“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.

Mallory wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when the knock came at her hotel room door. Although she’d been subtle, simply scrawling her room number on an old receipt she’d fished from her handbag and leaving it on the table in the bar, it had still been a blatant invitation. Particularly since her drink had been on the house, therefore giving no reason for it to be charged to her room.

She’d figured if Erasmus was smart enough to get the hint, then he deserved to get laid. If not, well then it was his loss, wasn’t it? A man wasn’t a necessity for her. If she felt the need to get off, then her right hand would serve the purpose perfectly well.

Moving from her position by the window, where she’d been standing admiring the view of the city, she headed for the door. She made sure her silky robe was in position as she walked. Just because she’d basically issued an invitation for him to visit her room for sex, didn’t mean she wanted to look desperate, or as though she’d been waiting for him.

Peeping through the spy-hole—someone in her profession could never be too careful—she smiled when she saw her visitor was, in fact, the very one she’d been expecting. Keeping the smile on her face, she opened the door and immediately stood back to let him in. It wouldn’t do for him to be seen loitering outside. She wanted to screw him, not get him into trouble for consorting with the guests.

Clearly getting her drift, Erasmus glanced up and down the corridor before stepping over the threshold into her room. Apparently he was smart, because he’d brought a bottle of champagne and two glasses with him, having the twin bonuses of being his excuse for his presence in her room if anyone had seen him, and also… well, champagne was just always a good idea.

“Hi,” she said in his native language, closing the door behind him. “I’m glad you made it.”

He was halfway across the room when he tossed his reply over his shoulder. “Hi. Yes, me too. It’s been an… interesting day.” Placing the bottle and glasses down on the coffee table, he then turned to face her, the sexual interest obvious on his face as he took in her appearance. “I was very glad to find your… invitation.”

“And I’m pleased you accepted it.”

Keeping her eyes wide, she replied, “Oh, thank you, Erasmus. I hope it’s okay to call you that. I really didn’t mean to be a difficult customer, it’s just…” she tailed off with a shrug.

Erasmus gave a quaint bow. “You are not the difficult customer, madam. You have been a pleasure. And of course it’s okay to call me Erasmus. Please, if there is anything else you require, do not hesitate to let me know. I will be pleased to assist you.” He smiled, then turned and walked away.

Admiring the view of his backside until it disappeared out of sight behind the bar, Mallory grinned. Unless she’d been completely mistaken, there’d been a glint in his eye, and emphasis on the anything part. When she’d figured he might come in useful at some point, she’d been thinking along the lines of maybe pumping him for information, or potentially using him to gain access to areas of the hotel she wasn’t supposed to be in. But the more she thought about it, the more she leaned towards him being the perfect candidate for a little extra-curricular fun. Her target, whoever he turned out to be, was off-limits for the time being, at least. It sounded like he and his friends were about to be escorted from the bar, and given the amount of alcohol they’d consumed, they’d all be drunk for the next few hours at least, then hungover for several more hours after that.

Giving Mallory plenty of time to become more familiar with the layout of the hotel and its operations. Not to mention the members of staff.

One in particular.

Her grin grew wider.

She watched the group, careful not to seem as though she was staring. She wasn’t yet ready to gain their attention. It was unlikely, she quickly realised. They were so absorbed in their own little bubble that she probably could have stripped naked and walked past their table and they wouldn’t have noticed.

With happy guests and word of mouth on her mind, she came to the conclusion that, although the gang was happy, there were plenty of other people in the bar that weren’t. The more champagne the group quaffed, the more their volume increased. And with that volume increase came plentiful sighs and glares from the bar’s other patrons. But, in their bubble as they were, they didn’t notice.

Mallory smirked as she watched one angry-looking man start to get up from his chair, only to be stopped by the woman he was with, with a hand on his arm and a shake of her head. Mallory didn’t blame her. This hotel might be the most expensive and exclusive in the Netherlands, but it didn’t mean drunken guests wouldn’t turn nasty or even violent if confronted. Really, management should be getting involved at this point. Maybe she could hurry things along in that department and see if it helped her cause any.

Just then, the waiter returned with her drink. “One Manhattan, madam,” he said, placing it on the table with a flourish.

“Great. Thank you.” She deliberately glanced over at the group, then back at the waiter, her eyes wide and innocent. Quietly, she said, “I don’t mean to make a fuss, but would it be possible for something to be done about those people? They’re totally ruining the ambiance in here. Not what you’d expect from such an establishment.”

The waiter—she peeked at his name badge; Erasmus—gave a tight smile. “It is already in hand, madam. We are working to rectify the situation with the absolute minimum of fuss. However, as an apology and gesture of our deep regret, your drink is free of charge. I hope it is to your satisfaction.”