Another Notch in the Beltway (8 page)

She chuckled a little, then continued, “Either you guys are repressed or very boring in bed.” She stopped, looking from one to the other, then started talking quickly. “Oh my God, you haven't had sex yet, have you? Well, I mean you've had sex, at least, Lenore, as she has a child. But you haven't had sex together, have you?”

When neither one confirmed or denied, their agent said, “Then hop into the sack and get to it. That's why your characters are bitching at one another all the time. You're taking your own sexual frustrations out on your characters.” She let go an exasperated sigh. “You are two best-selling romance authors. Don't make me say you write about it because you don't do it, can't do it, or you don't get any.”

“Low blow there, Ms. Martenstein,” Lenore said.

Nikko laughed. “Want to weigh in, Finnegan?”

“Yeah. I was saving this—but I'd already decided that Cass would utter Ms. Loring's given name the first time he climaxed with her.”

“I like it,” Lenore said.

“I do, too,” their agent agreed. “But maybe he can do more than utter.”

“I suppose Amanda will have to concede that Casper is neither little nor wispy,” Lenore said.

“I'm sure Cass would appreciate the reassessment of his manhood, lass.”

Nikko rolled her eyes and made a gagging motion with her finger. “Do me a favor, and start screwing each other or even someone else, but you both need to get some.”

“And what about you, Dr. Ruth, are you getting any?” Lenore asked to get even.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Nikko said with a smug smile.

“Really?” Lenore and MP said at the same time and immediately looked at one another and laughed.

“Oh, brother. Yes, really.”

“Do tell,” Lenore teased.

“A lady does not kiss and tell.”

“Yeah, but we're talking about you, Nik,” her clients said in unison.

“Okay, now you two are starting to scare me.”

“Soft, sexy,” he murmured in her ear as he ran his hands down her cashmere sweater dress. After dropping Nikko at the train station, they had returned to her house and were currently in the great room.

Somehow the skimming lines of the dress were more alluring to him than if the garment were form fitting. As he ran his hands back up the dress, he saw her nipples through the soft fabric. He ran his fingers over them, and she arched into him. He murmured, “I want you.”

“I want you, too,” she breathed.

His kiss was fiercely possessive; it proclaimed
mine
.

She couldn't help but smile under his plundering mouth.

“What?” He pulled back. “What's so damn amusing?”

Lenore looked into his eyes, which were already dilated and dark with desire. “Nothing, I'm happy. I never imagined you'd want me as much as I want you.”

“Are you daft, woman? Have you not heard a word I've said to you over the last ten weeks? I wanted you the moment I walked into your life.” He didn't give her time to respond or react, rather he moved in and kissed her with primitive, carnal need.

He slid his hand up her dress and gasped when he came to a garter. “I want to see all of you,
mo chuisle
. Come with me.”

“I hope to.”

He laughed, taking her hand and leading her to her bedroom as if he'd been there before.

At the edge of the bed, he stopped. “Are you sure?” he asked, eyes searching hers.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Are you?”

“I've never been more certain of anything in my life.”

He lifted the dress over her head. Lenore shimmered in the dove-gray silk of her teddy, sexy garter, and silky stockings.

“Hmm, where to start,” he mused, taking her all in. “
Ta tu go h-alainn
, you're beautiful.”

She flushed under his smoldering gaze.

He continued to whisper Gaelic endearments to her as he touched her lightly.

Drawing the thin straps of her teddy down, he let the garment flow from her body and pool at her feet.

Her breath hitched as he caught her nipples between each of his thumbs and forefingers. Kissing her, he gently nudged her backwards onto the bed, coming to rest on top of her when she landed. Lightly pinning her arms above her head, he took her left breast into his mouth.

She arched up to meet him, heat flooding her body, wanton lust threatening to take over. He relinquished his hold on her arms and skimmed her breasts.

