Her patrician nose shot back up in the air. “Are you afraid I’m going to attach more importance to last night than I should? I’m not that naive. I understand that this is only about sex.”

She’d finally given him a target to deflect his guilt, and he lowered his voice to a furious whisper. “What kind of talk is that from a woman who’s supposed to be this country’s moral beacon?”

“It’s realistic talk.”

He should be grateful that she understood how this kind of relationship worked, but he snapped at her instead. “Well, that just goes to show what you know. Now I suggest you eat the rest of that fish before it gets cold.”

He was the one who hadn’t touched his dinner, not her, but she didn’t call him on it. He forced himself to pick up his knife and cut a bite of steak. Just as determinedly, he turned the conversation in a less personal direction. She went along with him, but he suspected she was just biding her time.

They finished their dinner and declined dessert but not coffee. Just as he was taking his first sip, he felt the toe of her shoe stroke his calf.

“Are you going to take all night to drink that?” Her mouth curled in a smile that managed to be both mischievous and provocative.

He leaned back and let his eyes glide over her breasts just to give her a hard time. “What’s the hurry?”

“The hurry, big guy, is that I’ve decided it’s time for you to strut your stuff.”

He nearly devoured her on the spot, but somehow they managed to make it as far as the car. Then his hands were all over her, right there in the front seat of the Explorer.

A truck drove into the parking lot, bringing him to his senses. “We’ve got to get out of here . . .”

“It’s only nine,” she said breathlessly. “Lucy’ll still be up. And Bertis and Charlie may have stayed around to keep her company.”

He threw the car into gear. “Then you’re about to have another new experience.”

He raced out of town, found a narrow road that roughly paralleled the river, then turned down a gravel lane that ended at a small boat ramp. He maneuvered the Explorer past the ramp and into some brush, where he killed his lights, put down the front windows, and turned off the ignition. “I know we’re both a little old for this . . .”

“Speak for yourself.” Just like that his lap was full of frisky First Lady. Or at least the part of his lap she could get to with the steering wheel in the way.