Hi All! Thanks for reviewing. So far all the comments have been very positive. And I just had to steal that thought of the sombrero from the Three Amigos (my boyfriend loves that movie – thanks for the reminder). I try to keep up with my stories, but it's been sunny out here in Seattle finally, and there has been a ton of yard work to get done on top of all the regular stuff, so thank you for waiting.

I'm trying to keep the Mexico parts as close to authentic as possible. My dad actually retired to Lo de Marcos, and I was there last November, so I have a lot of good first-hand details for the story. That's why Sara isn't vacationing in Hawaii—I haven't been there!





Sara walked up the hall to her apartment door, tired after a long day of work, mostly paperwork. Somehow that always tired her out more than chasing down suspects. Not looking forward to the prospect of fixing dinner, she was considering ordering a pizza when something pulled her out of her thoughts. She paused, listening, trying to figure out what had alerted her. She heard a clatter from inside her apartment and pulled her gun. As quietly as possible, she unlocked the door and peered inside, relaxing when she caught sight of Ian's coat draped conspicuously over the railing. Holstering her gun, she came in and draped her own coat over the railing next to his and tossed her helmet on the couch.

"How was your day, Sara," Ian asked from the kitchen. Even though he knew exactly what she had been doing, he asked her anyway because it was a normal thing to do in their extremely abnormal lives.

"Long and dull," she answered, coming in to the kitchen to peer over his shoulder while he stirred something in a pan on the stove. "What are you making?"

"Allyson taught me how to make stir-fry," he replied. "I hope I'm doing it right."

"How is Allyson doing," Sara asked, leaning against the counter to watch Ian cook.

"Fine." Ian tossed a handful of sesame seeds into the mix. "She said to tell you hi, and to remind you to visit soon. She's got a new contract for a big company, revamping all their web sites. Her advance will pay her rent for the next five months."

"That's great," Sara said, impressed. "Maybe I should have gone into computers."

"You're a born warrior Sara, its in your blood," Ian reminded her, dishing his creation onto two plates and handing one to Sara. He had already set the table and poured the wine, and there was still ice cream from the night before in the freezer. "You would have gone mad at a desk job."

"True," she conceded as they sat down at the table. He watched, eager and apprehensive, as she took a bite. Her eyebrows went up and she looked at him in approval. "Ian, this is really good. Way better than the stuff from around the corner." He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and smiled in relief.

"Thank you, Sara. I was worried," he admitted. "I really haven't done this before. I only helped Allyson the one time."

"You mean this was your first try?" She stared in disbelief. "Damn, Ian, you should have been a chef."

"Thank you, Sara," he said, a shy smile on his face.

"My God, Ian," Sara teased. "Are you blushing? Well, will wonders never cease." She grinned at him.

"Assassins don't blush, Sara," he shot back with a grin, his tone mock- stern.

"I guess you'll have to settle for being a man, then, Ian" she replied.

"That wouldn't be so bad," he replied softly, a look of yearning in his eyes for a moment, then he looked down at his plate. Sara stared at him for a moment, then laid down her fork.

"Ian," she asked, waiting until he looked up at her before continuing. "Are you saying you have feelings for me? More than friendship?" The look in his eyes was that of a cornered animal.

"Yes, Sara," he said softly. "Are you angry?"

"Of course not," she replied promptly, and he relaxed a bit. "You can't help what you feel. It just happens. But you understand I'm not ready to take it to the next level yet?" He nodded. "I am still getting to know you as a friend, and its too soon to be more. Are you okay with that?"

"Yes, Sara. I can wait, forever if I have to. I am enjoying being your friend. That is enough." He smiled shyly over at her, and she smiled back.

"I'm enjoying being your friend too, Ian. You're very good company." She picked up her fork again. "It doesn't hurt that you're a great cook too."

"I had better learn how to cook something else now, or you'll get awful tired of stir-fry," he replied, and she laughed. The awkward moment was over, and Sara felt better for having defined their new relationship. Communication was important, and she hoped this would avoid misunderstandings.

"My cousin e-mailed me back while I was at work today," She told him. "I can use his place in Mexico for my vacation if I want."

"Have you already gotten your plane ticket," he asked.

"Nope. Didn't have time. Why?"

"When you said I could get Irons to send me along, I know you were not being serious," he began. "But I could arrange it, if you would like the company. It is your choice, Sara."

She stared at him for a moment, taken by surprise. Thinking through it, she concluded that she hadn't really been looking forward to traveling to an unfamiliar country alone, and she found the prospect of his company pleasant. She would feel much better if her were there, watching out for her and keeping her from getting lonely. Then she got an image in her head and burst out laughing. Ian looked at her strangely, torn between being hurt and wondering if she had lost her marbles.

"What is so amusing, Sara," he asked.

"I'm sorry, Ian," she chuckled. "From out of nowhere this image of you in a black and silver sombrero and black swim trunks popped into my head, and for some reason it was funny." He nodded. That Steve Martin movie had been on cable a few nights ago, so it was no wonder she thought of the sombrero.

"I can get a sombrero if you would like, Sara," he replied soberly, but his eyes were mischievous. "But unfortunately my swim trunks aren't black."

"Oh?" She waited for him to elaborate, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

"When I swim I don't tend to wear swim trunks, actually. But the pair I have is dark blue."

