Their hotel room, courtesy of Resorts Worldwide, was filled with open suitcases, baskets of fruit, vases of flowers. She and Sam had already put some of the stuff out on the balcony. His socks were on the floor. The television showed them getting off the plane, waving like Hollywood assholes. Sam’s head was back on the center of his pillow, his mouth open, a low rumbling emerging. Snoring? After all these years, it had taken something like this to reveal she had married a snorer?

She tossed the socks on a chair, turned off the television set and put out the lights, taking a last look from the balcony at the swimming pool four stories below. She was ready for swimming – first thing tomorrow. She got into bed and nudged Sam to roll him onto his side so he would breathe less noisily.

He sat up abruptly. “Huh?”

“I’m sorry, babe. You were snoring.”

“Wanna fool around?”

He hadn’t heard her. Sometimes he could get so tired after sea duty that he could seem to be awake when he was really asleep.

“Get your rest, babe. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He leaned over her. “You don’t wanna fool around? With me? I’m a official guv’mint hero.”

He had been pretending – the snoring had been a joke.

“Official guv’mint moron is more like it. I hope you were kidding with that friggin’ noise. You’re a little young for your soft palate to collapse.”

“What? Was I snoring?”

She reached under her head for her pillow to hit him, but he pinned her wrists down, kissed her cheek and her neck. She repositioned herself so he would get the right spots. “Does this mean you’re ready now, big stuff? You getting hot for me?”

He was working his way down from his shoulder, slowly and intensely. “You’re the who’s hot. I hate to tell you what I was thinking at lunch yesterday at the White House.”

“Right, the White House. Never again. Next time tell them I have PMS. All right, what were you thinking? You’re going to spill it anyway. You love telling me what a pig you are.”

He freed her arms. “Shut up, you love hearing it.”

“Only because you try to make it nice. It’s the thought that counts.”

“I was thinking of what I really wanted to eat. I was. It got so bad, I couldn’t look at you. I had to focus on somebody else to calm down. Don’t ask who.”