The Klone and I: A High-Tech Love Story - By Danielle Steel Page 0,23

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I tucked Sam into bed, and sat down on the couch in the living room with a sigh before I went to my own room, to climb into bed with Charlotte. It was hard to keep up the feeling of romance when I was being tormented by the children. And how was I ever going to explain this to them? It was becoming rapidly obvious to me that there was no way I could introduce him in a major way into my household. We could go out to dinner, or take them out with us occasionally, and he could hang around, certainly. But I couldn't even begin to imagine his ever spending the night with me under the same roof as my children. There was no doubt in my mind that Charlotte at least would call the vice squad. Oh well, I thought wistfully, as I turned off the lights and wandered off to bed … maybe someday. After Sam left for college.

And inevitably, Charlotte's predictions proved to be right. Peter suggested he come out for the weekend when he heard that the children were spending Labor Day weekend with their father. I was expecting him to stay at the hotel, as usual, and was startled when he suggested that this time I stay at the hotel with him.

“I … uh. I didn't … I don't … I don't usually…” I said smoothly, suddenly mortified despite the inroads we'd made in that direction since the beginning of August. And then I surprised myself, as I reminded myself that I was an adult, and Charlotte would know nothing about it. “Why don't you stay here?” I asked softly.

“That would be nice.” I could imagine him smiling as he said it. And I was still blushing when I hung up the phone. It was ridiculous to be shy about things like that at my age. Ridiculous maybe, but I felt like a runaway teenager about to get caught by the cops when I watched him drive up the driveway. I was wearing pink jeans and a pink shirt, and a new pair of pink espadrilles. I had thrown out all my old ones. And as I glanced in the mirror, I thought I looked like a giant mass of cotton candy, but Peter didn't seem to mind it.

He kissed me as he came through the front door, and set down his bag. That single act seemed suddenly ominous to me and like a symbol of enormous commitment. What if I chickened out, and didn't want to “do it”? What if I changed my mind? What if Charlotte and Sam hadn't really left, and were hiding in the closet? But I had seen them drive away only two hours before with Roger. Just enough time to sink into a hot bath, and transform myself from motherhood to sex queen for Peter.

“Hi,” he said, pulling me into his arms and kissing me again, as I wondered if he knew I was nervous. “I brought some groceries,” he said calmly, and then he looked at me with a question in his eyes. “Or would you rather go out? I'm actually a pretty fair cook, if you trust me.” That was, in fact, an interesting question, to which I was not yet sure of the answer. Did I trust him? The truth was, I did. But should I? What if he did this all the time? … picked people up in small hotels, wined and dined them for a month … and then what? What did I think he was going to do to me? What if he really wasn't divorced, or had a thousand girlfriends in New York and California? But as I helped him unpack the groceries and he kissed me again, more passionately this time, I decided it didn't really matter. I was crazy about him. And however evil he might turn out to be in the end, he could be no worse than Roger.

We managed to get the steaks he'd brought into the refrigerator, and the makings of a salad. And he set the bottle of red wine down on the table somewhere behind us, and somehow at that point, I lost track of the groceries, and he began to slowly unwind what I was wearing like so much cotton candy. And seemingly effortlessly, our clothes vanished in a path of pink and white and blue and khaki, and the next thing I knew, we were lying on my bed naked, as