The Kiss (9 page)

“I know that, Bill,” she said softly. “You've been so good to me for so long.” For the past four years, other than her children, he was all she had.

“Not good enough. Not as good as I'd like to be.

I'm just tired of the hypocrisy of our lives. You pretend to be his wife, I pretend to give a damn when I go to black-tie events with Cindy. I'm not sure I can fake it anymore. I'm not sure I want to. I don't think the rewards are worth the price.”

“You may pay a much higher price if you don't play the game anymore.” She had questioned it all herself, and he had caught the bug and tried to incite her to riot. But Isabelle was prepared to be the reasonable one.

“Maybe one of these days I'll toss it all into a hat, and give it up. You never know,” Bill said calmly.

“You need to give it a lot of thought,” she said quietly, as he nodded, and took her hand in his. She had long, slender fingers, and beautiful, graceful hands.

“You're a remarkable woman,” he said quietly, with eyes full of emotion, “and a lot more sensible than I.”

“Maybe that's a good thing.” She lifted his hand to her lips then and kissed it. “You are my very dearest friend.” He couldn't speak for a moment, and she nodded. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he knew from everything she had said to him that morning that it wasn't the right time.

“What would you like for lunch?” he said, trying to de-escalate the emotions that had nearly gotten the best of him. He couldn't even imagine what it would feel like when she left for Paris again. But there was no point thinking of it now.

They decided on pasta and salads, and they both stuck to safe subjects like books and art. And she thought he should write a book of his own about the political scene. She had said as much to him before.

But what would have made the book interesting were the secrets he couldn't divulge.

“Maybe when I retire,” he said as they got to dessert.

They had both calmed down by then. He wasn't sure why things had gotten out of hand that morning, except that he was so happy when he was with her, and it was hard to accept that there could never be more. He knew that in Teddy's lifetime she would never even think of leaving Gordon, and he hoped for her sake that her son would live for a long time.

After some earnest consultation, they went to the British Museum that afternoon, and didn't come out again until four. They went for a walk down New Bond Street, looking into the shop windows at paintings and jewelry, and walking along slowly arm in arm. He couldn't help thinking to himself again how comfortable he was, being with her. It was nearly six o'clock when they got back to Claridge's and decided to have tea. They had cucumber sandwiches, and others with tomato and watercress and egg salad and little biscuits that reminded her of her grandfather when she was a child. High tea was something she had always loved. It seemed so civilized to her, and he teased her about it. Bill said he'd much rather eat eclairs and petits-fours at Angelina's in Paris, or have ice cream at Berthillon. And she said she loved that too.

“When are you coming to Paris again?” she asked casually as they ate their sandwiches and she poured him another cup of tea.

“How about next week? I'm going to have terrible withdrawal after this week.”

“So am I,” she confessed. For all her brave statements about what they couldn't have, she felt the same pull that he did. When they were together, or even talking on the phone, it all seemed so right, to both of them. But it was forbidden fruit. Just being with him was a great gift.

“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.

It was a long time before they left the floor, and they both seemed subdued. Neither of them wanted to think of leaving each other the next day, but there was no avoiding it. They knew the moment would come.

They danced again before they left, and as they left the dance floor, Isabelle had tears in her eyes. And Bill had an arm around her as they walked outside. It was a beautiful, warm, starry night, and he was looking down at her with a warm smile as an explosion seemed to go off in their faces. Isabelle wasn't sure what it was at first, she was blinded by a flash of light, and it was only when her vision cleared that she realized that a photographer had taken their photograph, but she couldn't imagine why.

“What was that all about?” It had frightened her at first, and she had nearly jumped into Bill's arms. He still had an arm around her, and as she stood close to him, he was holding her tight.

“They do that sometimes. The paparazzi hang around outside. They shoot first and then identify their victims afterward. They catch a lot of movie stars and politicians like that. And if they happen to get
someone who doesn't matter to anyone, I guess they just toss it out.”

“That would be me, I guess. But what about you? Could they cause a problem for you?”

“Not really. I don't think the gossip sheets give a damn who I am. I think that was a wasted shot.”

“I didn't even know what it was at first. All I saw was a flash of light.” They had used a strobe, and had put the camera only inches from her face.

“It must be miserable to live like that,” Bill commented. He was thinking about the photograph they'd taken, and wondering if someone would identify him. But he didn't say anything about it to Isabelle. There was nothing they could do about it now. The only one who might care would be his wife. And Isabelle was certainly unknown. There was no reason why Gordon Forrester would ever see the shot. As they got into the car, Bill put it out of his mind.

Isabelle sat close to him in the car, and as he was growing accustomed to doing now, he held her hand. They were both thinking about leaving the next day, and there was a tangible aura of seriousness in the car, as he instructed the driver to take them for a little drive on their way back to the hotel. They were in no hurry to get back, and it was a beautiful night.

It was Isabelle who spoke first, her voice was husky and soft. “I don't know how I'm going to leave tomorrow.” Teddy was the only thing pulling her back.

“Maybe you won't. See how he feels when you call.” All Bill could do was pray that he had a good night. He couldn't imagine watching her go.

Isabelle nodded and smiled at him, and then put her head on his shoulder. “I had a wonderful time tonight, Bill.”