“You're absolutely wrong. And that's your whole problem,” she said without hesitating for an instant. “You think that everything you have is because of her. Your job, your success, your career, even your house in Greenwich. That's crazy. You would have had a brilliant career anyway. She didn't do that, you did. You would have had a fabulous career wherever you were, maybe even back in Wisconsin. You have that kind of mind, and I suspect that kind of ability to seize opportunity, and run with it. Look what you've done with Vicotec. You said yourself that was entirely your baby.”

“But I haven't done it yet,” he said modestly.

“You will though. No matter what Suchard says. One year, two, ten, who cares. You'll do it,” she said, with absolute conviction. “And if this doesn't work, something else will. And it has nothing to do with who you're married to.” She wasn't wrong, he just didn't know that. “I'm not denying the Donovans gave you an opportunity, but other people would have too. And look what you've given them. Peter, you think they've done it all for you, and you're still embarrassed about it. You've done it all yourself and you don't even know it.” It was certainly a perspective he'd never had before, and listening to her gave him confidence. She was a remarkable woman. She gave him something no one ever had before, and certainly not Katie. But he gave her something too, a kind of warmth and caring and tenderness she had longed for. They were a rare combination, and she was grateful for it.

It was the end of the afternoon when they went back to her hotel, and ordered salade incoise, and bread and cheese to eat on the terrace. And at six o'clock he looked at his watch, and realized he had to head back to Paris. But after a day of swimming and sun, and restraining the passion he felt for her, he was almost too tired to move, let alone drive ten hours.

“I don't think you should,” she said, looking very pretty and young and tan and somewhat worried. He would have liked to stay with her forever. “You haven't had a decent night's sleep for two days, and you won't get back until four in the morning, even if you leave in the next ten minutes.”

“I have to admit,” he said, looking pleasantly fatigued, “it's not terribly appealing. But I should get back.” He had called the Ritz and there were no messages for him at least, but he still had to go back to Paris, and eventually Suchard would call him. He was just relieved that neither Katie nor Frank had called him that morning.

“Why not stay the night, and drive to Paris tomorrow?” she said sensibly, and he looked at her and debated.

“Will you come back with me if I go tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” she said, looking suddenly very fey as she looked out at the ocean.

“That's what I love about you, a real passion for commitment.” But she had a passion for other things, and the little he had tasted of her had already nearly driven him to distraction. “All right, all right,” he said finally. He really was too tired to undertake the drive that night, and preferred to do it after a good night's sleep, the following morning.

But when they went to rent the other single remaining room at her hotel, they found that it had already been rented. There were only four rooms in all, and she had the best one. It was a small double room with a view of the ocean, and they stood looking at each other for a long moment.

“You can sleep on the floor,” she said finally with a mischievous grin, attempting to honor their commitment to each other not to do anything they'd regret later. But at times it was difficult to remember.

“It's depressing to admit,” he grinned, “but that's the best offer I've had in a long time. I'll take it.”

“Fair enough. And I promise to behave. Scout's honor.” She held up two fingers and he pretended to look disappointed.

“That's even more depressing.” They were both laughing as they went off arm in arm to find him a clean T-shirt, a razor, and a pair of blue jeans. And they found all of it in the local store. The T-shirt advertised FANTA, the jeans fit him perfectly, and he insisted on shaving in her tiny bathroom before dinner, and he looked better than ever when he emerged. She was wearing a white cotton lace skirt, a halter top, and a pair of espadrilles she had bought on the trip down, and with her shining dark hair and her tan, she looked really lovely. It was hard to realize now that this was the woman he had read about, and been fascinated by for so long. She didn't seem like the same person anymore. She was his friend, and the woman he was falling in love with. And there was something very sweet about the way they felt about each other physically and emotionally, and in spite of the opportunity, refused to indulge it. It was wonderfully romantic and old-fashioned.

They held hands and kissed, and went for a long walk at midnight on the beach, and when they heard music in the distance, they danced on the sand, holding each other close, and then he kissed her.

