A Perilous Eden by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online

Amber insisted. She took his hand, and they walked to the curb. Today there would be no cabs. A government car was waiting.
    Amber made omelets. Ted praised the food effusively, but he ate very little, then stood and kissed her. “I’ve got to go.” He hesitated. “Are you all right?”
    â€œOf course.” She smiled, then searched his eyes. “Are you all right?”
    â€œOf course.”
    He kissed her again, then he was gone.
    Amber didn’t want to sit around alone. She decided to take a nap, since she hadn’t been sleeping well. But she only dozed, dreaming about the good times, about Peter coming in with a special bottle of wine, about the way they had learned to cook lamb together.
    Curiously, the stranger’s face kept intruding on her memories. He would appear at the most inappropriate times, like when she dreamed of walking out of a shower soaking wet and crawling into bed. Suddenly she would see his face and remember the way his bronzed flesh had looked against the casual white cotton of his shirt.
    She got up and called Josie’s number, determined that it would be a very good idea to spend a little time on the Florida sand.

2
    The President’s Estate
    Northern Virginia
    May 16
    A t 6:30 that evening, a helicopter set down on the green expanse of lawn at a large country estate in northern Virginia.
    The president was standing as Adam Tchartoff alighted from the chopper. Ted Larkspur watched the president and smiled pleasantly at his own secret thoughts as he watched the man duck slightly against the whirling wind caused by the blades.
    The president assessed the man. He wasn’t tall for a hero. No more than an even six feet. But he was quick, assured.
    Faces, the president reminded himself. Words were nothing but ink on paper. A face was the true measure of a man.
    And he liked this man’s face. It was intelligent. Hardened by life. It had a nice rugged appearance to it. Tchartoff wasn’t going to win any beauty contests. His eyes were blue. Crystal blue, and as smooth and cutting and cold as ice. Yes, definitely an interesting, arresting face. A mouth that might have been sensitive at one time, but was a little grim now. He was tanned, not so much like a man who enjoyed sports but like a man who had lived constantly in the sun.
    Tchartoff was dressed in a blue denim shirt and slightly worn jeans; true, he hadn’t known where he was going or who he would be meeting, but the president had the feeling that his mode of dress would have been no different even if he had known. He seemed to be a man of little pretense.
    â€œAdam.” Ted Larkspur stepped forward to perform the necessary introductions.
    â€œTed.” Adam Tchartoff acknowledged Larkspur with a nod, his eyes questioningly on the man behind him.
    â€œMr. President, Mr. Tchartoff. He understands that our meeting is completely secret”
    â€œMr. Tchartoff,” the president said.
    Adam Tchartoff accepted the president’s outstretched hand. He was cordial, but he displayed no emotion beyond a polite interest. Nor did he visibly respond when the single Secret Serviceman was dismissed with a wave of the hand after drinks had been served, and he and Ted and the president had been left alone at a white wrought-iron table that overlooked the pleasant expanse of lawn.
    â€œI have a proposition for you,” the president said.
    â€œSo I’d assumed,” Adam Tchartoff replied. “I was asked by your own government to travel as Michael Adams. That makes your need of me rather obvious, doesn’t it?” His gaze hadn’t wavered from the president’s once, and he sat very still, his hands resting on the chair arms, his legs casually crossed. He grinned, and the severity of his features was somewhat lessened.
    By God, he’s really quite young, the president thought. He was, in fact, at an age when laughter should have come easily.
    â€œYes, obvious.