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

“Just say thanks, Vince.” And Pretty Boy had leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the lips. Sweetcheeks had scowled but kept his mouth shut.


I peered into the glasses and blew to dislodge the coating of dust. It didn’t work, and I couldn’t help thinking of Mann’s spotless home. “Sorry.”


“What’s a little spit between friends?” He watched with interest as I ran the glasses under the faucet, then pushed off from the counter. “When you put them back, you might want to store them upside down.”


While I grabbed a paper towel to dry them off, he took the champagne from the fridge, removed the foil that covered the wire wrap confining the cork, and undid the wrap. There was a muted pop, and I licked my lips in anticipation. I loved champagne, loved how it made me feel, although I seldom allowed myself to have any because of how it made me feel. And because my old lady abused alcohol. No way was I going down the road she traveled.


Chapter 77