Insatiable Appetites

34

They had finished dinner and were on coffee and brandy when Carla’s cell phone went off, and she excused herself from the table.

“There must be some problem with publication,” Bruce said.

Carla returned. “The publisher got a call from a billionaire fund-raiser, he wouldn’t say who, trying to talk him out of publishing our piece. Somebody has talked about our pub date.”

“Oh, God,” Bruce said, “this is never going to end.”

“He told the man in no uncertain terms that he was publishing,” she said, “and they’re sending a messenger over here for the tape. Stop worrying, Bruce, my paper doesn’t get pushed around.”

“Would this be the same billionaire who hosted the infamous meeting?” Stone asked.

“That’s my supposition,” she said. “Tomorrow, I’ll ask for permission to publish the name of the caller, and I’m likely to get it.”

Bruce polished off his brandy and set his glass down. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day, and I’m going to turn in.”

“Tomorrow morning, dial three on the phone and ask Helene for breakfast.”

“Thank you,” he said, rising, “and good night to you all.”

The phone buzzed, and Stone picked it up. “Yes? Someone will be right there.” He hung up. “Carla, that’s your messenger at the door.”

Carla grabbed her purse and went upstairs.

“I think that’s my cue to go home,” Joan said.

“Sleep well.”

“I always do. A clear conscience will do that for you.” She left the table and went upstairs.

Stone followed her and ran into Carla.

“That’s done,” she said. “May I use your phone? I forgot to call my usual hotel.”

“This is practically a hotel,” Stone said. “Take a guest room.” Before she could protest, he got her bag from the study and led her to the elevator, then he installed her in a bedroom.

“I’m just down the hall, if you need anything,” he said. “And dial three for breakfast.”

“Thank you, Stone.” She kissed him on the cheek, brushing the corner of his mouth.

“There are robes in the closet,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

He closed the door behind him and walked down the hall to the master suite. He undressed, got into bed, and turned on the eleven o’clock news. A couple of reports in, a photograph of a black SUV with a smashed front fender came onto the screen.

“A vehicle police said was involved in a Manhattan hit-and-run yesterday has been found parked on a public street in Newark, New Jersey,” the anchorwoman said. “It was registered to a Washington, D.C., security firm called Integral Security and was reported stolen by that firm last night. Police sources tell us it had been wiped clean of fingerprints.”

Stone switched off the TV and fell asleep.

Stone was sleeping soundly on his side when a fingernail ran down his spine, causing him to jump.

“I’d say I was sorry to wake you, but I’m not,” Carla said.

Stone turned over, and she came into his arms, naked.

“You can ask me to leave, and I will,” she said. “But I hope you won’t.”

Stone began to feel receptive. “As a matter of policy,” he said, “I never kick a beautiful, naked woman out of bed.”

“I’m glad I qualify.”

“On both counts.”

Another hour passed before they fell asleep.

When Stone awoke he could hear the shower running. He called Helene and ordered breakfast, then turned on Morning Joe. Shortly, Carla appeared in a guest robe, her hair wet. She climbed into bed, and he used the remote to sit them up.

“Breakfast is on the way,” he said.

“Do I have time to dry my hair?”

“If it doesn’t take long.”

She ran back to the bathroom, and he heard the dryer running. By the time she came back, the tray was out of the dumbwaiter and on the bed between them.

“It’s scrambled eggs with cheese, and applewood smoked bacon,” he said. “I hope it’s not too much.”

“Are you kidding? I’m starved!” She tossed aside the cover and dug in.

Somebody on Morning Joe was talking. “There’s a rumor that the New York Times is running a major investigative piece on Sunday that may be tied to the death of Congressman Evan Hills, Republican of Pennsylvania.”

Carla sat up straight. “How can they possibly know that?” she asked. “This is getting annoying.”

“He said it’s a rumor,” Stone pointed out.

“Anybody heard anything?” the journalist asked.

“Only what you’ve heard,” somebody said.

“Then I guess we’ll have to wait for the paper to land on the doorstep.”

“Oh, God,” Carla said. “That scared me for a minute.”

“Be happy,” Stone said, “you just got a big plug from a program the Washington establishment watches every morning, and it didn’t blow your story.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I think I’m almost as nervous as Bruce.”

Stone took the tray back to the dumbwaiter, and by the time he had rejoined Carla, she was naked again.

“I’ve got half an hour before I have to get dressed,” she said, reaching for him.

“Then let’s make the most of it,” Stone said, joining her.