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  She'd always believed in going with her instincts and held out her hand. "Eve Dalton. I think I'm going to like you."

  Her candid statement brought a smile to his lips as his hand folded around hers. "Daniel. Do you always say what you think?"

  Gently, she tugged her hand free. "Almost always." Was it her imagination, or did his hand linger before sliding away from hers?

  "Only almost?"

  "I don't believe in absolutes."

  "What do you believe in?"

  "People." Without apology, she changed the subject. "It went well tonight."

  "I've had my pockets picked in Washington and didn't lose as much as I did tonight."

  She wrestled with a smile. And lost. "Think of the bright side. This goes to help send needy kids to college."

  "You like kids?"

  "Yeah. I do."

  "So do I." An answering smile touched his mouth. "I have a feeling we have a lot in common."

  "Such as?"

  "Do you like lobster?"

  "Who doesn't?"

  "Chocolate?"

  "The richer, the better."

  "Pizza?"

  "Of course."

  "There." The word held a wealth of satisfaction. "We have more in common that you thought."

  His grin was so smug that she couldn't keep back the laugh that bubbled out. "Kids, lobster, and chocolate don't make a relationship."

  "Don't forget the pizza."

  She rolled her eyes. "Like that makes a difference?"

  He looked surprised. "You're questioning the power of pizza?"

  "Never. That would be un-American."

  "It's settled then. We're soul mates. Have dinner with me tomorrow night."

  She flashed him a smile. "Now why would I be wanting to do that when I don't even know your full name?"

  He looked surprised, then amused. "Cameron. Daniel Cameron."

  "Well, Daniel Cameron, I'd be pleased…" Daniel Cameron. Of course. Hometown boy who went to the nation's capital and made good. If she hadn't been caught up in the mechanics of the auction, she'd have put it together sooner.

  Her sigh was barely audible, but he must have noticed. Her withdrawal was almost a tangible thing. She wrapped herself up in her own thoughts and seemed to move away from him, though she didn't take a step.

  "I'm sorry, Senator. I don't date politicians." She forced a smile to her lips, tried to make it reflect in her eyes, and knew she hadn't succeeded.

  He'd been so busy enjoying their banter and the sweet scent of her hair that he almost didn't hear her. When the meaning of her words penetrated, he gave her a quizzical look. "You're kidding. Right?" The humor in his eyes invited her to agree, to take back her words.

  "I'm sorry," she repeated.

  The amusement faded to be replaced by a thoughtful frown. "You're serious, aren't you?"

  "Look, Senator. I like you."

  Was that regret in her voice? A faint smile skipped across his lips. "That sounds like the beginnings of a brush-off."

  "Not a brush-off. That would mean there was something between us. Think of it as 'Thanks, but no thanks.'"

  "Let me get this straight. We've known each other less than…” he checked his watch “…ten minutes and you've already made up your mind about me."

  "If you like."

  "I don't." He spread his hands, the gesture at once a plea and a command. "We're not going to fall in love over one dinner." The words lingered in the air, and he wondered if he would remember them for the rest of his life.

  Her eyes widened, but she kept her smile in place. "Senator—"

  "The name's Daniel."

  "Senator," she said firmly. "Let's chalk it up to being the right person with the wrong job."

  "Wrong for whom?"

  "Me," she said quietly and started to walk away.

  A hand clamped on her arm, holding her still. "So far you've done all the rule-setting. Now it's my turn."

  "Okay, Senator," she said with only the slightest emphasis on the word. Color bloomed on her cheeks. He'd annoyed her. Good. That was better than indifference. "Let's have it."

  Their faces were scant inches apart, and his breath brushed across her face.

  "Number one, I like you. Number two, you like me. That leads us to number three. We get to know each other better."

  "Wrong." She held up three fingers, ticking off her points. "Number one, I choose who I want to spend time with. Number two, I've already made my choice. Number three, I don't date senators. Not even the good-looking ones." There it was again.

