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’s good, just a bit heavy this late in the evening.”


“Take it home with you then.” He looked around, spotted our waiter, and signaled him to come over. “A box for the dessert, please.”


“Sì, signore.” He was back in a matter of moments, and with deft movements put my dessert in an elegant little box with the Raphael logo across the top.


“Grazie,” I murmured, just to show Mann that he wasn’t the only multilingual person at this table, although most of my knowledge of Italian was more suitable to the gutter.


His eyes were hot. Was he turned on by foreign languages? I sat back in my seat, sipped my espresso, and watched as Quinn resumed consuming his dessert with single-mindedness.


At least, I thought that single-mindedness was aimed at the tiramisu until I suddenly felt a sock-clad foot caressing my crotch.


“Mann.” Minute tremors ran through me, and I was having trouble breathing again.


Chapter 13