even a cursory shake of Walter’s hand, Hudson sprinted toward the door.
“WELL, I…” Vivian didn’t know what to say as she watched Hudson’s retreating back.
“He’s usually very steady.” Stu filled in the void.
“I’m sure he is,” Walter said. “I’m still free for lunch, Viv.”
From the day her husband had introduced Vivian to the tall, broad-shouldered politician, Walter had called her Viv. She’d always been Vivian to Hamilton, yet there was something about the way Walter said the nickname that she’d always liked. “Do you think Hud went after her?”
“If he wants to reenter politics, he better be hightailing it after her.” Walter gestured for Vivian to precede him out of Hudson’s office, then called his driver requesting he bring the car around.
“I’m sure he’ll set things right.” She still wasn’t sure she wanted Hud back in politics. Vivian was proud of Hud and the choices he’d made, but even she had to admit he came across as a stuffed shirt. It would take a lot to get him to loosen up.
Walter helped Vivian into her raincoat. After he smoothed her collar, his hands drifted down her arms in an intimate manner and then fell away.
Vivian froze. Walter was always such a gentleman. She’d probably misread the moment. They were friends. That touch…that touch was just supportive. What had they been talking about? Uh… “It takes a strong woman to go out in Jimmy Choos on a day like today with only a Spider-Man umbrella.”
“Most admirable.” Walter held the door and bid goodbye to Stu.
Vivian passed Walter, her walk unusually self-conscious. “How are your kids?”
“Healthy. Still married. Financially sound.” Walter reached in front of Vivian to press the elevator button. He had solid, strong fingers. “Now that the grandchild is talking, I’ve found he’s actually interesting.”
“Really?” Vivian suppressed her envy. With her husband and Samuel gone, her life was too empty. Not that she wanted it filled with politics again. She’d lost most of her friends in D.C. after Hudson stepped down, which just proved they weren’t really her friends. Vivian forced herself to smile. Walter didn’t deserve her melancholy mood. “You’re too young to be a grandfather.”
He chuckled, the textured sound filling her chest in an odd way. “I’m old enough to be a widower, as are you. Fifteen, twenty years ago when our kids were in high school we were old enough to be grandparents. We were just lucky, that’s all.”
“You don’t fit the mold of any grandparent I know,” Vivian said, stepping into the empty elevator, noting how thoughtful he was to have a hand on the door.
“Let me tell you about today’s grandparents.” Walter crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He was one of a few men from their generation who was considerably taller than she was. “Grandparents nowadays still vote, but they travel and go out to eat at nice restaurants, and every once in a while, if they’re lucky, they have sex.”
Just the word sex was enough to send Vivian’s pulse racing. She’d given up on the idea years ago and now Walter had reawakened a need. Vivian was going to have to check her medication because she had to be having a hot flash.
“IT’S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU.” Many women probably found Roger Bartholomew attractive, but his highlighted blond hair and average chin didn’t make near the impression on Rosie that Hudson’s presence did. Roger cradled Rosie’s hand in both of his smooth, pale ones without shaking it at all.
Rosie extracted herself and tried to lift at least one corner of her mouth in a weak interpretation of a smile. Still reeling from the awkward scene with the McClouds, Rosie needed Roger to be a stellar candidate. And quickly, because she had to pick up Casey early today. Once she settled into a chair across from Roger, Rosie looked up to find Hudson McCloud at the maitre d’ stand. Their gazes collided, sending her heart pounding.
He knows about Casey. Why else would Hudson be here except to demand visitation and subject Casey to the kind of media circus he’d grown up with?
Because he’s a conceited nuisance who wants to be mayor. Sanity returned, along with a steadier heartbeat.
“Would you excuse me, Roger?” Rosie hurried to the front of the restaurant, grabbed Hudson by the arm and tugged him over toward the restrooms out of Roger’s line of vision should he look. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re not finished with your assessment of me.” Hudson thrust his hands into his raincoat pockets. “We didn’t talk about my ideas for the city.”
“Don’t be a sore loser.” Even in her heels, Rosie had to tilt her head back to look at Hudson, to take in his determined expression on his much too handsome features framed by crisp, well-behaved dark hair. Although her time with Samuel had been brief, she’d appreciated the fact that the hair at the nape of Samuel’s neck curled uncontrollably and his nose was a bit crooked. Perfection like Hudson’s was intimidating.
“I won’t lose. I’ll just wait by the door for you to realize I’m a better risk than Roger.” True to his word, tall, dark and annoying went to stand in the foyer.
His political career was so over.
As she walked past him, Hudson leaned close. “What did you think of his handshake?”
Rosie didn’t want to admit that Roger’s handshake gave her the heebie-jeebies. With only two candidates on Walter’s radar, if Roger had other qualities that were marketable, Rosie was recommending him. Handshakes could be fixed. Personality flaws like Hudson’s could not.
“I’m sorry for the interruption.” Rosie arranged her napkin in her lap and looked about the table. “Didn’t we have menus?”
“I ordered for you while you were in the ladies’ room.”
Rosie tried to mask her irritation at Roger’s presumptuous behavior. “We’ve never met before. How did you know what to order?”
“I know what women like.” Something sexist dripped from each word and Roger’s smile was condescending.
If it wasn’t for Hudson McCloud standing watch, Rosie might have left. Instead, she vowed to get the upper hand. “Never presume, Roger.” Flagging down a waiter, Rosie requested a menu.
“I apologize.” Roger looked quite unattractive when things didn’t go his way.
Rosie was familiar with the French seafood bistro and knew what she wanted, but she still gave the menu a cursory glance before ordering an endive salad and lobster ravioli. “Why don’t you tell me why you want to be mayor?”
“My family settled in the city nearly one hundred years ago and it seems like a good place to start a political career.”
That wasn’t an answer. Rosie knew Roger lived off his family’s wealth rather than working, as Hudson did. According to Walter, his charitable contributions paled next to Hudson’s. She needed to uncover any advantage Roger had over Hudson. She tried again. “If you were mayor…” Rosie trailed off as she caught Roger’s attention drifting after a twiggy woman in a too-short skirt passing their table.
Roger gave Rosie an unrepentant grin, as if this were a common occurrence a female campaign manager wouldn’t find both insulting and problematic. “I’m always on the lookout for the next Mrs. Bartholomew. I’ve heard it’s easier to get into office as a married man than as a single one.”
Oh, pul-ease. Why had Walter set up this lunch? Roger was not politician material. Rosie didn’t need any more time to make that judgment, but she couldn’t bail with Hudson waiting. If she had to grin and bear Roger through lunch, she was going to need a glass of wine. Rosie held up a hand and signaled another waiter. At least the service at Plouf was excellent.
“Rosie?” Hudson appeared