Page 5 of Where There's Smoke

I hung back behind the crew and equipment, watching from a more or less comfortable distance. In spite of my irritation with the situation, I had to admit the two of them reallywerethe picture-perfect couple. Simone Lancaster was a former model and two-time Oscar-winning actress, and she looked both parts. Tall. Slim. Flawless. When the gentle wind off the ocean played with her long hair, she still maintained a look of perfection, as if every hair blowing in the breeze was supposed to be like that. She looked just as amazing now in jeans and an understated yellow blouse as she did on the red carpet or the silver screen. I was one hundred percent unshakably gay, but I could certainly see why legions of men coveted her.

But her husband. Holy shit. The Camerons were a blessed family when it came to good looks and quiet charisma, and Jesse had inherited both in spades, not to mention the sizeable helping his late mother. In his youth, he’d usually sported long, sun-bleached, “I don’t give a fuck” surfer hair or something wild, but now his look had mellowed to short, dark, and neatly groomed. Even from this far away, it was clear the magazines and such over the years hadn’t doctored his photos: his eyes really werethatblue.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him in photos or on television, and I’d met him very, very briefly in the past, but now, even from a distance, he was almost disarming. He had a playful, youthful air about him, laughing like a kid when his wife made some joke only they heard. But then a moment later, when he looked up at her and brushed a strand of perfectly displaced hair out of her face, his whole aura changed to one of intense quietude. Then Simone made another comment, and they both erupted into laughter again. They weren’t goofing off and ignoring the photographer, they were just relaxed and comfortable with each other. With the whole situation.

At least he had some dignity and control. That was more than I could say about his brothers or his father. Not enough to effortlessly win him an election, but it was a damned good start. For that matter, he had a boyish smile that would melt the hearts of voters. Okay, so maybe Roger was on to something with this whole photo spread. When the voters saw the adoration in Jesse’s eyes whenever he gazed at his wife, the entire state of California would collectively swoon over him. Maybe I’d just been single too long, butI’d have killed for a man to look at me like Jesse was looking at Simone right then.

“All right.” The photographer pulled his camera strap over his head. “I think that’s enough.” He handed the camera off to his assistant.

Simone and Jesse both exhaled. She rolled her shoulders and got up off his lap. He stood, stretching like he had a kink in his neck, before extending his hand to the photographer.

Now was my chance. I started toward him, hoping to catch him in time to introduce myself—and maybe offer some strongly worded advice before the interview—but a man in a suit elbowed past me and beat me to Jesse.

Damn it.

“Before the interview,” I said, “any chance I can have a minute with Mr. Cameron?”

“No time,” the man said tersely, herding the happy couple toward the house. “We’re already behind schedule and need to wrap up this interview.”

Jesse and I made eye contact as he was half dragged past me, and for the first time, the cracks in the surface showed. He’d been smooth and confident sitting in front of the camera with his wife, but now? Now the nerves were there in the creases of his brow and the tightness of his lips.

Shit. Now he wasn’t just going into the interview without talking to me. He was nervous too.

I blew out a breath and looked skyward, silently asking the smog-tinted clouds for the serenity to not choke anyone before this day was over.

Then I followed everyone inside.

Chapter 2

Jesse

Once the photographerfinished with us, the producer shuffled Simone and me into the living room where Francine, the interviewer, had everything set up and waiting. Simone and I clipped on microphones and sank onto our huge couch, sitting close together with my arm around her shoulders.

While the crew adjusted lights and fussed with overhead microphones, I swallowed the nausea that tried to rise in my throat. We’d made it through this part of our little charade. Now we just had to get through the interview.

The first of many, Jesse. Deal with it.

Movement caught my eye, and when I turned, I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Anthony Hunter lingering in the background with Ranya. He stood back and watched everything, just like he had during the shoot, observing like he expected it all to happen according to his orders. For that matter, his posture had noticeably tensed since the producer shot down his request for a brief word with me before the interview. Something told me he wasn’t used to hearing the word no.

It had been years since I’d seen the man. We’d only met in passing, and I really hadn’t paid attention to him whenever I was at campaign functions with my uncle. Now I wondered how I missed him. He certainly had an unavoidable presence that I didn’t recall from meeting him before. Maybe I just hadn’t been paying attention back then, but he was…intense. I couldn’t decide if he had a chip on his shoulder, somewhere else he’d rather be, or was just one of those reserved, poker-faced types who only let people see what he wanted them to see.

Right away, he unsettled me. I couldn’t read him, but I was unnervingly certain he could see right through me.

God, I hoped he couldn’t. The last thing I needed was my damned campaign manager catching on that in spite of how much he intimidated me right off the bat, he was also attractive as all hell. His features were as sharp and rigid as his presence, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to find out what it was like to be the center of his attention, even for the span of a conversation. There were people who could make someone feel like they were the only person in the world. I had a funny feeling Anthony Hunter could make someone feel like they were the onlysuspectin the world.

And this was the guy who’d be running my campaign. Between drooling over him and being intimidated by him, I was fucked.

But wheels were turning, I was campaigning, and if I wanted to win, I needed him, so—

“Okay,” Francine’s squeaky voice startled me back into the present. “Are we ready?”

Simone glanced at me. I nodded, and she said to the interviewer, “Ready when you are.”

And in no time, the cameras were rolling despite how much Anthony distracted me.

“So, Jesse and Simone.” Francine plastered on a smile. “You’ve just passed your fifth wedding anniversary. The two of you make a happy, rock-solid marriage look so easy. Tell us, what’s your secret?”

Wishing I were anywhere but here, I smiled. “I just do what she tells me to.”

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