When crime hits Manhattan’s rarefied circles, Stone Barrington finds himself in the bull’s-eye in this #1  New York Times bestseller. Stone Barrington seems to have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When Manhattan’s elite are beset by a series of clever crimes—and Stone is a material witness—he and his former partner Dino Bacchetti find themselves drawn into the world of high-end security and fraud, where insider knowledge and access are limited to a privileged few, and the wealthy are made vulnerable by the very systems meant to keep them safe. As Stone and Dino delve deeper into their investigation, they learn that the mastermind behind the incidents may have some intimate ties to Stone...and that the biggest heist is still to come. Praise for Carnal Curiosity “Stone Barrington shows he’s one of the smoothest operators around...entertaining.”— Publishers Weekly More Praise for Stuart Woods “Stuart Woods is a no-nonsense, slam-bang storyteller.”— Chicago Tribune “A world-class mystery writer...I try to put Woods’s books down and I can’t.”— Houston Chronicle  “Mr. Woods, like his characters, has an appealing way of making things nice and clear.”— The New York Times “Woods certainly knows how to keep the pages turning.”— Booklist “Since 1981, readers have not been able to get their fill of Stuart Woods’  New York Times  bestselling novels of suspense.”— Orlando Sentinel “Woods’s Stone Barrington is a guilty pleasure...he’s also an addiction that’s harder to kick than heroin.”— Contra Costa Times  (California) Stuart Woods was the author of more than ninety novels, including the #1 New York Times bestselling Stone Barrington series. A native of Georgia and an avid sailor and pilot, he began his writing career in the advertising industry. Chiefs , his debut in 1981, won the Edgar Award. Woods passed away in 2022. 1 Stone Barrington sat at his desk in the downstairs office of his Turtle Bay town house, poring over documents related to the finances of his new clients, Jack and Hillary Coulter. Or, perhaps, Hillary and Jack Coulter, since she was the one with all the money, and there was a great deal of it. He added a couple of paragraphs to the memo he was sending to the tax and finance department of his law firm, Woodman & Weld, where his suggestions would be reviewed to keep him out of trouble. His phone buzzed. “Your five-thirty appointment is here,” his secretary, Joan, said. “I have a five-thirty?” Stone asked, momentarily baffled. “The insurance adjuster, Crane Hart, from the Steele company?” “Oh, of course. Give me three minutes, then send him in.” He clicked off before she could respond. He tidied the document on his computer, then e-mailed it, then he shuffled the papers on his desk into a fairly neat stack. "Much better," a female voice said from the doorway. ''Ah, Mr. Hart," Stone said, not looking up. Then he looked up. "I perceive that you are not a mister," he said. She was tall, wrapped in a suit too tight and with a skirt too short to be businesslike, and her bright, blonde hair was pulled tightly into something at the back of her head. He won¬dered how she could blink, but she did, and slowly. Before he could speak a moment of carnal curiosity flashed between them. ''Ah," he said, otherwise speechless. He finally managed speech. "I was expecting an insurance adjuster of the male persuasion." ''Ah," she replied. "A natural assumption, but Steele sends out tall, blonde, female adjusters when the loss is great enough." "I must remember to be robbed at gunpoint more often," he said, waving her toward the sofa, instead of the chair before his desk. She took a seat and crossed her legs without undue expo- sure, an artful act, given the mininess of her skirt. Stone came and sat at the other end of the sofa. "Now, about your loss," she said. "Must we discuss that? I was beginning to think of this meeting as more of a gain." She placed a briefcase on the sofa between them, unsnapped it, and extracted a file. "You're very kind," she said, "but first, your loss." "If we must." "We must." She consulted the file. "It says here that you were robbed of five hundred thousand dollars." "Five million dollars," he corrected. Her eyes opened perceptibly wider. "Then you require a taller, blonder adjuster." "I recovered four and a half million dollars before filing my claim," he replied. "The present adjuster will do nicely." "Do you have any evidence of this robbery?" she asked. "I still have a bump on the back of my head," he said, gin¬gerly touching the spot. "Anything on paper?" "I have a bank statement showing a five-million-dollar with¬drawal, and a redeposit of four and a half million a few days later." "What happened to the other half million?" "After I had been relieved of the five million-at gunpoint, I should add-the person who had taken it exchanged it for four and a half million." "That seems an extremely unwise transaction," sh