of disguise to indicate where the story had come from. Third, the woman hadn’t given an interview. If this were the familiar get-rich-quick scheme, she would’ve been in front of the cameras talking about emotional damage. Her photos would be picture-perfect. Instead, they were using a mug shot from the college website, and the Twitter photos were even worse. Could this be the real deal? She’d seemed genuinely distressed when he found her.
He clicked on the BlackBerry again and eagerly read the email he’d been waiting for. The plastic squeaked as he sank deeper into the couch. It can get worse.
The bedroom door opened and Kat emerged, closing it softly behind her. She was even paler than before, and far more beautiful in person than in the pictures on TV. Her blue eyes were clear and expressive, her long blond hair haloing her delicate face. A naturally beautiful woman who would be stunning if she was done up right. Yet he could tell she wasn’t the type to make sure her nails were polished, hair blown to perfection and clothes immaculately pressed. She wasn’t someone you put in front of the cameras.
“So?”
He already knew what she was going to say, but he needed to hear her version of it.
“Can I get you some coffee?”
He raised an eyebrow then stood.
“I’ll help you make it.”
“No, you sit here. I’ll be right back.”
He thumbed through the remaining messages on his phone. He’d made a rookie mistake. He should’ve sent an unknown staffer to deal with this. Yet something about her picture had gotten his spidey senses tingling and he’d decided to deal with it himself. In hindsight, he realized that if the media found him here, in her house, the story would gain even more steam. He’d already taken a chance driving her from the college. Even with his hat, he couldn’t be sure someone hadn’t recognized him. Kat needed to make a statement, and soon. He didn’t have time for coffee.
Thankfully, Kat returned quickly with two mismatched mugs. She handed one to him. “I have cream and sugar if you’d like.”
He shook his head. He’d learned to drink his coffee plain black. Hard to deal with creamers and sugar packets while on the go.
“So?”
She sighed and leaned back into the squeaky couch, wincing at the sound. He expected her to take her time, but she got to the point. “The senator and my mother were married thirty-six years ago. Briefly. She left him then discovered she was pregnant with me. By then the divorce was final.”
His deputy, Crista, had just unearthed all this. The senator was such a public figure, having always put his life and family in front of the media, that Alex hadn’t bothered to dig much deeper before Roberts entered the national stage. Like the media, he’d thought the man was already well vetted and that any skeletons would have been dug up a long time ago. Another mistake.
Her face was now ashen, her eyes large and luminous. She wrapped her hands around the coffee mug and he saw waves in the liquid.
His leg jerked. He wanted to tell her it would all be okay. Except it wouldn’t. Her eyes shone and she stared into her coffee. Then a sound outside caught his attention. Great!
He flew to the window and pulled the drapes across it. She looked up, splashing coffee on her hands.
“What’s going on?”
“They’re here. You need to close all the blinds.” He kicked himself for not asking her to do that first thing.
To her credit, she didn’t let the panic clearly visible in her eyes overwhelm her. The cup clattered as she set it down and ran to the bedrooms. He drew the venetian blinds on the skinny window next to the front door, then walked into the tiny kitchen and did the same.
“How did they find my house?” The accusation cut through the air as she emerged from her mother’s bedroom.
“Probably the same way my assistant just discovered that Senator Roberts and your mother were married for exactly eight months and it was the first marriage for both of them.”
Eyes widening, she stepped backward, pressing herself against the door frame. They were both standing in the kitchen and he suddenly realized how much of the small space he was taking up. Excusing himself, he walked past her and back to the living room couch. This wasn’t the standard situation, but there was an easy answer—one that would get him out of here and back to work on the things that mattered.
“Listen, obviously you don’t want the publicity any more than we do.”
“You’ve got that right,” she muttered, sitting across from him and crossing her arms.
He leaned forward and gave her the smile he usually reserved for female heavyweight donors. Using his classic move, he reached out to take her hand. As soon as their fingers touched, she pulled back like she’d been burned and gave him a look that implied he had cooties. A nerve in his left eye twitched. Okay, then. We aren’t going to be friends.
“Then it’s simple. Have your mother make a statement that you’re not Senator Roberts’s daughter and we’re done.”
Her head snapped up. “You want her to lie.”
“Versus...what?”
“Versus telling them it’s our private matter and they need to stop harassing us.”
He stared at her. Was she really that naive? Then again, she was a college professor. His deputy, Crista, had briefed him on the articles she’d written. Kat was an idealistic academic who had no idea how things worked in the real world.
“You say that, and the story continues. They start interviewing your neighbors, students, Facebook friends, Twitter followers...everyone you’ve ever spoken to.”
“Why would they—”
“People you hardly know will come out of the woodwork with a charming—or nasty—story about you and your mother. Think about how many people want to get on national TV. This is their chance. Have you ever cut someone off in line? Left a bad tip at a restaurant? True or not, people will have all kinds of stories about you. Just look at how many Tweets your students sent.”
If possible, her face went even whiter, the color completely draining out of it.
“I’m not worth that kind of attention, surely...”
He stood and lifted the edge of the curtain. She gasped. There were no less than ten trucks blocking the street and a bunch of reporters crowding onto her front lawn.
“Any second, they’re going to come banging on the door. The only reason they haven’t yet is they need to get their cameras ready and the uplinks to their networks established.”
This time he went and sat next to her on the love seat. She moved slightly but didn’t get up. “They’re not going away. You’re the story of the day, and the only way to get them off your back is to tell them there is no story. Discredit it, and they’ll slink away.”
“I don’t want to lie.”
“Your birth certificate doesn’t have a father listed. There
