Her Secret, His Duty

Chapter 6


That morning the pink mug had been front and center in the cabinet where Debra would have sworn it hadn’t been the morning before. The mystery of the mug’s reappearance had set a discordant tone for the beginning of the day.

Yesterday afternoon Dr. Gina Finnegan had confirmed what Debra already knew, that she was about six and a half weeks pregnant. After Dr. Finnegan had done the blood work and physical, discussed vitamins and handed Debra a pamphlet about pregnancy, Debra had asked about forgetfulness being a part of the condition.

“We’ve coined a term for it here in the clinic,” Dr. Finnegan had said with a laugh. “Pregnesia...the condition of absentmindedness that comes with all the hormonal changes due to pregnancy. Don’t worry, most of my patients tell me it goes away by the second trimester along with any morning sickness you might be suffering.”

Dr. Finnegan had set her due date around the third week of August. A summer baby, Debra had thought. It would probably be a long, uncomfortable July but it would be worth it. By summer’s end she’d have a precious bundle of joy to love.

As she sliced potatoes for a cheesy scalloped dish to go with the pork chops, she tried not to think about the evening ahead, an evening where she’d be sharing dinner, sharing private time and conversation with Trey.

It was a cold gray blustery day and she’d built a fire in the fireplace despite her concern that it might look too romantic. There was nothing she liked better than a roaring fire on a wintry day while she worked in the kitchen and she’d decided she didn’t care what he thought, it was just a good day for a fire.

It was just before five and both the potatoes and the pork chops would take about an hour to cook. The table was already set for two with her good black-and-red dinnerware and she had a salad made and in the refrigerator.

The smoky bourbon barbecue sauce smelled like heaven and half of it was in a saucepan ready to be reheated and poured over the chops when they were finished cooking. The other half of the sauce was marinating the meat.

All she had to do was put the two baking dishes into the oven and then take a shower and dress for Trey’s arrival at six. She had all the paperwork ready for him to look at to make the final decisions on the setup of the ballroom and that’s what the meeting was all about.

It had been his idea to do it over dinner. It was strictly a business dinner, she reminded herself over and over again throughout the day.

Once they went over those last final details there would be no reason for her to meet with him again until possibly the night before the event.

She would be there the night of the dinner, not as a guest, but she’d arrive at the hotel at least an hour or so before things got started to make certain that everything had been handled properly, that the evening was set perfectly for Trey’s special night.

Fifteen minutes later she stood beneath a warm spray of water, far too eager for the night to come. It was wrong of her to want to see Trey, to see him seated at her table across from her. It was wrong of her to want to hear his deep, smooth voice talking just to her. More than anything it was wrong on every level for her to want him again.

He belonged to Cecily. They were so right together. Debra might carry his baby, but nobody would ever know that. She would never screw up his dreams by telling him about her condition because she knew he was the kind of man who would have to do something about it and that something would destroy all of the goals he had for himself.

He was a Winston, bred for business and politics. He deserved to have winners surrounding him. He deserved to have a winner as a wife and that woman was Cecily. He definitely didn’t need a mousy, efficient woman like Debra in his life.

By the time she dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved navy fleece shirt, she felt as if she had all of her emotions under control. They would enjoy a good meal, discuss business and then he would leave.

Once the dinner party at the Regent was finished, she would see him only rarely when he came to visit his mother. Even then it was possible they wouldn’t run into each other often at all.

Her emotions remained cool and calm until six o’clock when her doorbell rang. She answered and with a slightly nervous smile invited him in. She took his coat and hung it in her foyer closet, noting that he had dressed casual, as well.

Trey Winston wore a suit like he’d been born in one, but he looked equally as hot in a pair of slightly worn, tight blue jeans and a navy-and-white-striped sweater that emphasized the broadness of his shoulders.

“Something smells delicious,” he said as he followed her into the kitchen where she gestured him to a chair at the table.

“Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells,” she replied. As with the last time he’d been sitting in her kitchen, she felt as if the walls closed in and got smaller with his very presence in the room. He emanated such energy, commanded all the space around him.

