Page 53 of Stuart Woods' Smolder

“How does a homicide detective with an inherited house from a great-aunt become a high-powered attorney who is friends with presidents?”

“By means of a bullet to the knee, police department politics, and a lawyer friend who lent me a hand when I needed it most. The rest is just details.”

“I’m not sure where to start unpacking all of that.”

“How about you? Where do you live?”

“I should probably lie and say I live on the Upper East Side, but the truth is I missed out on the rich great-aunts. The biggest place I was shown in Manhattan that I could afford was barely larger than the closets in my parents’ house back in Fillmore. Which is why I live in a one-bedroom in Brooklyn.” She smirked. “I’m sorry. Does that mean youaregoing to disappear on me now?”

“Hardly. Besides, I’ve known people who lived in Brooklyn.”

“Name two. And I don’t count.”

“Ah, here comes our lunch.”

The waiter arrived and set plates in front of each of them. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“I think we’re good for now,” Stone said, shooting a glance at Monica for confirmation.

She nodded, and the waiter left.

“If you’re interested in moving across the river,” Stone said, “I have an empty apartment you are welcome to use. It’s in the house next door to mine. It’s been divided into several flats.”

“Is this a serious offer?”

“It could be.”

“Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

The salmon was as good as Stone had hoped, and from Monica’s look of satisfaction, her salad was equally delicious.

While they waited for their check, Stone said, “I know we have plans for dinner already, but if you don’t need to work this afternoon, can I entice you into a little outing?”

“I’m intrigued. What kind of outing?”

“Oh, no. You need to choose first.”

“One second.” She pulled out her phone, studied the screen, then set the device down. “Still no word from the person I’m supposed to meet, so it appears that I’m free. Now can you tell me?”

“Absolutely not. But I would suggest putting on something more comfortable.”

“You don’t like what I’m wearing?”

She had on a pale yellow sleeveless dress that looked stunning against her golden skin. “I like it very much, but trust me, you’ll be happier if you change.”

“Into what?”

“Pants and a comfortable shirt. Jeans would probably be best if you have them.”

“You’re not going to be putting me to work, are you?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

After Stone paid the bill, Monica nodded toward the restrooms. “I need to make a stop.”

“I’ll meet you in front.”

When Stone reached the lobby, the only other people present were the hostess and a man looking at his phone, waiting for a table.

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