Chapter 6
Matt braced hishands against the granite countertop and lowered his forehead until it touched the cold stone. He longed to bang his head against it until he knocked himself unconscious, but then he’d just have to clean up the mess when he woke up.
He’d been on a conference call with Ben and several donors for the past forty-five minutes, and if it went on a minute longer he would have to findsomeway to put himself out of his misery.
As the men yammered, Matt walked over to the wet bar and, in a show of supreme strength, managed to bypass the scotch. As he poured himself a glass of mineral water, he let out a deep breath and tried to pull it together. These donors were eager to contribute to his campaign, and for that alone they deserved his undivided attention.
Yet for most of the call his mind had been focused solely on Tamryn. She had been in town for just over two weeks, but Matt could barely gotwo minuteswithout having her face pop up in his head. For the past three nights he’d fallen asleep thinking about that kiss they’d shared after his campaign rally Friday night. He couldn’t think of a single thing that was sweeter than her kiss, but it hadn’t been enough to sustain him. He wanted so much more.
For days Matt had tried to pinpoint just what it was about her that turned him on so damn much, and last night he was sure he’d finally figured it out. Despite the fact that she had initially contacted him specifically because he was a Gauthier, when it came to the undeniable attraction simmering between them, she saw beyond the name.
He’d spent a lifetime dealing with women who were more interested in the clout they erroneously believed came with being a member of the Gauthier family than they were in getting to know him as a person. But Tamryn didn’t look at him that way. She saw just Matthew. It was different. Refreshing.
The fact that she was sexy as hell didn’t hurt, either.
“Matt? Matt!”
Ben’s irate voice knocked him out of his musings.
“What?” Matt answered.
“You want to provide some input?” Ben asked. “What did you think of Donnelly and his partner?”
Matt had no idea the other men had left the conversation. He’d pretty much tuned them all out shortly after the conference call began, but it had been long enough for him to come to his own conclusions about Alfred Donnelly.
“I think he would be waiting outside the door to my office in the state capitol building the morning I take the oath of office, ready to list his demands,” Matt answered, walking over to the fridge and retrieving the cold pizza from last night. “I don’t want donors who are looking for favors, Ben. I want people to support me because they believe in the work I want to do.”
“You’re in Louisiana. Don’t think you can have a life in politics without doling out a few favors.”
Matt squelched a sigh. How had he ended up with Ben as his campaign manager? Their philosophies were totally different.
He checked the time on the microwave and decided that he’d had enough of this for today. “Look, Ben, can we finish this a bit later? I have an appointment I’m late for,” he lied.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ben drawled. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that I talked to your dad yesterday.”
Matt’s spine went ramrod straight. “Why are you talking to him?”
“Because he knows what it takes to run a successful campaign,” Ben answered.
Matt took the phone off speaker and put it up to his ear. “You can put that out of your head right now,” he said. He started to pace between the kitchen island and the refrigerator. “There’s no way in hell I’ll allow any part of this campaign to be influenced by Leroy Gauthier. He has zero say in how my senate run operates, you hear me, Ben?”
“I don’t get this, Matt. What in the hell do you have against your father? He’s a respected appellate court judge who won his seat by one of the biggest landslides in the history of the courts. Most candidates would kill to have an ace like that in his back pocket.”
“I’m not most candidates. Leave him out of this.” His tone brooked no argument.
“Fine.” Ben’s exaggerated sigh was like that of a twelve-year-old who’d been told to clean up his room. “If you don’t want to take advice from someone who’s been in your shoes before and came out victorious, that’s your choice. I personally think it’s the wrong choice—”
“I don’t care what you think. Not when it comes to this.”
“You’re the candidate. But when you come to realize how much of a mistake this is, you take full ownership of it,” Ben said. “Tomorrow we’re doing prep for the first town hall meeting. Remember that.”
“It’s on my calendar,” Matt said. He ended the call, but continued to pace for several minutes in an attempt to calm down.
It wasn’t working.
“Dammit,” he whispered.
He’d told Ben from the very beginning that he didn’t want his father anywhere around this campaign. Leroy Gauthier might have fooled the people in this town into thinking he was a stand-up, trustworthy pillar of the community, but Matthew knew him for the deceitful, cheating fraud that he was. His father was a Gauthier through and through, an amoral bastard who didn’t care about anyone but himself.
