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politically powerful husband. Kristen had money, lots of it; Daddy Geoffrey had seen to that. She had a string of upscale boutiques in major cities all across Europe as well as the U.S., and she was the kind of woman who delighted in telling, once the divorce proceedings had gotten nasty, that high-rolling Martin, despite his political connections, was a real clinker in the bedroom. Reputations were smeared, and the public had a ringside seat to the entire proceedings. |
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Now she came back into the room wearing a pink cashmere leisure suit bedecked with enough gold to give the semidarkened room an occasional glitter. She scooped up her martini and curled up beside him on the sofa. "Nicely done," she purred, as she took a second long sip. |
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Charlie was more than willing to slip into the reflective mood with her. He settled back, propped his feet up and stared out the open balcony doors at the darkened gulf. In the distance he could hear the mournful wail of a passing freighter and the occasional ominous and dire warning signal of a buoy. |
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For the moment, Kristen was content to sit by him and stare reflectively into the colorless contents of her glass. It was several minutes, in fact, before she disengaged herself from him, stood up and walked back over to the |
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