  Definitely regret. The first man in more months than she wanted to count who'd sparked any interest and he was off-limits. That those limits were self-imposed didn't alter the seriousness with which she took them.

  "Why?"

  "Let's just say I'm not into the political scene."

  "I'm a man first, a politician second."

  "Sorry." She really was. "I can't separate the two."

  "Try."

  "No." The uncompromising tone of her voice had him raising his brows.

  "You sound very sure about this."

  "I am."

  "Care to tell me why?" he asked.

  "You've been in politics long enough to understand policy-making. I have my own policy." He waited. "I don't date senators."

  A muscle ticked in his neck, but he gave no other sign that her words bothered him. "Is it just senators or does your policy include anyone connected with politics?"

  "I don't have to explain myself. Not to you, not to anyone."

  "Are you always this rude or is it only my presence that brings it out?"

  She flushed. He was right. She had been rude. That didn't mean she was going to change her mind. Not about him. "Excuse me, please."

  He fitted a finger beneath her chin, bringing her head up so that her gaze was on a level with his own. "You'll think of me tonight."

  She wanted to rail at the arrogance of it, but she couldn't. It wasn't an order, but a statement of fact.

  Before he could stop her, she slipped through the crowd. He didn't try following her.

  Eve barely noticed as the guests started leaving, air-kissing each other. Normally, she disliked the empty gesture. Tonight she gave scant heed as one person after another performed the ritual against her cheek.

  Why did the one man who'd stirred any interest in her in months have to be a politician? With customary resolve, she forced him from her mind. Chances were she'd never see him again. He obviously traveled in different circles than she frequented. That they'd met tonight was a fluke. Daniel Cameron was an influential man, one who wielded power with the same style with which he wore evening clothes. He belonged to a world she'd left years ago, one she had no intention of returning to.

  She'd seen how politics turned lives inside out. On occasion, it even took them. She wouldn't be a part of that.

  Not ever again.

  Still, she couldn't completely banish the memory of him.

  * * * *

  At home, Daniel thought about the woman who'd dismissed him with no better reason than because she didn't like his profession. The unfairness of it offended his sense of justice.

  But it was more than that.

  He wasn't accustomed to people challenging him. Maybe it came from being the oldest son in a large family. Maybe it came from being a United States senator. Maybe it came from a lot of things. The only thing he knew for sure was that he didn't like it.

  There were any number of women who'd be more than happy to spend some time with him. But he'd discovered something along the way. He didn't want any number of women. He surprised himself with the admission. Her openness, her candor, even her disdain of his profession had challenged him.

  Anticipation brought a smile to his lips. He had a feeling the lady could become special to him. It might be interesting to find out. He was enough of a strategist to bide his time.

  There'd be another time. He'd make sure of it.

  Chapter Twor />
  She'd slept poorly.

  She blamed that on Daniel Cameron. He'd been right. She had thought about him. Most of the night had been spent doing exactly that.

  Annoyance mixed with amusement. The annoyance was directed at herself; the amusement at him. He'd invaded her dreams, and now thoughts of him were filling her daytime hours as well. She had to hand it to him, she thought with a scowl.

  Her lips softened as she thought of the kids who would benefit from last night's auction. Nearly twenty-five thousand dollars was enough to provide tuition for a couple of kids. And with more pledges coming in, the fund would grow. A financial counselor had offered to invest the money.

  It was a start.

  Eve believed in people. If she had an investment principle, it was put her resources in people and watch them grow. In return, they rarely disappointed her.

  Some might call her naive. She was enough of a pragmatist to recognize the charge held an element of truth. She was enough of a dreamer to ignore it. Given the choice, she'd choose dreamer over pragmatist any day of the week.

  Dreams, as fine as the mohair yarn she spun now, kept the world turning. They colored the gray days and added depth to the bright ones. They gave strength when her own was flagging. They were the only reality she wanted to believe in.

  A politician wasn't likely to understand.

