He’d put a lot of himself into his screenplays, she’d decided. Under all that incredible hair was intelligence and sensitivity and an understanding of human nature. She also recognized that her judgment of him might be colored by his ability to inspire passion, the likes of which she’d never before experienced. It wasn’t enough to make her want to spend the rest of her life with him, but she didn’t want to minimize the accomplishment, either.
She wasn’t ready to deal with her conflicting, rapidly changing feelings for Streeter, so she turned the conversation back to business. “Did you find anything interesting in Pennsylvania?”
“It’d be easier to get into CIA headquarters in Langley than to break into that pig farm. The place is surrounded by an electrified fence and razor wire. I only got as far as the front gate. They don’t give guided tours, and the guard wasn’t impressed with my Mr. Charm routine.”
“Low cholesterol bacon is very high tech.”
“How about you? You have any luck?”
“I got three invitations to lunch and found out Beverly Kootz is having an affair with her hairdresser.”
“Anything else?”
“Nolan hired a new press secretary. Some bimbo from New York. Worked in broadcasting. Supposedly has a lot of contacts. Rumor has it, she’s been seen going in and out of motel rooms with Stu Maislin.”
Pete leaned closer so he could smell her hair. “The plot thickens.”
“Mmmm. I think Nolan probably owed Maislin a favor, and they used my association with you as an excuse to give the slut a job.”
“Nasty.”
“Hey, that’s life.”
“You’re being very philosophical about this,” Pete said.
“Getting fired has forced me to reexamine my life.”
“Did it come up short?”
She thought about it a moment. “Not exactly short. Maybe a little undernourished.”
“Needed a kick in the pants?”
Louisa laughed. “Yeah. Something like that.”
He’d promised himself there’d be no more groping in a car, and he decided it was going to be a damn hard promise to keep. He was besotted, he ruefully admitted. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, only that he’d been hit fast and hard. It had started out as an innocent physical attraction, had quickly grown into an amusing infatuation, and then the virus had skyrocketed out of control. He could feel affection and desire multiplying exponentially inside him. Two hours earlier he’d been able to joke about being in love. Now it had him by the short hairs.
He should be watching for Horowitz, he thought, but Louisa was silky and warm beside him. He ran his thumb along the line of her jaw and watched her lips part in expectation of a kiss. He suspected she wasn’t going to be much help with the groping problem. He wasn’t completely unhappy about that, he admitted. He twirled a curl around his finger while he debated if he should tell her his feelings.
“Listen, Lou, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s about last night-”
“Last night was possibly the most embarrassing night of my life. I don’t know what came over me! I attacked you, for crying out loud!”
“Yeah. You were great.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t want to talk about the way you tore at your clothes until you were sprawled across my lap completely naked?”
“Exactly. That’s exactly what I don’t want to talk about.”
Louisa bit down on her lower lip.
He pinned her to the seat and slid his hands under her shirt. “Lord, Lou, you’re so hot.”
“How do you know?”
He smiled like the cat that just swallowed the canary. “Men know these things.”
A thrill ripped through her at his touch, and with it came panic. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Demonstrating. I have a visual aid, too, if you’re interested.”
“No!”
She knew exactly what visual aid the man was talking about. It was straining the seam of his jeans. Thank goodness they made jeans like iron these days, she thought. If it had been an inferior pair, his visual aid looked like it might burst right through.
“This is a respectable neighborhood,” she told him. “People don’t go around using visual aids in broad daylight here. It’s illegal, I think.”
She was finding it difficult to breathe, difficult to remember why she didn’t want to see his visual aid. He kissed her deeply, not bothering to hide the extent of his need, and reality whirled away from her. There was only Pete and the enslaving sensations he produced in her body. There was lust, red-hot and bawdy, and there was a sweet excitement, a premonition that she was about to fly off in a million new directions through uncharted space.
A sharp rap on the driver’s-side window broke into the kiss, and Louisa was dimly aware of Pete pulling away and swearing softly. It took a moment for her to realize Horowitz had arrived.
“I’m from Horowitz Security,” the man said when Pete rolled down the window. “You the people that’s locked outta the house? Nice to see you’re putting your time to good use.”
“Trying to keep warm,” Pete said.
“Looks like it’s working.”
Five minutes later Pete and Louisa were alone in Louisa’s apartment. Pete closed the front door and activated the system. “Now, where were we before Horowitz…”
Louisa narrowed her eyes and tapped her foot. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.” She looked down the front of her shirt. “My bra is missing. Where is it?”
He pulled it out of his pocket.
“How did you do that? I have all the rest of my clothes on! How did it get into your pocket without my suspecting?”
“It’s an innate talent.”
“You’re a despicable person,” she said. “You’re a real scuzzball.”
His hands were tangled in her hair, and his lips were very close to hers. “You don’t mean that.” His lips brushed over her mouth; his voice hummed, softly resonant, against her ear. “I think you’re beginning to like me.”
“Maybe a little.”
He kissed her lightly. Then he kissed her again with much more feeling. He’d do it right this time, he promised himself.
He swept her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. His hands inflamed as they undressed. When she was naked, he took his mouth to her, covering her with kisses that were achingly gentle and supremely intimate.
He was still fully clothed. He was afraid to love her any other way. He was determined not to rush, not to let his own passion set the pace.
Never had she wanted a man like this. She was burning with a hunger she’d never even suspected existed. The previous night she’d felt all explosive energy and a need that was frantic and furious and frighteningly powerful. This was slow, relentless heat, inexorable, unescapable. She itched for release and was sure she could no longer bear the exquisite torture. But it continued, and, impossible as it seemed, the intensity increased.
He stood, peeled off his clothes, and pinned her hands to the bed. The sense of union was overwhelming, taking his breath away, causing him to pause for a moment.
She dragged her eyes open. He was beautiful. His expression was one of rapt attention and tender affection. She could spend a lifetime looking at his face, she thought. A lifetime of loving him and being loved. She would never tire of him, never grow bored, never stop wanting him.
She watched the control slip from him, saw his eyes darken as passion gained the upper hand. And then she was gone, taking him with her, hurtling through time and space, lost in that all-encompassing velvet blackness only perfectly matched lovers know.
They lay together for a long time afterward in companionable silence. It had been better than death by doughnut, she thought. And she was definitely happy she hadn’t died of starvation. She suspected this was one of those moments in time, like daybreak, when the world held its breath, crossed its fingers, and made promises. She didn’t care. It was lovely, all the same, and she allowed herself the luxury of feeling in love.