And saw he had torn it off: the buttonhole on the strap between the cups was ripped open.
She found her underpants and pulled them on under the terry-cloth robe and went into the sitting room.
He was pouring champagne. He picked up both glasses and held one out to her.
"I'm not sure I want this," she said.
"What shall we drink to?" he asked, ignoring her.
"What is there to celebrate?"
"Us, maybe? Or am I really alone in thinking that something really special happened to both of us in the last twenty-four hours?"
"Matt, I'm afraid to believe you about… what you said," she said.
"I told you I think I love you after I told you that bullshit time is over," he said. "You can believe that."
"I don't know what happened to me," Susan said.
"The question is was it special for you? Half as special, maybe, as it was for me?"
"What do you think?" she asked softly.
"I don't know what to think. That's why I asked."
"The last time somebody put his hands in my pants in a car was when I was in high school. I hit him with a flashlight and knocked out two of his teeth."
"Is that a yes?"
"I came up here with you, didn't I? And you know what happened."
"In that case, we have just taken step one," Matt said. "Which I think we should commemorate with a swallow of the bubbly, and, if you're so inclined, with a friendly kiss."
"A friendly kiss?"
"Boy Scout's honor," he said, and stepped close to her.
She looked into his eyes for a long moment, then kissed him, very chastely, on the lips.
That was and that wasn't. It was closed-mouthed and gentle, but I felt it all the way down to my crotch.
If he kisses me again, or puts his hand inside the bathrobe, we'll be back in the sack again.
Matt touched his glass to hers.
"Well, at least we have our priorities right. First the kiss, and then the champagne."
"And now what?" Susan asked.
"We wait for dinner to be delivered," he said. "And meanwhile, we try to start to find some kind of a solution to our dilemma."
"And how do we do that?"
"You start by trusting me," he said, looking into her eyes. "You really don't have any choice, but I want you to really understand that."
She averted her eyes by lowering them.
"Are you constantly in that state?" she blurted.
"I just kissed you," he said. "And it happened." He snapped his fingers. "Just like that. Ah-ten-hut! And then, feeling noble as hell, I resisted the enormous urge to pick you up and carry you back to bed."
"That wouldn't be smart, would it?" Susan asked, raising her eyes from his erection to his eyes.
"Not right now, but you could easily talk me out of that position."
"Maybe that's all it is," she said. "Unbridled lust. On both sides."
"Maybe," he said very seriously. "I think there's more, but if that's all there is, that's enough."
"I don't really know what you mean by trust you," she said.
"Well, that means I'm going to ask you questions, and you're going to answer them. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. You're not going to hold anything back. You've just changed sides, Susan. Chenowith and his friends are now the bad guys."
"I'm not sure I can do that," she said very softly.
"You don't have any choice, honey. What I'm trying to do is find some way to keep you from going down the toilet with them."
"What did you call me?"
"What?"
"You called me 'honey.' "
"I guess I did," Matt said. "Does that bother you?"
"No," she said after a just-perceptible hesitation. "No, Matt, it doesn't."
"I would be amenable to reciprocation," he said.
"Does 'precious beloved' come easily to your lips?"
"No," she said, smiling. " 'Precious beloved'? My God!"
"There are many other possibilities," he said. "Think it over. Whatever makes you happy."
"All I can think of is 'honey,' " she said. "And that's awkward."
"Give it a shot."
"Honey," she said.
"Sounds great to me," he said. "Let's go with that for a while, until you think of something better."
She sensed that he was about to kiss her again, and turned her back to him.
"Matt, I can't betray them," she said.
"What happened to 'honey'?" he asked lightly, and then, his voice changing, added: "Get it through your head, honey, that they're going to jail. If they're lucky, the feds will let Pennsylvania try them. We don't often send people to the chair."
" 'We' don't?"
"We, the citizens of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, " he said, rather unpleasantly. "Okay, first question. Did you have any prior knowledge that Chenowith was going to blow up the Biological Sciences building at the University of Pennsylvania?"
Susan shook her head and said, softly, "No."
"No knowledge of any kind? He-and when I say 'he,' read Chenowith, the scumbag with the acne, and either of the women. Or any friends we don't know about-never discussed this with you, even in idle conversation, with a couple of drinks in him? 'What we should do is blow up the building'?"
"I told you no, Matt," she said, then added, "God, you sound like a policeman."
"I am a policeman," he said. "I have to be absolutely sure of this, honey. Let me ask it in another way. When they blew up the Biological Sciences building, were you surprised, or did you sort of expect something like that to happen?"
"Matt, would you believe me if I said I'm sick about the Biological Sciences building? I was sick then, and I'm sick now."
He looked at her carefully, and she realized he was making up his mind whether or not to believe her. And then she saw in his eyes that he did.
"That wasn't the question, honey. The question was, did the bombing of the Biological Sciences building come to you as a surprise, or not?"
"I really didn't even know Bryan Chenowith when that happened," she said.
"Then how the hell did you get involved with these people? Has he got something on you?"
"Now he does," she said.
"What?"
"I know what he did, and that the police are looking for him. Isn't that what you said-I'm an accessory after the fact, for helping him?"
"What's he got on you?"
"That I've been helping him."
"Why have you been helping him?" Matt asked impatiently.
"Room service!" a cheery voice announced, and there was a knock on the door.
"Just a minute," Matt called.
He gestured for her to give him the robe again. When she did, he saw that she was wearing underpants.
"What did I do? Shame you back into maidenly modesty? " he asked.
"Don't you ever shut your mouth?" she snapped.
"Go hide in the bathroom like a good girl," he said, stuffing his arms into the sleeves of the robe.
She went into the bathroom and closed the door, and listened while he dealt with the waiter, and to the sound of furniture moving, and metallic clanks she presumed were the plate and dish covers that come with room-service meals. But when the noise died down, he didn't come to the bathroom door. She wondered if the waiter was still there, or if there was some other reason.
Curiosity finally got the best of her. She opened the bathroom door carefully and walked quickly to the door to the sitting room.
Matt was sitting at the table, wearing the terry-cloth robe, putting an oyster on a cracker.
"Pity you don't like oysters. These are first-rate," he said.
"I've been waiting for my robe," she said indignantly, walking across the room to him, concealing as much of her breasts as she could with her arms.
"Our robe," Matt corrected her. "And you were standing behind the door, right, so that you could put your hand-only-through the door and snatch it from my hand so that I wouldn't get to see anything?"