“Signage interruptus,” someone offered, causing the vultures to chortle malevolently.

A brief smile lifted his lips. Madison had wagged her finger at him and said, “You couldn’t wait for the H and the R, could you?” And no, he could not. He wanted everyone to know what he thought of Sam, and if it was spelled out in letters of his own making, all the better.

“He’s welcome to remove those starting letters at any time—at his own expense of course—but if he never gets to finish that sign it will be as clear as a Chicago morning in spring who owns the building anyway. Pretty damn appropriate for such an expression of ostentatious manhood, I think.”

That sent the vultures into peals of laughter.

“Hey, Mr. Mayor, how many proposals today?” Kenny Fiedler again. He must be running a book on it.

“No idea, Kenny. Been otherwise occupied.” He was already moving toward the door, with a renewed spring in his step. “That’s all I’ve got for today, ladies and gentlemen. See you tonight at the debate.”

 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Fifteen hours later, a considerably less spry version of Eli finally made it home. His muscles protested every move, blunted from what felt like years on the campaign trail. The alarm didn’t beep to tell him it was armed, but he knew John, one of his security detail, was here with Shadow.

He walked into the living room and his heart lifted clear through the roof.

Alexandra.

She lay sleeping, sprawled on his sofa, not in the least bit ladylike. Jackie O she ain’t. The dog bed had been pulled up to the end cushion and Shadow was curled up with the eye not covered by a patch trained on his sofa mate. Watching her, keeping her safe.

Shadow loved Alexandra Dempsey, and Eli knew exactly what that felt like. He sat down beside her, and the motion was enough to turn her in to him. She nuzzled into his neck.

“You’re back,” she whispered, sleep-husky. “How did the debate go?”

For fuck’s sake. “You didn’t even watch it?”

She smoothed away his indignation with a kiss. “Politics bores me. Wiped the floor with the opposition, I assume.”

“Sure did. I thought one of the security guys would still be here. Didn’t you have a shift at the bar?”

She breathed deep from his skin, like she was storing his scent for another day. It made him think about a time when he might not have her—some horrible, apocalyptic future ruled by love-destroying zombies when he would have to live on memory fumes.

“Beck covered for me. I couldn’t bear to leave my brave little guy.” She rubbed behind Shadow’s ears. “I think he likes me a little.”

“He’s crazy about you.”

The TV was on, but muted. A very tanned, very naked man sporting a spare tire that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Mack truck was walking around a nice house with a clipboard in his hands. “What are we watching?”

“Buying Naked. Nudists trying to find real estate and society’s acceptance. It’s stop, drop, and watch television.”

“It is?”

“Everything on TLC is. They have the best shows. I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant!, Sister Wives, Alaskan Women Looking for Love, Sex Sent Me to the ER—”

“That’s not a real show.”

“It is, and it’s as awesome as it sounds. Skydiving accidents midcoitus. Ball gags used in a manner that’s off label. You know, the usual.” She stroked his jaw. “Poor Eli, look at all you’ve been missing while achieving world domination. I didn’t make banana bread, by the way.”

“Okaaay.”

“I wanted to take care of you when you came home,” she explained. “I was going to make banana bread. That’s what my mom used to make as a special treat, especially when something big was happening for one of us.”

His heart left his body right then and wandered around in a state of confusion. “Honey, that’s so sweet. But if you think that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach you’re aiming too high.”

She laughed. “I fell asleep, which is probably for the best because I can’t cook anyway. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m not the homemaker type. ”

Perhaps not, but she made his house a home, just by her presence here. He kissed her eyelids, her nose, each of her cheeks, her lips. Shadow turned on those sad brown eyes, seeking attention, so Eli stroked the rough patchwork of fur on his head and spent a moment soothing him. Soon his heavy head dropped and his drug daze sent him to doggy dreamland, where Eli hoped there were cats to chase and bacon to eat.

If this were any more perfect, he would think it was a setup. He had been a beast in the debate, answering on his strongest areas with authority, deflecting on the issues where he was weak. At home, Shadow was on the mend and Alexandra was here in his arms where she belonged. Eli Cooper was winning at fucking everything, and it couldn’t get better.

But it could get a whole lot worse. He was a liar and a master manipulator. She knew some of it and seemed to accept it as the day-in, day-out of politics. Part of the game and his need to dominate every aspect of his life. But the things she didn’t know—what his father had done, what Eli had done—would send her packing, for sure. No more cozying up on the sofa to watch dumb TV shows. No more coming home to this.

To his heart.

“I had this weird call last night,” she mumbled sleepily.

“Hmm,” he hummed in her hair. Sleep was overtaking him at a rapid pace.

“From a film production company. Molly Cade wants to play me in a movie.”

“Who?”

“Molly Cade? Oscar-nominated actress? America’s sweetheart? Well, she used to be before her husband dumped her and took her to the cleaners. Apparently she’s making a firefighter movie this summer in Chicago and they want to rework the script to include episodes from the life of yours truly.”

He chuckled. “There’ll be no living with you once your life is immortalized on the silver screen.”

A shadow flitted like a dark-winged bird across her face, perhaps because his words implied a future together. After all they’d been through, surely she saw the inevitable. Jackie O she ain’t, but Alexandra Dempsey would very soon be Chicago’s First Lady.

The brass ring was within his grasp, the victory so sweet he could taste it.

“I actually had two odd calls.”

“Let me guess, you’re to be awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.”

She giggled. “Not this year. But that’s okay because a girl needs something to strive for.” Concern replaced playfulness in those sink-into-me green eyes. “A reporter called asking about your father. Something about an investigation into him by the U.S. Attorney’s Office before he died.”

Every muscle in Eli’s body locked up as if superglue was hardening in his veins. Madison had mentioned a call to her office earlier and he had dismissed it as a desperate dig by the opposition.

“They wanted a comment and I told them to call the mayor’s office. You must get so sick of all these hits against you. They’ll try anything to bring you down now that you’re so close.”

Unavoidably, his gaze attached to the bookshelf display, the one with his University of Chicago graduation photo, the shot of his team in the Marines, Eli shaking hands with the president of the United States a month after he took office at city hall. His proudest moments. And beside them was the Weston Cooper Justice Award.

He’d left it behind at the gala, his only concern that night convincing this woman to let him worship her in his bed. One of his security team had retrieved it. On discovering it thrown haphazardly on his kitchen counter, Alexandra had marveled that it wasn’t taking pride of place in his home, so she’d put it there. And now it shone malevolently, those scales of justice mocking every single one of Eli’s achievements.