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The bellhop asked no questions. We didn’t offer him our luggage.
We tipped in Western currency and took the stairs instead of the elevator.
Room 317 was nicer than I expected. It was clean and understated, containing two twin beds, a dark wooden wardrobe, and heavy curtains.
The radiator hissed.
Egret dropped his bag and said, “I need to use the bathroom. Mind waiting out here?”
It seemed like such a strange thing to ask, especially given our history, but I heard it for what he meant: “I’ll check the bathroom for bugs. You take the bedroom.”
The first one was in the telephone. Of course.
The second was in the ceiling light fixture—too well placed, too convenient.
The third, hidden in a decorative vent behind the wardrobe, was my personal favorite.
Egret bent down, followed where I pointed, then sat back and whistled. “You have to give it to the Hungarians, they really know how to decorate these rooms. I haven’t seen anything like this in years.”
“It is . . . interesting, isn’t it?” I gave him a tight smile. “Can I ask you something?”
“Uh, okay. Shoot.”
“You’ve been . . . how should I say this?”
“An ass?” he offered.
“Let’s be honest. Ass is your natural state.” I chuckled. “But you have been, I don’t know, moreintensethan you normally are.”
“Hey!”
“Please,Dr. Weiss, you know you’re an ass on good days—and the past week hasn’t exactly been filled with good days. Why are you being so hard on Charles and Henry? They are lovely people, if a bit odd.”
He shrugged. “I can’t help being who I am.”
“Youcanbehave.” I slapped his arm. “I have seen you do it, though I can’t recall the last time you did so.”
He winked. The asshole actually winked.
“Please, try to be nice to them . . . for me?”
His eyes closed as though he wished to be a million miles away. Then he looked up and nodded. “For you, anything.”
I cupped his cheek, feeling a familiar flutter in my chest. The man would likely be the death of me, but at least I knew I would die happy.
After our last mission with Condor and Emu, where we crept our way past Nazis in France only to find ourselves in a shootout in Berlin, Egret had surprised me. I’d known there was a chemistry between us. Like a kettle about to boil, its lid rattling in anticipation, my heart thrummed every time our shoulders brushed or he gave me one of his rare, lingering smiles.
By the time we made it back into Allied territory, the tension proved to be too much. That first night, holed up on a military base in an empty officer’s house, Egret had lit a fuse that would never again go out—and damn, if the explosion wasn’t bright. Something I’d thought long dead burst into flames, blazing to life, and threatened to consume me—consume both of us. In a heartbeat, we went from tight smiles and awkward flirting to a tangle of naked limbs and clawing fingers.
God, it was wonderful.
After everything we’d experienced—everything we’d faced together—the exhilaration of having Egret’s powerful arms around me, his palms caressing, his fingers teasing the skin of my sides before slipping around to take my breasts.
I could have lost myself in his touch.
Even now, just the thought of his warm whisper against my neck made me shiver.
The OSS had allowed us to return to the States, but rather than go our separate ways, to our respective hometowns, we’d fled to the comfort and safety of Egret’s bed.