No Way Out, Page 3

  Connor pressed his palms together, feeling an overwhelming sense of frustration. The bottom line was, Stephen's compulsion wasn't going away. It peaked and ebbed, depending on the pressures in his life. And the people closest to him had to peak and ebb with it, acting as his crutch, helping him survive while hiding the ugliness from the public eye—and from Harrison Stratford.

  That was becoming harder and harder to do.

  "All taken care of," Stephen announced, scooting back into his seat "I didn't miss anything, did I?"

  "Apparently not," Connor muttered.

  Stephen shot his brother a sideways look. "It was a business call."

  "Really." Skepticism laced Connor's tone.

  "Yes. Really." Stephen turned his full attention to the game. "So chill out."

  Again, Connor bit back his concerns—for now. But this subject was far from closed. He'd originally intended to head back to the city after Brian's game was over and a victory celebration had been shared. But the behavior he'd just witnessed had changed all that. Now, his plan was to stay through the afternoon, go back to Stephen's house, and find a few minutes to talk to his brother alone—whether or not Stephen was in the mood for a heart-to-heart.

  * * *

  The final score was 7-2, with Brian's team—and his curve ball—emerging the victors.

  Julia cheered and whistled as Brian accepted his teammates' back-slapping and high fives. He deserved the praise. He'd pitched an amazing game, even driving in two of the seven runs. She felt a tug of pride as he broke up his group of celebrating teammates, leading them over to slap hands with their opponents in a customary display of sportsmanship. Even at his tender age, Brian never forgot to consider other people's feelings. That was a trait that would carry him long after his enviable pitching arm had faded into a fond memory.

  She watched his team disperse, her heart warming as he darted over to his family, who'd climbed down from the bleachers to wait for him. His mom, a graceful, slender woman with sleek blond hair and a radiant smile, hugged him tightly, squatting down to say something that made him beam. And his dad, Mayor Stratford, was right behind her, tugging at Brian's baseball cap and smiling a proud, paternal smile.

  He'd barely said three words to Brian before the press descended.

  "Mr. Mayor, how does it feel to have a champion pitcher in the family?" Julia heard one pushy reporter ask, bearing down on the mayor in a way that clearly indicated this was just her lead-in question, to be closely followed by the questions she really wanted to ask.

  Stephen Stratford smiled that charming smile that could melt an iceberg. He was an astonishingly handsome man—tall, broad-shouldered, with jet-black hair and sapphire-blue eyes that altered from warm and welcoming to shrewd and insightful. With those incredible looks, natural charisma, and impressive family connections, he'd probably manage to get elected to the state senate without anything more. But he did have more: an impeccable five-year record as mayor. After a full term and then some, he'd proven himself to be an outstanding leader, one who'd significantly improved Leaf Brook's economy, its schools, its parks, and its environment In Julia's mind, he was a shoo-in for the senate. And he wouldn't stop there. Julia had a strong feeling that the next decade would see Stephen Stratford advance from Albany to the U.S. Senate in Washington, D.C.

  "Hello, Cheryl." He was greeting the overbearing reporter, retaining his good humor despite the intrusion on his family time. "If you'll give me a minute to congratulate my son, I think you'll see how I feel." Without waiting for an answer, he turned and gave Brian a huge bear hug. "Great game, ace," Julia heard him say. "And great curve ball."

  "Thanks." Brian was grinning from ear to ear. Interesting how he scarcely seemed to notice the press. Julia supposed he was just used to having them around. With a bigger-than-life grandfather and father and an entire family who was constantly in the news and the public eye, being hounded by reporters was probably par for the course, even for a seven-year-old. Still, Julia herself couldn't imagine living in the spotlight that way.

  On a different note, though, she could completely identify with his current frame of mind. He was flying on his win. She chuckled inwardly as he jumped around, incapable of standing still, too filled with energy and excitement. He zipped away from his parents, rushing over to give a rousing high five to the other tall man who was with them.

  Connor Stratford.

  Julia's smile faded a bit as that unnerving awareness set in, along with the resulting confusion, neither of which she could shake, both of which plagued her only around Brian's uncle.

