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Part 1

“What I would like, Wish, is to tie you down to the bed and hold a contest with you.”

He looked at her, the candles on the table catching the momentary glitter in his pale eyes. “And what kind of contest would that be if I am tied down to the bed, Agent Cady? I imagine that would put me at quite a disadvantage.”

She grinned at him, fork poised in mid-air. “But that’s the beauty of it. This has nothing to do with strength or physical prowess. It has everything to do with self-discipline and control.”

He dabbed his lips with the dark blue linen napkin. “Self-discipline and control? That would be out of my hands, so to speak, in such a position.”

“Not at all. It’s a game I read about that French working girls would play with their clientele.”

His lips twitched momentarily. “Do warn me, Agent Cady, if you are planning on dressing up as a French working girl? Turn of the century Paris would suit you quite well.”

She laughed. “Was that a compliment or an insult? I don’t play dress-up, Wish. Do you? No, wait, don’t answer that. There are some images I don’t need in my head.”

“My dear woman, what ever are you thinking?”

“I’ve seen you disguise yourself. You’re pretty scary, actually. But anyone that good at it? Gets off on it. You like dress up, Wish. So I don’t really want to see what you get up to in the bedroom.”

“I assure you, Agent Cady, it is not the dress-up element that appeals to me. It is the invisibility.”

They studied each other across the table. Cady ate the bit of trout at the end of her fork and smirked at him. “Intrigued, aren’t you?”

He rose to get the bottle of wine from the bucket, refreshed both their glasses, a bit of a twist furrowing his brow. When he sat down he leaned forward. “And if I say yes?”

“Then we both have a good time.” She took a sip of wine and ate the last of her fish. It had been exquisite, simply sautéed with a bit of wine, browned butter, and lemon. The green beans had been crisp and sweet—even the saffron rice was the best she had ever tasted. “Did you really cook all this?” she asked, putting her fork down with a sigh.

“You watched me, Cady. And what does the winner get?”

She gave him a wide smile. “I did intrigue you. If I win, that will be enough for me. But if you win, well, then you can do anything you want to me. For half an hour.”

He raised a brow. “There’s a time limit?”

“The contest has a time limit. You’ll see. If we do it.”

“Let’s think about it over gelato.”

They were in Cady’s apartment, having run into each other at the end of one of the agency’s most boring seminars in recent history. Cady had been dozing in the last row when the lights came back up following the Power Point presentation on some new policies and the required new forms. Attendance at one of the seminars had been mandatory and Cady had chosen to get it over with. She opened her eyes, aware even as she snapped fully back to consciousness that someone stood very close to her seat, nearly invading her personal space. She turned her head and was rewarded with an eyeful of familiar black. Black suit. She raised her eyes. Tightly knotted tie. Pale eyes studying her. Everything inside her leaped with pleasure at seeing him, but they were in public. She rose slowly and nodded at him. “Agent Pendergast,” she said. She put out her hand and he shook hers cordially.

He inclined his head. “Agent Cady. I see this particular topic was not one of high interest for you?”

She allowed herself a small, sour smile. “Paperwork is paperwork. Now I can mark off that I attended.”

“I agree.” They exited the room together, talking quietly but formally with a polite distance between them. He escorted her to the elevator.

“Care to share a drink?” she asked as they waited for the car.

“That’s very kind, but no thank you. I am actually cooking dinner for a friend tonight.”

She met his eyes, keeping her own cool and impersonal as well although her heart skipped a beat at the simple statement. She had never really expected to hear him say it, even though they had prearranged it at one point. “Next time, then,” she said.

“Quite possibly.” He inclined his head again and she got on the crowded elevator without him, leaving him waiting for the next car.

“Hey, Cady.” It was Agent Tracy, who had managed to push his way into the car with her. “Want to grab dinner? Some of us are going up the street.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Tracy, but I think I just want to get home.” She liked Tracy. He was solid, dependable, and easy to work with.

“I see Agent Eccentric didn’t take you up on the drink offer.”

“And you’re surprised?” she asked. They both laughed.

“He’s a hell of an investigator,” Tracy admitted, shaking his head. “But he always looks like he just mugged a hearse.”

Cady grinned. “Hey, whatever works for you, I guess. We worked on a case together. When he comes to town I figure it doesn’t hurt to be friendly. He’s always alone.”

“Yeah. And he likes it that way. Sure you don’t want to join us?”

“No, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”

“Yup. See you then.” They separated in the lobby and Cady decided to walk the eight blocks or so to her apartment. It would give him plenty of time to get there...

He was already in the kitchen when she arrived. “Wish, I could give you a key.”

“Neither of us needs those, Agent Cady. Where is your ice bucket?”

