The Laws of Seduction: A French Kiss Novel

by Jones, Gwen

  “How the hell should I know,” Lilith said. “And at this point why should I care? More than likely he’s just getting what he deserves.”

  “And who would think that besides you?” said Charlotte, coming around to her side of the table. “Because if you’re the only one who feels that way, it doesn’t look good for you.”

  Lilith slanted her a glance, swallowing hard. “If you think I’m teamed up with that little slut you have to be out of your mind.”

  “Then tell me who else might think it’s a good idea?” Charlotte said. “Who even knows him in Washington without his connection to that dredging bill?”

  “No one,” said Rex. “There was only one reason why I ever came to Washington, and that was to see Lilith.”

  “Oh come on,” Lilith said, tugging at her jacket again. “I’m sure an important man like you knows lots of Washington politicians.”

  “Party acquaintances,” he said, easing toward her. “Face it, Lilith. All roads lead back to you.”

  She pursed her lips, fingering the glass. “I find that hard to believe. I couldn’t possibly be privy to all your connections.”

  “Though I’m sure you know a few,” Charlotte said. “If Rex’s only connection to Washington was you and the dredging bill, who would benefit by taking him down?”

  “Only one person I could think of,” Rex said, “besides ma p’tit chou of course. Hitchell.”

  Charlotte looked to Lilith. “Did Hitchell give you any reason why he couldn’t make your lunch today?”

  She stiffened. “No. His office called my cell when I was already at the table, and said he wouldn’t be coming. Outside of that, he’s scheduled to speak on the floor this afternoon at three. That’s all I know.”

  Charlotte glanced to Rex before she said to Lilith, “Can you get me into the gallery?”

  Lilith peered at her. “Why? To see Hitchell speak? What good would that do?”

  “Maybe we’ll find out what was so important he couldn’t show up for your lunch,” Charlotte said.

  Suddenly Rex was very hungry. He broke off a chunk of bread, slathering it with Brie. “I’m going as well.”

  “No,” Charlotte said. “If anyone recognizes you you could land back in jail.”

  “I’ll take that chance,” he said, adding pâté and chopped egg to his dish. “Besides, if Hitchell is behind this, then I’d really like to see his face when he sees me. Especially since I’ve never met the man in my life. If he recognizes me, that ought to speak volumes.”

  “You’re taking a chance,” Charlotte said, already looking resigned. “Not that I thought you’d actually sit here and wait for me to come back.”

  “You’d be right on that,” he said. He slid more cheese and bread on his plate. There was nothing like inaction to kill his appetite, but giving him something to do always sent it soaring.

  “I think you’re both crazy,” Lilith said, rising. “And if you’re going over to the House, it sure as hell won’t be on my ticket. I’m leaving.” She grabbed her purse.

  “Thank you, Lilith,” Rex said, raising his glass in salute. “You’ve been most helpful.”

  “Oh go to hell,” she said, slamming the door behind her.

  “Now that was fascinating,” Rex said, slathering more Brie. “But how are we going to get in the congressional gallery now?”

  “The usual way. Through your congressman. Or in my case, an old friend,” Charlotte said, stopping at a mirror to fluff her hair.

  “And I think I know who that is.” Rex scowled, tossing the bread to his plate, suddenly not so hungry anymore.

  Rayburn House Office Building

  Office of Representative Trent Webster (D-NJ)

  “Is that Charlotte?”

  He came out of his office, Charlotte stepping into her friend’s outstretched arms. “Trent—how great to see you.”

  He grasped her hands, holding her out. “Let me get a good look at you.” He grinned, a million-dollar smile. “You only get more gorgeous every time I see you.”

  “And you never change.” Fact was, he didn’t. Tall and athletic, a latter-day Jimmy Stewart in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Except Trent Webster was no small-town innocent. Princeton born and educated, he was as patrician as his pre-Revolutionary roots, and as down-to-earth as the soup kitchen he’d just come from working. As a true Washington insider, he was also the first person Charlotte would hit up for dirt in her old D.C. days, and she had no reason to believe it’d be any different now. “How the hell are you, Trent?”

