From the Heart

cold.”
    “Rowing,” Liv mused. That would explain the calloused, worked feeling of his palms.
    “Yes, you know: Go, Yale!”
    She smiled at that—a quick smile that lit her eyes.
    “That’s the first time you’ve done that for me,” he said. “Smiled with your whole face. I think I’m in love.”
    “You’re tougher than that, Thorpe.”
    “A marshmallow,” he corrected, and lifted her hand to his lips.
    Carefully, she removed her hand from his. Her fingertipswere tingling. “No marshmallow was responsible for that exposé on misappropriation of funds in the Interior Department last November.”
    “That’s work.” He took a step closer so that their bodies nearly touched. “The man is a pathetic romantic, weakened by candlelight, devastated by a Chopin prelude. A woman could have me for the price of an open fire and a bottle of wine.”
    Liv lifted her glass again. It had to be the wine that was making her feel unsteady. “And thousands have.”
    “You told me not to brag.” He grinned. “And reporting limits your time,”
    Liv was having a difficult time keeping her distance. She shook her head and sighed. “I don’t want to like you, Thorpe. I really don’t.”
    “Don’t rush into anything,” he advised genially.
    “T.C.” The gentleman from Virginia clapped a hand on Thorpe’s shoulder. “I knew I’d find you with an attractive woman.” He ran an appreciative eye over Liv. Senator Wyatt was a few pounds overweight, pink cheeked and jovial. Liv knew he was leading a campaign to kill proposed cuts in education and welfare. She had been fighting to get past his front door for two weeks.
    “Senator.” Thorpe took the heavy-handed greeting genially. “Olivia Carmichael.”
    Liv’s hand was pumped in the best senatorial style. “Well now, I don’t forget faces, and I’ve seen this one. But I’ll swear you’re not one of T.C.’s regulars.”
    Thorpe made a sound that was somewhere between throat clearing and sighing. Liv shot him a glance. “I’m with WWBW, Senator Wyatt. Mr. Thorpe and I are . . . colleagues.”
    “Yes, yes, of course. I remember perfectly now. T.C. fancies a different type.” He leaned closer to Liv and winked. “Lots of leg, short on brains.”
    “Is that so?” Liv aimed a thoughtful look at Thorpe.
    “You have great legs, Liv,” Thorpe commented.
    “So I’ve been told.” She turned to Wyatt. “I’d very much like to speak with you, Senator, about your stand on the proposed education cuts. Perhaps you could suggest a more appropriate time?”
    Wyatt hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Call my office Monday morning. You two should be dancing,” he decided, and straightened his dinner jacket with a quick tug. “I’m going to see if I can find any real food at that buffet. Fish eggs and goose liver.” With a grimace, he sauntered away.
    Thorpe took her hand. When Liv glanced up at him, he smiled. “Just taking the senator’s advice,” he explained. Keeping to the edge of the dance floor, he drew her into his arms.
    It was the second time she had been held against him. The second time her body had responded despite herself. Liv went rigid.
    “Don’t you like to dance, Olivia?” he murmured.
    “Yes.” She made an effort to keep her voice cool and even. “Of course.”
    “Then relax.” His hand was light at her waist, his mouth close to her ear. Small thrills trembled along her skin. “When we make love, it won’t be with members of Washington’s brass looking on. I like privacy.”
    Because she had been struggling with the first part of his statement, it took a moment for the second part to penetrate. Liv threw her head back so that their eyes met. “What makes you think—”
    “Not think, know,” he corrected. “Your heart’s racing just as it did when I kissed you outside of O’Riley’s.”
    “It is not,” she denied hotly. “It wasn’t then; it isn’t now. I told you before, Thorpe, I don’t like you.”
    “More recently you said you didn’t want to like me—a totally different thing.” She was so slender. He wanted to press her closer until she melted into him. “I could find out how you feel right now if I kissed you. The federal grapevine would be buzzing about Thorpe and Carmichael fraternizing on neutral ground.”
    “The lead story would be Thorpe’s broken jaw when Carmichael severs diplomatic relations.”
    “You don’t have the hands for packing much of a punch,” he mused. “Anyway, I