Another Notch in the Beltway by L. A. Long Page A

center. “You’ve never had the right man in your life before.”
    â€œYou’re that man, Michael Patrick?”
    â€œI think I am, lass. Give me a chance. Give us a chance,” he said, a simple plea in his voice. He looked into her brimming eyes.
    â€œSee what you get? You came here today hoping to seduce me, Mr. Finnegan, and instead you walked into a soap opera.”
    â€œNo,
mo chuisle
. I walked into your life. Life is messy. I know that as well as anyone, better than some.”
    â€œI suppose you do. But if this gets ugly—”
    â€œI’ll still be there. This isn’t your doing, Lenore. It’s Maxwell’s.”
    â€œI don’t care about Maxwell or myself for that matter. I care about my son.”
    â€œAll the more reason for me to stick around and make sure you’re safe. You see, I care about you.”
    â€œI feel something for you, too, MP but the timing is all wrong.”
    â€œYou can always make excuses.”
    â€œI wasn’t going to. I was going to give you—us—my best shot. Maxwell isn’t an excuse; he’s a problem.”
    â€œIf two people can outmaneuver a problem in a love affair, it’s us. Remember the formula, lass: hero, heroine, plot, obstacle, happily ever after.”
    â€œYou forgot marriage, babies, extended family. But seriously, this isn’t a book plot.”
    â€œCan be.”
    â€œIt’s bad reality TV in the making.”
    â€œYe of little faith.” He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m not backing away; plus, we have work to do, a book to write. I’ll be in your face day in and day out. Why not enjoy my face?”

Chapter Twelve
    â€œMaxwell, you’re a flaming asshole,” Gerald Morris spat at his boss and longtime friend.
    They were in Morris’s home office. Maxwell didn’t want to discuss the matter at hand in his office on The Hill and couldn’t discuss it in his own home, because he was convinced Mrs. Maxwell had his office bugged.
    â€œI know I handled it poorly.” Maxwell had spilled the scene at Lenore Held’s house to his senior staffer.
    â€œPoorly is an understatement. You fucked the woman over, literally, years ago, but she’s kept her mouth shut and never caused a moment’s grief, and you go to her house and verbally attack her?”
    Maxwell sat in the wingback chair that flanked the fireplace, staring into his scotch.
    Morris continued. “She wasn’t like all the others or all the others after. She was a decent girl. A GD virgin that you bragged about deflowering. Then you tell her to get an abortion—you prolife hypocrite. She could have sunk you, your political career, and your equally political marriage if she had chosen to, but she didn’t.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œBy your own admission, you let yourself into her house, find her with a man, and as much as call her a whore. You are a piece of work.”
    â€œI saw her with that guy, and I snapped. I don’t know what came over me.”
    â€œJealousy, lust, want—take your pick. You’re a pig.”
    Morris could get away with saying these things to his boss, because he didn’t need to work. He came from a very prosperous, well-to-do family who had closets, trunks, and attics full of skeletons. He could never run for office himself but was able to impact many things by working behind the scenes and manipulating Maxwell. Maxwell was too stupid to know he was being manipulated.
    They had been fraternity brothers in college. Morris had helped get Maxwell elected as frat president on a platform of better beer at parties and a condom dispenser in the common area restroom. Things were so simple back then.
    â€œI should have left Corrine for Lenore all those years ago.”
    â€œWhile you might have had the balls to fuck her, Byron, you never had the balls or the backbone to leave her. But that’s