Love Is Elected by Alyssa Howard Read Free Book Online Page A

so spacious-looking for a downtown," Kara remarked, gazing around at the wide green lawns interspersed with patches of natural woods and beds of red and yellow tulips and daffodils. The whole effect was bright and clean, and Kara found herself admiring the new city that would be her temporary home.
    A few minutes later Matt turned into a narrow drive leading to a small semicircle of starkly contemporary white town houses overlooking another lake.
    "This is where we live," Matt commented smoothly, emphasizing the
we
.
    "You mean this is where
you
live and where I'll be visiting," she retorted. His mouth tightened, and he gave her a dark, enigmatic look.
    "Have it your way," he replied at last. "But I think you'll like it here." While he took her luggage out of the trunk, she opened the door and stepped out. Staring up at the elegant town house, she was suddenly afraid. Where would she spend the night? she wondered, and what kind of a night would it be?
    But before she had an opportunity to ponder this question, she heard car doors open behind them, and shouts of "Mr. Jordan, Mrs. Jordan," greeted her ears.
    Turning in surprise, she caught sight of a mass of reporters scrambling to get pictures and interviews with the newlywed couple. Cameras were clicking and grinding, and questions filled the air. As the reporters vied for her and Mart's attention, Kara looked wildly for an escape route. But Matt handled the situation expertly. Raising one hand, he called for silence.
    "I'll answer all your questions inside," he said smoothly, "as soon as I've had an opportunity to get rid of these suitcases." Then Matt, looking cool and collected, headed toward the front door, Kara in tow, while the reporters followed behind.
    When he'd opened the door and set the luggage inside, a voice cried out, "Aren't you going to carry the bride over the threshold?"
    While the other reporters joined in the request, Matt gave Kara a hooded glance. A half-smile quirked the corners of his firm lips. In the next instant he had scooped her up and carried her into the spacious, high-ceilinged living room overlooking the lake.
    "Welcome home, Mrs. Jordan," he whispered into her burning ears as he held her tightly. Then, setting her down on the polished parquet floor, he turned to meet the newsmen.
    Cameras were grinding while reporters shot a barrage of questions at the candidate. Feeling nervous and foolish, Kara forced a tight smile while she listened to her husband field each volley like the practiced politician he was. Half an hour later he ushered the crowd of satisfied journalists out. The moment the door closed Kara collapsed on the couch and Matt settled his lean frame down beside her.
    "I don't know how you endure this," Kara muttered, forcing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "It's like living in a fishbowl."
    Matt leaned back on the couch and stretched his long legs. "It'll get worse before it gets better," he commented philosophically. "I'm a public servant and so I have to make myself available to the media. You can see why it's so important that my life be free of any hint of scandal just now."
    Kara made a face and turned her head from him. "Yes, your image is so important that you don't care who you trample on to protect it. I've certainly learned
that
in the last few hours."
    Matt was silent, seeming to turn her criticism over in his mind. He was preparing to say something to her when an antique grandfather clock in the corner chimed the half hour, distracting him.
    "Heavens, it's four-thirty," he cried, clapping a hand on his forehead. "I've got to call my mother and tell her about this before she hears it on the six o'clock news!" He jumped up and strode toward his study adjoining the living room. As he disappeared behind the door, he tossed over his shoulder, "Why don't you amuse yourself by having a look around while I'm trying to explain this situation to her. You can unpack while you're at it, too."
    "Not until I've found the guest