She chewed on her lower lip.
Pete pushed back from the table. “Don’t look so worried. I happen to know you already lost that.”
So much for cool, she thought. It was hard to be cool with a man who’d spent the last three weeks listening to her telephone conversations. “Okay, I’ll throw in with you. Just don’t get any wrong ideas.”
He was standing behind her, thinking she’d be on her feet and running down the stairs if he told her about some of his ideas.
He bent forward and whispered in her ear. “We are about to embark on an undercover operation-a pig hunt that could have a significant impact on national security and international relations. We have to trust each other, Lou. We have to work as a team. We have to…share.” He kissed her just below her ear and again at the nape of her neck.
She swiveled in her chair, coming nose-to-nose with him. She narrowed her eyes and poked a forefinger at his chest. “Back off.”
“I can’t,” he said, placing both hands on the table, trapping her. “I’ve developed an intense physical attraction to you.”
“Good grief.” It was a relief to know the attraction was reciprocal. It was disconcerting to have it put so bluntly.
A smile curved the corners of his mouth when he spoke. “I can tell you’re excited about this newfound intimacy.”
Terrified would be closer to the truth, she thought. An attraction was one thing, acting on that attraction was something entirely different. “I’m not going to have to spend all my time in a groping war with you, am I?”
“Not for the next few days. I’m going to let my body heal before I do any serious groping.”
Probably a lie, he thought, but it wouldn’t hurt to throw her off guard. He pushed away and grabbed his jacket from the elaborate oak coatrack at the top of the stairs. “Come on. Let’s do some detecting. Let’s check up on this Maislin dude. Let’s see if he lives with piggies.”
“Suppose we find Maislin has the pig. What does that prove?”
“I don’t know. It’s a place to start. I figure we’ll just keep poking around, picking up stray pieces, and then at some point maybe the pieces will start to come together. Besides, even if Maislin doesn’t have the pig, I’d still like to see his house.”
Chapter 3
Louisa ran her finger down the congressional directory on her lap. “Maislin,” she said. “Here it is…he lives in Potomac.”
Pete turned off Connecticut, heading west to Wisconsin. He opened the sunroof, punched in a CD selection, and gave the console and floor mats a quick look to see if he’d left any loose cigarettes lying around. If he found one, he’d have an obligation to smoke it, he told himself. After all, it’d be just one, and then it wouldn’t be there to tempt him in the future. He searched through the map pocket on the driver’s side door and looked in the glove compartment. No cigarettes. Not even a butt. He sighed and slumped a little in his seat.
“You smoke?” he asked Louisa.
“No.”
“You drink?”
“A little wine once in a while.”
“How about gambling…you go to the track? You buy lottery tickets?”
“No.”
“So what are your secret vices?” He knew it wasn’t sex. Her life was a sexual wasteland. “What do you do for fun?” he asked her. “You a chocolate binger? You have a fetish for kitchen appliances?”
“Being Nolan’s press secretary has been pretty consuming. I guess I haven’t done much else. Haven’t really wanted to.”
She replaced the congressional directory with a map of Montgomery County and traced down Maislin’s street. “I know this section of Potomac. The lots are all about two acres and the houses are so big, there’s barely any lawn. Maislin isn’t hurting for money.”
Pete knew more than that. Maislin had started out with ball bearings. They went into everything from Rollerblades to rocket launchers. Over the years, Maislin had diversified to nuts and bolts, electronic circuit boards, high-tech fuses, and a scattering of related industries. After his election to Congress, he’d dumped legal title into trusts and holding companies, so he couldn’t be accused of conflicting interests. That didn’t mean he didn’t have any.
Pete turned north onto River Road. It was two lanes and filled with lights, but it was the most direct route to Potomac. He popped a piece of gum into his mouth and offered one to Louisa. “I’m much better at starting bad habits than stopping them,” he said.
“Think you’ll make it?”
“If I live long enough.”
He drove by the outskirts of Glen Echo and passed under the beltway at Cabin John. The countryside was beginning to open up. The wealth was obvious. Houses were large. Grounds were manicured. “You’re the navigator from here on,” he said to Louisa.
“Take the next left.”
The road led them into a subdivision of tract mansions. After half a mile Louisa pointed to a two-million-dollar version of a French country house. “There.” A gray Mercedes was parked in the circular drive. “Now what?”
“I don’t know,” Pete said. “I guess I was hoping there’d be pigs on his front lawn.”
The street wasn’t heavily traveled, so Pete stared at the house for a while. No one went in or out. No one peeked from behind drawn curtains. No pigs could be heard squealing in the distance. “I suppose one or both of us should try to get into the house,” he finally said.
As far as Louisa was concerned he might as well have suggested they fly to the moon. “Forget it. Not me. No way.”
He made chicken noises and flapped his arms.
“No.”
“You could be the Avon Lady.”
“Get serious,” Louisa said. “I’m not going in there.”
“Does Maislin’s wife know you?”
“I don’t think so. They travel in higher circles.”
Pete pulled the Porsche into the drive and parked next to the Mercedes.
Louisa had her hand braced against the dash. “I’m not getting out.”
“Sure you are. We’re a team. Wither thou goest.”
“No!”
“C’mon, be a good girl and do this for Uncle Pete. I’ll buy you an ice-cream cone.”
“You’re certifiable.”
“Yeah, but I’m also lovable,” he said. He took a pair of sunglasses from the console and put them on. “Sexy, huh?”
She reluctantly followed him up the steps and lagged behind when he rang the bell. She couldn’t imagine what he was going to say when the door opened. She was sure it would be something outrageous. After all, he was from California. He was involved in movies.
“Listen,” she said, “I was born and raised in Chevy Chase, Maryland. I’m not good at breaking and entering.”
“This isn’t going to be breaking and entering. This is going to be lying and entering.”
“If I get arrested, my mother will have a heart attack.”
“You’re not going to get arrested. The worst that can happen is maybe this will be a little embarrassing.”
“Oh Lord,” she wailed. “I
