The man radiated wealth. That was Jake’s first impression of Tomlinson, as Amy Wexler ushered him into the library. She shut the heavy oak door behind Jake, cutting off the noise of the cocktail party and leaving the two men alone. B. Franklin Tomlinson stood at the far end of the richly carpeted room, smiling warmly at Jake.

Tomlinson was tall, with broad shoulders and a squarish, ruggedly handsome face, deeply tanned. The jacket of his three-piece suit was thrown carelessly over the back of the chair he was standing next to; his vest was buttoned over his flat midsection. Thick, wavy golden blond hair with just a hint of gray streaking through it that made him look distinguished, Jake thought. Sparkling sapphire blue eyes. And that smile could melt platinum.

For a moment Jake wasn’t certain of what he should do, what he should say. The library was hushed, only the two of them in it. Bookshelves lined three of the walls, up to the ceiling. Every inch of the shelving was filled with books, all so neatly stacked and new-looking that Jake figured they’d never been opened. The fourth wall bore the room’s only window and a half-dozen framed photographs of Tomlinson and others aboard sailing boats.

His smile unwavering, Tomlinson extended his hand toward Jake. “I’m Frank Tomlinson,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Jake swiftly crossed the thick carpeting and shook Tomlinson’s hand. “Jake Ross,” he said.

“Yes, I know.” Tomlinson’s grip was firm and steady. With his free hand he gestured to a pair of bottle green leather chairs in the corner by the window. “Let’s sit down, shall we?”

“Are you really going to run against Senator Leeds?” Jake asked as they sat facing each other.

“Somebody ought to,” Tomlinson said lightly. “Chris has been in the Senate for more than twenty years. Time for a change, don’t you think?”

With a nod, Jake said, “But beating an incumbent isn’t easy.”

Tomlinson chuckled softly. “I don’t go after easy tasks, Dr. Ross.”

“Jake.”

“Jake,” Tomlinson echoed. “My father always told me that the tough jobs are the ones worth tackling. That’s where the fun is.”

Unable to think of a response, Jake took a sip of his ginger beer. Then he noticed that Tomlinson wasn’t drinking anything.

“Dr. Cardwell spoke very highly of you,” Tomlinson said, leaning back easily in his chair.

“You know Lev?”

“My father put up the money to build the planetarium. He also personally picked Dr. Cardwell to run it. I’ve known Lev since he first came here. I was just a kid.”

Feeling a little confused, Jake said, “But the planetarium isn’t named after your father.”

Tomlinson made a wry smile. “Despite his usual demeanor, my father is basically a modest man. He asked that the planetarium be named after an astronomer he respected, Bart J. Bok.”