She pierced him with a bleary eye over the edge of the bedsheet. “Do you memorize these little tidbits for fun?”

“Trust me, it isn’t fun,” he said tightly. “I want those women’s names. I have a list of suspected anarchists and need to cross-check them. And before you ask, yes, there are plenty of female anarchists.”

The way Caroline’s honey-blond hair spilled over her shoulder was worthy of a Botticelli painting. She looked warm and alluring, but her tongue was pure vinegar.

“The president left for Boston this morning, and the first lady is low-hanging fruit. Any self-respecting assassin would go to Boston, not Ida McKinley’s knitting circle. I didn’t sleep last night and intend to finish my nap.” She burrowed deeper into the mattress, presenting him with that tempting shoulder again.

She had a point, but he’d die before admitting it. He leaned back in his chair, wishing he didn’t find her so attractive. Women like her were trouble. She probably spent more on a single outfit than he earned in a year.

But she wasn’t lazy, and he’d made a mistake in thinking she was a lie-abed. “Why didn’t you sleep last night?”

She lifted her head to crack a glance at him over the covers. “Didn’t you inspect the overnight logs and notice Dr. Tisdale’s arrival at two o’clock?”

“Yes, and he left an hour later.”

“Leaving me with the first lady until six o’clock. Then I went downstairs to cancel her morning appointments. Then I visited her pharmacy for more medication and her seamstress to pick up the gown she is to wear for tonight’s dinner, and then I mailed invitations for next week’s memorial breakfast. Half an hour ago I came up here for a nap before the ladies from Iowa arrive. Thank you for waking me up and suggesting they might be harboring homicidal tendencies. What a soothing thought to lull me back to sleep.”

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I’m sorry about waking you up. In the future, I really do need those lists, even if the president is out of town.”

Nothing could be taken for granted. The security here was looser than a typical bank, and his first step in tightening it was to change the lackadaisical attitude of the staff.

Caroline rolled upright and reached for a glass of water on the bedside table. She drank it all, then plunked the glass down with resolve. She paused. Beside the glass was a slim cigarette case, and she was staring straight at it.

“You don’t need them,” he said gently.

“But I want them.”

“There’s a difference between—”

“Between needs and wants, I know.” She pulled back from the table and folded her arms across her chest, her hands fidgeting and squeezing. “Do you have any vices?”

“None.”