“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.”

“So did I.” And then he turned to look at her again. And he startled her with his next words. “What are we going to do now, Isabelle?” he asked in a voice that she knew too well. It was the voice that always gave her a thrill when she answered the phone.

“About what?”

He was looking down at her with more serious eyes than she had ever seen, and she didn't know if she wanted him to answer or not.

“About us. I'm in love with you. I swore to myself I wasn't going to say those words to you. I know it's not fair, but I want you to know. I want you to take that with you when you go back tomorrow, or whenever you do. I love you, Isabelle. I have for a long time.” As he said it, he had never felt as vulnerable in his life.

“I know,” she whispered as she looked up at him. “I've loved you since the first time we met. But there's nothing we can do about it.” They both knew that. And she had never wanted to say those words to him, she knew it would complicate everything, but neither of them could stop now. And as he gently touched her cheek, their driver rolled slowly toward an intersection, and for a moment Bill thought of asking him to stop. He wanted to be alone with her. This was a moment he wanted neither of them to forget.

“We can't do anything about it now, Isabelle. But maybe one day. You never know. But whatever happens, I wanted you to know … I'm going to love you for the rest of my life.” It was something he had been absolutely certain of for a long time. She was everything he had always wanted, and knew now that he couldn't have.

“I love you, Bill,” she whispered as he held her close to him,“… so very much….” And as she said the words, he put his lips on hers, and he was only sorry he hadn't done it before. It was a moment they had both waited a lifetime for, and it brought them closer than they had ever been. He kissed her as she put her arms around him, and time seemed to melt into space. All she knew was that she had never been as happy in her life, and she never wanted this moment to end. Her eyes were closed and he was holding her, and for the first time in her entire life, she felt totally safe. He was kissing her as they entered the intersection, and the driver was watching them in the rearview mirror, so mesmerized by what he saw there, and so fascinated, that he never saw the red double-decker bus bearing down on them at full speed. It was only yards from Is-abelle's side of the car as he pulled into the intersection, and there was no way it could stop. Bill was still kissing her as the bus sheared off the entire front of the car, and the driver literally vanished into thin air. They never caught their breath, never looked up, never knew what had happened to them. They were still kissing as the bus seemed to devour the entire limousine, and within seconds, the car and the bus were a tangle of mangled steel, and there was broken glass everywhere. The bus dragged the car halfway down the street, and in the end it was crushed under it, and it lay on its side with spinning wheels. Isabelle was still lying peacefully in Bill's arms, she was lying on top of him. The roof of the car had caved in, they were both unconscious, and her entire dress was no longer white but red with blood. There were two long gashes on the side of Bill's face, and Isabelle looked as though she were sleeping peacefully. Her face was untouched, but her entire body appeared to have been crushed.

There were sounds in the distance then, the honking of horns, and the horn on the bus was stuck. The driver had flown through the windshield, and was lying dead on the street where he fell. And two people came running with a flashlight and shone it into the mangled car. All they could see was the blood on Bill's face and the bright red dress. His eyes were open and he appeared to be dead, and judging from the amount of her blood smeared everywhere, it was inconceivable to think that Isabelle might have survived. The two men holding the flashlight just stood and stared at them, and one of them whispered, “Oh my God …”