And so he had prepared dinner for them while she sat and watched, occasionally telling him where to find what he needed. He set the table with her favorite blue linen set, lit candles, placed the chilled wine close at hand, served them both directly onto the gold-rimmed white dishes Cady saved for special. Now they lingered over gelato, sitting on the sofa. She had kicked off her shoes, and loosened her hair. He remained as immaculately dressed as ever, tie tight to the collar, shirt still neatly tucked in at the waist. She looked at him and thought how much she wanted to start pulling all that constricting clothing away from him, slowly uncovering, rediscovering, the taut muscles of his shoulders and arms, the hard, flat abs, the lean muscled thighs.

“We only have tonight, Wish,” she whispered. “What do you want to do?”

He smiled at her. “No, Jemimah. What do you want me to do?”

She gave a little crow of delight. “Bedroom. Get comfortable. Everything off but your shorts. I’ll clean up and be right there.”

She put the dishes and pots in the dishwasher, dumped the ice, vacuum-stoppered the wine bottle and put it in the refrigerator. She extinguished the candles, wiped down the counter and headed toward the bathroom.

He had already been. She noted that the guest toothbrush had been used, and that the soap and shower stall were wet. An extra towel hung on the hook. She smiled to herself. Get comfortable, indeed. She washed up, brushed, sprayed on a light scent, and humming, padded barefoot and in her camisole to the bedroom.

She walked in on him folding his shirt and putting his tie atop it. He looked at her when she entered. “I trust we won’t be needing this?” He indicated the tie.

“No worries, Wish. I have my own stuff.” She went to her armoire. He didn’t move. “Well, go on. Lie down.”

Pendergast lay down on his back. “Position?”

She glanced at him. “You’re good.” She dug through a drawer and then looked at him. “What’s your preference? Scarves? Our handcuffs? Or maybe leather straps?”

He raised arched eyebrows in surprise. “Leather straps? And you told me you didn’t dress up, Agent Cady.”

“I don’t. Two of them are from an old suitcase. I don’t even recognize this one. Why do I have it?”

Pendergast allowed himself a small noise that suggested disbelief.

Cady looked at him and smiled. “So what do you think?”

“It’s your home, Agent Cady. I suppose scarves make the most sense.”

“Yes. I thought so too.” She came to the bed with a handful of assorted scarves, but tossed them aside momentarily to lie down with him and kiss him. Thoroughly. Greedily. Longingly. He put his hand into her hair, long fingers twining into the strands, pulling her closer. She breathed in his scent, ran her hands down the length of his arms, stroking the fine hairs, exploring the lean musculature. He moved his other hand slowly down the front of her camisole, lingering at her breasts, gently fingering her nipples. Cady moaned at his touch, kissed him once more, and pulled away. “Wish,” she said, breathless. “You’re going to make me lose focus.”

“And that would be a bad thing?” He reached for her and she moved out of his reach, got up from the bed.

“Behave,” she said, still a little out of breath. “You did agree to this.”

He sighed. “I suppose I did.” He arranged himself spread-eagle. “Like this, I assume?”

“Absolutely.” She went around to his left side and began binding his wrist to a slat in her headboard, but she paused. “I do realize I can only do this because you’re letting me.”

He turned his head to look at her. “Don’t sell yourself short, Agent Cady. You could overpower me. You just don’t because you can’t play with it.”

“You’re right. If I went to overpower you for real I’d have to break something. But all those other times—”

“Your technique is excellent. I acquiesced when we got to the point of pain, as any compliant martial arts partner will. I just didn’t use brute strength against you because then you would have to get serious. I am not interested in having any of my limbs, or my neck for that matter, broken by you.” He watched what she was doing. “Are you sure that knot is going to hold?”

She stopped again and gave him a look of exasperation. “Are we doing this or not?”

He smiled lazily. “Just thought you might want to check that.”

“You check it. Go on. Pull.”

He flexed his arm, tried to pull it free. “Impressive.”

“Thanks. I learned that one watching you.” She bound his other wrist and then affixed his ankles to the foot board. “This ought to hold well enough. And if it doesn’t, humor me. Oh, wait. I forgot something.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She ran out to the kitchen and got a timer, hurrying back to the bedroom with it, half-expecting to find him stand behind her door, ready to ambush her. It would not be the first time he turned the tables on her, and she shivered at the memory of him grabbing her from behind and getting her under his control so quickly she barely had time to think. And what he did to her after that...

But he was still lying on the bed, still bound, and he turned his head when she came back. “Timer?”

“Timer,” she agreed. “No more than half an hour.”

He strained momentarily against his bonds. “For half an hour, this should be adequate.”

“For half an hour of what I’m going to do to you, it had better be adequate.”

“All right, Agent Cady. You have me at your mercy. I know it’s for half an hour. So why don’t you explain the rest of this contest to me?”

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