From the Heart

hat was slippery as an eel. He had his bigger adversary in a headlock, demanding that he give. With a face reddened with frustration and lack of air, he did.
    “Want another drink?” Thorpe asked Liv as things quieted down again.
    “Hmm?” She brought her attention back to him, then grinned at his dry expression. “Thorpe, don’t you think this is the sort of thing that makes good copy?”
    “If you’re going to comment on a prizefight,” he agreed, but smiled. “You surprise me, Olivia.”
    “Why, because I didn’t scream and cover my eyes?” Laughing, she signaled the waitress herself. “Thorpe, they didn’t do any more than give themselves a few bruises and something to talk about. The newsroom’s more violent every day before deadline.”
    “You’re a tough lady, Carmichael,” he said, toasting her.
    Pleased, she touched her glass to his. “Why, thank you, Thorpe.”
    It was late when they walked back outside. Liv heard the hour strike one. Stubbornly, the drizzle continued to fall. Lights reflected in shallow puddles and glimmered hazily through the misting rain. Though the air was chilled, the wine had warmed Liv, so that she felt glowing and wide awake.
    “Do you know,” she said as they walked slowly through Soho, “the first time I was in London I went to monuments and museums, teas and theaters. I feel as though I’ve seen more tonight than I did in that entire week.” When he took her hand in his, she made no objection. There was something natural about walking with him in the early hours of the morning in a misting rain. “When I left the hotel tonight I was tired, depressed.” She moved her shoulders. “Restless. I’m glad you found me.”
    “I wanted to be with you,” he said simply.
    Cautiously, Liv skirted around his statement. “I’m glad we’re getting back in the middle of the weekend,” she continued. “An assignment like this drains you, especially when you get a surprise like we had this morning.”
    “Not much of a surprise, really,” he commented.
    Liv looked up sharply. “Do you mean you were expecting something like that to happen?”
    “Let’s say I had a hunch.”
    “Well, you might have shared it with the rest of us,” she said with a sound of exasperation. “After all, you were the press reporter.”
    “And as such, I’m required to share information and facts, not hunches.” He grinned as she frowned up at him. “You should have been able to put two and two together for yourself, Carmichael. You have raindrops on your lashes.”
    “Don’t change the subject.”
    “And every trace of your makeup’s been washed away.”
    “Thorpe—”
    “Your hair’s wet.”
    With a sigh, Liv gave up.
    “Tired?” he asked as they walked into the lobby of the hotel.
    “No.” She laughed. “Lord knows I should be.”
    “Want to go to the lounge for a nightcap?”
    “Not if I want a clear head in the morning.” She headed for the elevator instead. “I have to check in with Scotland Yard before we leave. Any connections there you want to share, Thorpe?”
    Smiling, he pushed the button for their floor. “You’ll have to dig up your own.”
    “I thought your turf was Washington.”
    “When I’m there,” he agreed, and steered her into the corridor.
    “You do have a connection,” she said suspiciously.
    “I didn’t say that. In any case, the London correspondent will take the story from here.”
    Knowing she faced a dead end, Liv slipped her key into the lock. “That’s unfortunately true. I hate not being able to follow up on it.” She turned to smile at him. “Thanks for the company.”
    Without speaking, he lifted her hand to his lips. When the tremor shot down from her fingertips, she started to pull away, but he kept her hand firmly in his. He turned her palm up to plant another lingering kiss.
    “Thorpe.” Liv backed away, but her hand was still held fast in his. “We agreed to be friends.”
    His eyes were fixed on hers. The husky quality of her voice stroked along his skin. “It’s tomorrow, Liv,” he said quietly. “I didn’t make any promises about tomorrow.” Putting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her toward the door, and pushed her gently in. He let go of her only to close the door behind them.
    She was in his arms again. Slowly, he ran his fingertips up the slim column of her neck. With his eyes on hers, he traced the shape of her ear, her cheekbones, then her lips. They trembled open at his touch as if