Part 20 (2/2)
”I like being my own boss.”
”Is that a no?”
”Come on, you know what the White House press room is like. It's like working in a submarine, low ceilings, no windows. When it rains, the carpet gets soaked and you're jammed in there like sardines. Access to the president is strictly managed, ch.o.r.eographed, and pa.r.s.ed out by his people whose default answer is 'no' or, if you're lucky, 'I don't know.' If the president thinks he's living in a fishbowl, the press lives in a gilded cage.”
He said in a mild voice, ”And those are just the good points?”
I laughed. ”It sounds glamorous, but you and I know it's not . . . Would you be happy in Was.h.i.+ngton?”
”I'll be happy anywhere as long as I'm with you.”
James had left oversized terry robes on the back of the bathroom door. We climbed out of the tub and had dinner back in my room, where an opened bottle of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti was waiting at our table.
I gave Nick another surprised look and he grinned. ”James and I had this all set up.”
”I can see that.”
Nick held my chair and poured the wine. ”What have you been doing since you got here? Not shopping, obviously.”
”How do you know that?”
He indicated the rest of the room. ”No shopping bags. No Harrods, no Harvey Nicks. Not even a bookstore carrier bag. Just some tea from Fortnum and Mason.”
”I bought that for Grace and India. I should have gotten some for us. Maybe I'll go back tomorrow.”
Nick unfolded his napkin as though he were unwrapping something that required great concentration and placed it in his lap. ”You have a h.e.l.l of a set of bruises starting to come up on your right shoulder and along the back of your arm. You also winced a couple of times in bed. I tried to be careful. Why don't you tell me what's going on, what you've really been doing?”
As soon as he said that, I reached for my shoulder. It had taken a battering when Alastair and I tried to shove open the security door to the storage vault, but I hadn't realized the bruises showed much yet since I couldn't see them. Besides, I'd been too lost in Nick, in what he had been doing with me, to think about anything else.
”I'm okay,” I said. ”Don't worry.”
”Did somebody hurt you?”
”A door. And it hurt like h.e.l.l.”
He set his fork down and waited.
”Eat your dinner and I'll tell you. It's a long story.”
I didn't leave anything out. When I was done, he said, ”I've got a couple of friends who moonlight doing security work. I'm going to call them. I don't like you walking around London unprotected. These guys are discreet. You won't even know they're there.” He paused. ”Unless you need them.”
”Nick, I don't need a bodyguard or a babysitter. I can handle this.”
”Humor me.”
”All right, I'll make you a deal. Let me talk to Edward Jaine tomorrow morning. I'm meeting him in a posh restaurant, for Pete's sake. After that, if your friends want to follow me around London and carry my shopping bags-because that's what I'm going to do next-that's fine.”
He smiled. ”I'll set it up.”
”Not now, okay? Let's have this evening just for us.”
By the time James came in to take away our table and the dinner dishes and ask if we wanted a nightcap, the two of us were so tired we could barely keep our eyes open.
”I think we're all set, James,” Nick said, stifling a yawn. ”The meal was excellent. And thank you for everything. My beautiful wife had no clue about our plans.”
”Quite true,” I said. ”You're very sneaky, James. I never would have suspected.”
”It's one of the required courses at butler school, Miss Medina,” he said. ”I was top of my cla.s.s.”
I laughed. ”I bet you were.”
James grinned. ”Will you both be taking breakfast here tomorrow morning, or will you dine downstairs?”
Nick gave me a reluctant look. ”I've got a ten a.m. flight tomorrow out of Heathrow. I'm sorry, sweetheart.”
”You're leaving tomorrow? Already?”
”I've got to, I'm afraid. I'm sorry.” He turned to James. ”Any chance of coffee and something to eat at six o'clock in the room?”
”Of course, sir. What about you, Miss Medina? Will you be dining with Mr. Canning, or do you wish to wait until Mr. Wyatt returns?”
”I'll have breakfast with my husband at six, please.”
James left after sorting out our order and a.s.suring Nick that one of the hotel cars would be downstairs at seven to take him to the airport. After he was gone, I wanted Nick to pull me into bed again, now that I knew all we had left was the rest of tonight.
He did.
Later, after we finished making love, I fell into a deep sleep where my dreams and the events of the last few days since Kevin's death collided in a giant, confusing pileup. At one point I must have cried out, because all of a sudden Nick was stroking my hair and hus.h.i.+ng me, murmuring that it was only a dream, probably fueled by wine and champagne drunk late at night. But when I slept again, the dreams returned and I was alone in a long, dark arctic-cold tunnel where Perry's voice repeated what he'd told me earlier in the day at the Crypt restaurant.
Kevin left you the answer to the puzzle, Sophie. It's right there in front of you. You just can't see it.
When I woke the next morning, I was alone, the imprint of Nick's head still on his pillow and his half of the rumpled blankets turned back where he'd slipped out of bed. It was dark outside, but a crack of lamplight shone under the threshold to Harry's room. Nick's deep voice carried through the door, though I couldn't hear what he was saying. The clock on my bedside table read five forty-five.
I found my robe on the floor where I had dropped it last night. When I opened the adjoining door, Nick was sitting on the edge of a damask sofa across from Harry's bed, engrossed in a phone conversation. Somehow, he'd managed to shave, shower, and get completely dressed without waking me. He looked up and smiled as I walked in, stretching out his arm for me to join him, still listening to whoever was talking on the other end of the line.
I sat down next to him and leaned my head on his shoulder. ”I owe you for that one, buddy,” he was saying. ”Thanks for letting me know . . . you, too . . . sure, let's get together for that beer. I'll call you.”
He disconnected and kissed me. ”Morning, sleepyhead. I didn't mean to wake you.”
I kissed him back. ”What time did you get up? I didn't hear you get out of bed.”
”About an hour ago. You were dead to the world. I don't think you would have heard a bomb go off.”
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