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

“Today isn’t my birthday, Mann. There must be some mistake. Not that I’m surprised. Does the CIA ever get anything right?”


He was watching me through his lashes, his expression hooded. “Isn’t it?” His tongue flicked out to catch a drop of wine that lingered on his lips, and I had to call on all my WBIS training not to moan. His mouth was solemn, but there was a wicked glint in his eyes. “My mistake.”


I pulled my attention away from that mouth of his, realizing that I was losing control again. What the fuck was wrong with me? I never lost control, and now twice in one evening….


To distract myself, I speared a roasted pepper from the platter between us and placed it on my plate, slicing it neatly.


Quinn made inroads on the artichoke hearts, but that was okay. I didn’t like the spiny little hairs that were somehow always left behind and got caught under my tongue; I felt like a cat trying to hack up a hairball.


Chapter 12