Good Sister, The by Diana Diamond Page B

decided against dinner, tossed their clothes haphazardly, and were in bed together just in time to see the sunset over the gulf. They made love acrobatically, then passionately, and finally gently.
    “You’re wonderful,” she told him.
    “You should have seen me in my prime,” he answered.
    “That would be frightening.”
    “Well, maybe alarming.”
    “Could I have accommodated you?”
    “That would be a stretch.”
    “You were that big?”
    “No, but my body double was enormous.”
    Jennifer jumped up and hit him with the pillow. Padraig responded by taking up a pillow of his own. They battled furiously, over the bed, around the coffee table, and out onto the balcony. When the couple next door noticed them, Padraig held the pillow strategically in position. “Call the front desk,” he begged the startled woman. “I have no idea who this woman is.”
    Seconds later they were back in bed with Jennifer sitting astride him.
    “Well, aren’t you the optimist?” he said.
    “Isn’t this what you do in your movies?”

    “It’s all special effects,” he pleaded.
    “Well, I’m waiting for a special effect.”
    In the morning they had breakfast on their balcony and took the elevator down to the small, rocky beach. Seeing all the women topless, Jennifer threw a towel over Padraig’s face. “Don’t dare move that until I get back,” she said. Then she went back up to the hotel shop, selected the skimpiest bikini they had in her size, and settled into the chaise next to his. She took off her top, lounged back, and then told him he could lift the towel.
    “Oh for heaven’s sake,” he said in mock anger. “I’ve seen those before.”
    They spent a full week without leaving the hotel, taking their meals on the beach, in their apartment, and by the side of the pool. Jennifer occasionally used her laptop to connect to her office files and stayed on just long enough to make sure that her satellites were still functioning. Padraig took the twice-a-day deliveries of air-express packages and tossed them into a heap in the corner.
    “You should open them,” Jennifer told him.
    “Do you suppose there’s someone more beautiful than you inside one of them?” he asked.
    “I certainly hope not.”
    “Then why should I stop looking at you?”
    But by the end of the week, economic instincts prevailed. He opened the packages, ranted and raved over their contents, and was immediately on the phone with his agents, his bankers, his brokers, and representatives of one of his ex-wives. “Just another minute, darlin’,” he kept saying to Jennifer, but each minute seemed to require another call. So, as the second week of her honeymoon began, she accustomed herself to kissing his cheek while he talked on the phone, and finding distractions of her own.
    “I’m going shopping,” she announced. “Maybe a new dress will get you to pull your nose out of your paperwork.”

    “If it were new underwear, I’d leave with you immediately,” he answered. “But some of these contracts have deadlines, so if it’s just a dress, you’re on your own.”
    “I thought I’d take the car down into town, so if there’s nothing I like, I could run over to Sorrento.”
    “Oooh!” He seemed pained. “I need it this afternoon.” He held up the pages he was looking at. “Lunch with one of these bastard lawyers. I already told the garage attendant to gas it up and have it washed.”
    “Well, then I won’t go to Sorrento. I’ll stay in town and have it back up to you long before lunch.”
    She kissed the top of his head and tried for a quick getaway, but Padraig pulled her down on the desk across the top of his papers. He kissed her passionately, then stood her up and patted her rump. “Be out of here, before I lose control and tear your clothes to shreds.”
    “Promises, promises,” Jennifer sang as she walked to the door.
    She was still smiling when she started the engine and spun out of the hotel’s underground garage.