Hot Mahogany (Stone Barrington 15)

“I hope you’re not thinking of undressing me,” she said. “It’s chilly out here.”

“I was seeking only affection, not sex.”

“Well, it’s not as though we haven’t been getting any sex, is it?”

He laughed. “I’ve no complaints in that department.”

She sat up and looked toward the house, then picked up the binoculars. “They’re bringing the crate out,” she said.

“May I look?”

She handed him the binoculars.

Stone watched as the men reloaded the crate into the truck and was surprised that they coordinated their efforts and actually tossed the crate the last few feet. He could hear the noise when it fell into the bed of the truck. “There’s still nothing in it.”

“What?”

“They took an empty crate into the house, then brought it out again, still empty. Does that make any sense?”

?

?Not to me.”

“Nor to me, either.”

34

The sun passed behind the trees, bringing shade and chill to their clearing. Carla began collecting their debris and packing up.

“You have a domestic side, don’t you?” Stone said admiringly.

“My domestic side begins and ends with picking up the phone and calling room service. Why do you think I live in a hotel?”

“Well, when required, you rise to the occasion.”

“I could say the same of you,” she said, handing him the basket and shaking out the blanket.

What am I going to do with this girl? Stone was thinking. If Harlan Deal so much as sees us together, he could yank his account from Woodman amp; Weld, and at least half my income would vanish in a puff of smoke. She’s great, but is the relationship worth that risk? “I’d like you to meet someone,” Stone said, an ulterior motive stirring deep down in his cerebral cortex.

“Who?”

“A client of mine. You’ll like him.”

“Does he live in the woods?”

“Yes, but not these woods. Next to a lake.”

They drove down to Lake Waramaug and to Barton Cabot’s house. To Stone’s surprise, Barton was standing outside the barn, waiting for them, his right hand in his trousers pocket.

“Good afternoon, Stone,” Barton said as they got out of the car. He gave Carla a long look up and down. “And who’s this?”

“Barton, this is Carla. Carla, this is Barton Cabot.”

She offered him a hand. “How do you do?” she said.

“I do very well, but never better than now,” Barton replied.

“You were expecting us?” Stone asked.