Inside the Beltway (Zaftig Dating Agency Book 20) by Jane Fox

Author:Jane Fox [Fox, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-04T16:00:00+00:00

Two hours later, Max and I are laughing as we leave Elia. There’s something intimate about sharing a tasting menu with someone; each course gave us something new and interesting to talk about. I discovered Max doesn’t generally like caviar, although he declared the salmon roe we were served ‘delicious’. And I was so taken with the deviled quail eggs that I was still talking about them several courses later.

“I don’t want tonight to be over,” I say. I’ve had just enough wine to give me an honest edge.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he says. “I’d invite you home, but there’s a scandal going on involving another member of Congress who lives in my building, and the photographers are on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. At the risk of sounding completely stereotypical, the Norabel Hotel is just a few blocks away. We could rent a suite for the night. One with two beds. No pressure.”

It’s the most nervous I’ve seen him, and it’s adorable. “So you’re saying that you’re not just trying to get into my pants?”

He glances down at me. “I don’t even know how I could, considering you’re wearing a dress.”

That sets us off again, and we laugh like teenagers with an inside joke.

“The Norabel sounds perfect,” I say.

“Should I call the car, or would you prefer to walk?” he asks.

“Let’s walk.” Dupont Circle is a lovely, quiet neighborhood lined with trees. It’s one of my favorite parts of the city, and I appreciate the excuse to enjoy it.

Max offers me his arm, and I take it. We move closer to one another, my hip bumping into the side of his leg.

“I had fun tonight,” I say.

“Night’s not over yet,” he says. “I say we order room service and watch terrible TV.”

“When you politicians let loose, you get pretty wild, huh?” I tease him. “Is that what you do in those secret societies I always hear about?”

He groans. “No one’s told me a damn thing about any secret societies. Instead, we wind up at one or another stuffy club that’s full of cigar smoke and the self-satisfaction of a group of old men.”

I snort. “You could be doing that instead of this? Max, how did you ever give it up?”

He looks down at me and smiles. “I had a compelling reason.”

We’re at the door to the Norabel, and in no time we’re settled into a suite. “I’m not even going to ask how much this room cost,” I say as I survey the understated luxury from my seat on the couch.

“Good, because it’s nothing you need to worry about,” Max replies. He sits on the couch next to me and puts his arm across the back, almost like he’s putting it around my shoulders.

“What should we talk about? 19th century Russian authors? I’m a Tolstoy man, myself.”

I gasp in mock horror. “I’m a Chekov girl. This will never work!”

He slides his arm down and pulls me towards him. “We should probably find an area where we’re more compatible.

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