“Five minutes,” she repeated.
“I can finish a soft drink in less than five minutes.”
She shook her head in disgust but headed up the stairs anyway. Max followed, resisting once again the urge to reach out and touch. There was a time, a very short time in the scheme of things, when he’d felt free to do that.
“Cola or beer?” she asked, coming to the top of the stairs and padding across the smooth floor to the kitchen area.
“Beer,” Max decided, shrugging out of his tux jacket and releasing his bow tie.
He moved to the furniture grouping of two low, hunter-green leather couches, a pair of matching armchairs and low tables with lamps, all tastefully accented by a rust, gold and brown patterned rug. Her view of the city was expansive. The night had turned clear, with a new blanket of snow freshening up the buildings and the trees, reflecting the lights in the park across the street.
Cara returned with a can of beer for him and a cola for her. She handed the can to Max and then curled into one of the armchairs, popping the top on her own drink.
“Four minutes,” she warned him.
He opened his beer and eased onto the corner of a couch. He pulled off his wristwatch and set it on the coffee table, faceup where he could see it.
He caught her slight, involuntary smile at the gesture.
“You okay?” he asked in a soft voice.
“I’m fine,” she assured him one more time.
“Did you know?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“You know I can’t answer that.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I was counting on being able to read your expression when you told me to back off.”
She lifted her brows. “And did you?”
“You’re as inscrutable as ever.”
“Thank you. It helps in my business.” She took a sip.
He followed suit. Then he set the can down on a coaster. “You know I’ll have to go after the story.”
“I know you will.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. And I respect the hell out of this president. But a secret daughter?”
“We don’t know for sure she’s his daughter.”
Max stilled. He was surprised Cara had offered even that much insight. “We will soon enough.”
She nodded.
“Have you talked to Ariella?” He knew the two women were friends. Cara had casually introduced Max to Ariella at a fundraising event right before the election.
Cara set her cola down on a table beside her. “Do you honestly think that would be in anyone’s best interest?”
“That’s neither a yes nor a no.”
Cara’s expression remained completely neutral.
“You’re very good,” he allowed.