  Darn it. She was doing it again. Thinking of him. Hadn't he told her she would? She didn't like it. Being predictable was tantamount to being boring. She didn't intend on being either. Not when life beckoned with its infinite variations.

  Not when she had any say in the matter. A small voice whispered that she had lost her say last night when Daniel Cameron had closed his hand around hers and pulled her to him. Memories of the way his gaze had connected with hers, the warmth of his fingers pressed against her own, the challenge she'd read in his eyes, skittered over her.

  Determinedly, she ignored them.

  Dreams. She'd concentrate on dreams. He had no place in her dreams. She conjured up her latest one: a scholarship program established for children who showed artistic promise but had no way to turn that promise into fact.

  The proceeds from last night's auction would go a long way toward making that dream a reality.

  Dreams and reality. The two could peacefully co-exist. Could a dreamer and a politician find the same harmony?

  No.

  She glanced at the clock. Only two hours to go before hospital visiting hours started. A smile brushed her lips as she thought of Carla and the new baby.

  Eve arrived with only minutes to spare before visiting hours began. The hospital smelled of flowers and antiseptic, with a bit of pine cleanser thrown in for good measure. She clutched a yellow pig in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other.

  She was about to knock on Carla's door when Daniel Cameron rounded the corner. She knew a flash of pleasure, followed by a quick surge of anger. Was the man following her? She lifted her chin and held her ground.

  "You." Her pulse picked up its beat.

  His smile widened. "You remember."

  She wasn't likely to forget the man who'd occupied her dreams of last night and her thoughts for most of the day, but she hadn't expected to see him again. Certainly not at the hospital visiting Carla Hastings. She'd been trying for twenty-four hours to keep from thinking about him, picturing him in her mind, telling herself that an attraction to someone so totally wrong for her was crazy.

  Nevertheless, his handsome features had popped into her thoughts every other minute, causing a tingling sensation to dance down her spine, the same one that even now threatened to turn her into a gibbering idiot.

  "What're you doing here?" The words came before she could stop them. Her flush drew a smile from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—" Darn. Why was she always letting her mouth run away from her around this man?

  "I'm a friend of Carla and Sam Hastings," he said.

  "So am I."

  "Something else we have in common," he murmured.

  She ignored that. "I didn't know you knew Carla and Sam."

  "Sam and I were roommates at Stanford. I try to stop in and see him and Carla whenever I'm in town."

  "Oh." Good answer, Dalton. First she couldn't keep quiet and now all she could come up with was "Oh."

  "How about you?" he asked.

  "Carla and I were both on the auction committee." There was more, much more, to their friendship than that, but she wasn't about to share it.

  "That's who you bought the diaper service for?"

  She nodded. "It's great about the baby."

  "Yeah. Who's that?" he asked, pointing to the yellow pig.

  "Chester."

  "Chester, meet Wilbert."

  He held up a huge stuffed walrus. Green with huge purple tusks, it had an endearing smile that had her lips edging up in response.

  She tried to keep a straight face, but the grin slipped out anyway. "Wilbert?"

  "Yeah." Daniel twirled Wilbert's whiskers around his finger. "Doesn't he look like one?"

  She tilted her head to one side and pretended to study the ridiculous looking animal. "I'd say he was more a Herbert."

  Daniel made a sound of disgust. "What kind of name is Herbert? No self-respecting walrus would be caught dead with a name like that."

  She assumed a fierce expression which failed to stop a smile from twitching at her lips. "I'll have you know my great-grandfather was a Herbert."

  "You have a beautiful smile." He didn't touch her, but his voice was a caress in itself.

  "We were talking about Herberts."

  "Not anymore." He slipped his free arm around her waist.

  "Why?" she asked, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand as it settled at the small of her back.

  "Why what?"

  She remembered he'd made her smile the night before. It felt good then. It felt good now. "Why do I think I'm going to end up liking you anyway?"

  His smile was lethal. "You can't help yourself?"

  She managed to slide free of his hold and instantly regretted the loss of contact. "I'll just have to try harder."

