Cold Paradise (Stone Barrington 7)

“S

o, did you have a productive day?”

“I did.”

“How did your lunch with the dead lady go?”

“Very well. I believe I solved her problem.”

Callie set down her coffee cup. “Now,” she said, “how do I go about seducing you? Do I just stick my tongue in your ear, or what?”

“It’s easier than that.” Stone took her face in his hands and kissed her for quite a long time. Their temperatures rose quickly.

“There may be crew about,” she breathed between kisses. “We’d better go to your cabin.”

“Oh, yes,” Stone said.

She took his hand and led him forward. In less than a minute they were standing at the end of his bed, undressing each other. In Callie’s case, it was quick; she was wearing only the two pieces. She sat on the bed and watched him peel off his clothes.

He knelt before her and began kissing the inside of her thighs, as she ran her fingers through his hair. He pushed her back on the bed and explored her delta, kissing the soft, blond fur at the edges. She gave a little shudder as he took her into his mouth. It took only a minute for her to come, and when she was finished, she pulled him onto her by his ears and felt for him, guiding him in.

“I love the first time,” she said, as they made love. “It’s always so …”

“So new,” Stone panted.

“And exciting.”

“Sometimes it gets better as it goes along,” he said, thrusting.

She thrust back. “We’ll see,” she said, and they both came together.

10

WHEN STONE AWOKE HIS CABIN WAS FILLED WITH SUNSHINE, and it was past eleven o’clock. He never slept that late, and he was surprised. Callie was gone, and her side of the bed had been made. He shaved and showered, got into some slacks and a polo shirt and, since the palms outside were moving with the breeze, tied a light cashmere sweater around his shoulders.

He found Callie on the afterdeck in a bikini, reading a novel.

“Good morning,” he said, kissing her.

She kissed him back. “You slept late,” she said.

“Something I rarely do. I must have been tired.”

She chuckled. “I should hope so.”

“You look awfully fresh,” he said.

“I’ve only been up for half an hour.”

“Good book?”

“Starts really well. A writer I haven’t read before, but I saw a good review in the Times Book Review last week. Fellow named …” She looked at the cover. “Frederick James.”

“I don’t know him, either.”

“A first novel, the review said. You had breakfast?”

“No, I was considering waiting for lunch.”