Eighteen Acres: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

he’d said.
    “No, no, I swear to God, it is not what I think.”
    “No? I think it myself. I am a pathetic husband following the leader of the free world around while I visit museums with the wives.”
    “No, I swear, that is not what I think,” Dale had insisted again.
    “Then what is it, Dale, that you really think?” Peter had asked, staring directly into her eyes.
    She’d looked away and tried to pull her thoughts together before she spoke again. “What I really think is that you are amazing,” Dale had said quietly, without looking him in the eye. She’d glanced nervously at the Secret Service agent. He didn’t appear to be listening to their conversation, but Dale had lowered her voice anyway and leaned closer to Peter. She was close enough to notice a small scar under his chin and the lines around his eyes and mouth.
    She’d taken a breath and noticed that he had moved closer to her. Their legs touched under the table. The wine had emboldened her, and she placed her hand on top of his. He’d looked down at her hand and seemed to stop breathing for a second. She’d continued without making eye contact.
    “What I really think is that your wife seems to have no idea how utterly amazing you are, and I’ve decided that if I ever have what shehas, I would never take it for granted, and what I really think …” Dale was still talking when his mouth met hers. His free hand had moved to her shoulder, turning her body to face his. She’d moved her hand from the table to the back of his head and pulled him closer. For the first time, she’d noticed that a horribly remastered version of U2’s “Beautiful Day” was playing. As they’d kissed there in the dark, near-empty bar in Budapest, with a Secret Service agent staring straight ahead as though nothing out of the ordinary were happening, Dale was aware of how badly she’d wanted this to happen since she’d first met Peter Kramer. When they’d stopped kissing, they sat with their foreheads touching. His fingers were still tangled in her hair and they were both breathing deeply. He’d kissed her closed eyelids and the top of her nose. She’d sat perfectly still.
    “I guess it was only a matter of time before that happened,” Peter had said.
    She’d smiled as he pulled her hands into his and held them. “What does your agent think when you do things like this?” she’d asked, glancing at the Secret Service agent assigned to protect Peter.
    “When I do things like this?” he’d asked, kissing her again.
    She’d smiled and pulled away.
    “For the record, I don’t do things like this,” he’d said. “But I would assume that unless you get very angry at me, which I hope you never do, and come at me with a dagger, he won’t do anything at all,” Peter had said. “Think about the things JFK’s agents saw. This is nothing.”
    “So, we’re safe from the United States Secret Service. That’s one less thing to worry about,” Dale had said.
    “Yes. I guarantee you they have seen much worse. Do you have any ideas about what to do about everyone else?” he’d asked.
    “I’m thinking.”
    “OK, well, let me know if you come up with anything.”
    “How would I do that?”
    He’d reached over, picked up her cell phone, and entered his personal cell-phone number into it under the name “Budapest.” He’d placed her phone back on the table and took her hand again. “This is a very bad idea,” he’d said.
    “I know,” she’d agreed.
    “And as much as I would like it to—and believe me when I say that I would like it to—this probably shouldn’t happen again.”
    “I know,” she’d said, smiling.
    “I should probably get upstairs,” he’d said.
    “I know.”
    “Are you going to say anything other than ‘I know’ to me before I pull myself away from you?” he’d asked, kissing her hands again.
    “Sweet dreams,” she’d said.
    “Thanks,” he’d said, laughing.
    He’d kissed her on the lips one last time and