  This was what her mother had picked up on the other night, the "something" she'd perceived as an obstacle to whatever might or might not develop with Greg. Chemistry, she'd said. Well, maybe. More like unwelcome fascination, in Julia's opinion. Unwelcome fascination without any basis whatsoever, other than physical attraction.

  Yes, Connor Stratford was good-looking—very good-looking—in a hard, arrogant sort of way. And he had a personality to match. Well, she hated arrogance. It was enough to turn her off to any man, handsome or otherwise. At least, it always had been. It didn't seem to be working that way in this case. Why not, she hadn't a clue. All she knew was that she'd met Connor Stratford just a handful of times, yet each and every time, he'd managed to throw her off balance.

  She lowered her gaze, trying to understand her unprecedented response to a man who, on the whole, she didn't even like.

  It was hard to believe he and Stephen Stratford were brothers. Oh, physically it was obvious. They looked a lot alike, feature for feature. Same dark hair, same height and build, same blue eyes. No, actually, different blue eyes. The mayor's were a vivid, brilliant blue, warm and open. His brother's eyes were lighter, more of a blue-gray, veiled and unreadable. They matched his personality—aloof and guarded, coolly enigmatic, with a brooding sort of intensity Julia couldn't begin to relate to, which seemed to hold all human contact at bay.

  As if that wasn't enough, he was a venture capitalist—a fancy name for someone who invested money to make more money. Like his father's, his name appeared regularly in the financial columns, articles that recounted windfalls he'd made, the details of which Julia couldn't begin to decipher, much less understand. All she knew was that at age thirty-five, he'd already made millions, which he chose to reinvest in bigger and more lucrative ventures.

  What a waste. At least Mayor Stratford had opted to use the advantages life afforded him to make a difference, to give back and make the world a better place. He dealt with people. His brother dealt with cash. That notion left Julia cold. Connor Stratford left her cold.

  Most of the time.

  Then she'd watch him with Brian, and she'd see an entirely different man, one who fed into her irrational fascination. His wall of reserve would lift, his arrogance would vanish, and he'd light up like a Christmas tree, all warm and vital. Clearly, he was crazy about his nephew, and Brian's love for his uncle was nothing short of hero worship.

  Now was a perfect example of that.

  "Wasn't it an awesome game, Uncle Connor?" Brian was demanding.

  "Beyond awesome," his uncle assured him, returning his high five and grinning that rare grin that transformed his entire face from chiseled to magnificent "You're one step from the pros. Give it another year. Two, tops." He winked. "On the other hand, maybe you better stay in school. That way, your mind will be as sharp as your arm."

  The reference to school seemed to remind Brian of something. And Julia had a sinking feeling she knew what—or who—that something was.

  Sure enough, Brian spun around, his gaze darting toward the set of bleachers where she still stood. He found her, and his eyes gleamed. "Miss Talbot!" he bellowed, waving. "Miss Talbot! I'm over here!"

  Julia felt Connor's stare shift until it fixed on her. She swallowed, wishing she could disappear. Automatically, she waved back at Brian, racking her brain for a way to slip off without joining them. There was none.

  Yes, there was. The pres
s. They were converged around the mayor like a swarm of bees. And she didn't want to intrude.

  Nancy Stratford closed off that avenue of escape.

  "By all means, join us, Miss Talbot," she called out, gesturing her over. "There's no victory celebration without you."

  On wooden legs, Julia complied.

  "Mr. Mayor." One determined reporter was addressing him. "I know you support the funding of after-school programs for kids. Would you advocate those programs on a state level?"

  "Definitely," Stephen replied in that smooth, confident voice that said he knew exactly what he was talking about. "Not every family has the financial means to send their children to private after-school programs, whether those programs are sports, arts, academic, community service, or social in nature. It's up to the state to make those programs available to all families." He shot a quick smile in Julia's direction. 'Thanks for the curve-ball lessons. They really paid off."

  "Any time." She smiled back, squatting down to give Brian a warm hug. "You were sensational."

