the gate. “I don’t think any of the reporters noticed us.” Once through, he slowed the SUV. “I have to relock the gate.”
“I’ll do it.” Dana was out of the SUV in an instant. Undercover operatives usually didn’t have to fight off the glare of the tabloids to do their jobs. How in the world was she going to get through this mission?
“What do you suppose those reporters wanted?” she asked when she returned to the car.
Marc shrugged as he wound the car down a tiny tree-covered lane. “They’re probably waiting for Dad. He’s running for the Senate seat, you know.”
“Those guys looked like they were hot on the trail of a scandal. I have my doubts that they’re the standard political-beat reporters.”
After they’d driven a quarter of a mile up the private lane, she glanced around at the lush landscaping. The green lawn was manicured and trimmed. In the distance, the paved drive that led from the wrought-iron front gates to the main house could be seen, outlined by magnificent oak trees that were covered over by low-hanging mosses. The place looked like a picture postcard of the old South.
Only bigger and richer.
They topped a little crest and were surrounded by an orchard and the flower gardens beyond. The main house stretched out as far as she could see, and seemed to consist of three floors with at least two wings. To Dana’s mind, this place could only be called a mansion. Or maybe she would call it a fairy-tale castle.
Marc drove past gardening sheds and ended up in front of a ten-car garage located behind the mansion. “Hope you don’t mind if we go through the kitchen,” he said. “I don’t want to take a chance on running into any of Dad’s political buddies. They usually meet in one of the front rooms this late in the afternoon.”
“Kitchen’s fine with me.”
By the time they walked through an enclosed porch and then a series of mudrooms, Dana was nearly lost. The place was enormous, and the kitchen was big enough to feed a hundred people. With its professional-looking equipment, she was positive it was set up better than most restaurants.
Marc introduced her to the family’s cook, Florence, as they made their way to a swinging door on the other side of the big kitchen. “Where is everyone, Flo?” he asked.
Before the cook could answer, a paunchy man in his early fifties came through the door. “There you are.” He shook Marc’s hand and beamed at him from under his stock of thick dark hair and bushy eyebrows. “How are you holding up, son? You look tired.”
“I’m all right, Uncle Harry. But I’ll be a lot better when I find the proof to clear my name.” Marc turned to her. “Dana, I’d like for you to meet my uncle, Harold Danforth.”
The older man turned his kind blue eyes in her direction. “Ah yes. The FBI agent who’s going to help clear Marc’s name.” He took her hand. “I’ve heard you are quite capable. Thank you for taking an interest in my nephew. We’ve all been very worried about him.”
“Where’s Dad?” Marc asked his uncle.
“He and Nicola and Jake are in a last minute campaign strategy meeting in the library.”
Marc lowered his voice to a whisper. “What’s with all the reporters outside?”
“Nicola’s best guess is that John Van Gelder’s campaign forces have been spreading rumors that Abraham will be calling a press conference to announce he’s bowing out of the race.”
“What?” Marc asked with force. “But why? There’s hardly a month left until the election.”
Harold looked thoughtful. “I believe its supposed to be due to your arrest. The rumor mill apparently has it that Abraham is so embarrassed by your arrest that he doesn’t want the taint of your crimes to rub off on his good name.” He screwed up his mouth in a scowl. “Humph. As if there’d never been a Senator tainted by family scandals…or by their own personal crimes…for that matter.”
“Well, it’s just…ridiculous,” Marc sputtered.
He was about to say more, but his uncle laid a firm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t give it another thought, Marc. Of course it’s ridiculous. Your father has no intention of quitting. Abraham never quit anything intentionally in his whole life.”
Harold smiled up at his nephew, who stood a good four inches taller. “Your father knows you’re innocent of the charges, and it’s only a matter of time until that’s proven. We all know you’re innocent, Marc. And we want to help.”
Dana was stunned by the tender look she saw in Harold Danforth’s eyes when he spoke to Marc. She’d seen it twice before coming from the Danforths. Those times it had been coming from his brothers, Adam and Ian. And now that same loving look came from his uncle.
The obvious affection gave her a knot in the center of her stomach. Family. Oh, what she would’ve given when she was a child to feel anything resembling that tenderness from her own family.
Not only was Marc a world away from her by reason of his wealth and privilege. But he was also in a different universe when it came to knowing about family trust and honor. She stifled a sigh, quickly deciding that the two of them had nothing on which to build a relationship.
All those little tingles of connection to him she’d been feeling must’ve been coming from her imagination. Or perhaps…it had just been the lust talking. She’d never wanted a man so badly. Her body apparently was confusing desire with caring.
Well, it was time to go back to her job. No more daydreaming about someone who was on the other side of such a great divide.
“I’m on my way to find your aunt Miranda. We’ll be going out to the terrace in a minute to visit with our new daughter-in-law and grandson,” Harold told Dana with a smile. “Jake will be joining us shortly for dinner. He’s very anxious to put his two cents’ worth into any plan that will come to Marc’s defense.” Harold headed back inside the house.
Marc touched her elbow and led her out the way they’d come.
“Who’s Jake?” she whispered.
“Harry and Miranda’s son, Jacob Danforth,” he said under his breath. “He and Adam are the founders of the D & D Coffeehouse chain. Jake and his new wife have been helping with Dad’s campaign during the last couple of months, while most of the rest of us have been tied up with other things. Jake’s an absolute genius when it comes to PR and raising money.”
Dana followed Marc out into shadowy sunshine that was flooding the parklike grounds with golden stripes from a beautiful fall sunset. It was a good thing she had instant memory recall. Just keeping track of all the family members was a chore not many could handle.
* * *
“Marc!” Jake’s son, Peter, spotted them the minute they stepped onto the terrace.
The little boy threw down his toys and raced across the lawn toward them. Marc knelt on one knee and braced himself, spreading his arms out wide. Peter’s chubby little legs churned furiously as the boy shrieked and giggled, running full out. It was a game the two of them had played for several months now, ever since Jake had discovered that he had a son and married Larissa,