  “Stellar, in fact. So, what brings you to Washington?”

  “I’m here with a client.” She glanced back to where Rex was sitting, casting her a rather sinister glare. She learned into her friend, saying softly, “It’s rather confidential. Can we talk in your office?”

  “Sure.” He looked to his secretary. “No calls for a few minutes, okay?” Then he stood aside, following them into his office.

  When the door closed Charlotte said, “Trent, this is Rex Renaud. He’s the—”

  “Directeur général délégué compagnie du Mercier.” The younger man offered his hand to one surprised Rex. “Bonjour, Monsieur Renaud. Enchanté.”

  “Enchanté,” Rex replied, looking a bit confused as he shook Trent’s hand. “Have we met before?”

  “No,” Trent replied. “But I saw you speak at a forum on the EU last spring in New York. You were brilliant.”

  Go ahead and stroke it, Trent, Charlotte thought. If anyone needs it now, he does.

  “Ah yes, I remember that,” Rex said, smiling subtly. “I got stuck in traffic from the airport and I arrived late.”

  “But you were worth the wait. Please, have a seat,” Trent said, his hand indicating two chairs in front of his desk. After everyone was seated, he continued. “So what can I do for you?”

  “I’ll cut to the chase,” Charlotte said. “Do you know anything about a congressman from Texas by the name of Brendan Hitchell?”

  “Hitchell . . .” He thought a moment. “From Texas, huh? Wait a minute—I think he’s introducing a bill today. Or at least he’s trying to.” He looked at Rex querulously. “How did you come to be acquainted with the Honorable Mr. Hitchell?”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure,” Rex said, “but he’s most definitely making himself known to me.”

  “Rex was hoping to see a bill get to the floor for a vote,” Charlotte said. “H.R. 22186, I think it was.”

  “The harbor dredging bill, of course,” said Trent. “That makes sense. Philadelphia is the other port competing for the same funding.”

  “Is that area part of your district?” Rex asked.

  “No, but Philadelphia’s just across the river from it, so it does mean jobs for my constituents.” He winced, shaking his head. “And it’s a shame, as they sure could use them. I’ll assume you’re interested in the funding for the harbor around Elizabeth, right?”

  “It’s where Mercier has a terminal,” Rex said. “But Hitchell’s been holding up the bill for so long, it now looks like it’s dead.”

  Trent sat back with a wince. “So I’ve heard. But that’s not surprising.”

  “Why do you say that?” said Charlotte.

  “Because he’s an old oilman from down in Texas, but lately he seems to be shifting into hydraulic fracturing—or what you probably know as fracking—up in Pennsylvania.”

  “And how do you know about this?” Charlotte asked.

  “Because some of his wells are just across the river from my family’s neighboring district. And people up there are saying all he needs is one drilling mishap, and it could contaminate the Delaware and water supply. Been protesting all over Hunterdon County lately. The environmentalists are freaking out.”

  “But I don’t understand, Trent,” Charlotte said. “What does this have to do with Hitchell h
olding up the dredging bill?”

  “The rumor is he’s wanting to expand a liquid natural gas pipeline to an export terminal downriver on the Delaware Bay,” Trent said.

  “To export all that LNG to Europe, I’d bet,” Rex said.

  Trent looked at him. “And that’d be a winning wager, my friend. That’s where the big bucks are now. Curiously enough, he’s eyeing an old gas liquefaction plant on the bay which also has a dock and pier.”

  “And because he’d be creating a few jobs, I imagine he’ll be asking the government to back his business venture,” Charlotte said. “Instead of funding that dredging bill you want.”

  “Damn,” Trent said, “now what I heard this morning all makes sense. Though I can’t verify it.”

  “What did you hear?” Rex said.

