Another Notch in the Beltway (22 page)

She was able to carry on as if she weren't bare assed, her pretty lower lips blowing him kisses every time she crossed and uncrossed her legs. In fact, the vixen seemed unruffled by his furtive glances between those legs. But he'd bet she was wet and eager for him, and if she wasn't, she would be.

Meeting finally over, he ushered everyone out, closed the door, and locked it, then leaned against it as casually as he could and looked her up and down. On the surface she was every bit the proper workingwoman: knee-length skirt, black thigh highs, jacket and shell to match, a tasteful rope of pearls around her neck. Cool, elegant, professional—that's the picture Amanda projected to the world. “Perception is reality,” as she always said.

He pushed off the door, his eyes now fastened on hers.

She turned then and looked out his window, appearing to take in the city.

Cass came up behind her, moved her hair to one side, and then nuzzled her neck. She arched into him. “You're something, Amanda.”

“What might that something be?” she asked huskily.

“Right now you're a devil in a Talbot's suit.”

She laughed.

One of his hands snaked between her legs from behind and to her inner core, plunging two fingers into her. She jerked at the suddenness of it.

“You're wet for me.”

“More often than you know,” she murmured.

“We'll have to discuss that in detail later.”

She ground her hips into his thrusting fingers.

“Put your hands on the windows. Palms open and flat.”

She did as he asked. Maybe for the first time ever, since they met.

He let her feel his arousal through his pants and her skirt, but it was unmistakable. She made some unintelligible sound. He liked that.

“Widen your stance for me.”

She did.

He added another finger to the other two.

“Ahh, ahh,” she breathed.

He took his fingers away.

“No, not yet,” he informed her.

She didn't speak, didn't beg, kept her legs spread apart, and her hands flat on the window.

His hand came around the front of her now and teased her clit.

“You teased me all through that meeting, Ms. Loring, and now it's payback time.”

She moaned as he stroked her. Her inner thighs wet.

He kissed her ear and ran his tongue around the curve of it, then nipped her ear lobe, causing her to jump involuntarily. Still she said nothing.

The sound of him unzipping his pants was all but deafening in the otherwise silent room.

He noted her breathing was erratic and shallow.

“Spread those lovely legs as far as you can,” Cass directed.

She did.

He hitched her skirt above her waist. Her bottom was round and near perfection. He wanted to see if she had freckles there, too, but that would wait for another time.

One of his hands opened her to him, and he entered her slowly.

“Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He pushed the whole of him into her.

“Yes,” she sighed.

He felt her muscles contract around his cock, drawing him deeper. Cass thrust into her hard and fast, kissing the pulse beating frantically in her neck as if it were trying to break free.

“Yes.” She almost cried it this time.

Amanda was now meeting him thrust for thrust, no longer able to hold herself still. She heard his breath as ragged as hers.

“Come with me, Cass. I don't want to go alone.”

He groaned as her muscles spasmed and clamped around him, milking him for all he was worth. Condom, he thought in the dim recesses of his mind. He'd deal with the consequences later. He couldn't stop now.

“Casper,” she called out, as he grunted, groaned, and growled his own release, until finally he whispered, “Amanda.”

He leaned into her, both of them breathing hard. He brought his hands up to cover hers on the window and then gently brought them down.

Cass kissed her cheek. This was more than games and sex. What this was, he didn't want to think about yet. But he knew she felt it, too. He could see it in her deeds and hear it in her voice.

He brought their joined hands together and encircled her waist. Finally, he turned her around to face him and there were tears in her eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he almost whispered, “Are you okay?”

She smiled and nodded.

He drew her to him and then picked her up. He never dreamed she'd be like this, soft and emotional, under that hard-as-nails attitude. Cass kissed her forehead and carried her to the couch.

He laid her down gently and brushed stray strands of golden fire from her delicate face.

“I want to make love to you. The only thing I want left on your body is the strand of pearls.”

She watched as he began to undress her.

“It's great,” Lenore breathed when he finished reading the passage. “I like it a lot.”

“Squirmy? Edgy?” he teased.

“Yes. But I like the sentimentality in it. You can feel the dynamics of the relationship shift.”

“You can, can't you?”

She nodded. Lenore knew she was flushed.

He tucked her hair behind an ear and kissed her.

“In need of that release you told me about?”

“Yes.”

“Me, too.”

He began removing clothes, and so did she. Pressing her back on the couch, he took every inch of her and made it his.
My breath
.

“Sounds like the audio track to a porn movie,” the senator spat. Morris's men had gotten to Irving's condominium before the police and had retrieved his laptop.

“Jealous?” Morris asked.

“Hell, yeah,” his frat brother answered honestly.

Both men laughed.

Morris turned off the “sound track” to
Great Sex in the Kitchen
, as he'd come to think of the clip. He didn't need Maxwell any more distracted than he was.

“The bigger concern is the tape where she confesses her relationship with you to Finnegan. Wouldn't have happened if you'd not gone there.”

“How do you know? She obviously cares for the man.”

“She'd never told her own son—your son—she wouldn't have told him if you hadn't barged into her house. You required an explanation, and he asked her point blank if you were her kid's father. Woman doesn't lie.”

Maxwell was silent.

Morris continued. “Moving right along, we know Irving was stalking both Lenore and us. He was fixated on Lenore.”

“Ya think,” Maxwell drawled sarcastically.

“The man is dead, and that's a good thing for Lenore, because no matter who hired him for the job, he had it bad for her. There are about 500 photos of her from multiple days over a number of weeks. Over a hundred since Saturday alone.”

“Creepy,” Byron conceded.

