The Camel Club

treated differently from everybody else.”

Simpson’s face flushed. “I can’t help it if people are treating me with kid gloves.”

Alex shook his head. “Wrong answer. You can help it. In fact, you better make damn sure it stops.” He paused and then asked, “Who is your guardian angel?” Simpson didn’t appear to want to answer. “Look, just spill it. It’s not like I can’t find out.”

She snapped, “Fine! My father is Senator Roger Simpson.”

Alex nodded, impressed. “Chairman of the Intelligence Oversight Committee. That’s a pretty big angel.”

In a flash Simpson was right in Alex’s face, almost stepping on his size 13 loafers as she attacked. “My father would never use his influence to help me. And for your information, being his only child didn’t make my life easier. I had to fight for every damn thing I got. I’ve got the bruises and thick skin to show for it.”

Alex backed up a step and put out a hand to keep her at bay. “This town isn’t built on fact, it’s based on perception. And the perception is that you get out of the crap work more than you should. And that’s not all. ”

“Oh, really?”

He pointed at her jacket. “You usually wear a blazing red handkerchief in your breast pocket.”

“So what?”

“So, to a Secret Service agent, that’s a no-no. It not only draws attention to you in a profession that prides itself on keeping a low profile except on protection detail. It also makes a damn fine target for somebody looking to take a shot at you. So not only does it label you as a maverick, it labels you as a stupid maverick.”

Simpson’s jaw clenched as she stared down at this crimson mark, as though it were a scarlet letter.

Alex continued. “And your gun. It’s a custom piece. Another sign that you think you’re different — translate, better — than everybody else. That doesn’t sit well with agents here, men or women.”

“My daddy gave me this gun when I became a police officer.” Alex noted that the angrier Simpson became, the more pronounced her Alabama drawl.

“So put it in a shadow box on your wall and carry the Service’s standard issue!”

“And what, then all my problems just go away?” This shot out of the woman’s mouth with such an attitude that now Alex felt like decking her.

“No, then you just have all the problems everybody else has. Why don’t you just file that one away under ‘Life’s a Bitch’?” And so are you.

Alex turned and walked off. He’d had enough of the rookie for one day. The LEAP Bar was seriously calling his name.

Kate Adams had just come on duty after a full day at Justice when Alex walked in. It was relatively early yet, so the place was mostly empty. Alex marched up to the bar, a man on a mission. She’d seen him coming and had the martini with three fat olives waiting for him by the time Alex’s rear hit the stool.

“My imagination, or are you a little upset about something?” she said in a teasing manner that immediately eased the tension from him.

The mingled scents of coconut and honeysuckle drifted across the width of the mahogany bar and settled in his nostrils. He wondered if she’d washed her hair before coming to work, or if it was her perfume, or both. Regardless, it was doing a number on him.

“Just work. It’ll pass.” He took a sip of his drink, popped one of the olives into his mouth and chased it down with a handful of peanuts he grabbed from a bowl next to him. “How goes it with you? Your superspy friend Tommy come calling?”

She raised her eyebrows at this comment. “Hemingway? I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend.” He gave her such a skeptical look that she put down the glass she was drying off and leaned across the bar.

“You have another opinion you’d like to express, Agent Ford?”

He shrugged. “None of my business really.”

“A girl can flirt and not mean anything by it.”

Alex took another hit of his martini. “That’s good to know.”

“You have to admit, he’s very cute, well traveled, intelligent. The man’s the whole package really.”

Alex started to launch a blistering rejoinder but then realized she was just pulling his chain, and enjoying herself immensely. “Yeah, he is. Hell, I was thinking about asking the guy out myself.”

She leaned across the bar again and grabbed his tie so hard Alex was jerked toward her, spilling part of his drink.

She said, “Well, since you can’t seem to get around to it, I will. Do you want to go out?”

Alex felt his mouth hanging open but had the good sense to shut it a second later. “You’re asking me out?”

“No, I’m asking the guy behind you. Yes, I’m asking you out.”

Alex couldn’t help but glance around him on the outside chance that he was being set up with a hidden studio audience that was just waiting to erupt into belly laughs.

“You’re really serious?”

She tightened her grip on his tie. “When I flirt, I flirt. When I ask, it’s a whole other ball game.”

“Yes. I want to go out with you.”

“See, that wasn’t all that hard, was it? Now, since we’ve finally gotten that settled, why don’t we negotiate a date? Because you seem a little slow on the social uptake, I’ll go first. I’m assuming you enjoy eating as well as drinking. How about dinner?”

“You just threw me a curve. I thought for sure you’d be safe and propose lunch.”

“I’m not into safe these days,” she said. Then Kate let go of his tie very, very slowly, sliding her hand down the fabric until the tie fell free.

Alex eased himself back, not seeming to mind at all that half his martini was now on his jacket sleeve.

“Dinner sounds fine with me,” he managed to say without mangling the words too badly.

“Okay, let’s set a date and time. I’m into instant gratification; are you free tomorrow night?”

Even if he’d been assigned to guard the president on his deathbed, Alex would’ve found a way to be available. “Sounds good.”

“Say around six-thirty. I’ll make dinner reservations unless you’d care to.”

“No, go ahead.”

“Do you want to meet at the restaurant or pick me up at my place?”

“Your place is fine.”

“My, you’re so agreeable, Agent Ford. I can’t tell you how refreshing that is for me after being around lawyers all day. Lawyers don’t agree on anything.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“Why don’t you come by around six?”

She wrote her phone number and address down and slid it across to him. He handed her one of his cards with his home address and phone number penciled in on the back.

“You like it out in Manassas?” she asked, eyeing his card.

“My wallet likes it a lot.” He glanced at her address and got a funny look. “R Street? Georgetown!”

“Don’t get your hopes up, mister. I’m not an heiress masquerading as a DOJ do-gooder. I live in the carriage house behind the mansion. The woman who owns the place is a widow and likes having someone around. She’s really nice. Quite the pistol actually.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you don’t want one.” She poured him a fresh drink. “On the house, since you seemed to have spilled yours.” She handed him a rag.

“While you’re in a cooperative mood, where does the ‘total package’ work and what project are you two involved in?”

Kate put a finger to her lips. “Lawyer confidentiality thing, you understand. But without breaking any state secrets I can tell you I’m working with his agency on its request to reuse an old building. But I don’t think we’re going to reach such an agreement. So what’s going on at work that has you ticked off?”

“You don’t hear enough sob stories as it is?”