  “That there’s a company already as good as signed to transport all that LNG to Europe.”

  “Who?” Rex said.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of them,” Trent said. “Richette.”

  “Jesus,” Charlotte said. She looked to Rex. “They’re making their move, aren’t they?”

  Suddenly Rex was on his feet. “I need to get over to the House. Do you have any passes for the gallery?”

  “Why sure,” Trent said, reaching into his desk.

  Rex turned to Charlotte. “I have the distinct feeling Lilith will be conspicuously absent from the gallery.”

  “Oh Rex,” she said, “you can’t be serious. Do you really think she’s mixed up with him?”

  “Nothing surprises me anymore,” Rex said, reaching for her hand. “Let’s go.”

  “This sounds like it’s gonna get good,” Trent said, on his feet as well. “Just let me get my coat.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mars in Transit

  RICHETTE, REX MUSED. The very name of the compagnie curdled his blood. He should have suspected, as it was only a matter of time. Sooner or later they had to come calling. And they were sending Viviane Mercier as their ambassador.

  Trent had taken them below to the subway system that ran beneath the D.C. legislative offices to the Capitol. While they rode the tram through the narrow corridor to the House chamber, Rex could sense her presence, more strongly than he had in years.

  She’s here, he thought, and although he had no concrete evidence to prove it, he could feel it in his bones. Perhaps when she delivered her little calling card in the Rolls, she was warning him they’d soon meet again. In a way, that gave him a measure of relief to know who he was dealing with. Still, it left him baffled why Viviane would make another attempt at a takeover, especially with Marcel at the helm of the company. Or was Richette simply calling in her marker, the one they never got around to cashing before André stepped in and ruined everything. Before Rex himself was complicit in helping him. Well, what did she expect? He knew a good deal when he saw it. Wasn’t it she who first showed him the value of one?

  Wasn’t it she who had told him one never gave anything out of the goodness of their heart? That there was always a price to pay, no matter how grateful you were. Or how justified you were in receiving what you did in the first place.

  Rex looked across the car to Charlotte, the tram’s rush billowing her hair, the congressman’s arm rimming the back of her seat as they engaged in easy conversation. He was glad he’d told her about Viviane, though it felt as odd as it felt liberating, never having been this close to anyone before. And because of that he also felt a sudden rage at this Trent’s embrace, even though logic dictated it was nothing more than the casual familiarity of an old friend. Still, her cozying up with Trent almost felt traitorous on her part, as their familiarity grated on him, no matter how innocent it appeared. Although a bit on the young side, Trent was nonetheless not so terrible to look at, and if anyone were going to touch her that way, it ought to be him. And he wanted to, very badly. Wanted to kiss her and hold her in his arms. Almost how a soldier kisses his wife or lover good-bye before going to battle, knowing if he didn’t come out alive, he’d come back changed. And he was indeed going to battle.

  Still, it had been very nice having someone to confide in. There was just something about Charlotte that made it easy, as least for him, as he was dead sure any empathy outside her causes didn’t come to her easily. They had already agreed not to let on to Trent the charges that had been leveled against him. It was enough to let him know Rex was there to see to the bill’s passage, and anything beyond that was between him and Charlotte alone. He smiled. Another confidence they shared between them.

  His gaze slid down her legs to where they crossed at the ankles. He knew firsthand how smooth they were, and he craved to slide his hand down them. And up to where she was always ready and waiting for him. At that he burned with sudden possession. That part of their liaison was still too new to be sated so quickly, and all at once he wanted her very badly. And wanted this Trent person’s arm off her shoulder. Now.

  He decided instead to look past their own car to the one behind it, watching a pair of children as they played a guessing game with their nanny. Perhaps watching that would defuse these incendiary feelings he was having toward Charlotte. She was making him think of life in the long term, the idea of which he had no business considering, especially since those ideas had gone so terribly wrong for the both of them.

