Someone To Believe In Read Online Free PDF

overreacted to a camera flash and
probably a car backfiring.”
    “Oh.” She still held on to him.
    “Turn around and go into the restaurant; find
the back way out. Use the kitchen if you have to. Scoot over to
your family’s pub.”
    “But why?”
    “I’ll call you and explain. Do it now unless
you want to have your face plastered all over the papers
tomorrow.”
    “Son of a bitch.”
    “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know why he did it,
but he kissed her hair. She froze, then slipped out of his grasp.
He waited till she was gone before he circled around.
    A small man of about thirty, wiry, and
dressed in jeans and a denim jacket held a camera up. He took
another picture. Clay shielded his eyes. “ The Village Voice , Senator. Who’s the
girl?”
    “None of your business.”
    “It’d be Lady Jane’s business.” Clay’s
not-so-significant other was dubbed “Lady Jane” because she was a
senator’s daughter and had been involved, off and on, with Clay for
a number of years.
    “Don’t you have something better to do...” He
waited for a name.
    “Hank Sellers.”
    “Mr. Sellers.”
    “The senator from New York’s big news.”
    “How’d you know I was down here?”
    “Just dumb luck, I guess.”
    Clay didn’t believe that for a second. But
who could have known where he was tonight? “You’re wasting your
time.” He nodded to the restaurant where Bailey had gone. “Not only
was that completely innocent and platonic, but even if it wasn’t,
my personal life is my own.”
    “Yeah, right.”
    “Do what you want. I’m leaving.” He stepped
into the street to hail a cab, forcing himself not to glance down
to Bailey’s pub.
    “Senator, wait.”
    Clay turned.
    “I’d like an interview.”
    He glanced at his watch. “At one a.m.? That’s
above and beyond the call of duty.”
    The guy nodded back to the Greek restaurant.
Clay got the message. If he didn’t give him something better to
print, the reporter would speculate about tonight. “Tomorrow. I
have a tour of the new women’s shelter on Twenty-first Street at
ten. Meet me there. We’ll talk after.”
    “Sure thing.”
    Clay shook his head. This was all he needed.
As he flagged down a cab and hopped in, he wondered what Bailey
O’Neil was thinking of him now!
     
     
    SOMETIMES, HAVING BIG brothers was a real
pain in the ass. They circled Bailey around the table and fired
questions at her like interrogators during the Spanish Inquisition.
The fact she’d hurried into the pub still wearing Senator
Wainwright’s jacket hadn’t helped. But, God, it smelled so good she
didn’t want to take it off. The place had emptied out, the music
had stopped, and they all sat around a small table.
    “He what ?” This from Patrick, the oldest and most
protective.
    “He threw himself in front of me. Literally.
I thought it was some kind of bomb or something. But it was a
camera flash that went off, apparently just as a car
backfired.”
    “He must have believed you were in danger.”
This from Aidan. “So he tried to protect you.” Her closest sibling
scanned the others. “I told you he wasn’t a complete jerkoff.”
    “Don’t mean nothing,” Liam put in. “He was
protecting his own ass from publicity. “ Though Liam was a scout
leader for his son’s and Rory’s troop, and mild-mannered, problems
with Bailey turned him into Mr. Hyde, too. She hated to upset Liam
the most, because he was still sad all the time about his wife’s
death a year ago.
    Bailey shook her head. “Yeah, guys, he
was covering for himself. After he realized what happened. But before that, he was a regular
Sir Galahad.” She tucked back hair that had escaped from her clip.
“Look, I don’t like it any better than you, but he did put himself
in harm’s way for me. Much as I’d like to, I can’t deny
it.”
    “What’d he want, anyway?” Dylan asked. “To
come down here.” All of them looked alike, but her third oldest
brother’s eyes were darker, almost