“Anyhow, we still haven't figured out who hired him. My team is still working on it, and maybe they'll find something, but whoever it is, is well-hidden.”

“It's got to be Rin.”

“Maybe. Or maybe someone Rin put up to it or fed information to her.”

“Could be Jack, too.”

They'd been covering the same ground over and over again.

“I think we need to do something preemptive. I want you to tell Corrine that I think someone is following us and see what kind of reaction you get.”

“What if I read her reaction wrong? What if she doesn't give me any?”

“Do you want me to do it, for God's sake?” his staffer said, exasperated.

“Yeah, I'd prefer that.”

“All right. I'll tell her we're concerned for her safety. I'll do it tonight while you're at that rubber chicken dinner for the Literacy Foundation.”

“Okay,” Maxwell said pouring himself a double scotch.

****

“That was Walker. Message was cryptic, but my best guess is that Morris's people got whatever JI had in his condo—audio and photos,” Lenore said and felt herself color. “Thank goodness there was no video.”

“If questioned, I could say it wasn't you. I'll say it was Addy.”

She started laughing, mirth collecting in her eyes. “That would make her decade.”

“Yeah. But I do like that she's been working from home.”

Lenore had asked Addy to work from home while she and MP were finishing the book. She was too much of a distraction flitting about. Of course, Lenore was not so blunt when she told her.

“It's worked well for her, too. Her mom is staying with her while she recuperates from hip surgery.”

“I don't want her back full-time, Lenore. I like her, but I like my time with you alone much better.”

“We'll see once this mess shakes out. I'm worried for her safety at the moment.”

He nodded his agreement.

“Maybe I'll have her come in one or two days a week, and the remainder she can work at home.”

“A compromise.”

“Yes, and if you're keeping score, I think that's number two.”

“Not keeping score, simply teasing you, wee one.”

“Hmm.” Lenore eyed him suspiciously.

“Really, Ms. Held.”

“Anyway, appears JI was stalking me along with everything he was doing. But he's dead, so that's a nonissue.”

“For you, but I'm going to keep tight rein on you. Make sure someone else doesn't take an unhealthy interest in you.”

“If anyone has or does, it will most likely be Corrine Kennedy Maxwell.”

She clicked and clacked on her laptop and brought up a photo of the woman and turned it for MP to see.

“You see this woman hanging around, duck and cover. I'm certain if given the least provocation, she will shoot to kill.”

“You're serious.”

“As a heart attack,” she said earnestly.

He took a good long look at the senator's wife. “She was a beauty once.”

“Yes, I think that's how she and Maxwell got together—looks, a mutual admiration society.”

“Bit harsh, aren't you, Lenore?”

“I might be,” she said candidly. “I've not walked in her shoes nor had a husband who was, and probably still is, a serial cheater. Nor, thank God, a son who's died and one who's terminally ill. You're right, MP, I apologize. I am being harsh.”

“
A chuisle
, I didn't mean to upset you.”

“No, you didn't. I never looked at it from 100 yards out. I would never trade my life for hers.”

MP studied her for a second and then pulled her onto his lap and held her. She burrowed in close to him enjoying the sensation.

“I think I'll go make dinner,” she finally said.

“Anything I can to do to help?”

“Sit on the other side of the counter.”

****

Gerald Morris rang the bell at the Maxwell homestead. While large and pricey, it was cold. It was not a home in the way Lenore's was. He needed to get a grip, too. His mind was wandering way too often to Lenore Held, and that boat had definitely sailed.

The housekeeper answered the door, asked him to wait in the parlor, and said Mrs. Maxwell would join him shortly. How many people used the word parlor anymore? Not many, he ventured. He walked around and looked at posed family photos of plastic people and objets d'art.

He turned to face her as he heard approaching steps. Morris offered neither hand nor cheek. He had learned long ago that Corrine was not one to coddle with social niceties. She looked like shit, he thought. Easily ten years older than she was. Her body was in impeccable shape for a fifty plus woman, but her face needed a major cosmetic overhaul. Life had not been kind to her.

“Corrine,” he said simply and inclined his head.

“Gerald,” she returned, sat on the couch, and motioned for him to sit in the chair across from her.

He did so, pulling up his pant legs to save the creases.

“To what do I owe a house call?”

“Byron and I spoke before he went to his dinner function and he thought it best—”

“We both know my husband doesn't think, can't, he's simply not capable. What is it you want to tell me?”

“I wanted to let you know that I believe someone has been following Byron and/or possibly myself.”

She smiled and raised an eyebrow that almost announced game on. “Could it be someone's disgruntled husband or significant other? I understand that he has had a number of dangerous liaisons over the years, and perhaps someone is not willing to share.”

“Don't believe so, and with the tragic events in Arizona recently, I wanted to make sure you are aware of a potential threat.”

A little color was in her cheeks now, a glint of challenge in her eyes. “Bad things happen everywhere, Gerald. Why, I read this morning in the
Philadelphia Inquirer
that one of Byron's former interns suffered a home invasion in an exclusive Bucks County community. The cleaning lady fought him off. Killed him with a knife.”

Gerald did his best to keep his face bland. “That's too bad.”

“Article didn't say she had been his intern, but I remember the name well, Lenore Held. I wonder, did she never marry or simply keep her maiden name? So many women do that now. I wish I had.”

She was good, he thought. She should have been the one running for office.

“There have been so many interns over the years, I don't recall the name.”

“Don't you, Gerald? I'd have thought she'd made a lasting impression on all of us. But as you say, so many interns, so little time.” She gave a well practiced, demure laugh.