Kiss or Kill. Lyn Stone

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      Furious that he had disarmed her so casually, Renee stamped on his foot. He didn’t flinch.

      “Temper, temper,” he warned, grasping her upper arm in his free hand and duck marching her along the narrow sidewalk. “Is there a café at all or did you intend to leave me lying in the gutter, a poor homeless corpse?”

      “Go left up ahead there,” she gasped, belatedly wondering how she had lucked out and not gotten shot. What a stupid thing to do, reacting to the oldest trick in the book. Look behind you. She felt like an idiot.

      When they entered the café, she realized he was no longer holding her at gunpoint. In fact, with his arm around her and her hand clutching the back of his, they must give the appearance of a couple unable to keep their hands off each other. He released her when they reached a table near the window and sat down across from her.

      “What do you recommend?” he asked politely.

      Renee took a few seconds to calm her breathing and gather her thoughts. “Coq au vin’s good here.”

      “Too late for that, I expect. What of the cheese omelette?” She nodded, noting the waiter already approaching the table. She remained silent while Mark ordered for them. She had noticed earlier that his French was perfect, not a trace of an English accent.

      When they were alone again, he touched her knee under the table. “Here’s your weapon. Safety’s on.”

      “Thank you,” she huffed, taking it from him while trying not to touch his hand. “That was so rude.”

      For the first time, he grinned at her and his face transformed. “Please, accept my apology. And I’ll accept yours while I’m at it.”

      “Dream on.”

      The boyish expression and twinkle in his eyes fascinated her as did the lock of dark hair falling across his brow. She would never have guessed he had a devil-may-care side to him. It only enhanced the attraction she felt in spite of herself. And made her madder than hell.

      “Disarming you was necessary to establish my sincerity,” he told her. “A confession under duress is difficult to credit.”

      She acknowledged the truth of that with a brief incline of her head. Now, at least, she could believe what he told her. If he told her anything at all.

      His expression grew serious and he seemed to arrive at some decision, even as she watched. “You could have killed me and you didn’t, so I suppose I must trust you.”

      “I suppose you must,” she said, holding a wide-eyed nonexpression. “So? What are you doing here?”

      The pause lasted a full two minutes. “I’m trying to locate a man called John Trip. Have you heard that name since you became involved with this lot?”

      Renee shook her head. “Nope, never heard of him. Why are you after him?”

      “Why are you here?”

      Renee sighed. “Sonnegut tried to abduct a senator’s son in Virginia. We prevented that, but he got away. My job is to find out who ordered the abduction and why, then take them down.”

      “On whose behalf?”

      “My government’s.”

      “American, not Canadian.”

      “Yes. And you?”

      When he neglected to answer, she prodded him. “Come on. Information is power here. Are you working for SIS?”

      He shook his head. “A private organization that deals with threats, mainly against dignitaries, celebrities, politicians and the like.”

      She gave a single nod. “Must be Lazlo.”

      From his fleeting expression of surprise, she knew she had scored a direct hit with the first round, but he didn’t admit it. He simply pursed his lips and narrowed those sexy eyes at her. Lord, there was that fluttery feeling in her stomach again. She tried to ignore it.

      “The Lazlo group’s not exactly low profile any longer,” she informed him. “At least not within the intel community. They’ve lost a number of operatives lately. It’s no secret someone’s out to wreck the organization. We’ve been aware of it for some time.”

      “We?”

      She simply smiled. She had the feeling he didn’t engage in much conversation, even for his line of work. He struck her as a loner. A shadow.

      The food arrived, so by tacit agreement they postponed the discussion. After they’d been served and the waiter had disappeared, eating became the priority as each retreated into private thoughts.

      Renee’s were bouncing around like crazy, her personal interest all tangled up with professional. Not good, she quickly realized and went about separating her intense curiosity from her critical need to know.

      And to think, she had been ready to plead for this assignment if it hadn’t been given to her. Her dearth of experience had been against her. Her youth, too, since she had just turned twenty-five. Only the facts that she could recognize Sonnegut and that she was the one who had determined his present location had put her at the head of the line. She was not about to let an inconvenient attraction interfere with her mission or cloud her judgment.

      When they finished eating, Mark watched Renee plunk down enough Euros to cover the meal and the tip. He didn’t object. To be honest, he wasn’t certain of the proper etiquette. He expected to pay when he was out with a woman and always insisted, but this was no date. “The next meal’s on me,” he said.

      He got up in time to pull back her chair and help her into the jacket she had slung over the back of it. She gave him a long-suffering look that poked fun at his manners and reaffirmed this definitely was no date.

      She walked ahead and opened the door for him when they left the café, daring him with those whiskey-colored eyes to object. He didn’t. He walked right past her with a nod of thanks.

      They strolled side by side down the deserted street, hands in their pockets. Neither spoke until they had both made sure they weren’t followed or watched. On some level, Mark enjoyed the shared duty. On another, he felt wary of it. She must be green as new grass or she’d be a lot more careful. Now he’d have to be responsible for her and that infuriated him. Precisely why he preferred solitary assignments.

      “All right, let’s have an understanding,” she said in that take-charge voice of hers. “I have a job to do. You have a job to do. I don’t like sharing any better than you do, but it’s need to know time. If we don’t lay all our cards on the table, we could each jeopardize what the other is doing.”

      “So deal.”

      “I did,” she declared. “I admitted I’m undercover, you know why I’m here and that I’m not really working for these people.”

      “And I’ve told you that I’m after John Trip.” He sighed and cocked his head to one side, waiting for her to continue.

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