Lenore unfastened the buttons of his shirt, tugged it from his waistband and pushed it off his shoulders, finally able to feel and see him for the first time. Dark, soft curls covered the muscles of his chest, which was hard and unyielding.

He kissed her and she pulled him to her, his hard body against her much softer one. Michael Patrick groaned into her mouth.

“I want you. Oh, how I want you,” she panted.

He quickly removed his remaining clothes and rejoined her on the bed. Slowly rolling down the silk stockings after disengaging them from the garter, he skimmed his hands down her legs, causing already heightened nerve endings to explode. He glanced up and saw the pulse point in her neck beating frantically.

His own pulse was hammering as erratically. Sliding up her form, he stopped to kiss the throbbing vein and take a little nip. She writhed beneath him.

His hand wandered to the intimate folds between her legs and stroked her. She was hot and wet and ready. He slid his middle finger into her moist heat and felt the muscles contract around it.

“I want you,” she said again, reaching to grasp the object of her desire as if to put an exclamation point on the statement.

“I'm getting the point,” he said, rolling on a condom as she watched.

He stopped short of entering her. His eyes locked on hers. “Watch,
mo chuisle
, watch.”

She did, and he watched her, saw her eyes widen as he entered her for the first time. He groaned as her muscles gripped him tightly, drawing him deeper.

MP held still for a moment waiting for her body to become accustomed to him. She lifted her hips to encourage his participation.

“Impatient are we, wee one?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled and thrust into her fully, deeply.

“Now, now,” she chanted.

“No, not yet, savor the moment,” he breathed, deliberately slowing his pace.

He was surprised, but she followed his lead. But soon there was no slowing down or holding back, as they both raced toward climax.

After, he gathered her in his arms and breathed in her essence.

“Marvelous.”

“It was, wasn't it?” He smiled at her, his voice still thick with desire.

She ran a hand through the springy hair on his chest as she rested her head there. He kissed the top of that head, and eventually they drifted into a doze, sated and relaxed.

They stirred several hours later.

“Are you hungry?” Lenore asked him as he leaned in to kiss her.

“Starving,” MP replied with a provocative smile and rolled on top of her.

She laughed, letting him have his fill of her and enjoying every minute.

“I fear I may be obsessed with you, Ms. Held.”

“Hmm, so it's Ms. Held, is it now?”

“I thought I'd try the opposite of what we're doing in the book and see how it worked.”

“Truth be told, I have a soft spot for endearments you murmur in your native tongue.”

“I could be cussing you out, and you'd never know it.”

“Even if you are, it never sounded so good. So keep it up.”

“I plan to,
mo chuisle
. I can't help it. Love and anger flow from one's first language. Both such strong emotions, I think.”

She looked deeply into his eyes, “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Ah, the lass is very perceptive. I'm obviously not angry with you, so I guess that leaves love. I'm falling in love with you, Lenore, hard and fast.” He continued to look into her fascinating eyes, facets of rich blues and greens coming together, then floating apart again, almost like a kaleidoscope. “I've scared you, haven't I?”

Deflecting the question, she said, “
A chuisle
means love and
mo chuisle
means my love.”

“Yes, you catch on quickly. I'll have to watch my cussing; you'll be giving it back to me in no time.”

They both laughed to defuse the tension, sexual and otherwise.

Wednesday morning, Lenore looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and frowned. She didn't know what look she was going for, but she was thinking severe and serious. Somehow she wasn't getting there. No, her lips were full and bee-stung and her face was flushed an innocent pink. The activity that gave her the rosy glow was anything but innocent.

She turned sideways; even her breasts looked larger and firmer. She'd read in a health magazine that when a woman's breasts were stroked or kissed, blood flow dilated the arteries and caused them to increase in size by up to 25 percent, at least temporarily. Until this instant, she never had reason to think about whether it was true.

Lenore glanced up and saw Michael Patrick leaning casually on the doorframe.

“Yes?”

“You look sexy,
mo chuisle
, even a brown burlap sack wouldn't take the glow away and the sparkle out of your eyes. Why would you want it to? Haven't you ever heard the best revenge is looking good?”

