Danielle Steel - The Kiss

“Where do you want to have dinner tonight?” he asked, as she rolled her eyes and laughed at him.

“How can you even think of eating again after all this? I won't be able to eat for a week.” But as far as they both knew, it was their last night. She was planning to leave the next day, late in the afternoon. She didn't really think she should stay over the following night, although she was tempted to, and he didn't want to push. He knew she felt she should get back to her son. And maybe, if he didn't press too hard this time, she'd be willing to do this again. It had been absolutely perfect for both of them.

“What about Mark's Club?” he asked, ignoring her protests about eating dinner again. “We can go late if you prefer.”

“That would be fun. I haven't been there in years. Actually,” she laughed, “I haven't been anywhere.”

“I'll make a reservation for nine o'clock.” He left the table for a moment to cross the lobby and speak to the concierge as she watched him go. He had an almost irresistible male grace as he sauntered across the lobby and spoke to the clerk at the hall porter's desk. And she continued to watch him as he walked back. “Why were you staring at me?” he asked, looking amused and faintly embarrassed. She was so beautiful, it made his heart ache sometimes just to look at her. He wanted to give her so much more, to go places with her, spend time with her, introduce her to his friends, take her to Washington and show her off. But he knew that neither of them could do that. This was as far afield as she could go.

“I was admiring you,” she confessed. “You're a very handsome man, Mr. Robinson.” She had felt that way about Gordon a long, long time ago. But not anymore. She knew him too well now, and the icy coldness of his heart.

“You're either crazy or blind,” Bill said, and then laughed, looking slightly uncomfortable, and then they got up and went upstairs. It was seven-thirty by then, and he said he was going to have a massage in his room while she dressed, and called home. “I'll pick you up at a quarter to nine. Does that give you enough time?”

“It's fine.” All she wanted to do was check on Teddy again, have a bath, do her hair, and dress, and she didn't take long.

“See you in a little while,” he said as he put an arm around her and kissed her cheek. And as he did, he was tempted to ask if she wanted to stay another night, if Teddy was doing well. But he thought he'd wait and see what she said after she called home, and spoke to the nurses and the boy.

And when she did, she was pleased with what she heard. Teddy had had another good day, and he was laughing when he talked to her. He and the nurse had been reading a book of jokes she'd bought for him before she left. He read her a couple of them, and she laughed with him, and she was smiling when she got in the bath. She had promised him she'd be home the following night. She was booked on a six o'clock flight, and it would be around nine o'clock Paris time when she got home. She had thought about staying another night, but it didn't seem fair to him.

She wore a simple white silk cocktail dress that night, with a white cashmere stole, her pearls again, and white silk Chanel shoes with black toes. She carried a white evening bag with nothing more than a lipstick and her room key in it. She didn't need more than that. And this time, she decided to wear her hair down. And Bill looked even more impressed than the previous night when she opened the door. He was obviously taken with her, and it pleased her no end.

There was such a softness to her, such a gentleness, and so much femininity. She defined everything he had always wanted in a woman, and all Bill could do was regret he hadn't found her years before.

“How was Teddy when you called?” he asked as they walked downstairs. Neither of them had the patience to wait for the elevator, and they preferred walking, down at least.

“He was in great form. He read me half a dozen jokes, and the nurse said she's never seen him so well. I don't know if it's the medication he's been on, or the weather, or just good luck. But whatever it is, I hope it holds. I told him I'd be home tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” Bill said, and she saw the look in his eyes as he turned to her on the last step. “I was hoping you might want to stay another night. I have to see the ambassador tomorrow, and I don't think I'll be free much before noon. That doesn't give us much time before your flight.”

“I know,” she said, as she tucked her hand into his arm. “I thought about that, but I didn't have the heart to tell him I wanted to stay another night. I suppose I could call tomorrow.”

“I wish you would,” he said honestly. “Why don't you ask him if he'd mind?” He didn't want to steal her from her son, but he wanted her to stay. And she wanted to stay too. She felt torn between her son and him, which was an unfamiliar feeling for her.

“I'll call in the morning and see how he feels. But I can't promise anything. If he has a bad night tonight, I should go home.” She was responsible above all.

“I understand,” Bill said gratefully. He was glad she was at least willing to consider it. “Maybe if you have to go, I'll fly back to Paris with you. It wouldn't do any harm for me to visit the embassy there.” Even if he couldn't see much of her, he wanted to be close to her. But it was going to be different once they were on her home turf. They might be able to have lunch, but she couldn't have lunch or dinner with him as easily as she did here. If Gordon became aware that she was seeing him, no matter how chaste it was, it could be awkward for her. But Bill knew and understood all that. He had seen her in Paris before. “Thank you for being willing to call. I've got to fly back to New York on Saturday anyway.” And he knew his daughters would be home then.

“It's going to be strange,” Isabelle said sadly, “once you're gone.” They had only been together for a day, but it was so comfortable being together night and day that neither of them could imagine leaving each other now.

“I was thinking the same thing,” he said as they drove toward Mark's Club. “You could become a habit that would be hard to break.” She nodded in answer, and he gently held her hand. They were crossing barriers they had both respected before, and traveling into regions that had been heretofore unknown. And they both knew that if they ventured too far, it could be a dangerous thing.

They had drinks in the comfortable, elegantly shabby atmosphere of the bar at Mark's. The shabbiness was intentional, as they sat chatting with each other in oversized battered-leather chairs, and then they were escorted to their table in the dining room. In some ways, Isabelle preferred Harry's Bar, but the atmosphere was cozy and romantic here. They talked for hours, and Isabelle had a sense that she wanted to stop time and turn back the clock. The moments were ticking by too fast, and she didn't want the evening to end. And neither did Bill.

“What about Annabel's again?” he asked when they finally left, and their eyes met and held for a long time. She wasn't sure if they would get into deep water if they went dancing again, but neither of them could resist. It was very probably going to be their last night, and the last chance they would have for a long, long time. It could be years. They knew they had to seize the moment now.

“I'd like that very much,” she said quietly. There were suddenly unspoken words hanging thick in the air between them, as they sat in the car and held hands. And they were both quiet as they walked into Annabel's and went to sit in the bar.

Bill ordered champagne, and he toasted her, and after her first sip, he set down his glass, held out a hand to her, and invited her to dance. She was only too happy to follow him onto the floor, beneath the ceiling of tiny sparkling stars. It was the most romantic place she'd ever been, and this time, as she danced with him, their bodies felt like one. They moved slowly to the music, and the songs they played were familiar to them. Neither of them spoke, they just held each other close as they danced, and Isabelle closed her eyes.