She was grateful she’d done most of the work ahead of time because she suddenly felt clumsy.

“Let me help,” he said, and jumped out of his chair as she opened the oven door to take the baking dishes out of the oven.

“Okay, knock yourself out,” she replied and handed him two pot holders. She’d nearly tripped just carrying the salad from the refrigerator to the table. “You can just set the pork and potatoes on top of the hot pads here.” She pointed to the two awaiting pads on the counter.

She stepped back and watched as he maneuvered the two large dishes onto the counter next to the oven. He smelled so good and as he moved his sweater pulled tightly across his broad shoulders. She averted her gaze, not wanting to care about the way he looked or remember that scent that he’d worn when they’d hooked up on that fateful night.

He pulled the tin foil off the dishes and sighed in obvious delight. “This all looks amazing.”

“Wait for it,” she said as she pulled the saucepan of bubbling sauce from the stovetop and poured the last of it over the pork chops. “There’s enough bourbon in here I’m not sure we’ll need before-dinner drinks,” she said jokingly. “We’ll be half-snookered by the time we finish eating the sauce.” She flushed as she remembered that half-snookered was what had put her in the condition she was in.

“Why don’t we just bring our plates over here and dig in straight from the baking pans?” he suggested. “No need to be formal on my account.”


“Okay,” she agreed, grateful that she didn’t have to attempt to take the two hot dishes to the center of the table. That was just a disaster waiting to happen.

“Other than cooking, did you have a busy day or were you able to rest up a little on your day off?” he asked as he grabbed the two red-and-black-patterned plates from the table and rejoined her by the stove.

“Actually, I managed to sleep a little later than usual and then I cleaned a bit. I even managed to work in a little reading so it was a fairly restful day.”

She waited for him to snag one of the thick pork chops along with a large serving of the cheesy potatoes. “What about you? Busy day?” she asked.

“Not too bad at all. I feel like today was the calm before the storm. Chad is already busy working to fill every minute of my schedule.”

She smiled. “But everyone in town knows he turns out winners.” Chad was a household name in the city of Raleigh among the political crowd.

Trey carried his plate back to the table while she served herself, eternally grateful that she didn’t drop a chop on the floor or dribble cheese potatoes down the front of her.

Once they were both seated and Debra took out the salad and dinner rolls, they both dug in. “These pork chops are to die for,” he exclaimed after his first bite.

She smiled with pleasure. “Thanks, I was hoping they would come out tasty.”

“Do you generally invite people over to share in your Sunday culinary delights?”

“Barry used to occasionally join me but since we broke up, never. I cook for myself because I enjoy it and it’s the one hobby I have time for one day a week.”

“Between your work for my mom and now for me, we’ve been keeping you too busy.”

“Not at all,” she protested. “I love my work. I adore your mother and I can’t imagine doing anything else. I’m doing what I always wanted to do.” Except for being a mom, she thought. That would soon be added to the things she loved.

With the thought of motherhood, the sight of Trey so masculine and handsome across from her and with a flash of sudden visions of their hot and wild night together all swirling around in her mind, she attempted to grab a roll from the center of the table and bring it to her plate, but nearly dropped it to the floor.

“That was a close one,” he said with a grin.

She flushed. “Lately I seem to be suffering episodes of extreme clumsiness. So if I happen to flip a chunk of lettuce or a cherry tomato across the table at you or drop a roll in your lap, please don’t take it personally.”

“Will do,” he said with a cheerful smile.

“So, are you all geared up to work with Chad? I’ve heard he’s a rough taskmaster.”

He laughed and shook his head ruefully. “I’m ready for whatever Chad brings. He has some great ideas and I’m excited to have him on my team.”

All that was important to Debra was that she keep her secret. What was important was that Trey maintain his pristine reputation because for him the sky was the limit.

She had to keep her pregnancy as far away from Trey and his campaign as possible. She knew what his adversaries would do to him if they knew he’d slept with his mother’s assistant and now that assistant was pregnant.

