recognition by the public than other members of the movie community.
She’d seen all his movies, yet she hadn’t recognized his name when he’d introduced himself four days before. When she’d done a mental review of his movies, she’d been able to reach a few perfunctory observations on style. All movies had content. All movies were fast paced, filled with action, laced with humor. He had a decided preference for political thrillers. He’d been nominated for an Academy Award three times. One nomination had resulted in an Oscar. And as they were known to say in Hollywood, Streeter was big box office. His movies had all been financially successful.
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