“Come in,” he called out.

The door opened and Callie Hodges stuck her head in. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Stone sat up on his elbows. “It’s all right. How are you?”

“I’m good. You free for dinner?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll cook for you, then.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“Find the galley when you’re awake,” she said. “I’ll be the one in the apron.”

“Be there shortly,” he said. “I’d like to grab a shower.”

“Half an hour is fine,” she said, then closed the door.

Stone went into the bathroom, a little groggy, and inspected his face. The shave was okay. He stripped and got into the shower, and by the time he emerged, he was awake again. He dried his hair, slipped into a polo shirt and chinos and made his way forward. He found the galley a deck below the bridge, off the dining room. Callie was, indeed, wearing an apron, and, it appeared, nothing else.

“Hi,” she said. “Make us a drink?” She pointed to the butler’s pantry, and when she turned back to the stove he was a little disappointed to see that she was wearing a strapless top and shorts under her apron.

“What would you like?” Stone asked.

“You were drinking vodka gimlets last night, weren’t you?”

“That’s right. Would you like to try one?”

“Love to.”

Stone measured the vodka and Rose’s sweetened lime juice into a shaker, shook the liquid cold and strained it into two martini glasses. He took them back into the galley and handed one to Callie. “Try that.”

She sipped the icy drink. “Mmmm . . . perfect!”

“What are you cooking?”

“Risotto,” she said, stirring a pot with her free hand. “It has to be constantly stirred until it’s done.”

“I love risotto,” he said.

“Any kind of food you don’t love?”

“I never eat raw animals,” he said, “or anything that might still be alive, like an oyster.”

“You don’t like oysters? You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Last time I saw somebody eat oysters, he squeezed some lemon juice onto them, and they flinched. I never eat anything that can still flinch.”

“Anything else?”

Stone thought. “Celery and green peppers. I think that’s it.”

“There’s a bottle of chardonnay in the little wine fridge, there,” she said, nodding. “Will you open it? This is almost ready.”

Stone found a bottle of Ferarri-Carano Reserve and opened it. “Where are we dining?”

She was spooning risotto onto two large plates. “Follow me,” she said, picking them up. She led the way through a swinging door into a small dining room, where a table was set for two. “The big dining room is through that door,” she said. “We can seat up to sixteen in there.”

“This is lovely,” Stone said, sliding her chair under her and taking his own. He tasted the wine and poured two glasses.

“Dig in,” she said. “Don’t let it get cold.”

Stone tasted the risotto, which contained fresh shrimp and asparagus. “Superb. Where’d you learn to cook?”

“At my father’s knee,” she said. “My mother preferred his cooking to hers, so she never entered the kitchen if she could help it. Later, I did a course at Cordon Bleu, in London, and I worked for a while for Prudence Leith, who has a London restaurant and catering service there. I learned a lot from Prue.”

“How’d you come to work for Thad Shames?”

“Last summer I was cooking for a movie producer and his wife in the Hamptons, and Thad came to dinner. The producer was a real shit. He enjoyed ordering me around and complaining about my attitude.”

“Did you have an attitude?”

“Probably. Anyway, he was particularly bad that night, complaining about the food, when everyone else was complimenting it. Finally, I’d had enough. I put dessert on the table and told him I was quitting, and he could do the dishes, then I walked out. I went to my room and packed my suitcase and started walking toward the village, up the dark road. Then Thad pulled up in a car and offered me a lift. He asked where I was going, and I said I didn’t know. He offered me a job cooking for him, drove me back to his place, installed me in the guesthouse, and I’ve worked for him ever since. The job has grown to include lots of other duties, and I’ve enjoyed it.”

“What would you be doing if you weren’t working for Thad?” Stone asked.

“Probably working in a restaurant and hating it. I don’t like a big kitchen, and you have no social life at all. This job is perfect for me. You aren’t married, are you?”

“No.”

“Ever married?”

“No. Well, once for about fifteen minutes. It was sort of annulled.”

“And where is the ex-wife today?”

“Under full-time psychiatric care. I have that effect on women.”

She laughed. “I won’t pry. I just wanted to know if you were free before . . .”

“Before what?”

“Before I seduced you.”

“If I weren’t free, would it matter?”

“It certainly would,” she said. “I’ve learned not to get involved with married men.”

“I won’t ask how. Where are you from?”

“I was born in a small town in Georgia, called Delano, but I grew up mostly in Kent, Connecticut.”

“I have a little house in Washington, Connecticut.”

“Nice town.”

“Your folks still there?”

“Both dead. Daddy was a small-town lawyer and banker; my mother wrote short stories and poetry, sometimes for The New Yorker.”

“One of them was Jewish, you said?”

“Mother. She was a New York girl through and through. They met in the city at a party, and she married him and moved to Connecticut with him. She always missed living in New York. How about you?”

“Born and bred in the city. My father was a cabinet and furniture maker, my mother, a painter.”

“Were they good at it?”

“They were. Dad has work in some of the city’s better houses and apartments; Mother has two pictures in the permanent collection of the Metropolitan Museum. Mother and Dad are both gone, now.”

“So we’re both orphans?”

“We are, I guess.”

They finished the risotto, and Callie served them a salad, then dessert—old-fashioned chocolate cake.

They took their coffee onto the afterdeck and settled into the banquette that ran around the stern railing.

“So, did you have a productive day?”

“I did.”

“How did your lunch with the dead lady go?”

“Very well. I believe I solved her problem.”

Callie set down her coffee cup. “Now,” she said, “how do I go about seducing you? Do I just stick my tongue in your ear, or what?”

“It’s easier than that.” Stone took her face in his hands and kissed her for quite a long time. Their temperatures rose quickly.

“There may be crew about,” she breathed between kisses. “We’d better go to your cabin.”

“Oh, yes,” Stone said.

She took his hand and led him forward. In less than a minute they were standing at the end of his bed, undressing each other. In Callie’s case, it was quick; she was wearing only the two pieces. She sat on the bed and watched him peel off his clothes.

He knelt before her and began kissing the inside of her thighs, as she ran her fingers through his hair. He pushed her back on the bed and explored her delta, kissing the soft, blond fur at the edges. She gave a little shudder as he took her into his mouth. It took only a minute for her to come, and when she was finished, she pulled him onto her by his ears and felt for him, guiding him in.

“I love the first time,” she said, as they made love. “It’s always so . . .”

“So new,” Stone panted.

“And exciting.”

“Sometimes it gets better as it goes along,” he said, thrusting.

She thrust back. “We’ll see,” she said, and they both came together.