They would massacre him.

* * *

Dinner conversation remained light and pleasant and the meal was better than any Trey had ever enjoyed in a five-star restaurant.

Afterward he helped her clear the table and she suggested they drink her special mint hot cocoa in the living room where she had all the paperwork ready for him to make some final decisions about the ballroom decor.

As they sat side by side on the sofa with the paperwork on the coffee table in front of them, he realized he wasn’t ready yet to talk business. What he wanted to talk about was her.

“You know, you’ve worked for my mother for years and yet I realized the other day that I know so little about you and about how you came to work for Mom. Did you grow up here? Are your parents still alive? I’ve never heard you mention anything about family.”

She leaned back against the black sofa, the dark background making her hair look lighter and her large eyes more green than ever. “Yes, I was born and raised right here in Raleigh. My father is alive, although I’ve only spoken to him once in my entire life.” Her eyes darkened slightly.

He leaned toward her, sensing pain trapped someplace deep inside her. “And why is that?”

Her beautiful eyes darkened even more and a crease danced across her brow. “My father is a highly successful businessman who is married and has two children who are just a couple of years older than me. My mother was his mistress for about six months before she got pregnant. He tried to pay her off to have an abortion, but I think my mother thought that I’d be worth more if I was alive, so she had me and she and my father came to an understanding.”

“An understanding?” Trey fought his desire to move closer to her, to take one of her hands in his and offer her some sort of support. While her story was not completely uncommon, especially in the world of politics and successful, egomaniacal businessmen, that didn’t make it any less ugly.

She gave a curt nod. “My father would financially support us as long as my mother and I never mentioned his name, never went public and ruined not only his image, but also his happy marriage. For me, my father was a once-a-month check in the mail that kept a roof over our heads and food on the table.”

“That stinks,” he said softly.

Her lush lips curved up slightly in a wry smile. “Yeah, it did. But what’s equally as bad is that the support money allowed my mother the freedom to continue her party-girl lifestyle.”

She paused to take a drink of her cocoa and eyed him somberly over the rim of the cup. “Having an alcoholic mother made me grow up pretty fast. She died the year I graduated from college in a drunk-driving accident. She was the drunk driver.” She set her cup back down and Trey couldn’t stand it any longer, he reached out and took one of her hands in his.

Cold and small, he thought as he held tight in an attempt to warm it. “I’m sorry, Debra. I’m sorry that’s the life you were dealt.”

She squeezed his hand and then pulled hers away. “They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and in this case maybe it was true. I realized early on that I would not be following in my mother’s footsteps. I studied hard and during my free time I watched on television whenever Congress was in session. That’s when I first saw your mother, when she was serving out the last of your father’s term. I fell in love with her politics, with her style and strength. I researched everything I could about her and when I was ready I went to my father and told him all I’d ever ask of him was for him to somehow arrange for an interview for me to intern for your mother.”

She paused and drew a deep breath. It was the longest monologue Trey had ever heard from her. “And so he got you an interview with Mom,” he said.

“No, he said he’d do what he could do, but I knew by his dismissive attitude that he wasn’t going to do anything. So, I began a writing campaign to Kate. I wrote to her once a week, telling her why I’d be perfect working for her, what I would bring to the table as a valuable employee. I quoted bits and pieces of her speeches and told her why they had resonated with me.” She smiled. “I think she finally decided to interview me to cut down on her mail. Anyway, she took me on and I’ve never looked back since then. I don’t have any family but I feel like after all these years your mother has become my family.”

Trey had a feeling there was a lot of ugliness in her early life that she’d left out of her story. Having an absent father and being raised by an alcoholic mother had to have been more than just a little difficult.

“So, the truth of my past is that I’m just the illegitimate daughter of an immoral businessman, who, rumor has it, is doing some shady business, and an alcoholic mother who wound up killing herself in an accident of her own doing,” she finished. There was no bitterness in her voice. It was just a simple statement of facts.