  "Thanks. Say hi to Uncle Connor."

  Why did kids always manage to zero in on exactly what you wish they wouldn't?

  Resigned, Julia stood, raising her chin to meet Connor's coolly assessing stare. "Nice to see you."

  "You, too." He gave a tight nod. "I hear you did some great last-minute coaching."

  "It wasn't necessary. All Brian needed was another loud set of lungs to cheer him on. I provided that."

  There were the same clipped sentences and strained discomfort that underscored all of their exchanges.

  Julia was dying to get out of there.

  Brian had other ideas. "Once Dad's finished talking, we're going out for ice cream," he announced. "Oh, and lunch, too. Can you come?"

  Julia gave a rueful shake of her head. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I've got lots of spelling tests to grade, and I'm meeting a friend after that."

  The last part was a mistake. Julia knew it the minute she saw Brian's eyes light up with interest.

  "What friend?" he demanded. "Miss Haley?"

  "No, sweetie, not Miss Haley," Julia replied, torn between amusement and a desperate urge to extricate herself. She should have anticipated this. Robin Haley was the computer teacher at their elementary school, and, yes, she and Julia were friends. It followed suit, then, in the eyes of a second grader who couldn't visualize his teacher having a life outside school, that all her friends would have to be found there. So Robin was the logical choice as the friend she must be meeting.

  It was also the wrong choice. And Julia had no intention of setting Brian straight by telling him she had a date—and certainly not with whom. Greg worked with the mayor. She taught the mayor's son. It was an awkward coincidence, one she'd prefer didn't become the topic around the water cooler.

  "Not Miss Haley?" Brian pressed, on cue. "Then who?"

  "Brian, I think you've asked Miss Talbot enough questions for one morning." It was Connor who saved her, although his tone was more amused than censuring, and Julia got the distinct impression that he enjoyed watching her squirm. He leaned over, hissing in his nephew's ear. "You're starting to sound like one of them." He jerked his head ever so slightly in the direction of the reporters.

  Brian rolled his eyes and shared a grin with his uncle. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry, Miss Talbot."

  Julia had just opened her mouth to reply, when the reporter named Cheryl turned in their direction. "Mr. Stratford," she said, addressing Connor. "My name is Cheryl Lager, and I'm with the Leaf Brook News. It's no secret that your father and you are the Stratford millionaires. So tell me, will you be contributing heavily to your brother's senatorial campaign? Or will most of the financial backing come from your father?"

  There was a heartbeat of silence, during which time Julia could feel a blanket of tension settle over the group. She glanced at the mayor and saw a flicker of surprised annoyance flash in his eyes, then vanish. His wife looked startled, stepping closer to her husband's side in a reflexive show of support. The rest of the reporters leaned in with great interest, glad they hadn't asked the question, equally glad someone else had.

  Connor's expression never changed, although Julia was standing close enough to him to see his jaw tighten.

  "Ms. Lager, I believe my brother will make an exceptional senator," he replied. "He has my full support in any way I can offer it, including financially, should it be needed. My father shares those sentiments, as I'm sure he'll gladly tell you." One dark brow rose. "Imagine that. A family investment in a candidate's campaign. A refreshing concept, wouldn't you say? Sure beats campaign financing from special-interest groups."

  There were a few titters, and for an instant Julia thought the taut moment had ended.

  But Cheryl Lager wasn't ready to throw in the towel. "In theory, yes, that sounds commendable. But it occurs to me that, given your numerous business interests, you might have a few ideas of your own on how state finances should be allocated."

  This time, she got a reaction. Connor's features went rigid, and the glare he aimed at her was positively lethal. "My ideas—and my ethics—are mine and have no place in this election. Further, they're not up for sale, for discussion, or for compromise. Does that answer your question, Ms. Lager?"

  "Apparently, it does." She backed off, sensing she'd overstepped her bounds.

  "Uncle Connor," Brian tugged at his arm. "Why do you look mad? I thought we were celebrating."

