T HE KITCHEN GLEAMED WITH RESTAURANT-quality appliances and granite countertops. Sarah seated Stone on a stool where he could watch, then she went to the huge range, poured a generous dollop of olive oil into a skillet, and while it was heating, chopped some plum tomatoes, garlic, and fresh basil. When the oil was sizzling, she dropped half a dozen slices of Italian bread into it and fried them on both sides. She arranged a small platter with the bread slices, then spooned the mixture of tomatoes, garlic, and basil onto each slice. She picked up the platter and headed for the door.
“Follow me,” she said.
Stone grabbed the bottle of Amerone and followed her through a swinging door and into a charming little corner dining room, where the table was already set for two.
“This is where the family dines,” she said. “There’s a much larger dining room through there, with a table that seats eighteen.” She nodded at the door.
Stone lit the candles on the table, and they sat down facing the windows, which overlooked Central Park and the lights of the city to the south. He poured them both a glass of wine and raised his glass. “Happy reunions,” he said.
“Hear, hear,” she replied, sipping her wine. “Oh, this is huge. What is it?”
“An Amerone.”
“Luscious. Now eat your bruscetta.”
Stone sliced off a chunk of bread and put it into his mouth. “Wonderful,” he said. “It’s so simple, but it’s really terrific.”
“Glad you approve. I told you I learned a lot in Tuscany.”
“Where exactly were you?”
“In the Chianti country, north of Siena and south of Florence.”
“Do you know I’ve never been to Europe?”
Sarah looked shocked. “I don’t believe it.”
“When I was a cop, I couldn’t afford it, and now I always seem to be too busy.”
“We will cure that condition,” she said. “Just as soon as my show is launched.”
“That might be fun,” he replied, swallowing the last of his bruscetta.
“It certainly will be, I assure you.” She took away his plate. “The main course is in the oven; I’ll be right back.”
Stone sipped his wine and gazed out over the park. He loved his house, he thought, but it didn’t have views like this.
Sarah returned with a hot crockery dish. “Cannelloni,” she said, serving him the little crêpes, stuffed with ground pork. She spooned a creamy sauce over them, then served herself.
“You should give up painting for cooking,” he said.
They ate slowly, then Sarah brought out cannoli for dessert. When they had finished their dinner and the wine, she drew him from the table and led him through the apartment and upstairs. “I must show you the guest room,” she purred. She opened a door and led him into an elaborately decorated bedroom, then stopped and put her arms around his neck. “Now,” she said. “Another dessert.” She kissed him.
Stone thought he had never felt so good. The dinner had been perfection, and now, as he felt her breasts against him, felt her tongue in his mouth, he…
A loud buzzing noise interrupted them.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“The house phone,” she replied between kisses. “Ignore it.”
“I think you’d better answer it,” Stone said.
“Forget it.”
“Sarah, this could be important.”
“Oh, all right!” she said, breaking away and going to the phone. “Hello? Yes, Dan? No, I can’t right now. No, it’s impossible.”