Stone Barrington 06-11

serious mien.
    “That sounds bad.”
    “It’s not, necessarily, but there are things that, since you’re my client, I have to tell you about her.”
    “I’ll just shut up and listen,” Shames said.
    Stone started at the beginning and told Shames the story of Allison/Liz—all of it, leaving out nothing except his own affair with Allison. When he had finished, he polished off the rest of his drink, sat back and waited for questions. There weren’t any.
    “That’s extraordinary,” Shames said. He got to his feet. “I think I’ll have a nap before dinner. Will you excuse me?”
    Stone got up. “Of course. Thad, I want to be sure you understand about the husband, Paul Manning.”
    “Ex-husband, isn’t he?”
    “Ex-Paul Manning. She doesn’t know what he’s calling himself these days.”
    “Well, if he’s legally dead, she’s twice-widowed, isn’t she?”
    “In a manner of speaking. I’m not sure what the legal ramifications are. I’ve never run into anything quite like this before.”
    “She considers herself single?”
    “Yes, she does.”
    “Then as far as I’m concerned, she’s single, and that’s an end to it.”
    “It is,” Stone said, “unless Paul Manning turns up. I think you have to consider him a dangerous man.”
    “Well, he doesn’t sound stupid, so I don’t think he’s dangerous. He’s gotten away with a triple murder and major insurance fraud, so I think he has to count himself lucky, don’t you?”
    “I suppose.”
    “Don’t worry about Manning, Stone. He’s not going to risk screwing up his life by exposing his own past.”
    “I hope you’re right,” Stone said.
    “You will pick up Liz tomorrow night? I have a lot on my plate, what with all these guests coming.”
    “Of course.”
    “Thanks.” Shames disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
    Stone went back to his own cabin. Thad was right, of course. Paul Manning wasn’t stupid, and, if Stone could just find him and talk to him, he’d be a rich man from the settlement Allison/Liz wanted to make with him. And then, he thought, sighing, he’d be free of this whole business, Thad Shames would have the girl of his dreams, and everybody could get on with the business of living happily ever after.

    Sometime after midnight, Stone was wakened from a deep sleep by someone crawling into bed with him. He had been dreaming, and what was happening seemed an extension of his dream.
    “Arrington?” he said sleepily.
    “Whoa!” Callie said, sitting up and crossing her legs.
    Stone shook himself fully awake. “Callie? What’s happening?”
    “You were about to get made love to,” she said, “but you spoke to the wrong girl.”
    “I’m sorry. I was dreaming. I thought you were … somebody else at first.”
    “Stone, I know very well that Arrington is Vance Calder’s wife—rather, widow. The whole world knows. Why would you be dreaming of her crawling into bed with you?”
    “I don’t remember exactly what I was dreaming,” Stone said, sitting up in bed and dragging a couple of pillows behind him.
    “That doesn’t answer my question,” she said. “But if it’s none of my business, tell me so, and I’ll get out of here.”
    “No, no,” he said, stroking her hair. “Arrington and I were … close, before she married Vance. We don’t have a relationship now, at least not a very good one.”
    “You’re sure about this? I don’t want to intrude where I’m not wanted.”
    He pulled her head down onto his shoulder, and she stretched out beside him. “You’re wanted,” he said.
    She ran a hand down his belly until it stopped at his penis. She held it in her hand. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “It’s alive!”
    “Alive and well,” he replied.
    She rolled on top of him, sat up and guided him inside her. She bent down and put her lips close to his ear. “You’d better be telling the truth about Arrington Calder,” she whispered, “or this will never happen again.”

12
    S TONE WAS AWAKENED BY CONFLICTING SMELLS—ONE chemical, one culinary. He sat up in bed in time to see Callie enter his cabin, bearing a covered tray, kicking the door shut behind her.
    “Smells good,” he said. “But what’s the other odor?”
    “Paint,” she replied. “The painters finished their work last night, and all the windows in the house are open. The decorators and moving people are in there now, working like beavers.” She set the tray on the bed between them and whipped off the