He was grinning at her, merriment dancing in those clear eyes. Eyes sky blue, unlike those of her son's sperm donor, which were ice blue and cold as his heart. Lenore mentally shook those thoughts from her mind; MP didn't deserve the comparison. Instead she quipped, “So I should go looking like a well-satisfied woman?”

“Indeed.”

She laughed as she slid into a conservative, navy-blue pinstripe suit and two-inch-heeled navy pumps. Glancing up, she observed MP donning a gray wool blazer. “Are you going somewhere?”

“With you, lass.”

“Michael Patrick, I don't think that's a good idea.”

“I do. I won't go into your meeting, but I will be waiting for you when you leave.”

She was about to argue but stopped. Why shouldn't he be there? He'd distract her from her disturbing thoughts on her way to the meeting and maybe save her from whatever emotional state she'd be in after.

****

An hour later, Lenore and MP were in Attorney Connor Walker's office. Lenore had arranged to arrive a half-hour early to discuss the situation, as she'd taken to calling it, with him. There had never been reason to before. Her attorney in Michigan had set up the financial arrangements with Maxwell's camp, and she had invested the funds over the years, sometimes with the advice of a financial advisor but usually on her own. She trusted financial advisors about as much as she trusted politicians. Connor took care of all her business dealings, and another member of his firm dealt with her estate planning.

“You're nervous,
a chuisle
,” MP said, taking her hand.

“I suppose the cold, clammy, dead fish-like feel of my flesh was the giveaway.”

“That sounds like something Amanda might say.”

“Maybe, but I said it and wasn't thinking about Amanda. What would Cass say to her in response?”

That response would have to wait because Walker's admin came to escort her back.

They exchanged pleasantries and got down to business.

“Tell me why you're meeting Byron Maxwell's aide and why you're doing it here,” Connor Walker said.

She took a deep breath. “Byron Maxwell is my son's father. I was an intern for him during my final year of college, and we had an affair.”

“I see,” Walker replied. “Is he making trouble now? I'm guessing whatever arrangements were made after your son was conceived have worked satisfactorily until this point.” He then asked, “Maxwell's son has cancer and needs a bone marrow transplant. Is that what this is about?”

Grateful that her attorney kept up with the news, she nodded her head and explained the deal they'd struck all those years ago. Then she described the scene Maxwell had caused at her house the week prior and Gerald Morris's subsequent phone call.

“Is Maxwell violent, Lenore?” her attorney asked with concern.

“I remember he enjoyed yelling a lot but was never physically violent with anyone. Never even yelled at me, until I had the poor taste to get pregnant.” Remembering the day she had told him could still cause acid to churn to the surface.

“I'm sorry, Lenore. I didn't mean to upset you,” Connor said when he saw her pale face. “Do you want some water or something else to drink?”

“No, I'm fine. I hadn't thought about how painful that time was for me in years.”

“Man was a jackass, if you don't mind me saying so.”

“Those are much kinder words than I have for him.”

They shared the expected chuckle.

“What is it you want to accomplish here today?” Connor asked.

“I'm certain Morris will want to talk about the bone marrow transplant Jack needs. He'll try to convince me to get Nathan to be tested to see if he's a match without disclosing who it's for or why I want him to do it, but he's not a child anymore, and I wouldn't insult him.

“That being said, he's asked about his father a number of times over the last few years, and if he's going to do this, I think he has a right to know who his father is. I also want Nate to be able to meet with Maxwell if he chooses to do so. If he does, I want the meeting facilitated here on a weekend so Nate does not have to miss classes and, more importantly, so it's less likely someone will see them meeting.”

Her attorney listened intently, taking down the occasional note.

“I could be wrong, and Nate might not want any part of any of this, his father, or his half brother, but I know my son fairly well, and if donating bone marrow will help save Jack's life, I'm sure he'll do it, half brother or not.”