“I wasn’t surprising Dino.”

“Good point.”

“You hungry?”

“You bet.”

“Miss, could I have a menu and a wine list, please?”

They polished off a dinner of smoked salmon and roast pheasant and a bottle of very good cabernet, then, sated, went back upstairs.

Later, after they had made love again, Stone said, “I like having you around. I’d like to have you around all the time.”

“I hope to God that’s not a proposal,” she said, lifting her head from his shoulder.

“Not yet.”

“Not for a long while,” she said.

“As you wish, but I would like to point out that you are, technically, at least, homeless.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Mine, entirely mine. And I want to make up for it by offering you a bed…home, rather.”

“And a very nice home it is,” Sarah said. “Your house was a shambles when I left for Italy.”

“Do you think you could feel at home in it?”

“I think I could feel at home with you.”

“Then there’s nothing more to say.”

“Yes, there is.”

“What?”

“I told you before, I’m a country girl; I need a place outside the city.”

“Where would you like to have a place?”

“Not the Hamptons; I’ve had too much of that crowd.”

“Where, then?”

“Maybe here.”

“I don’t think I could swing the inn, even with a mortgage.”

“A house, silly, and not a big house; a cottage, perhaps.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “Why don’t we find a real-estate agent tomorrow morning?”

“Do you mean it, Stone?”

“Do you think I’m saying this just because you got me into bed?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re a rotten judge of character.”

“We’ll see in the morning,” she said, snuggling her naked body against his.

Stone fell asleep wondering where Herbert Mitteldorfer was.

22

STONE SAT IN THE FRONT PASSENGER SEAT of a black Range Rover and tried not to fall asleep. The car was being driven by a real-estate agent named Carolyn Klemm, and she had already shown them half a dozen houses, all charming, but not quite right. Sarah dozed in the rear seat. The car stopped, jarring Stone fully awake.

“What do you think of that?” the agent asked.

Stone focused on a very large, very beautiful shingle-style house in the medium distance.

“I’ve got the key in my pocket,” Carolyn said.

“Carolyn, I don’t want a house tour,” Stone grumbled. “I want to see houses I can afford.”

“Not that,” Carolyn said. She pointed. “That.”

Stone turned his head to the right. There, much closer, was a very much smaller relative of the large house.

“The big place is called The Rocks,” Carolyn said.“The little place was originally the gatehouse.”

Sarah spoke up. “Let’s see it.”