Another Notch in the Beltway by L. A. Long Read Free Book Online

the kiss was hungrier and carried a sizzle of desire. They had all but stopped dancing, lost in the sensation of discovering one another.
    Survivor was now replaced with Journey’s “Open Arms.” Music forgotten now, he slid his hands up the back of her long-sleeved black T. She arched into him. His arms pulled her tighter.
    â€œExcuse me,” a deep, raging voice all but commanded.
    They jolted apart as if the words were bullets.
    Lenore shrieked, and MP muttered, “Jesus.”
    â€œWha… what are you doing here, Byron?” Lenore asked, stunned, yet not, that he was standing in her office.
    Byron Maxwell was a big man. Attractive, almost too pretty, but at sixty-two his hair was now more gray than sable, and his eyes were not the vivid, ice blue they once were. He was beginning to look like a faded rose.
    â€œI did ring the bell, but with the music and all…” He smirked and let his sentence trail off.
    â€œAgain, Byron, what are you doing here?” she demanded, angry that he had invaded her personal space.
    â€œGerald called you and you didn’t return his call.”
    â€œSorry, but I’m not in the habit of making campaign contributions to any political party these days. I didn’t know the RNC was going door to door now, or are you a member of the Tea Party, grass roots, and all that?” she asked hotly, anger spilling into her tone.
    â€œDon’t be a bitch, Lenore.”
    â€œYou haven’t seen bitch.”
    â€œThe lady deserves more respect than that, Byron, and if you can’t behave with a modicum of decorum, I think you should leave,” MP said hotly.
    Maxwell looked MP up and down, as if noticing him for the first time, and then nodding his acknowledgment of MP’s statement, he held out a hand and said, “Byron.”
    â€œMichael Patrick Finnegan.” MP gave Byron an appraising looking as well.
    â€œLenore, I’m sorry. My intrusion was poorly timed, and my behavior thus far uncalled for,” Byron said, shifting his attention back to her.
    About seven snippy comments flashed through her mind, but MP’s hand gliding down her back somehow kept them at bay. So she simply nodded and waved him to the couch. She did not, however, offer refreshments. When they had been seeing one another, he liked to come to her apartment and watch her cook. He loved her food. Mrs. Maxwell didn’t cook.
    â€œ
Mo chuisle
, I won’t be far if you need me.”
    â€œOkay.” She looked into his blue eyes; they were filled with concern. “I’ll be all right, Michael Patrick,” she said softly.
    She watched him go, then turned back to Maxwell, her own eyes stormy and her voice cold. “All right, for the fourth time, what do you want?”
    â€œJack is sick, he has multiple myeloma and needs a bone marrow transplant.”
    â€œI’m sorry to hear that,” she said, meaning it and not breaking eye contact.
    â€œThe best chance of a donor is a sibling. Carter most likely would have been a match, but I’m sure you heard he died several years ago.”
    She sat impassive, gaze never wavering.
    â€œNate may be a match, even though he and Jack do not share the same mother.”
    Lenore waited him out with barely suppressed anger. Jack was only a month younger than Nate. Maxwell had told her when they first got involved that his marriage was over and he’d not had “intimate relations” with his wife since she became pregnant with his first son. When he told her his wife was pregnant again, she remembered asking him exactly what his definition of intimate relations was. She never did get a sufficient answer from him. It was the last time she’d ever seen him.
    All of their communications after that went through Morris and her attorney. Thank goodness she was not so besotted with him that she didn’t take precautions to protect herself and unborn child. At the time, Lenore told