Stone Barrington 06-11

fingers and kissed him. “I could hide you here for a few months,” she said.
    “I don’t think I could survive that.”
    She giggled. “Probably not, but you’d last a while. What made you show up here tonight? Where were you earlier this evening?”
    “I went to Arrington’s house for dinner. Dolce was there.”
    “Well, that must have been a teensy bit awkward.”
    “You could say that. You could say I’m lucky I got out of there before the two of them tore me to pieces.”
    “And how did this little soiree come about?”
    “I don’t have the faintest idea. I arrived, and they were both there. I don’t think I’ve ever been at such a complete loss.”
    “Poor baby,” she said. “I suppose you need consoling.”
    “Oh, yes. Console me.”
    She swapped ends and began kissing him lightly, getting an instantaneous response.
    He placed a hand on her buttocks and pulled her to his face, searching with his tongue.
    She took him into her mouth.
    He found her.
    They remained in that position for a long time.

Forty-six

    S TONE STOOD, HIS HANDS AGAINST THE TILE WALL OF the shower, his head under the heavy stream of water. His knees were trembling. He had no idea what time it was, except that the sun was up.
    The bronzed-glass door opened, and Charlene stepped in. She grabbed a bottle of something, sprayed it on his back, and began soaping his body. “How you doing, sugar?”
    “I’m shattered,” he said. “I can hardly stand up.”
    “I can’t imagine how that happened,” she giggled. “All we did was make love.”
    “How many times?”
    “Several,” she replied. “Who’s counting?”
    He leaned back against the tile and let her soap him. “I have the strange but almost certain feeling that sometime early this morning I passed some sort of physical peak in my life, and that everything from here on is downhill.”
    “Sugar,” she said, “that’s the sort of peak that most men hit at eighteen. You should be pleased with yourself.”
    “I’m never going to be the same again; I can hardly stand up. You may have to carry me out of here.”
    She pulled him back under the shower and rinsed him, then turned off the shower. “Maybe if you hold my hand you can make it.” She led him out of the stall, dried him and herself with fat towels, and found robes for them both. “Come on, hon; breakfast is on the table.”
    He followed her through the sliding doors and onto a terrace overlooking the beach. When they sat down a low wall cleverly blocked the view from the sand, but still allowed them a panorama of the sea. It was nicely private.
    She removed the covers from two plates. His was eggs, home fries, sausages, and muffins; hers was a slice of melon.
    “Why do I have so much and you so little?” he asked, digging in.
    “Because you need your strength, and I need to keep my ass looking the way it does without surgery.”
    “It looks wonderful, especially up close.”
    “You should know; you were in and out of there a few times.”
    Stone sneezed.
    “God bless you.”
    “I hope I’m not getting a cold.”
    “I don’t think you can get a cold from anal sex.”
    “Good point; maybe I’m just allergic to something.”
    “For a while there, I thought you might be allergic to me.”
    Stone shook his head. “Not in the least.”
    “Then what took you so long to knock on my door?”
    “Call it misplaced loyalties.”
    “That’s it,” she agreed. “Neither one of them deserves you.” She smiled. “Only me. Tell me, do you always wear a gun to assignations?”
    “What?”
    “I seem to recall removing a shoulder holster from your body, along with everything else. Did you feel you needed a lot of protection from me?”
    “A friend brought it out from New York for me. No offense.”
    “None taken.”
    Stone finished his eggs and poured them some coffee. “When are you going to see Beverly Walters?”
    “Yesterday.”
    “You’ve already talked to her?”
    “Well, you didn’t give me a chance to tell you last night.”
    “What did she say?”
    “She was coy, which is unlike Beverly. Normally, she spills everything, usually without being asked.”
    “But not yesterday?”
    Charlene shook her head. “She had a secret, and she wasn’t going to tell me. I couldn’t worm it out of her.”
    “She was there, I think. She must have seen what happened.”
    “If I were you, I’d be worried.”
    “I am.”
    “What’s your next move?”
    “I don’t know. We could depose