Home>>read Paris Match free online

Paris Match(20)

By:Stuart Woods


            They came together noisily, and Stone’s knees weakened. They sank to the shower floor, still entwined, and let the warm water run over them. A moment later they were toweling each other.

            “I’m starving,” she said. “When is breakfast?”

            “I’ll order.” Stone picked up the bathroom phone and ordered, then hung up. “Twenty-five minutes,” he said.

            “Good,” she said, taking him by the penis and leading him into the bed. “Time for one more.”

            They used the time well.

            —

            WHEN THEY had breakfasted and Mirabelle had dressed, he walked her to the door. “Goodbye, my spy,” she said, kissing him. “You did not disappoint.”

            “I’m so glad,” Stone said wryly.

            “How about dinner in the country tonight? There are fewer bald Russians to frighten us there.”

            “I’m game.”

            “That you are. I’ll meet you here at seven, and we’ll take your tank to protect us from the automatic weapons fire.”

            “You make it sound so cozy,” Stone said.

            She kissed him and slipped out the door.

            Stone was lying in bed with a second cup of coffee and the Times when the phone rang. “Hello?”

            “It’s Ann.”

            “Hello, there!”

            “I returned your call last night but got only voice mail.”

            “I got your message, and I was waiting for it to be late enough to call you. There’s a seven-hour time difference. Why are you up so early?”

            “A dream woke me,” she said. “I dreamed you were making love to another woman.”

            “My goodness.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

            “It’s all right if you make love to other women, Stone, just don’t tell me about it.”

            “That’s very generous of you. How is the campaign going?”

            “Splendidly. Kate has crafted a stump speech for herself, including some funny stuff, and always a sly reference to the pregnancy.”

            “How’s that going down with the crowds?”

            “Like champagne. Carson’s appearances, by comparison, are like a dose of castor oil.”

            “Fortunately, I’ve never tasted castor oil, but I understand the comparison.”

            “Fortunately, neither have I.”

            “Was announcing the pregnancy the right thing to do?”

            “Absolutely. The very fact of it has kept the Republicans off balance since day one. And they can’t say nasty things about a pregnant woman—their wives would kill them.”

            “How is Kate doing in the polls?”

            “An average of a seven-point lead. Of course, that can evaporate in a flash, if she should stumble.”

            “Kate’s not the stumbling type,” Stone said. “How are you bearing up under the pressure?”

            “I’m not sleeping much,” she replied.

            “More bad dreams?”