Reddington walked to the dresser, opened a drawer and took out neatly folded pajamas.

"You've been his guest before," Elizabeth said as she watched him.

"Yes, several times." He tossed the pajamas on the king sized bed, then went to the closet and revealed a selection of satin and lace babydolls, halter slips and chiffon gowns in a variety of colors. He displayed a red lace babydoll. "This one is called Temptation."

Two scarlet blotches spread on her pale cheeks. She felt a moment of panic. The taste of his mouth lingered on her tongue. Her skin tingled with the memory of him. It took her several seconds to get her turbulent emotions under control. The temptation was real, but she would not act upon it. She reached for the folded pajamas and picked up the top. "We can share these."

Reddington closed the closet. "Your performance on the balcony was very convincing."

"There you go, trying to convince me to want what you want me to want. I hate the way you manipulate people by flattery and threats."

His eyes always so steady flinched. "Not always, Lizzie," he said softly.

"What do you call what you did with Sanchez? That was in your self-interest."

"My business requires freedom of movement in this city without looking over my shoulder every second. Sanchez needed a reason to keep me alive rather than maimed or dead. I gave him one."

"And telling Sanchez I was your woman so you could kiss me."

"That was for your protection. Sanchez is well known for his sexual appetites. His perversions would sicken you. Besides you kissed me," he pointed out.

"Because I was angry. You were controlling me. I wanted to slap that smug expression off your face and I couldn't, not in front of Sanchez. I resent the way you seem to control everything, even the FBI. You know things about my life I don't and you won't tell me the truth."

"When I try to tell you the truth, Lizzie, you don't believe me."

"Now we're back to Tom."

"No, it's about trust. I need you to trust me. I know what you think of me, that I'm a monster. You have no idea what is going on in the criminal world."

"But you do."

"I've spent the last two decades being a concierge of crime, so yes, I do know things you don't. There are many things I can never tell you because of the powerful forces out there in the world, powerful forces that would crush you if you knew too much, that would crush me if I stayed in one place long enough. Now things are changing because of the blacklist. I hope to bring down an adversary I've been tracking for a long time. And I need your help."

"Then stop mocking me, stop telling me lies."

Reddington stepped close, not quite touching. "That kiss wasn't a lie."

She shivered to the tone of his voice, as though he had touched her with a caress. Her eyes searched his intently. She placed a hand on his chest. "I know and it scares me."

He stood very still, holding himself in check. He wanted real intimacy. He sensed the core of her being was untouched and he wanted to be bathed in the fire he knew was there.

She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. His warm soft lips parted slightly as he returned her kiss, gentle and lingering. She pulled back at last, her hand dropping from his chest. "Marriage is about trust, too. Call me old fashioned, but I can't betray Tom."

He smiled wryly and felt envy for the trust Tom didn't deserve. He also knew he could wait. It would take time to build the kind of intimacy he wanted. These first touches from her were just the beginning. "I understand."

Elizabeth felt dizzy with relief. A genuine smile lit up her face. "I'd tell you you're a damn good kisser, but you already know that."

"I like those words coming from you."

"No more public performances," she countered.

"No promises," he said, and the warmth in his smile closed around her heart.

Elizabeth turned and walked into the bathroom, carrying the pajama top. The spacious bathroom was designed to convey a cool ocean like atmosphere with tiles in shades of blue, highlighting the soothing, relaxing impression of water. The lighting added to the effect. Plush, luxurious towels and bathrobes were available. She looked with longing at the tub and pictured herself soaking in a foam bath. A sigh escaped her lips, as she tossed the pajama top on a chair. A quick shower would have to do.

She took a moment to study herself in the mirror. Her eyes were huge. She felt swept along in a current of events beyond her control and the sensation left her uneasy. Few people could play the game the way Reddington did, she decided. The rules changed with the level of danger and threat. He had a natural instinct for fluid action regarding his survival in whatever situation he found himself. Did he ever feel the slide of fear in his belly the way she did?

She frowned at the lingering blush on her cheeks. Her lips were wet and glistening from his kiss. A delicious thrill of pleasure swept through her and her heartbeat quickened as she thought about him. Beside his image, Tom seemed to pale and fade. She shivered. Reddington was in her head and that was not a good sign. He was using her intelligence against her. Her desire to know about him and what he knew about her colored her thoughts. Was she allowing him to seduce her?

"You need a cold shower," she told herself, and began to strip.

Reddington sat on the edge of the bed and considered the danger Sanchez represented. He knew the man. His tentacles of power and wealth reached into every corner of the Old Quarter and beyond. His friends were always people with affluence and in positions that could influence others. He was a man used to having what he wanted, whenever he wanted it, and he had made plain his admiration of Lizzie throughout the evening.

A shadow crossed Reddington's face and the corner of his mouth twitched. In fairness, he had displayed Lizzie's considerable sexual appeal with dresses he personally selected for her. She was young, vibrant with life. Men would want to touch the warmth of her, drink in her laughter like an elixir of rejuvenation. He knew he felt strong and vital with her on his arm, strong when dancing with her late in the night with envious glances of younger men upon them. He had seen the sudden, sharp stab of envy on Sanchez's face before he concealed the dark emotion. It was possible Sanchez could change his mind about their arrangement. He pushed the troubling thought away.

Reddington stood up and walked over to the sitting area, settled in a comfortable chair, and picked up a copy of The Maya (Eighth Edition) by Michael D. Cole from the table. He flipped to the last hundred pages of illustrations. The objects held little interest and blurred together as he turned the pages, and he found himself regretting his impulse to bring Lizzie along on this particular trip. His regret irritated him. He had traveled much of his life as a loner and it had never bothered him, until now. Now he had to put Lizzie's welfare before his own. He had a plan in place with the FBI and a means of achieving his goal through Agent Keen. Then why did something simple seem so complex?

"The bathroom is all yours."

He looked up from the book. She had rolled the sleeves of the blue white stripped pajama top up to her elbows. He allowed himself the pleasure of enjoying her fresh scrubbed beauty. Her sable hair was damp from the shower and her face held a childlike innocence with those guileless blue eyes under thick lashes. And those legs, he could imagine her kneeling astride him.

"You're staring."

He smiled. "That pajama top is a step up from a t-shirt. Did you save me some hot water?"

Her laughter startled him. It was sweet and melodious.

"Don't you mean cold?" She grinned at him as she said the words.

A ripple of dangerous excitement passed through him. Did she truly understand the power she had over him? He closed the book in his lap and placed it back on the table. He walked to the bed and picked up the pajama bottom. His eyes never left hers. The smile spread on his face.

"A cold shower," he said softly, as he started past her. "Isn't that what you took?"

He closed the bathroom door behind him.