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

I lay there bonelessly, my hands manacled to the headboard, legs spread wantonly, a WBIS agent between them, and I could have stayed like that for the rest of the night.


There was sudden coolness along my body, and the voluptuous feeling vanished; I tensed and opened my eyes.


Mark was leaning up and grinning at me, his tongue gathering drops of come from his lips. “You taste good, Quinn. I knew you would.” He rolled off me and reached for something on the nightstand. It was a syringe.


I thought I was a good poker player, but he must have seen the incipient wariness on my face.


“I’m going to uncuff you, but since I don’t think I’m your most favorite person right now, I’ll have to send you beddy-bye, first.”


“I hate needles,” I groused, closing my eyes again.


“I know.” Of course he knew. He’d gotten into my file even more easily than de Becque had. “It’s not a needle, Quinn.”


Chapter 43