  That, more than anything, convinced her she'd be wise to keep her distance.

  His smile turned faintly quizzical, but he didn't object. He knocked lightly on the door.

  "Come in," Sam's voice called.

  Sam Hastings stood by the bed, his hand resting on Carla's shoulder. She looked prettier than ever, Eve thought. A feeling of peaceful serenity had added to Carla's beauty. Flowers filled the room, but they paled in comparison to the light that shone from her eyes.

  Eve said as much, causing her friend to blush. "It's Sam and Zach," Carla said softly. "I never knew it was possible to be this happy." She reached for her husband's hand.

  Sam looked down at his wife with such tender love in his eyes that it brought tears to Eve's own. Feeling she was intruding upon a private moment, Eve turned away. Her gaze connected with Daniel's. The understanding she read in his face told her he shared her feelings. He held out his hand. Together, they tiptoed from the room.

  In the hallway, she searched through her purse for a tissue and found a linen handkerchief pressed into her hand. "Thanks." She swiped at her eyes. "You're all right, Senator."

  "So are you."

  "I'm not one of those women who weep at weddings and …” The tears started again.

  Daniel took the handkerchief from her and dabbed at her eyes. "I can see that."

  "I'm not," she insisted and took it back from him to blow her nose.

  Sam came out a few minutes later, a sheepish expression on his face. "Sorry. We tend to forget anyone else is around."

  Daniel clapped him on the back. "You're entitled, buddy."

  "Yeah," Sam said with new-father pride. "I guess I am at that." He cleared his throat. "Come back in."

  Eve and Daniel took turns kissing Carla and handed her the gifts.

  She oohed and ahhed over them, setting the stuffed animals next to the bed. T
he box of chocolates she kept by her side. "They're trying to starve me in here," she confided. "I'm going to need these." She opened the box and popped a candy in her mouth. "Mmmm." She passed around the box. The others declined, earning a smile from her.

  "Take Daniel up to see Zachary," Carla said to Sam. "I want Eve to fill me in on how the auction went."

  "It went really well—" Eve began after the men had left.

  "Forget the auction. What's going on between you and Daniel?"

  Eve could feel the color creeping up into her cheeks and silently cursed the fair skin that betrayed her every feeling. "Nothing."

  "Nothing?"

  "We only just met," she said, wishing she didn't sound so defensive. "At the auction."

  "I've seen that kind of 'nothing' before. When Sam and I met."

  Eve knew enough of Carla and Sam's courtship to understand what her friend meant. It had had its share of ups and downs.

  But Carla was way off base now. There was nothing between herself and Daniel. There couldn't be.

  Carla appeared to choose her words with care. "Daniel's a good man. A dedicated one."

  "I know."

  The sigh in Eve's voice must have gotten through to her friend for Carla changed subjects.

  They spent the next few minutes discussing the purely female details of giving birth. "It was incredible," Carla concluded.

  "And am I ever glad it's over."

  When Sam and Daniel returned, Carla exchanged a quick glance with Sam, who nodded. Eve caught enough in that brief interchange to sense that Sam had been asking Daniel the same questions Carla had asked Eve.

  Great, just great. Now their friends thought there was something between Daniel and herself.

  Daniel saw the silent interrogation between husband and wife. From the questions Sam had asked, it wasn't hard to deduce that Carla had subjected Eve to the same gentle pumping for information. Daniel hid a smile. So he had some allies. He figured that with Eve, he'd need all the help he could get.

  They spent several minutes admiring Zachary Samuel Hastings at the nursery window. Outside, Daniel took her arm and walked her to her car. "I didn't make the connection at first. Eve Dalton. Your mother was Evelyn Dalton."

  She nodded.

  He'd known of Evelyn Dalton, of course, though he'd never met her. A senator from Pennsylvania, her name had been tossed about as the running mate for the party's candidate for the top seat in the nation. An assassin's bullet had claimed her life before she'd given her acceptance. Daniel had just started his first year at Standford. That had been nearly fifteen years ago.