Page 75 of Stuart Woods' Smolder

“I will, and thank you, Rudy. I knew I could count on you.”

Chapter 24

Stone and Monica returned from a relaxing weekend in Taos to the Lees’ place at lunchtime. The only hiccups in their time away were Monica not yet hearing back from Tristan Williams, and Dino reporting that the Santa Fe police still considered Joshua Paskota’s death an accident.

Stone had several messages from Joan and spent the rest of the afternoon catching up with work.

When he finally finished, the sun was setting. He could hear Monica swimming laps outside, so he donned his swimsuit and went out to join her.

“I was beginning to think you’d never show up,” she said, after he dove in.

“Won’t happen again.”

“Promise?” she asked impishly.

He turned his attention to the sky. “My, what a lovely sunset.”

She splashed him. “I thought as much.”

In retaliation, he dove under, grabbed one of her feet, and pulled her down with him. They tussled playfully before resurfacing, their bodies tight to each other.

“This would be a lot more fun without bathing suits,” she said.

“I’m game if you are. As long as you don’t mind giving the Secret Service a show.”

“Tempting, but I’ll pass.”

They kissed with the passion of lovers who truly enjoyed each other’s company, then leaned their foreheads against each other.

Nearly out of breath, she whispered, “Maybe weshouldput on a show.”

“If you insist.”

As he moved to kiss her again, Martha appeared poolside. “Mr. Barrington, Miss Reyes, dinner is almost ready. Would you like it inside or out here?”

“Here?” Stone said to Monica.

“Please.”

“Outside,” he told Martha.

“Very good.” She retreated into the house.

Monica sighed. “It looks like we don’t have any time for—”

Stone slipped a hand under the back side of her bikini bottom. “Are you sure about that?”

As if it took every ounce of strength, she pushed him away and swam for the stairs.

They dined on a meal of chicken mole and grilled peppers paired with a bottle of Marian’s Vineyard Old Vine Zinfandel from California.

When they finished, Martha asked if they would like dessert.

“I don’t think I could eat another bite,” Monica said. “I haven’t had mole that good in years. It was just like myabuela’s.”

Martha smiled in pleasure.

“I agree with Monica,” Stone said. “Though I can’t comment on her grandmother’s version.”

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