Holly Barker had been working almost nonstop since her arrival in L.A., assisting Kate Lee during the security discussions with President Vargas and Mexico’s head of national intelligence. The only break she had had was drinks at Stone’s cottage on the evening of her arrival. Now everybody had initialed the draft of the security agreement, and it was being edited and translated for signing at the closing ceremony. Holly wanted out of the presidential cottage. She called Stone’s cell number.
“Yes?”
“It’s Holly.”
“How are you? I haven’t seen you since cocktails.”
“I’ve been working eighteen hours a day, and I am now experiencing an extreme case of cabin fever.”
“Sounds like what you need is a change of cabins.”
“That and at least one drink, followed by, ah, exercise.”
“Is now too soon?”
“Nope.”
“Come through the garden gate-it will be open, as will the French doors to my suite.”
Stone put down the book he had been trying to read, Chernow’s biography of George Washington, and checked the little bar for the proper ingredients, which were a bottle of Knob Creek and ice.
There was a scratch on the French doors, and Holly swept in. “Hallelujah!” she exclaimed. “Free again.” She lavished a kiss on Stone for half a minute, then broke. “Bourbon whiskey, please,” she said, kicking off her shoes.
Stone poured two and handed her one.
“To the completion of negotiations,” she said, raising her glass.
“Congratulations,” Stone replied, and they each took a large bite of bourbon. “All done?”
“It’s being prepared for signatures as we speak,” she said. “I can’t say the same for the presidents’ discussions, but I understand there are only a couple of sticking points.”
“How much time have you got?” he asked, kissing her on the neck and scratching a nipple.
“An hour and three minutes before I have to attend a video intelligence briefing from Langley with my mistress.”
“Then let’s not waste any of it,” Stone said. Seconds later they were in bed and in each other’s arms.
“I’m surprised Felicity Devonshire is over here, sniffing around,” Holly said.
“Jealousy? I like that. Don’t you like her?”
“She’s just a little too perfect,” Holly said, feeling for him. “Never a hair out of place.”
“An admirable quality,” Stone observed, growing in her hand.
“And one that I should cultivate?” Holly asked, archly.
“Nah, I like a hair out of place now and then.”
Holly rolled him onto his back and mounted him. “Aaaaah,” she breathed, “that’s where you belong.”
“No argument here,” he replied, thrusting. “Have you noticed that each of us still has a glass of bourbon in hand?”
“Then this is a first,” she said, taking a gulp.
Stone raised his head and managed to get a swallow down without spilling it. “An historic moment,” he said. Stone held his chilly glass against a breast.
“Yipe!”
“Sorry.” He raised his head again and warmed the nipple in his mouth.
“That’s better.” She reached behind her and took his testicles in her glass-chilled hand.
“Wow!” Stone said, and he felt a climax rising. “If you’re going to come with me, you’d better do it now.”
“I’m with you,” she said, then they both experienced the ecstatic paroxysms of orgasm. Finally, she leaned down and kissed him again. “And we didn’t spill a drop,” she said, polishing off the drink.
Stone finished his and they rolled sideways without separating. “This is good,” he said.
“It doesn’t get any better,” she replied. “Gone are long hours of discussing cross-border intelligence exchanges.” She contracted her abdominal muscles, squeezing him.
“Oh! Do that forty or fifty more times.”
“I’m afraid I’m spent,” she replied.
“I’m well spent,” he said. “Normally sex renders me unconscious, but I have the sneaking suspicion that more is going to be expected of me.”
“More, more, more,” she said.
“Don’t I get some recovery time?”
“As I recall, you’ve never needed much.” She squeezed him again.
“I think I’m getting the message,” he said.
“Then, like the song says, ‘Do it again.’”
And he did.