“Careful,” she said. “You don’t want me to spill my martini.”
“That’s your problem,” Stone said, raising his sights.
She gave a little gasp. “Touché again!”
“How is it you are already wet?”
“I was thinking about you in the car.”
“What were you thinking?”
“I was remembering something, from about a year ago.”
“What was it?”
She told him.
“Ah, yes, I remember it well.”
“Isn’t that a Lerner and Loewe song?”
“It is. It’s also a very pleasant memory.”
“That’s why I’m wet. Right there, please, that’s the spot.”
“Do you want me to do that thing again?”
“Yes, but not until after dinner, when we’re in bed.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“So will I,” she said, then she grabbed his arm and made noises of delight.
“That didn’t take long,” he said.
“Since we have so much time on our hands, do it again.”
Stone complied, sipping his bourbon with his other hand. Holly went limp, nearly spilling her martini. “That was fabulous,” she said, “and I still didn’t spill a drop.”
“You are to be commended for your delicate balance.”
“And you are to be commended for your delicate fingers. Do you play the piano?”
“Not for many years.”
“You should do it more often,” she said. “It would keep you in shape for doing that.”
“It was more fun than practicing scales.”
“I’m glad it was fun for you, too.”
“Entertaining you is always fun.”
“‘Entertaining.’ That’s a good way to look at it. It was certainly very that.”
“What else can I do for you?” he asked.
“Talk to me, feed me, then we’ll start over.”
“What would you like to talk about?”
“Is Kate Lee carrying your baby?”
Stone choked on his bourbon. “You’ve been reading the gutter press,” he said.
“The gutter Internet.”
“You haven’t read the latest.”
“What’s that? Did I miss something?”
“Howard Axelrod has apologized and committed suicide.”
“Shut up!”
Stone got his laptop and showed her the column.
“Well, I’ll be damned, and so, I believe, will Axelrod be. Did he really off himself?”
“I think he offed his character.”