Quinton Mann is CIA through and through. Mark Vincent is WBIS for life. There is no way they could end up as anything other than adversaries -- and yet, Quinn takes Mark out to dinner on his birthday -- the one no one is supposed to know about -- and gives him one hell of a present in the restaurant's restroom. Mark, not to be outdone, has decided to escalate this game, because it has to be a game, right? There's no way it can be anything else.<br><br>But as the game continues, as Quinn shows up to a WBIS funeral, as a friend of Mark’s penetrates the CIA computer network to get information on Quinn, as Mark breaks into Quinn's house and gives Quinn a very interesting encounter, both Quinn and Mark realize that this is becoming the most real thing in their lives.<br><br>Can they find a way to do their jobs and keep this surprising, intriguing connection?

Houseboat on the Nile

It was after 9:00 p.m. when I walked into the Dolley Madison Room. It was crowded with spooks and the men and women who were married to or dated them.


In spite of what The Boss had said, I’d taken the time not only to tack back my ears, but to plump up my cheeks with gauze rolls so they appeared rounder and less angular, and to glue the ugliest mole I could find high on my cheekbone. That was guaranteed to draw attention, and everyone would be so fixated on it they wouldn’t take much notice of anything else about me.


I’d also taken some time to bone up on the officers who worked out of the CIA’s Vienna office.


“Champagne, sir?” A waiter stood at my elbow.


“Not right now, thanks.” There was that reaction I had to champagne; I didn’t see anyone at this party I’d fuck with a borrowed dick, even if The Boss pushed and Holmes got blamed for it. “Where’s the open bar?”


“Just at the end of the room. And the buffet is next door.”


Chapter 3