"My my, Ian. A closet exhibitionist," she teased. She was having a hard time pushing aside the mental images his revelation created, and she knew she'd have some interesting dreams tonight. Ian was too handsome by half, and when he smiled his eyes lit up and he was the most sensually gorgeous creature she had ever seen. Sometimes she was tempted to pounce on him and scruples be damned, but she didn't want to ruin the friendship they had by rushing into things. She had a tendency to rush into relationships only to find she and her partner weren't compatible. The breakups had always been bad. Really bad. She didn't just want a partner in the sack, she wanted a lasting relationship, and she definitely didn't want to screw up the friendship she and Ian had together by moving too fast.

"You know, Ian, I've never seen you wear anything but black."

"My clothes suit the job, Sara," he said, shrugging.

"Yes, but you're so much more than the job, Ian," she told him. He looked at her, a smile growing on his face. That was easily the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him.

"If you wish, my lady," he said, "I will add some color to my wardrobe. I'll get red underwear."

Sara burst out laughing, and he joined her. His sense of humor showed itself at odd times. Sara found it refreshing, and a welcome change from the riddle-spouting enigma he had been when she first knew him.

"You know, Ian, you had better get Irons to send you along to keep an eye on me. I don't think I would survive a week without you making me laugh."

"You really want me to go?"

"Yeah," she said. "I do." His eyes lit up and she forgot to breathe for a moment. She kept doing that, she mused. What would she do when she saw him in those swim trunks for the first time? Images of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation flashed past her inner eye, and she sternly told herself not to go there.

"Then it shall be arranged," he said. "Give me the address to your cousin's condo, and I shall see to everything."

"You don't have to do that, Ian," she said.

"I do it for Irons all the time," he replied. "I'm very efficient. And I have been to Puerto Vallarta before, so I know what to plan for. Leave it in my hands, Sara," he asked. "Trust me."

"Alright, Ian," she conceded. "But remember I'm on a budget."

"As you wish," he replied, but thought to himself, I'm not.



Irons was reading before the fireplace when Ian came home to report in that night. He put down his book as Ian stood before him, head down as customary.

"How is our lady this evening," Irons asked.

"She is excited about her upcoming trip," he said.

"So she is gong to Mexico after all?"

"Yes, sir," Ian replied, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

"Where will she be staying?" Irons trusted Ian to have done the appropriate research.

"Her cousin has a small home north of Puerto Vallarta, in a little town called Lo de Marcos. It is on the coast, only a block from the beach. Since he will not be using the place at that time he has granted Sara the use of it."

"What is your assessment of the situation?" Irons was watching Ian from the corner of his eye while staring into the dancing flames in the fireplace. Irons was the picture of control and culture, to be sure, and never a hair out of place. Powerful, rich, charming. But he wasn't the one Sara had shared dinner with. Ian controlled a smile carefully.

"She has never been to Mexico, Sir. Yet the area is close enough to Puerto Vallarta to be tourist friendly. But she will have to drive over an hour to get there. Also there is the question of sickness. She may fall prey to the bacteria that inhabit the water there and succumb to Traveler's Sickness. The climate is fair, the weather clear and likely to remain so, and the ocean is warm. I believe she will have a very relaxing vacation if she does not fall ill."

"Indeed," Irons mused. He was silent for several minutes, turning the situation over and over in his mind to study it from every angle. Ian stood perfectly still, accustomed to waiting.

"Well, if our lady is determined to go, I want her to have a safe vacation." Irons smiled. "I do not want her to come back more tired than she left. See that all goes smoothly for her trip, Ian, and go along to keep an eye on her. I wouldn't want a stranger tending her if she fell ill."

"My other duties," Ian began, seeming reluctant, only to be cut off by Irons.

"They can wait until you return. There isn't anything coming up that I need your exceptional skills for, Ian. The Wielder must be protected at all costs. Besides, I have grown fond of the lovely Sara, even though she is far too headstrong, and I want her to have a good time. You can insure no one bothers her. Purchase whatever you need, do whatever you have to, but see that she enjoys herself, Ian. Now go."

Ian nodded and left, very pleased at the outcome. He had not expected Irons to be quite so vehement in his insistence that Sara have a pleasant trip, but that worked to his advantage. Now that he had permission, he could arrange all to his satisfaction. He found visions of Sara in a bathing suit popping into his head and grinned in anticipation. Yes, he was going to see that she had fun, but he would enjoy the trip just as much.

He sat down at the computer in his room and searched for the right flights, booking them seats on a flight that had a short layover in Phoenix, but didn't have them changing planes. Less chance for their luggage to get lost. He then sent a message to a contact in Puerto Vallarta who oversaw the maintenance on Irons' estate in the hills above the city, giving him the address of Sara's cousin's place and a list of things to do. Another message to certain Mexican authorities, warning them that a lady friend of his employer was going to be vacationing and that the local authorities had better leave her alone or their latest military contract with Vorschlag could be in jeopardy. Finally, he shopped for appropriate clothes and personal supplies, arranging for them to be delivered the next day. Satisfied, he took himself off to bed and dreamed pleasant dreams of Sara playing in the warm, sparkling surf of a creamy crescent beach, smiling at him with her green eyes dancing. He slept very well.