Diana Palmer - After Midnight

“I’ve heard all about you over the years. They say you’re one of the brightest young hostesses in politics. I might have recognized you in one of those designer gowns you wear. Insiders say you’re the brains and drive behind your brother. But you don’t look so tough to me.”

“Pneumonia will make the toughest of us mellow, just briefly,” Nikki said, inclining her head. “So it’s war, is it?”

“That’s how I fight,” Kane returned, ramming his hands deep into his pockets.

“Fair enough. But there’s one condition. No mudslinging.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You know better.”

She felt her face color with bad temper and her own hands clenched together. “No mudslinging about what we did together,” she said, forcing the words out.

He wanted to hit her where it hurt most. She’d made a fool of him.

“We had a one-night stand,” he said. “And I’m not running for public office. If I were, you might actually worry me.”

Nikki had once been warned, Men love in the darkness and are indifferent in the dawn. Now that phrase came back to her with vivid force….

“Diana Palmer is a mesmerizing storyteller who captures the essence of what a romance should be.”

—Affaire de Coeur

Dear Reader,

After Midnight was first published in 1993 under my own name, Susan Kyle. I am delighted to see it back in print again. For those of you who have read it previously, this reprint is from my original manuscript. Many scenes that were deleted, particularly those dealing with Cortez and Phoebe, have been reinstated. In other words, this is not the book you read before, although the research and the time period—1993—remain intact. I have not updated the political atmosphere, or anything else, having preferred to leave the book in its time period, before the tragic events of September 11, 2001, which changed us all forever. If you bought After Midnight ten years ago, I hope you will enjoy revisiting these characters and this less stressful period of our history, with the extra scenes. If you have never read it, I hope you enjoy it.

I wish all of you happiness.

I am your fan,

(alias Susan Kyle)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Seabrook had been the Seymour family’s vacation spot for twenty years. It was a beautiful small community island offering a marina, golf course, a private club and a welcome break from the hectic pace of the resorts.

This particular stretch of it was connected with some of the wealthiest Charleston families. Nicole Seymour didn’t have a million dollars, but the Seymour name granted her entry into the wealthiest circles of society as only the oldest South Carolinian names could. This beach property had originally been purchased by her father on speculation. But when the planned community started taking shape in 1992, he held on to his acreage and built a cottage on it for family vacations. At his death, it had gone to Nicole and her brother, Republican Congressman Clayton Myers Seymour, Representative of the First Congressional District of South Carolina.

The Seymours of Charleston were one of the most respected families in the state and it wasn’t surprising that when Nikki’s brother had first announced his candidacy for the House of Representatives seat from his district three years ago, he was immediately supported by the local Republican vanguard. He was elected without even a runoff in the general election two years ago, to Clayton’s surprise and Nikki’s delight.

Nikki’s social standing made her the perfect hostess for Clayton. During his three years in Washington, D.C., her brother had done a good job. So had Nikki, helping to curry favor for him, because she had a knack for presenting unpopular points of view. She was in the process of organizing dinner parties and reelection fund-raising galas for Clayton. He’d just announced his candidacy for reelection, and it promised to be a tough race. Clayton not only had Republican opposition from his own party, but the field of Democratic candidates included Sam Hewett, a well-known and liked businessman who had a virtual empire behind him, not to mention the clout of a very dangerous tabloid paper out of New York. In fact, Sam’s campaign administrative assistant was one of the sons of the tabloid owner.

Nikki had just put the finishing touches on the organization of another gala for Clayton in Washington, D.C., in September, after the general primary election. She hoped with all her heart that it would also serve as a celebration of Clayton’s hoped-for victory in the primary. Those preparations, coupled with her participation in the world-famous Spoleto Festival in Charleston had exhausted her. She was weak from a bout of pneumonia that she’d just recovered from. Now that the festival was almost over, Nikki was recuperating at the family retreat. Clayton wouldn’t need her for a few days and she relished the peace and quiet of the beach house. This particular section of the island was fairly isolated, dotted with only a few houses, most of which were very old and belonged to families with old money. The two surrounding the Seymour cottage were owned by families from other areas of the state, and were usually unoccupied until late June.

She stretched as the sun beat down on the deck where she was comfortably sprawled on a padded lounger. She was tall and slender, perfectly proportioned. Her body was as sensual as her slanted pure green eyes and the bow curve of her pretty mouth. She sparkled when she was happy, an enchanted columnist had said by way of description—and despite her height, she had the mischievous disposition of a pixie. With her thick black hair cut in a wedge around her soft oval face, she even had the look of one. But behind the beauty was a quick mind and an impeccable reputation. If others thought her a bit too wary and cautious, Nikki knew these qualities had helped thwart political enemies when they laid traps for her brother.

Her small breasts lifted and fell slowly as she lay breathing in the delicious sea air. It was early June, and unseasonably cool. A lot of renovation had been done since Hurricane Hugo passed through Charleston and the coastal areas in September of 1989, and Nikki and Clayton’s beach house had been one of the ones damaged by high winds. Although they had made the most necessary repairs, many decorative accents had yet to be restored. Unlike many of their neighbors, the Seymours didn’t have unlimited funds from which to renovate. Nikki and Clayton were working on a five-year plan to restore the beach house to its former glory.

The sound of a float-plane caught her attention. She shaded her eyes and watched its silvery glitter as it landed not far from her house. This area had no shortage of tycoons. In fact, Kane Lombard had recently bought the old Settles place a few houses down the beach from Nikki and Clayton’s, not far from where the plane had landed. Lombard was a Houston oilman who headed a conglomerate which included Charleston’s newest automobile manufacturing company. Nikki had heard that personal tragedy seemed to follow the man, culminating months ago in the violent death of his wife and son in Lebanon during a business trip.