It was a question she’d expected. Reporters knew their readers were more interested right now in her personal life than her political views. “Getting away from the White House gave me a chance to put my life in perspective . . .” Her preparation had paid off, and she had no trouble answering.

“Harry Jenkins, Roanoke Times. You’ve made no secret of your dissatisfaction with political life. Why work so hard to get back into it?”

“As First Lady, I had no real power to effect change . . .”

One question followed another. Although she’d been expecting it, she was still disappointed that so few dealt with the issues.

Suddenly a deep voice rang out above the others. “Mat Jorik, Chicago Standard.”

She stiffened. The ballroom instantly quieted as everyone tried to locate the source of that voice.

Mat stepped out from behind one of the square pillars at the back of the ballroom. He’d tucked one hand into the pocket of his slacks, and a well-worn brown leather bomber jacket hung open over his shirt. Even from a distance, he seemed to fill up the room—all big body, commanding voice, and rough edges.

A thousand images flashed through her mind. Her fingers tightened on the corner of the podium as she tried to push them away and stay focused. She heard herself speak in a voice that was almost steady. “Hello, Mat.”

The crowd buzzed. Cameras flashed. His presence was a story all its own.

He nodded. Curt. Down to business. “You said you were going to focus your campaign on economic issues. Could you be more specific?”

She somehow managed her public smile. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk about a topic of vital importance to the people of Virginia . . .”

Even with Mat staring her down, she somehow managed to launch into the remarks she’d prepared, but she’d barely finished before he came at her with a follow-up question. When she’d finished responding, another reporter jumped in with a question about the Balkans.

Mat kept silent after that, but he stayed where he was—arms crossed, one shoulder resting against the pillar behind him, never taking his eyes off her.

Terry finally stepped in to end the questions and thank everyone for attending. Her father closed in on one side, Jim Millington on the other, Terry behind. She looked around for Mat, but he’d disappeared.

Her father rode with her to their next stop. “I suppose I shouldn’t have been so surprised to see that Jorik fellow. He’ll probably make a career out of writing about you.”

She shuddered at the idea.

Her next speech, an hour and a half later, was in the meeting room of a banquet hall. She’d barely begun before she spotted Mat standing in the back watching her. He asked no more questions, but she didn’t mistake his intentions. Until she arranged a meeting, he wasn’t going away.