“Those are just the circumstances of your birth and early life, but that doesn’t begin to describe who you are now,” Trey said, unable to hide his admiration for her. “I was lucky, I had a great role model in my mother, but my dad certainly tarnished the family name with his many affairs.”

“The pitfalls of public service,” she replied. “Sometimes I think most of the men in Washington have women on the side. A lot of them eventually get caught with their pants down, but a lot of them never get caught.”

“I won’t,” he said firmly. “I mean I shouldn’t have with you. I’m a one-woman man and when it comes time for me to marry, I won’t cheat. I saw what my mother went through when the scandal about my father broke. I saw how his lies and cheating broke her heart. Besides, despite what happened between us, I believe in monogamy—one man, one woman and a family.”

“Your mother rode out that scandal like the strong lady she is and went on to become vice president,” Debra replied. She eyed him soberly. “And I believe you’re cut from the same moral cloth as she is and that’s why you’ll be a great senator, a man who others will admire.”


For several long seconds their gazes remained locked. Trey had never wanted a woman as badly as he did Debra at this moment and he was certain he saw a spark of desire in the depths of her eyes, as well.

She was the one who broke the gaze with an uncomfortable laugh. “We’d better get focused on the work. After all, that’s why you’re here, to pin down all the final details on your dinner event.”

“Of course,” he replied, still fighting the intense desire she had stirred inside him without even trying. Why didn’t he feel this mind-numbing desire to touch, to taste, to make love to Cecily whenever he was with her? What was it about Debra that shot such heat through his veins and made his mouth hunger for hers?

He focused on the papers Debra shoved at him, papers showing tablecloths and dishes, silverware and glassware, but they were all a blur as he heard the snap and crackle of the fire in the fireplace, smelled that dizzying scent of Debra and imagined making love to her on the bright red throw rug in front of the warmth of the fire.

“Trey?”

He turned and stared at her and snapped out of his momentary vision of her naked and gasping beneath him. “Yeah, I think we definitely want classic white tablecloths.” He placed the paper with tablecloth colors to the side and stared at the dishware.

She leaned toward him, only making his concentration more difficult. The plates all seemed to blur together on the page, making it impossible for him to form a coherent decision.

“I think maybe the white plates with the black rims might be nice,” she offered after a moment of silence from him. “They look bold and masculine. It wouldn’t be a choice I’d usually make, but since this night is all about you, I think they’d be perfect.”

“Done,” he replied and moved on to the silverware page. What should have been easy decisions had become difficult with her seated so close and muddying his thoughts.

“These,” he pointed to a set of plain silverware with tapered ends and moved on to the last page. “And these glasses.” He set the paperwork down and reached for his cup, hoping a jolt of cocoa would wash all the inappropriate thoughts of her out of his mind.

“Good,” she said with a wide smile as she gathered the paperwork together and set it on the end table next to her side of the sofa. “Now all we have left to talk about are the centerpieces and whether you want an official podium or not.”

“Not,” he replied immediately. “I figure my speech is only going to be about fifteen minutes long and I’ll deliver it from my place at the head table.”

“Okay, then I’ll make sure we have a cordless microphone ready for you to use,” she replied. “And the centerpieces?”

“I’ll leave that to you, maybe something in black and white and crystal, but I don’t want anything big and ornate. It’s irritating to sit at a table and try to talk to somebody across some big plant or fancy centerpiece that is three feet high.”

She laughed and again a burst of desire washed over him. She had a beautiful laugh, rich and full-bodied. He picked up his cup again, needing to keep his hands busy so they wouldn’t reach out for her.

Other than that single moment when he thought he’d seen a spark of want in her eyes, she’d given him absolutely no indication that she’d be open to having anything to do with him other than on a business level.

He knew that he was here now only because he’d invited himself. Knowing her history with her mother, he was sure the last thing she’d want for herself was to become another quick hit for him on his way to his future.

And he didn’t want that, either. She deserved better than that and it was completely out of character for him to even think of such a thing. It didn’t fit with his vision for his future, it didn’t speak to the kind of man he thought himself to be, the man he wanted to be.

