Wakefield College 01 - Where It May Lead by Janice Kay Johnson

graduated with a 3.85
GPA. Not perfect. There were several Bs sprinkled throughout his freshman and
sophomore years. All were outside his major, in classes he’d been required to
take to demonstrate breadth.
    Still...not perfect. She’d been stunned. As long as she could
remember, he’d been driven, impatient with anyone else’s frailties and demanding
of perfection. She wondered if he’d hated graduating without a perfect 4.0, or
whether he’d actually allowed himself to have fun during his four years at
Wakefield.
    Her mind boggled at the idea of her father having “fun.”
    She smiled at the woman who stepped up to the table. “And you
are?”
    * * *
    O STENSIBLY THE EVENING reception at the college president’s house was casual, but Troy had
known better than to show up in chinos and polo shirt. A few men did, but their
polo shirts had discreet and pricey little logos on the breast. A fair number of
the women wore linen, cool and probably also expensive but wrinkled anyway. He
wasn’t a clotheshorse; in fact, most of the time he didn’t give a damn what he
was wearing. Even so, he couldn’t quite figure out why anyone wanted to wear
something that looked like it had been wadded up under the mattress all night
long.
    His heart skipped a beat when he caught a glimpse of Madison
across the room. Her gauzy little dress with spaghetti straps was the color of a
peach picked ripe from the tree. The fabric was airy instead of crisp or
wrinkled. With strappy, high-heeled sandals, her legs were nicely displayed.
When the crowd shifted and he could no longer see her, he shifted, too, using
his shoulders to wedge his way past clusters of attendees sipping cocktails and
chattering. He noticed a few faces that had gotten more sun today than they
should have. One woman was really red and he winced
sympathetically.
    Ah. There was Madison, laughing at something being said by the
suave-looking guy leaning into her. The next second, Troy recognized the
senator. He was pretty damn sure Haywood’s gaze was locked on Madison’s cleavage
and not her face.
    Just like a politician.
    Troy moved to her side and planted his left hand on the small
of her back, even though one date, one kiss, didn’t give him any right to be
proprietary. At the moment, he didn’t give a damn. “Hey,” he murmured. “Sorry
I’m late.”
    Her face brightened with relief or pleasure or both, causing
some more strange bumping sensations under his breastbone. “Troy!” She didn’t
move away from him. “Oh, good. I was afraid something had come up. Troy, have
you met Senator Gordon Haywood yet? Senator, this is Detective John Troyer. You
may have known his father, Joseph.”
    The two men shook hands.
    “Sure, sure. I was real sorry to hear that he’d passed away.”
Haywood grimaced. “I’ve been paying a little more attention to my cholesterol
since then.”
    “Dad ate well and was fit, but he was a smoker,” Troy
explained. “Never could quit.”
    “What a shame.” The senator shook his head sorrowfully. “A real
shame. He was a good man.”
    Since to the best of Troy’s knowledge, Senator Haywood hadn’t
had any contact with Dad in thirty-five years, it was a little hard to figure
how he knew Joseph Troyer was a good man. But hey, a guy had to say
something.
    The senator excused himself a moment later to clap a hand on a
man’s back and exclaim, “Fred! Great to see you.”
    “Creep,” Troy muttered.
    Madison only laughed at him. “Now, how do you know that?”
    “Isn’t the guy married? He won’t make the White House if he’s
stupid enough to ogle women like that very often.”
    “I don’t know.” She sounded thoughtful. “Politicians seem to
get away with things like that for years before they get caught. Although I was
starting to get offended. And, as it happens, he’s not only married, his wife is
here.” She tipped her head toward the group the senator had joined.
    Troy saw that the guy now rested his hand on