  Something inside Julia snapped. Maybe it was the ugly, unwarranted line of questioning, and maybe it was the fact that Brian's victory was being shoved aside by an insolent reporter going for a few cheap, political shots. "We are" she heard herself say. Placing a hand on Brian's shoulder, she added, "Do you know, now that I think about it, I have enough time for a quick ice cream cone. Besides, I have a favor to ask your dad." She inclined her head quizzically at Mayor Stratford. "I was hoping he'd come in and talk to our class about running for office. Class elections are coming up, and we need lots of help."

  "You've got it." The mayor's smile returned, but it seemed forced, and he looked distinctly unnerved. So, for that matter, did his wife. And Connor Stratford was drawn so tight, Julia could almost feel him vibrate.

  "Great. Thank you," she replied, addressing the mayor. "Then maybe we can pick a date while Brian picks a flavor."

  "Good idea." It was Connor who spoke, breaking in as if he'd had enough. "No more questions this morning, folks," he flatly informed the reporters. "We're on family time. So, if you'll excuse us ..."

  There was no arguing with that tone. The press complied, gathering up their things and disbanding.

  "Thanks," Stephen said quietly to his brother. There were dots of perspiration on his brow.

  "Yeah." Connor stared after Cheryl Lager, his jaw still working with anger. "She was sickening. But who am I to argue with freedom of the press?" His head swung around, and he shot his bf other a quick, hard look. "Then again, we should expect more of that, right?" Without waiting for a reply, he averted his gaze, his demeanor softening as he tugged at the rim of Brian's baseball cap. "Come on, ace. We've got some celebrating to do."

  "Miss Talbot, too," Brian reminded him.

  Those frosty blue eyes flickered across Julia's face. "Yes, Miss Talbot, too. But only for a quick cone. She's got spelling tests to grade, and you and I have lots of catching up to do."

  "Okay," Brian agreed. Clearly, the thought of spending time with his uncle was enough to offset his disappointment over the brevity of Julia's visit. "We're going to the Big Scoop," he informed her. "It's my favorite."

  "Mine, too," she agreed.

  "I'm starving." Brian gazed expectantly at his parents. "Can we go now?"

  Stephen Stratford was staring off into space, his brows knit in concentration.

  "Stephen?" His wife squeezed his arm.

  He blinked, recovering himself in a heartbeat. "Sure, we can go. Everybody's set? Then we're on our way." Beckoning to the group as a whole, he looped an
arm around his wife's shoulders and headed off toward the car.

  Connor paused, his lids hooded as he watched them go. "Do you have your car?" he asked brusquely.

  Since she was the only other adult standing there, Julia had to assume he was talking to her. "Yes."

  "Good. That way, you can get going whenever you need to."

  He planted a hand on Brian's shoulder and led him toward the parking lot.

  Julia held back a moment, struck by the tension still crackling in the air.

  Connor Stratford hadn't even tried to hide the fact that he was eager to get rid of her. But this time, it had nothing to do with the odd vibes that existed between them. This time, it had to do with his family, with his brother.

  This time, something was wrong.

  * * *

  4

  April 2

  Elbows propped on his desk, Stephen massaged his temples, wishing the phone would ring, wishing his gut instinct would pay off. He needed this win. He needed something good after the lousy weekend he'd just been through. First, that pain-in-the-ass reporter on Saturday, followed by an inquisition from Connor. Then, Sunday, finding out his pick had fallen through, big time. All culminating last night in a knock-down, drag-out fight with Nancy.

  She was worried about him. Connor was worried about him. The whole damned world was worried about him.

  If they'd all just go away and leave him alone, he'd be fine. He knew what he was doing. He was always on top of things. After all, he was a Stratford, right?

  Bitterly, he pushed his chair away from the desk, swiveling it around so he could stare out the window. Five stories below, the city of Leaf Brook moved briskly through its morning. The bub that surrounded the City Municipal Building was hopping. Business people zipped off to work, parents drove their kids to school or day care, and shoppers carted their groceries home from supermarkets.

  It all looked so simple.

  Maybe for some people it was.

  His cell phone rang. Stephen snatched it up. "Yes?"

  "No good. The team didn't make the trade."