Epilogue

The debriefing was quick, thank goodness, butthe tone was a little unpleasant. It was just as well that Smyth was on the phone and not in the room, because even at a distance, Amanda could hear him bellowing.

A search of the resort had found no sign of Vicktor Zinoniev, but with three ranking KGB operatives in custody, there wasn't much to complain about. Lee paced back and forth as the assembled agents fired questions, punctuated by Dr. Smyth's strident tones from the speakerphone.

She'd taken her turn under fire first, and Lee was wrapping up.

"Yes, I know. But the escape of one aging KGB operative isn't as important as the intelligence we will gain by sweating Rostov. His network was behind the scenes in the Zirenchov conspiracy, and you know he was instrumental in that assassination attempt in Bolivia."

"Scarecrow, I want you back here on the next flight. You need to explain--" Smyth's tone was unmistakable, and Amanda braced for the inevitable. Vacation over.

"No."

She looked up and met Lee's gaze. A grin quirked the corner of his mouth, and she felt the warmth of his humor. Vacation not over. Vacation just beginning.

"Sir, I'll be in your office on Monday morning, just as planned, with a full report, but for now--" He grasped her hand before Smyth could sputter an answer.

Her hand firmly in Lee's, they walked down the hallway, and Amanda tried to ignore the increasingly annoying pain in her knee.

"You're glad he escaped, aren't you? Even after everything he's done." Lee paused, still clasping her hand.

She thought about it for a moment. He was the enemy, a highly-trained KGB agent. He'd orchestrated some of the most complex intelligence leaks and had implemented his directives without mercy. But . . .

"Yeah. I think I am. Are you?" She leaned against him now.

His gaze swept over her scratched face, the tears in the knees of her dusty jeans, and settled on her knee. With a grin, he swept her into his arms, ignoring her startled squeak.

"Lee!" She pushed at his chest as he marched through the empty lobby toward the elevator. "Put me down now. I can walk. What if someone sees?"

"Let 'em. What's wrong with a man carrying his wife over the threshold?"

"This isn't our doorstep."

He smiled again. "Give me a couple of floors and it will be."

Amanda relaxed into his arms and gave in to the inevitable. There was no reasoning with him when he was like this. "You know Dr. Smyth is going to be angry when we get back?"

Lee didn't answer as he stepped into the elevator, and he showed no signs of putting her down.

"And you never answered my first question."

He bumped the button with his elbow and shifted his grip as the doors whooshed shut. "Amanda, right now the last thing on my mind is Dr. Smyth." He waggled his eyebrows at her until she grinned back. At least his intentions were perfectly clear.

"And Zinoniev?" she persisted.

His chest rose in a sigh. "Vicktor Zinoniev won't be interfering with our second honeymoon, and he's the second to last thing on my mind. But . . ."

"But?" The elevator stopped at the third floor, and the door opened.

She wasn't going to let it drop. "But?"

"The guy has class."

A giggle bubbled up, and she clamped her hand over her mouth to stop it. She must be more tired than she thought. Lee had to be tired, too, carrying her so far. She tugged at his shirt. "You can put me down now, really."

He shook his head. "No. It's over the threshold you go, and you'll relax and enjoy it."

"What the--" The note on the door to their room was odd enough, but the look on Lee's face was priceless. She plucked the message from the door and turned it over in her hands.

I've taken the liberty of moving your personal items to room 301. Z

The sprawling initial left no doubt as to the writer. Unless Zorro had infiltrated their room, Vicktor Zinoniev had been there. Lee swung her to her feet and brushed her behind him as he reached for his gun. Amanda ducked under his restraining arm and shoved the door open, flipping on the light as they both peered inside.

The room was spotless. Not a speck of dust, no suitcases, not a single sign that anyone had ever occupied it.

"Why?" Amanda stifled the sinking feeling that coursed through her tired body. She was filthy and tired and now her nice clean clothes were gone. "What did he do with our clothes?" A whine crept into her voice, and she knew it, but she was too tired to care. "I thought it was all over. I thought . . ."

"Only one way to find out." Lee slipped his arm around her waist and guided her down the hall. As they approached room 301, she felt him ease his gun from its shoulder holster.

A small square of paper was taped to the door, and this time, Lee pulled it off. She poked him in the ribs.

