You’ll never catch it. I’m way too good for you. Hey, not bad for a smart aleck . . . Whoa, you got some spin on that one. Okay, ace, see what you can do with this . . .

Something inside Nealy ached as she watched them. Lucy’s brown eyes shone, her child’s laughter floated on every wisp of breeze. She looked young and happy, like the girl she should have been rather than the one she’d been forced to become. When Mat had to walk over to the playground to rescue an errant throw, Lucy followed him with her eyes, and her yearning was so intense it could only have come from the loneliest of hearts.

She thought of her own difficult relationship with her father. Because he was so manipulative, she saw herself as his victim. Now she found herself wondering what part she’d played in being victimized. It was pathetic to be First Lady of the United States and still so concerned about pleasing Daddy.

Maybe if she hadn’t been so young when she’d lost her mother, it would have been easier. Although she and her stepmother had a cordial relationship, it had never been an intimate one, which made her father even more important in her life. She’d frequently protested his manipulations but never completely defied him, not until she’d walked out of the White House four days ago. Had she been afraid that he wouldn’t love her if she rebelled? She promised herself that, from now on, James Litchfield would have to accept her on her own terms or be moved to the fringes of her life.

“Come on, Nell,” Mat called out. “Set the Demon in the grass over here and see if you can keep up with us young folks.”

Feeling as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders, Nealy joined them. Although her skills didn’t match theirs, they tolerated her, and she had a wonderful time.

Eventually, Mat threw his arm around Lucy’s shoulders and rubbed her head with his knuckles. “Time to get back on the road, ace. You did all right.”

Lucy beamed as if he’d given her a priceless gift.

Button soon fell asleep in her car seat, and Lucy curled up in the back with her book. Nealy took her time putting away the last of the picnic food. Without the children as a barrier, she felt awkward around Mat. Just thinking about those hot words he’d uttered last night, the intimacy of his caresses, made it hard for her to meet his eyes. She didn’t like herself for it. Thirty-one was too old to be insecure about sex.

She realized how accustomed she’d grown to keeping people at a distance, but it was an act of self-preservation for First Ladies who lived in an age of tabloid journalism and tell-all memoirs. In the past few years, even her friendships from childhood had suffered.