of hair that fell forward onto her face. But his words were not the words of a lover. "What did you tell that reporter?"
    Julia pulled away. "Nothing!" The single, furious word drew stares. She took a deep breath, pasted on a smile, and lowered her voice. "I didn't tell him anything."
    Adam glowered at her. "Don't lie to me, Julia. I saw the two of you talking. You looked pretty cozy for a minute there."
    Although his distrust made her blood boil, Julia forced herself to remain calm. "I said 'No comment,' Adam. That's all."
    He relaxed a fraction, but he kept hold of her arm. "Do me a favor. Stay away from reporters altogether, will you?"
    Again, Julia forced herself to speak calmly. "All right, Adam. On one condition."
    His brows made a questioning arch. "It's a