  “Have you guys eaten lunch yet?” said Trent. “We have some time if you’d like to stop in the dining room.” He looked to Charlotte with familiarity. “I remember you being particularly partial to their bean soup.”

  “That was Senate bean soup, Mr. Congressman,” Charlotte said. “Or are you thinking about trading up?” She arched a brow. “Again?”

  “Ooh,” he winced. “That was cold. You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  An inside joke? Rex thought. Grrrrrrrrrrr. . .

  “Rex?” Charlotte said. “Are you still hungry?”

  “Not hungry, but merci,” Rex said, reaching for his phone as it vibrated inside his inner pocket. He looked at it. Marcel. Mon Dieu. He was going to love this.

  Have you arrived?

  Yes. And I think I’m on to something.

  That would surely get him.

  Almost immediately, Marcel replied,

  What?

  In a word, Richette.

  Then he added quickly,

  I think they’re at it again. And I think they got to Lilith.

  How?

  Should he tell him about Lilith? Oh what the hell.

  I think they got to Lilith. She told me she tried to steal my phone back, but it was already gone. I’m not sure if I believe her.

  It was a minute or so before he answered.

  Okay. keep me posted. Ciao.

  Rex stared at his phone. That was it? You’d think the mere mention of Richette would have sent Marcel through the roof. Never in a million years would he understand that family.

  He looked up to find the congressman whispering something in Charlotte’s ear. Merde, do I need this annoyance now? She was listening intently and nodding, then all of a sudden she burst into laughter.

  Rex lifted his gaze briefly as he scrolled through his phone. “I know it may be difficult during the workweek, but have you two thought of retiring to someplace a bit more private?”

  “Very funny, Rex,” Charlotte said.

  Trent cleared his throat, and shifted away.

  Rex continued scrolling, not bothering to look up again. If he did he just might push that arrogant little minot from the tram.

  Charlotte grabbed hold of a support pole and swung herself to Rex’s side. “What was that all about?” she whispered.

  “To what are you referring?” Rex calmly asked, still scrolling through.

  “To this.” She leaned in, as close as propriety would allow and whispered, “I’m still not wearing any underwear.”

&nb
sp; His eyes popped wide, his shorts already beginning to tighten. He glared at her. “You are too. I saw you pick them up.”

  “They’re in my purse,” she said, opening it just enough so he could see the white of their lacy edging. “I was just going to put them on, then Lilith showed up.”

  “Merde,” he whispered, staring at them.

  Charlotte smiled. “How about that, huh?”

  He shifted uncomfortably, glaring at her. “I will most definitely reward you for that later.”

  “Promise?” she said, brow arching.

  “Oh,” said Trent from across the car. “Oh. Now I get it.” He looked to Rex. “Sorry, but honestly we’re just friends.”

  Rex regarded him with Gallic indifference. “How fortunate you are.”

  The tram slowed to a stop. “Er . . . we’re here,” Trent said, quickly rising. He jumped to the platform. “Right this way.”

  Rex stood back, allowing Charlotte to exit first. As he followed, he let his hand slip from the seat grip to the slope of her derrière.

  “Oh!” she squeaked.

  “A very articulate way of putting it,” he said, both of them following Trent up the escalator.

  After a few twists and turns and a long hallway, they entered into the lower level of the Capitol, Trent taking them to security to receive their visitor’s badges. “It’ll be a little easier to get around with these, but security is pretty tight, so stick to the public areas.” He turned to Rex, offering his hand. “Mr. Renaud—a pleasure.”

  “Oui. Merci,” he said, taking it.

  Trent gave it a good shake, then let go. “I apologize for any misunderstanding.”

  Charlotte turned on him. “Trent, what the hell are you talking about?” She eyed him speculatively. “If you are talking about what I think you’re talking about, remember who you’re referring to.”

  He laughed. “Spoken so succinctly.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I have to get to the chamber as there’s some people I want to schmooze. See you soon.” He waved, and was off.

  After he left, Charlotte turned to Rex. “As for you . . .”