“A-and you,” she forced out, fighting to get a grip on her emotions. It wasn’t at all like her to be so affected by someone, but in a bizarre twist of fate, the very fact that he’d surprised her, had surprised her. During her years in the service, she’d seen so many things, so many facets to human nature, that it was nigh on impossible to surprise, shock or faze her. She made a mental note to watch this man carefully. She hadn’t got any vibes from him to indicate that he was anything other than an attractive barman and waiter, but it was entirely possible she wasn’t the only intelligence officer watching the gang. Their activities were widespread, after all. Any number of countries could be keeping an eye on them, trying to bring them down. And not all of them would necessarily want to team up with the British in order to do so. The Brits had as many enemies as they did allies.

“So!” she said brightly, crossing over to the sofa, deliberately exaggerating the wiggle of her hips and bottom as she walked, hoping to distract him from her moment of being flustered. “It was very good of you to bring champagne. Shall we?”

Erasmus had followed her over to the seating area, and inclined his head, then reached for the bottle. With finesse born of frequent practice, or possibly he was an exceptional actor, he opened the bottle, snagged a glass and filled it, before handing it to her with a grin.

“Thank you.” She smiled back, waiting until he’d poured his own drink before even thinking of taking a sip. There was a chance the bubbly could be poisoned, or drugged. It irritated her immensely that she had to even take such precautions, to consider that everyone she met could be out to get her, but it was an instinct that had saved her life on more than one occasion. Besides, it was ingrained so deeply within her that she’d never shake it. She’d probably still be looking over her shoulder when she was old and grey, and long-retired from the intelligence game.

Fortunately, Erasmus didn’t seem to find anything odd in this behaviour. Instead, after filling his champagne flute, he took the seat opposite her, then leaned forward, holding out his glass. “To new friends,” he said, tipping her a wink.

“You…” His expression turned uncomfortable, much to Mallory’s confusion, and he fixed his attention on the plush carpet. “You will forgive me… it seems silly in the circumstances, but… I don’t know your name.”

Mallory clapped a hand over her mouth, hoping he’d see it as a gesture of surprise, rather than her covering up her amusement at her faux pas. She’d been so focused on the task at hand, spying on the gang she was here to infiltrate, that she hadn’t been fully concentrating on her flirtation with the handsome waiter.

Hoping she’d rearranged her features into an appropriate expression, she removed her hand from her mouth and took a step towards him. “I’m so sorry, Erasmus. It completely slipped my mind. My name is Bea Winchester.” The lie tripped off her tongue so easily that she was sure even a fellow intelligence officer would believe her. But as much as she disliked lying to Erasmus—he was, after all, nothing to do with her reason for being here; rather a pleasant diversion along the way—it was essential to maintain her cover. Plus, if curiosity got the better of him at any point, he’d easily be able to check the hotel’s computer system and discover what name she had checked in under.

He closed the gap between them still further, and held out his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Bea Winchester.”

She took his hand, then was surprised when, instead of shaking, he gently twisted her wrist and bent to place a kiss on her knuckles. His lips were warm and dry, and her astonishment at his action swiftly gave way to arousal as he lingered there for a few moments, before releasing her.