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"
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send me
" She opened the lid. "Strawberries."
—
The basket was rich with them
plump and moistly red. Their scent drifted up with
—
memories of the sun-warmed field they'd been plucked from. Shelby lifted one and held it under her nose, savoring.
"Wonderful," she decided. "Really, really wonderful. Myra plucked one out and bit it neatly in half. " Mmm ." She popped the rest into her mouth. "Aren't you going to read the card?"
Still holding the berry, Shelby lifted out the plain white envelope, balancing it in her palm as if testing the weight. She turned it over, held it up to the light then turned it back to the front. "Shelby!"
"Oh, all right." She ripped open the seal and drew out the card. Shelby,
They made me think of you.
Alan
Watching her carefully, Myra saw the surprise, the pleasure, and something that wasn't regret or wariness but had aspects of both.
"Anyone I know?" she said dryly when Shelby didn't speak.
"What?" She looked up blankly, then shook her head. "Yes, I suppose you do." But she slipped the card back into the envelope without saying. "Myra." The name was on a long drawn-out sigh. "I think I'm in trouble."
"Good." She gave Shelby a smug smile and a nod. "It's about time you were. Would you like me to drive my cook crazy and add another name to my list for dinner tonight?" Oh, it was tempting. Shelby nearly agreed before she stopped herself. "No. No, I don't think it would be wise."
"Only the young think they know anything about wisdom," Myra stated with a sniff.
"Very well, then; I'll see you at seven." She chose another berry before she picked up her purse. "Oh, and Shelby, pack up that lamp and bring it along. Just put it on my account."
She'd have to call him, Shelby told herself when she was alone. Dammit, she'd have to call and thank him. She bit into a berry so that the juice and sweetness exploded inside her mouth
a sensual taste, part sun, part earth. And she remembered how Alan's taste
—
had exploded inside her mouth.
Why hadn't he sent her something ordinary like flowers? Flowers she could have passed off and for gotten. She looked down into the basket, filled with berries brilliantly red and begging to be tasted. How did you deal with a man who sent you a basket of strawberries on a spring morning?
He'd known it, of course, she decided abruptly. A man like him would be a quick and clever judge of people. She felt simultaneous twinges of annoyance and admiration. She didn't like to be read so easily but
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…
Leaving the lid open, Shelby reached for the phone.
Alan calculated he had between fifteen and twenty minutes before the Senate was called back to the floor. He'd use the time to review the proposed budget cuts. A deficit that edged uncomfortably close to two-hundred billion had to be trimmed, but Alan viewed the proposed cuts in education as unacceptable. Congress had already partially rejected the sought-after domestic spending cuts, and he felt he had enough support to influence a modification on the education snipping.
There was more on his mind than deficits and budgets, however. Though it was the spring following an election year, Alan had been approached by the Senate Majority Leader. He'd been carefully felt out by an expert at saying nothing while hardly pausing for breath. It didn't take magic for Alan to conclude that he was being considered as the party's hope for the next decade. But did he want the top rung?
He'd thought about it
he wasn't a fool or without ambition. Still, he had believed if he
—
ever decided to take a grab at the presidential brass ring, it would be in another fifteen, perhaps twenty years. The possibility of making his move sooner, at his party's urging, was