"What is it? What does it say?" The little mystery had actually started to lift her spirits, and now curiosity replaced exhaustion as she tried to snatch the note. He flipped the paper in his fingers, and Amanda read the elegant script.

Welcome, and enjoy with my compliments, little Scarecrow. Tell the big fella to stop scowling. Z

She reached for the doorknob, but Lee gently brushed her away. When he eased the door open and looked inside, his gun was still firmly in his grasp. Her hands were on his back as she tried to lean around him to see. His smooth muscles began to quiver under her fingers and then shake.

"Lee, what is it? Please?" Without warning, he whirled and swept her into his arms, ignoring her surprise. He was laughing now, as he carried her into the room and kicked the door closed behind him.

As much as she enjoyed his strong arms around her, she pushed at his chest until he swung her around and her feet touched the floor. With his arm still around her waist, they walked together to the center of the suite and stared.

The room was decked in Arabian splendor, with canvas walls draped with silk tapestries and exotic fabrics. A multitude of woven rugs were scattered on the floor, and silk pillows in warm shades of red and orange were interspersed with the cool greens of a desert oasis.

A platter of tropical fruits, candied dates, and nuts rested atop a bolster, just begging to be devoured. It was a feast fit for a desert prince--and his princess.

Lee shook his head and grinned. "Well, you gotta admit, for a cold-blooded killer, he has style, the bast--" He looked at Amanda, who smiled and supplied the correct word.

"Scoundrel."

"Yeah, that's what I meant--scoundrel. When did he have time to do this? It didn't look like this when we were in here earlier."

She turned a complete circle and stared at the silks and treasures. "It didn't look like this in the brochure, either."

"I do remember one feature from the brochure." He grinned and gestured at the ceiling "Open Sesame!"

A panel slid back, opening the room to the morning sun, and Amanda gasped. Lee snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her down on the bed among the silk pillows.

As she melted into his embrace, his warm lips sought hers, and she sighed against his mouth, but he pulled away, holding her at arm's length as she tried again to capture his lips with her own.

"You're so beautiful."

Remembering the twigs in her hair and the dust on her clothes, she started to pull away, but he drew her into his arms. "You're not leaving my sight."

His tone was so warm, so loving, that the dirt and horse sweat faded from her mind. Her whole world was right here in her arms. His breath was warm on her skin, and she tried to memorize each moment, savor each sensation.

"Lee?"

"Hmm?"

Amanda trailed her fingers along his chest. "This wasn't exactly the relaxing vacation we had planned. This was supposed to be good for you. Relax you, and give us that time alone. We weren't alone much." She sucked in a shuddering breath and snuggled against him. "We never finished our talk the other morning. I don't want you to feel frustrated or trapped."

"Amanda, I--"

She placed her fingers across his lips. Those soft hazel eyes melted her heart every time. "All of that--the schedules, those little annoying things--they're just a part of real life. Marriage isn't about white picket fences and fairytales. You're tied to us with bonds of love, and expectation, and responsibility. It's not just you anymore; it's us. It's all of us. We love you, and I understand."

"I don't feel tied down." He pulled her closer. "All this reminded me how wonderful and rare 'routine' is."

He slid off the bed, tugging her with him. Letting go of his hand, Amanda kicked a few scattered pillows across the floor and arranged them into a nest near the platters. She dropped into the pile, dragging Lee down with her, and leaned against his shoulder.

"How did Zinoniev do all this?" she wondered aloud. "And where did he go? He really helped me, back at the cabin."

He cupped her cheek in his palm and pressed his lips to her forehead. "No idea, but I wouldn't put it past him to make it out of the country."

"You don't seem upset by it."

"I guess I owe the man. He was there for you when you needed him. Enough of Viktor Zinoniev. I don't remember inviting him on our second honeymoon. Let's find a better subject." Lee smiled, his eyes warm with love. Amanda's stomach chose that moment to rumble, and she blushed as he rubbed it and grinned. "I think we should do something about that. But first, how about I run the bath?"

A warm bath sounded lovely, but that fruit looked delicious.

"So, what do you want to do for our Anniversary next year?" She reached across his knees for a ripe peach.

Laughing, he pulled her into his lap. "Hmm . . . how about the jungle room? I hear it's wild."

The End