Save the Date by Jenny B Jones

even eat dinner.
    “Your current mode of operation is getting us nowhere but second place.” Dave loosened the tie at his neck. The man didn’t believe in dressing down, even on weekends. Alex didn’t know if he admired that or resented it. “You’re one of the most well-known people in the country. There’s no point in pretending you don’t live in a fishbowl. You can either show the public some of your life, or as we saw a few weeks ago in People , they’ll just make it up to suit themselves. And frankly, your personal life has been a crucial problem here.”
    “I still want to do a few pieces on the loss of your brother,” Lauren said. “I really think if you sat down with Good Morning America and finally spoke about—”
    “No.” Just the thought of it made him want to tear someone apart. Only yesterday his own investigative team had called with some leads about possible sightings of his brother. He was afraid to be hopeful. “That topic is off-limits.” A year since his brother had been gone. It had both moved too quickly and not fast enough. Six months to the day Will went missing, Alex had walked away from football. Besides the blown-out knee, the game had lost it lure. The fast-paced life had burned him out, and he was ready for a change.
    “All they’re seeing is the celebrity side of you.” David stood up and planted his hands on the desk. “If you want to eclipse your playboy jock reputation, it’s going to take some sacrifice.” He gestured to the open page. “And crazy as it is, your involvement with Ms. Wiltshire seems to speak to people. Shows them a side of you they’ve yet to see.”
    “There is no involvement with Lucy Wiltshire beyond—”
    “We’re your campaign managers,” Lauren said. “If you can’t be honest with us, who can you be honest with?”
    “I’m running for office,” he said with a wry grin. “I don’t have to be honest.”
    “ Entertainment Tonight has called twice since the first pictures ran,” Lauren said. “They want a quote.”
    “There is no quote. There is no Lucy—”
    “If you want to win this thing, it’s time to get aggressive.”
    As Lauren interrupted him again, Alex watched her brush a strand of dark hair from her cheek. The woman was beautiful. Legs that a cheerleader would envy. A brain just as potent as her model’s face. And part of him knew, from years of experience, that she wouldn’t turn him down if he suggested a little dinner and candlelight in their off-hours.
    Yet he wasn’t interested. Not even a glimmer. Where was the old Alex? The last year had been tough. He’d lost his brother, his game, and possibly this race for Congress. The Playboy was tired. And wrung out like a sweaty gym towel. There had to be more than this, and he was determined to find out what it was. The women in his life the last few years had been after only one thing—fame. Alex was ready to get back to real. People he could count on not to run to OK! magazine for just the right price. But he had a new goal, and that didn’t include a wife or children for a long time. He had things to accomplish first. He owed it to his brother’s life to do that.
    “You’re going to have to let your voters in,” Lauren said. “They need to see more of that.” She pointed to the magazine. “That’s our best counterattack for the smear campaign that’s begun—whether it’s reality or not. We need you to convey good American values. Family. Stability.”
    David nodded. “And we need you on board.”
    “Let’s get one thing straight.” Alex shoved the magazine away. “You two work for me. I pay you for guidance and suggestions—not demands. Are we clear?”
    Alex caught the look Lauren passed her fellow advisor. He hadn’t dominated the field by missing signals.
    “Alex”—David cleared his throat and took one step back—“we secured the primary because your competition was weak, but this is a whole new ball game. The campaign is done unless we