It was bad enough that they’d already made a mistake, sleeping with her again would only compound the error. He turned his attention to the dancing flames in the fireplace.

“I’ve got five fireplaces in my house and have never burned a fire in any of them,” he said.

“It’s one of my guilty pleasures,” she replied. “I order a cord of wood in the fall so that I can enjoy a fire whenever I want to through the winter, although I rarely burn one during the week. How’s Cecily doing?” she asked, as if reading his thoughts and needing to mention the name of the woman he was certain to marry.

He turned his attention from the fire to her. “Cecily is fine. She’s excited about what she jokingly calls my coming-out party. She knows I’m going to declare my intentions to run for the Senate on the night of the dinner and then hold a press conference to follow up. Which reminds me, I have one more guest to add to the list for that night.”

Debra frowned. “It better be somebody important because I’ve almost finished a draft of the seating arrangements.”

“It is somebody important. It’s you. I want you to be there.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be there well ahead of time to make sure that everything is in place for a successful night for everyone,” she replied.

“That’s not what I meant,” he protested. “I mean I want you there as an invited guest.”

“Oh, Trey, I don’t think—”

“It’s what I think that is important here,” he interrupted her. “I want you there as my guest, Debra. It’s important to me. You’ve done all the work, it’s only right that you enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

“I’ve enjoyed working on this project,” she said, as if that was enough.

“That’s nice, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want you there in attendance through the entire thing. If you don’t have anyone to bring as a guest, then we’ll seat you next to Chad Brothers at one of the tables. He’s already told me he’s coming alone and you’ll find him an entertaining companion who will regale you with stories of titillating political scandals and missteps that will make for fun entertainment.”

He saw the hesitance in her eyes but pressed on. “Please, Debra. For me. Put on a fancy dress and your dancing shoes. I’ll feel better giving my speech if I can look out and see your friendly face in the crowd.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll come.” She said the words as if he’d placed a great burden on her, but her eyes glittered as if secretly pleased.

“Great. It’s going to be a terrific night thanks to all your help. I know you got roped into this because of Mom, but I want to let you know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done to assure the success of the evening.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” she replied, her cheeks dusting with a faint blush.

“And I imagine that once this night is done you’ll just have time to barely catch your breath and Mom will announce.”

One of Debra’s light eyebrows shot upward. “Has she told you she’s definitely going to run?”

“Not specifically, but she did mention that she’s been invited to speak at a chamber of commerce Valentine’s Day ball and I have a feeling that’s when she’ll make her big announcement.”

“It’s all so exciting,” Debra said.

He nodded. “Exciting days for the Winston family. And now I should probably get out of your hair and let you enjoy what’s left of your night off.” He stood, oddly reluctant to go, and picked up his cup.

“Just leave that,” she replied. “I’ll take care of it.”

He put his cup down and walked with her to the foyer where she pulled his coat from the closet. He shrugged it on. “Just think, in about two weeks’ time you’ll be the belle of the ball.”

She laughed, that low and husky sound that stirred every sense he owned and surged desire through his veins. “I certainly doubt that, but I will enjoy being there.”

“I think you underestimate yourself, Debra,” he replied. She opened the door and he took one step out and then turned back to her, unable to halt the impulse he knew he’d later regret.

She gasped in surprise as he drew her into his arms and took possession of her mouth. She stiffened for just an instant and then melted against him, her mouth opening wider to invite him in.

She tasted just as he remembered, sweet and hot as their tongues met, moving together in an erotic dance of pleasure.

He wanted more from her, much more. He wasn’t sure where his desire came from, but it burned through him like a white-hot fire. It was she who broke the kiss, stumbling back from him with wide eyes. She raised a hand and touched her lips and then dropped her hand to her side.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Trey,” she said, her voice trembling slightly and holding a faint touch of censure.

“Yeah, I know.” Without saying another word, he pulled his coat collar up more tightly around his neck and stepped out into the cold night.