Judith McNaught - Remember When

If there was one thing she had learned about her husband in the last few days, it was that, for a man who was supposedly ruthless and unscrupulous, Cole Harrison had some very strong personal convictions about which he was not willing to negotiate.

"And somehow," she speculated with a twinge of fear, "you think you can do something about all that tomorrow?"

"I may be able to demonstrate all that."

Diana didn't know how, and she was afraid to find out for fear it would worry her even more.

Instead she said, "You told me what you won this morning; what did you give up?"

"If I insist on making an opening statement, I have to give up my right to plead the Fifth Amendment."

"'Plead the Fifth Amendment,'" Diana said with a shudder. "It makes you sound like some mobster."

That made him grin. "I've been treated like a mobster. And that," he whispered, nipping her ear, "is what happens when nobodies from nowhere make it into the major leagues and start playing with the guys in the Brooks Brothers suits."

"You don't wear Brooks Brothers suits," she chided with a giggle as he continued to tease her ear.

"I know," he said with an unabashed grin. "And that's what pisses them off. They don't know how to deal with us. We're unpredictable. We're out of uniform."

In his place, Diana would have been frantic at the possibility of a trial and of being wrongfully convicted on some sort of circumstantial evidence and sent to prison. But Cole had such strength of purpose that it empowered him. He generated his own force and it swept people along with it.

Diana smoothed her fingers over his hard jaw. "Do you really know what's going to happen tomorrow?"

"No. I only know what can happen, and what I want to happen."

"What do you want to happen?"

He turned her face up for a kiss and said with a somber smile, "What I want to happen is this: I want to see your face on the pillow beside mine when I go to sleep and when I wake up. And more than anything else in the world right now, I want to give you everything you want."

"You?" she suggested and watched his gray eyes darken with tenderness.

"That, too," he whispered.

The phone rang and Diana reluctantly pulled out of his arms and reached out to answer it. Still in a lighthearted mood, she said, "You're the expert on human nature, tonight. Use your powers and tell me who this is."

Cole threw out the first name that came to mind. "Hayward," he guessed; then he had to hide his shock when he turned out to be right.

Diana covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "He wants to come up."

In answer, Cole shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded curtly.

Diana's brief fantasy that Doug would apologize and offer to have the hearing called off was not only beyond his ability to fulfill, it was beyond his consideration. Instead, the two men looked at each other like sworn enemies. Cole kept his hands in his pockets and merely lifted his brows in aloof inquiry.

Doug was equally distant. "I won't stay long," he said. "I've come to apologize to both of you for everything I said and did that was the result of what I believed happened to Barbara."

"Does that mean you're planning to get off my back?" Cole mocked.

Doug not only refused to consider that, he was angered by the suggestion that he should. "Not a chance," he said with biting scorn. "You've built an empire by swallowing up solid, reputable, old companies like Cushman who can't fight you because they can't survive your tactics."

"Are you really that sanctimonious, or are you just plain gullible?" Cole inquired in a deliberately insulting drawl.

Diana saw Doug's hands clench into fists, and so did Cole and yet Cole goaded him harder. "Isn't it interesting that you've forgotten to mention the people who profit when I take over—you know, the shareholders of those 'solid, reputable' companies with the lousy management and antiquated facilities that don't benefit anyone except the management at the top, who bleed off the profits before they can trickle down to the shareholders.

"You don't give a shit about my ethics or methods or motives. You need a high-profile conquest for your political image, and you made the mistake of selecting me. If I could prove to you that I'm guiltless on every charge you've gotten filed against me, you'd still press the issue tomorrow in hope the federal courts will rule against me."

"Does the term libel suit have any effect on you?" Doug retorted in a soft, deadly voice.

"Yes," Cole scoffed. "It evokes an urge to tell you to shove it up your ass."

"Stop it!" Diana cried, forgetting that Doug was no longer the same carefree youth who tried to teach her to drive a stick shift. "Cole is innocent of everything you believe he's done. I've seen the proof, dammit."

"He doesn't want proof," Cole said, sweeping Doug with a contemptuous glance. "He wants to make a reputation for himself."

For some reason, this time when Diana protested Cole's innocence, Doug faltered. "Are you saying that you can prove you did not start the rumors that drove Cushman's stock down to half its value?" he demanded.

Cole folded his arms over his chest and regarded him with more disgust than anger. "You're an attorney. You prove to me you did not tell any woman at any time in the last three months that she was pretty. Show me how you'd prove it."

Having made his point, Cole said, "The people who belong in front of a judge tomorrow are the Cushman brothers and all their cronies." Cole had meant to end the discussion there, but as he regarded Hayward, he realized there was something about the young senator's attitude that was —almost—genuine.

"Just out of curiosity," he added in a milder voice when Hayward turned and started to leave, "what would you do if I could prove to you that the Cushmans are as guilty as sin?"

Doug was completely convinced he was being manipulated by a master, but he was curious enough to stop and answer the question. "I would get the judge out of bed tonight to have him sign a subpoena," Doug stated clearly and concisely. "And then I would make it my personal quest to see that they went to jail, among other things, for misusing the U.S. government."

Cole was so amused by that choirboy speech that he decided to call his bluff, if for no other reason than to get a little petty revenge for the misery Hayward had caused Diana in the last two weeks. "You're completely sure that's what you'd do?"

"That is only the beginning of what I'd do," Doug bit out.

"In that case, follow me."

Cole took him to a room down the hotel corridor, where two well-dressed men appeared to be waiting for a friend who was inside. They stepped aside when Cole nodded at them. "I'm going to introduce you to Mr. Bretling," Cole said. "And Mr. Bretling is going to tell you all about your allies, the Cushmans, and their alleged wonder chip. After you talk to Mr. Bretling, I'm going to give you a look at Mr. Bretling's companion who's traveling with us. She's on the table over there, inside that jumbo-size, deep-dish pizza box."

At seven-thirty that evening, while Diana was changing clothes for dinner, she heard her husband and her childhood friend return to the suite. Unable to stand the suspense, she opened the door and peeked into the living room.

Doug looked extremely angry. He yanked the telephone receiver off its cradle, jerked the knot in his tie loose, and started making phone calls. Diana sagged with relief. The thought of using the fact of Doug's car accident against him had broken her heart. Besides being a truly dedicated and ethical politician, his problem with alcohol had been a rare metabolic allergy and not alcoholism.

Cole walked into the bedroom and slipped his arms around her, linking his hands at the small of her back while a lazy grin worked its way across his rugged features. In answer to her unspoken question, he said, "The senator would like to join us for dinner."