Sidney Sheldon - If Tomorrow Comes

It started slowly, a velvet touching and stroking and feeling, a caressing and gentle exploring of the senses. And it began to build and swell in a frenzied, frantic rhythm, until it became a bacchanal, an orgy of pleasure, wild and savage. His hard organ stroked her and pounded her and filled her until she wanted to scream with the unbearable joy. She was at the center of a rainbow. She felt herself being swept up on a tidal wave that lifted her higher and higher, and there was a sudden molten explosion within her, and her whole body began to shudder. Gradually, the tempest subsided. She closed her eyes. She felt Jeff's lips move down her body, down, down to the center of her being, and she was caught up in another fierce wave of blissful sensation.

She pulled Jeff to her and held him close, feeling his heart beat against hers. She strained against him, but still she could not get close enough. She crept to the foot of the bed and touched her lips to his body with soft, tender kisses, moving upward until she felt his hard maleness in her hand. She stroked it softly and slid it into her mouth, and listened to his moans of pleasure. Then Jeff rolled on top of her and was inside her and it began again, more exciting than before, a fountain spilling over with unbearable pleasure, and Tracy thought, Now I know. For the first time, I know. But I must remember that this is just for tonight, a lovely farewell present.

All through the night they made love and talked about everything and nothing, and it was as though some long-locked floodgates had opened for both of them. At dawn, as the canals began to sparkle with the beginning day, Jeff said, “Marry me, Tracy.”

She was sure she had misunderstood him, but the words came again, and Tracy knew that it was crazy and impossible, and it could never work, and it was deliriously wonderful, and of course it would work. And she whispered, “Yes. Oh, yes!”

She began to cry, gripped tightly in the safety of his arms. I'll never be lonely again, Tracy thought. We belong to each other. Jeff is a part of all my tomorrows.

Tomorrow had come.

A long time later Tracy asked, “When did you know, Jeff?”

“When I saw you in that house and I thought you were dying. I was half out of my mind.”

“I thought you had run away with the diamonds,” Tracy confessed.

He took her in his arms again. “Tracy, what I did in Madrid wasn't for the money. It was for the game — the challenge. That's why we're both in the business we're in, isn't it? You're given a puzzle that can't possibly be solved, and then you begin to wonder if there isn't some way.”

Tracy nodded. “I know. At first it was because I needed the money. And then it became something else; I've given away quite a bit of money. I love matching wits against people who are successful and bright and unscrupulous. I love living on the cutting edge of danger.”

After a long silence, Jeff said, “Tracy… how would you feel about giving it up?”

She looked at him, puzzled. “Giving it up? Whys”

“We were each on our own before. Now, everything has changed. I couldn't bear it if anything happened. Why take any more risks? We have all the money we'll ever need. Why don't we consider ourselves retired?”

“What would we do, Jeff?”

He grinned. “We'll think of something.”

“Seriously, darling, how would we spend our lives?”

“Doing anything we like, my love. We'll travel, indulge ourselves in hobbies. I've always been fascinated by archaeology. I'd like to go on a dig in Tunisia. I made a promise once to an old friend. We can finance our own digs. We'll travel all over the world.”

“It sounds exciting.”

“Then what do you say?”

She looked at him for along moment. “If that's what you want,” Tracy said softly.

He hugged her and began laughing. “I wonder if we should send a formal announcement to the police?”

Tracy joined in his laughter.

The churches were older than any Cooper had ever known before. Some dated back to the pagan days, and at times he was not certain whether he was praying to the devil or to God. He sat with bowed head in the ancient Beguine Court Church and in St. Bavokerk and Pieterskerk and the Nieuwekerk at Delft, and each time his prayer was the same: Let me make her suffer as I suffer.

The telephone call from Gunther Hartog came the next day, while Jeff was out.

“How are you feeling?” Gunther asked.

“I feel wonderful,” Tracy assured him.

Gunther had telephoned every day after he had heard what had happened to her. Tracy decided not to tell him the news about Jeff and herself, not yet. She wanted to hug it to herself for a while, take it out and examine it, cherish it.

“Are you and Jeff getting along all right together?”

She smiled. “We're getting along splendidly.”

“Would you consider working together again?”

Now she had to tell him. “Gunther… we're… quitting.”

There was a momentary silence. “I don't understand.”

“Jeff and I are — as they used to say in the old James Cagney movies — going straight.”

“What? But… why?”

“It was Jeff's idea, and I agreed to it. No more risks.”

“Supposing I told you that the jab I have in mind is worth two million dollars to you and there are no risks?”

“I'd laugh a lot, Gunther.”

“I'm serious, my dear. You would travel to Amsterdam, which is only an hour from where you are now, and —”

“You'll have to find someone else.”

He sighed. “I'm afraid there is no one else who could handle this. Will you at least discuss the possibility with Jeff?”

“All right, but it won't do any good.”

“I will call back this evening.”

When Jeff returned, Tracy reported the conversation.

“Didn't you tell him we've become law-abiding citizens?”

“Of course, darling, I told him to find someone else.”

“But he doesn't want to,” Jeff guessed.

“He insisted he needed us. He said there's no risk and that we could pick up two million dollars for a little bit of effort.”

“Which means that whatever he has in mind must be guarded like Fort Knox.”

“Or the Prado,” Tracy said mischievously.

Jeff grinned. “That was really a neat plan, sweetheart. You know, I think that's when I started to fall in love with you.”

“I think when you stole my Goya is when I began to hate you.”

“Be fair,” Jeff admonished. “You started to hate me before that.”

“True. What do we tell Gunther?”

“You've already told him. We're not in that line of work anymore.”

“Shouldn't we at least find out what he's thinking?”

“Tracy, we agreed that —”

“We're going to Amsterdam anyway, aren't we?”

“Yes, but —”

“Well, while we're there, darling, why don't we just listen to what he has to say?”

Jeff studied her suspiciously. “You want to do it, don't you?”

“Certainly not! But it can't hurt to hear what he has to say….”

They drove to Amsterdam the following day and checked into the Amstel Hotel. Gunther Hartog flew in from London to meet them.

They managed to sit together, as casual tourists, on a Plas Motor launch cruising the Amstel River.

“I'm delighted that you two are getting married,” Gunther said. “My warmest congratulations.”

“Thank you, Gunther.” Tracy knew that he was sincere.

“I respect your wishes about retiring, but I have come across a situation so unique that I felt I had to call it to your attention. It could be a very rewarding swan song.”

“We're listening,” Tracy said.

Gunther leaned forward and began talking, his voice low. When he had finished, he said, “Two million dollars if you can pull it off.”