“What are we going to do when we go back?” he said finally, as they sat down side by side, still listening to the music in the distance. “What am I going to do without you?” It was a question he had asked himself over and over.

“What you always did,” she said quietly. She had no intention of breaking up his marriage, or even encouraging him to think about it. She had no right to do that, no matter what happened between her and Andy. And besides, despite the attraction they shared, in some ways, she barely knew him.

“What is it I always did?” he asked, sounding suddenly unhappy. “I can't remember anymore. Everything back there seems so unreal to me now. I don't even know if I was happy.” But the worst of it was that he was beginning to suspect he wasn't. And that was a new concept to Peter.

“Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe you don't need to ask yourself those questions,” she said wisely. “We have all this right now …we'll have the memory of today. That will hold me for a long time,” she said sadly, and then looked up at him. They both knew the truth about his life, that he had sold out without even knowing it, but she would never have said that. He had made excuses to himself, and let Kate and Frank run everything, from his home to his business. It had happened gradually. And the only thing that amazed him, as he looked at it now, from Olivia's eyes, was that he couldn't understand why he had never seen it. But it had been so much·easier not to.

“What am I going to do without you?” Peter said miserably as he held her close to him. He couldn't imagine not having her to talk to. He had survived forty-four years without her, and now suddenly he couldn't bear the thought of a single moment separated from her.

“Don't think about it,” she said, and this time she kissed him. And it took all their strength to pull away from each other again and walk slowly back to the hotel, with their arms around each other. And as they walked slowly up to her small room, Peter smiled at her and whispered.

“You may have to stay awake and throw cold water on me all night,” he said with a rueful grin. He would have done anything to wave a magic wand and change their circumstances, but they both knew that they had no right to what they wanted, and it was a real test of their integrity not to indulge themselves and just grab it.

“I'll do that,” Olivia promised with a grin. She still hadn't called Andy, and seemed to have no intention of doing so at the moment. Peter didn't mention it again. He felt it was up to her to make that decision, but her stubbornness about it intrigued him, and he wondered if she was punishing him, or just afraid to call him.

Olivia was as good as her word when they got to her room. She handed all the pillows to him and one of the blankets, and helped him make an awkward bed on the carpet next to her side of the bed. He slept in his jeans and T-shirt and bare feet, and she changed into her nightgown in the tiny bathroom. And finally, they lay in the dark, she lay on the bed, and he on the floor next to her, and they held hands and talked in the dark for hours, but he made no move to kiss her, and it was nearly four o'clock when she finally stopped talking and drifted off to sleep. He stood up very quietly, and tucked her in, looking down at her sleeping like a little girl, and he leaned down and kissed her ever so gently. And then he lay down on the floor again, on his makeshift bed, and thought about her until morning.





Chapter Six

It was nearly ten-thirty when they both woke up the next day, and the sun was streaming in through the window. Olivia woke up first and she was looking down at him from the bed when he first stirred. And she smiled at him the moment he saw her.

“Good morning,” she whispered cheerily, and he groaned as he rolled over on his back. Despite the thin carpet and the blanket, the floor had been hard and he was more than a little tired after falling asleep at seven. “Are you stiff?” She saw his face as he turned, and offered to rub his back for him. They were both very proud of themselves that they had gotten through the night without misbehaving.

“I'd love that.” He accepted her offer of a back rub with a broad smile, and rolled over on his stomach with another groan, which amused her. She was still lying on her stomach on the bed, reaching down to him, and gently massaging his neck, and he lay happily on his makeshift bed with his eyes closed.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, doing his shoulders after his neck and trying not to think about how smooth his skin was. He had skin like a baby.

“I lay here thinking about you all night,” he said honestly. “It's definitely a tribute to my being a gentleman that I behaved myself, or maybe it's just a sign of stupidity and old age.” He rolled over and looked at her then, and he took her hands in his, and then without any warning, he sat up easily, and kissed her.