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

And if I’d been waiting in the stable when he returned from accepting the blue ribbon for that ride, I’d have tumbled him into the nearest empty stall, stripped off his jodhpurs, and fucked him senseless.


Startled at that thought, I shifted as discreetly as I could.


“I…uh…I won’t ask if I can borrow that picture for my article, but would you mind if I took a snapshot of it?”


I snapped a photo, and then another one, just in case the first didn’t come out.


“Jack was one of the two horses he would have ridden in the 1980 Olympics, if circumstances had permitted.”


Circumstances. Like the Communists invading Afghanistan and the US getting hardnosed about it and pulling out of the Games. About as guaranteed to change anything as the same action was in Vatican Roulette.


“Damn Commies.” Novotny growled. “Spoiling it for everyone.”


Chapter 46