He frowned at her. “What are you talking about? I’m just asking you to do a simple thing for me. For your country.”

“But last year, when I met you, you were—and please know I mean no disrespect—a fairly junior State Department officer, bringing tea and taking notes. This feels…strange.”

“I know it does, and I’m sorry. I’ve just become party to some information that needs to be passed on to someone in the Russian government without a big deal being made of it. I’m still trying to pin down the details, which is why you have two envelopes. I’m waiting for one last confirmation, but that won’t come until you are in the air. But don’t worry. You’re perfect for the job.” A smile reached his eyes briefly. “I know you, and you know Doubrov, and no one’s going to think twice about you talking to him. It actually works all around.”

It sounded absolutely reasonable when he put it like that. She did know Dr. Doubrov, and had found him to be a passionate scholar of archaeology and antiquities. He only ever had one speaking mode, and that was a full-on lecture. He’d lecture anyone about anything, but always with a twinkle in his eye, knowing full well that his imposing six-foot-plus stature intimidated people. As did his nationality and his alleged past in the KGB. But he’d always seemed to have a good sense of humor, and Molly liked what she knew about him. She also knew that he’d be happy to see her again, because he’d told her boss as much on the phone a month ago. Harry had told her to be sure to look to him for support during her speech if necessary.

Some of her early speeches had gone down less well, with academic heckling and private contractors trying to diminish her experiences. But as they went along, she’d become more adept at handling them. But at an event this important, she was happy to have someone very well thought of to have her back if necessary.

She’d tucked the two envelopes into her purse, tamping down the exhilaration rushing through her. Did this make her a spy? She’d really thought it might. She’d raised her eyes expectantly, silently asking if there was anything else.

“Good girl,” he’d said, which had made her bristle. Girl? She’d let it slide with the sudden realization that for a short couple of days, she’d be an agent. A real government agent. Excitement had coursed through her that her country—the US of freaking A—would trust her with such an important task. Her, a mere archaeologist.

“Remember. You have a four-hour window at that cocktail party. Don’t miss him. The consequences will be dire if you don’t get the message to him. Like two-superpowers-going-to-war dire.” And then he’d jumped up and walked away, without so much as a thank you or a good luck.

But Molly hadn’t cared. She’d sat there for a good ten minutes gazing out at the Washington Monument and reveling in the fact that she had been called to serve her country.

It was going to be epic. A story to tell her grandkids.

But for now, she was still late. She checked in and took the elevator to her room, pausing only to throw her small bag over the threshold into the room before running back toward the elevator. She checked her phone again. Still no text. Shit. She had both envelopes in her jeans pocket. She just needed to know which one to open. She followed the signs for the party and headed to the back of the hotel.

There was a security team, patting down guests and funneling them through metal detectors. When they came to Molly, the man in black’s eyebrows raised. “Lost luggage,” she said, giving him a rueful smile and flashing her “Guest Speaker” pass.

“I’m sure no one will notice,” he said with an utterly charming Greek accent. She looked at his nametag.

“That’s so sweet of you, Platon Asker. Thank you.” She felt better already. Especially since Platon was tall and good looking. Very good looking. That didn’t hurt.

The party was everything she’d hoped for—glamorous women floating in long dresses and smart men in tuxes. Champagne flutes and night sky. Tall arrangements of flowers arching toward the stars. Breathtaking. It seemed as if the restaurant had retracted its whole roof and allowed the entire area out to the balcony to be open air. She wished so hard that she were wearing her dress and sexy high heels.

Her butt vibrated. At last. She dug out her phone.

Molly.

She grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray and circled the guests to locate Dr. Doubrov.

David Church eyed the people talking to his principal. Close protection was a bitch, but the company he worked for had saved him from self-destruction, so he basically owed them his soul. And this week, his soul was guarding a very important scientist. He had no idea who would want to hurt a scientist, but his boss had assigned him to Athens, and here he was.

Although his attention was on Professor Rankin, he was also scanning the room for someone special, the other reason he hadn’t complained at taking this job: Molly Solent was on the week’s schedule, and he wanted to see her.

Badly. Like blue-balls badly.

He’d kept track of her for nearly a year, since they’d met, briefly, in Iraq. At the time he’d been in no shape to choose a tie color, let alone date someone as…unique as Molly.

From the second he’d laid eyes on her, he knew she was trouble. Trouble for him, anyway. His eyes rested for a second on the far wall, which was adorned with a mosaic picture of an ancient Greek warrior. In some way he was like that mosaic. A fine illustration of a fighter, but when you got up close, you could see the cracks. Millions of cracks. Good for no one, especially someone like Molly. Hell, he was barely in good enough shape to have this job. But his CEO had seen something in him—or so he’d said—something that David couldn’t see himself, and had sent him on a series of low-risk jobs. It had been almost enough to take his mind off Molly.

She had haunted his days and nights with her eyes that were full of promise, full of a future than he couldn’t see. She’d seen him at his worst, and it didn’t seem to faze her at all. Her eyes. He closed his own as he thought about her again. Innocent and totally open. She’d wanted him and hadn’t been afraid at all of making it clear.

Her image had kept him going through the long, dark nights of recovery. The single chink of light in his life. He was scared to lose that. Scared to see her.

The one thing that he was proud of, pretty much the only thing, was walking away from her before he sucked her into his downward spiral.

He had to keep his mind on that one point if he saw her here. He wasn’t fixed yet. Wasn’t entirely right. He still looked longingly at liquor, remembering the peace that came at the bottom of the bottle. He still dreamed that he’d fallen off the wagon. When he woke up, all he could remember is how good it felt. And the hallucinations. Nope. He definitely wasn’t ready for Molly. And she definitely didn’t deserve the shitstorm that seemed to always revolve around him.

The professor moved to speak to someone else, and David snapped back into alertness. He scanned the immediate crowd around him. No threats. But he couldn’t relax. She could be here. Molly could be right here, in the same room as him. He ran a finger under his collar as his temperature rose.

He’d known she would be here, but he still hadn’t decided whether to speak to her. And he’d had two months to think about it. Seeing her would be enough, he was sure. Just to rest his eyes on her again, even without her knowing, would fulfill nearly a year of longing.

He hoped.

Because he was knockdown sure as shit convinced that if he spoke to her, looked into her eyes, felt her soft skin again, he would be a goner. And he knew very well that he would stop at nothing to get her into his arms, his bed, and his life. So it was by far the best bet that he not draw attention to the fact that he was there. He could see her, yet she wouldn’t see him. Distance was his friend. Distance and the lotion back in his room.