ready for this next challenge in his career. He’d dreamed of this moment.
“You have no idea,” Charles Butler said, grabbing his son’s shoulders. “You may not be announcing today, but rest assured the press is scrutinizing your every move. They didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. They know an announcement is forthcoming so you’ve got to be on top of your game.”
“The press are like vultures,” Reid Hamilton chimed in. “They are always looking for a crack in your facade.”
Of course he would agree, Jonathan thought. Reid knew how to suck up to his father. Jonathan had never much cared for the man. Thought he was too smooth and slick, but his father had always thought the sun and moon shone on Reid.
“All done,” Dominique said, patting her son’s chest. He peeked over her shoulder. His mom sure made a damn good tie. Then again, she’d had years of practice.
“Thanks, Mom.” He softly kissed her cheek. “And I appreciate all the advice, guys, but I’m prepared for the challenges ahead.”
“Don’t let your arrogance stand in your way,” his father criticized.
“I’m not arrogant, Father,” Jonathan returned, picking up his speech notes and glancing over them. “I’m just confident in my abilities. How much longer?”
Just look at him, thought Reid, inwardly seething. So smug and so sure of himself. Who did he think he was? Reid glanced down at his watch. “The press conference will convene in about fifteen minutes.”
“Reid, could you give us a minute?” Charles asked his soon-to-be ex-chief of staff.
Once the door was closed, Charles laid into his son.
“All right, son. Before we go out there, is there anything you want to ask me?”
“Just one thing,” Jonathan asked. “How did you manage to do this job for so long?
Charles Butler chuckled. “A stiff stomach.”
Ciara was on her way to check the assignments board when Shannon stopped her later that morning. Ciara suspected it was because she’d missed the daily meeting. “Ciara, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Shannon said.
“Why? What’s going on?” Ciara asked excitedly. Maybe Shannon was finally giving her a story she could sink her teeth into.
“Becky started having some abdominal pains, so I sent her off to the hospital.”
“Oh no, what about the baby?” Ciara asked. Her colleague Becky was only six months pregnant. It would be much too soon for a delivery.
“We can only hope that she’s okay,” Shannon replied.
“Well, Becky will be in my prayers.” Ciara started down the hall, but Shannon stopped her.
“That’s good to know, but that isn’t why I was looking for you. Becky’s absence has left a hole on the political beat and I need someone to replace her quick.”
Ciara shook her head. Please not her. Ciara hated politics. It was as boring as a pile of rocks. Ciara had seen poor Becky going to the endless benefits, fund-raisers and rallies, and she wanted no part.
“Shannon, please.”
“Sorry, kid. No can do,” Shannon replied. “I need a reporter and you’re it. Congressman Butler is announcing he’s stepping down today and I need someone there like yesterday.”
“And that’s news?” Ciara asked.
Shannon rolled her eyes upward. The kid still had a lot to learn—news wasn’t all about homicides or weather disasters.
“I’m just joking,” Ciara replied. “When and where?”
“At Independence Hall at 11:00 a.m.”
Ciara glanced down at her watch. It read ten o’clock. “Thanks a lot, Shannon. That sure doesn’t give me any time.”
Shannon shrugged her shoulders. “Then I guess you had better get a move on it, hadn’t you?”
When Shannon turned and walked away, Ciara rolled her eyes upward. She would show that witch what she was capable of and then Shannon would be begging her to take the top anchor’s spot. Grabbing her notepad and tape recorder, Ciara went in search of Lance.
An hour later, she pushed her way through the crowd of reporters to get a prime location for Congressman Butler’s resignation speech at Independence Hall. “Excuse me. Excuse me.” Lance was right behind her, serving as a shield when some reporters gave her dirty looks.
“Okay, this is perfect,” said Ciara once they’d finally made their way to the front of the pack. “I want you to get a good shot of Congressman Butler.” They’d discussed what she was looking for and her expectations for the story on the drive over.
“Will do,” Lance said, focusing his camera on the podium. “Have you heard that his son may be running for office?”
Ciara turned around to face him. “Yes, I’d heard that rumor, but nothing’s official yet. Though I’m sure he’s a shoo-in. He comes from a political family with a spotless reputation.”
“Have you seen him before? I heard he’s quite attractive,” Lance teased. He knew how Ciara enjoyed pretty boys.
“Hmmm, I doubt he’s all that,” Ciara commented. “Those political types are always stiff fuddy-duddies.”
“Is that right?” Lance asked as the Butlers took the opportunity to appear at just that moment. Ciara would sure be surprised though because Jonathan Butler was a far cry from one of those political types. Matter of fact, he looked exactly like Ciara’s cup of tea.
“Well, of course.” Ciara whirled around, but when she did she nearly lost her balance because the drop-dead gorgeous Jonathan Butler was not a stiff fuddyduddy at all, but the sexy mystery man from last night.
Ciara was completely thrown as the Butlers stepped onto the podium. Charles was first, standing center stage, while his wife, Dominique; son, Jonathan; and campaign manager, Reid Hamilton, flagged either side of him. Several female reporters nearly pushed her aside as all eyes focused on the handsome specimen of a man standing in front of them.
Charles Butler approached the mike and gave a brief speech that summarized what the press already knew—that he’d enjoyed his tenure in office, but after twenty-five years he was stepping down due to angina.
Ciara heard none of it though because her heart was thumping so loudly in her chest, she could hardly think.
How could her one-night stand be Jonathan Butler? It hardly seemed possible. Maybe she should make a fast exit before he noticed her.
Lance looked down at his counterpart, saw how fixated she was on the dazzling politico and asked, “What was it you said about political types?”
Ciara blushed. “Ummm, I don’t remember,” she lied. She knew exactly what she’d said, but that statement didn’t apply to a man like Jonathan Butler. He was an enigma,
