“Have you ever seen a wildebeest?” Stone asked. “They don’t look very mouthwatering. They’re quite ugly.”
“Out on the plains, lions find them most appetizing,” she said. “Besides, tonight I feel adventuresome.”
Stone suggested a bottle of red wine, she agreed, and he chose a Stellenbosch Shiraz.
“I am fortunate that the Saudi prince who rented my palace agreed to pay for the damages.” She sighed. “It turns out he is quite the gentleman. To change the subject, the reason why I am here is because I want to tell you that I still … love you.” She let out a deep breath as if in relief. “I always have loved you. However, sometimes, the way you act, I don’t trust you. I’m not sure you still love me.”
“I always loved you. It’s just that you scare me.”
Her eyebrow arched.
“In many ways you’re almost, well, unattainable.”
“I know. But you’re the only man I know who can—” she thought a moment, and then laughed. “Attain me.”
Their dinners arrived. The portions were modest, which pleased Stone, as the meal was rich in flavor, satisfying his appetite after only a few mouthfuls. The wine was adequate. He kept looking at Lucinda, wondering how it would be to live with her, permanently.
After the waiter removed their plates, both declined dessert but decided to share a cheese plate. “We were talking about the Saudi prince who reimbursed you for the damage to your place. His son-in-law, Abdul Wahab, lives here,” Stone said. “He’s behind the terrorist plot I tried to stop.”
“That cochon, that pig was the reason I agreed to rent the palace to those Arabs. Maurice Colmont told me that Wahab is on the French police wanted list. He can’t return to France.”
“He also may have outlived his welcome here.”
Lucinda touched his face. “Was he responsible for this?”
“Indirectly.” Stone thought a moment. “Ironic, I’m alive and so are my colleagues because Wahab prevented the other terrorists from killing us.”
“Where are your colleagues? Where is, what is her name, Sandra?”
“Yes, Sandra. Neither one came out as well as me. Both are in bad shape.”
“Is this mission over?” Lucinda asked.
“No, it’s not. However, my part in the operation may be over.”
Lucinda looked puzzled.
“I screwed up. Botched the case,” Stone said. “Gus Frederick, who you met at Ambassador Bunting’s function, has lost confidence in me.”
“So you will be leaving Cape Town?” She placed a blue cheese on a cracker.
“I should know tomorrow. By the way, do you have Colmont’s telephone number? I’d like to call him and ask a favor.”
After dinner they drove back to the apartment. The moment Lucinda led Stone into the flat, he knew from the modern Italian décor that this was Patience’s home. Her signature was everywhere. He had little time to admire the furnishings, as Lucinda had taken his hand and pulled him to her bedroom.
Again rain hit hard on the glass doors, bringing Stone out of his semi-dream. The sheet tightened over his body and he sensed Lucinda stir, throw off the blanket, and go to the bathroom. The wind pounded against the glass, and even though daybreak had arrived, the sky remained gloomy. After a while, she slipped back in bed and snuggled close.
Stone let himself drift again into that world of partial consciousness. Lucinda appeared in the dream, but as the girl he first met long ago in Nice, France. Her hair was shorter, her figure trim, and her white blouse brought out her tan from hours sailing on her father’s ketch. The boat’s name was La Claire, and the two of them sailed the dark Mediterranean.
The dream shifted to a dinner dance during the Christmas holiday season. She in a long black gown, he in his naval officer’s uniform. They danced very close. Later that night she sneaked into his bedroom and they made love for the first time.
Startled, Stone was awake and back in the present. Lucinda yanked off the covers and sat on top of him. She held a mug of hot coffee in her hand, the rich aroma rising with the steam.
“Good morning, my dear,” she said. “What first? Coffee or me?”
“No contest,” he said, taking the cup from her hand and placing it on the nightstand.
Slowly and dramatically, she lifted her white satin chemise over her head and discarded it. She came down hard, kissing and biting his neck. She laughed and tightened her legs around his body. He had no idea where her body would twist next, but intended to enjoy the ride.
Exhausted, Stone stared at the ceiling, waiting for his breathing to slow. She had collapsed on him after giving out that sharp cry he remembered from past times. Shifting her head on his arm so their eyes met, she whispered, “As good as ever, no?”
“Oui, mon contessa.”
Now giggling, she said, “Come back with me to France and we can do this all the time.”
He reached over for the coffee mug. “Want some?”
She sat up and shook her head. From her serious demeanor, Stone knew a heavy conversation was about to commence. Probably something about making their relationship permanent. He would have liked a little more time, at least to finish his coffee, before committing to a long-term relationship.
He fought back a smile. How could she possibly expect him to pay attention, sitting there with her beautiful breasts displayed in their firmness — and yes, that mole was still there below the left nipple. A sculptor would love to spend time with her.
“Are you paying attention to me?” she asked, nose uplifted.
“Of course.”
“I have something to ask you.”
“Can’t wait to hear.” The coffee was perfect, dark, and strong, with a touch of nut.
“Come live with me in Villefranche. Perhaps we could …” She slipped out of bed. “You think about it. Yes?”
“Yes.” He’d think about it.
During the following hour, while they showered together, dressed, and had breakfast that, to his surprise, she prepared, Hayden Stone carefully watched every word and gesture he made. Don’t do or say anything wrong.
He let the realization of the two of them sharing their lives in the South of France slowly sink in. It was not an unpleasant notion, no matter how he had to adjust the view of his new future.
Watching her place the dishes in the sink, he remembered he had to call Jacob. How life had just changed for him since he and Jacob had met in the museum. He searched for his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?’
“A colleague. I’m traveling with him to Cameroon.”
“What is this job? Why is it so important to all of you?”
He stopped dialing. “Patience didn’t tell you?” He watched her return to the kitchen table and sit, waiting for him to explain. He gave her a thumbnail version of the terrorist plot and how he screwed up in Namibia.
“An atomic bomb! You must stop them!”
Stone stood, went to the window, and watched raindrops form on the glass. The tall blue gum trees and pines swayed in the wind. “My superiors think the bad guys are headed north for the country of Chad. Jacob, my old Israeli friend, and I believe they’re heading for the seaport of Douala in Cameroon.”
“Your other colleagues are recovering from their wounds. So you and Jacob must go alone.” Her gaze was fixed on him.
“I would expect you to tell me not to go.”
Lucinda rose and came up next to him. “Do you think I want you to go and possibly get killed?”