CHAPTER III

Thirty minutes later, they pull into the long, curving driveway that leads to the cabin.

The yard is blanketed in snow, and icicles are hanging from the gutters. The white surface of the lawn is unmarred except for the tiny tracks of birds. The delicate marks crisscross the frozen expanse, documenting the feathered creatures' desperate search for nourishment.

"Thank God for four-wheel drive," murmurs Anne.

"Told you." His face is smug. She hates the fact that she finds his expression adorable, and rolls her eyes. "Why must you always be so superior?"

"Because you love it when I act like that." He grins, then exits the car and starts to unpack the trunk. After unloading extra blankets and food, he pulls out a bag that is filled with athletic gear. He frowns. "Why are there ice skates in here? And snowshoes?"

She laughs. "What do you think they're for? We have a winter wonderland just a few feet away!" Turning, she goes to retrieve her phone from the front seat. She has forgotten how quick his reflexes are. Within three seconds, he has her pressed against his body. His breath steams in the cold afternoon air when he looks down at her, and his voice is thick with desire. "I thought we weren't going to be leaving the bed, much less the cabin."

"Athos, we always had our best discussions when we were out in the middle of nowhere—hiking, or skating, or rock climbing."

"Maybe you thought they were our best interactions." His eyes light up with amusement. "I always preferred the parleys conducted in bed."

"Those were always memorable, but if we really want to try to work things out-" She leaves the sentence hanging, and he immediately understands.

"You're right." Athos sighs. All of a sudden, he looks ten years older. "I shouldn't be making light of the situation. I'm sorry."

She impulsively stands on her tiptoes and kisses him. "Save the serious stuff for tomorrow. Right now, we're burnin' daylight."

A slow smile spreads across his face. "You can still quote John Wayne."

"How could I forget? You must have forced me to watch "The Cowboys" at least five times. I vote we play Scrabble first before I am forced to spend another two hours with the Duke."

He hands her a bag of groceries. "Deal."

Ten minutes later, there is a fire roaring in the massive stone fireplace. Anne opens a bottle of chardonnay, and pours them each a glass. As she hands Athos his drink, he raises his glass. "I propose a toast. Come live with me, and be my love—"

Her eyes soften, and she murmurs, "And we will all the pleasures prove-"

He leans in, so close that she can almost touch his lips with her own. "That hills and valleys, dale and field—"

"And all the craggy mountains yield," she breathes. "Christopher Marlowe. You remember."

The kiss he gives her is sweet, and his face turns just the slightest shade of pink. "How could I forget? Our honeymoon in Scotland was—quite memorable. I think we covered all of those topographical features during our intimate moments."

She begins to laugh. "Remember that Hebridean sheep that wouldn't stop baaing? It sort of ruined the moment."

"A mere distraction." He winks at her, then heads for the kitchen. Within ten minutes, the smell of onions and shallots sautéing in olive oil fills the air.

"Can you please open up the cans of tomatoes and tomato paste?"

She slants a look at him. "I happen to have a special certification in the operation of can openers."

"Keep it along with your license to carry, do you?" He means to tease, but Anne stiffens, and he realizes he has gone too far.

She bites her lip, and puts the can down.

He leans against the stove, feeling conflicted. He wants to put his arms around her, but also senses she needs space. "I'm sorry. I was trying to be clever, and that comment just-wasn't."

"I can't help who I was—am." She corrects herself, then looks up to see his reaction.

"But I thought—when you showed up for the state inspection—"

She sees that he is confused, and hurt. God, I don't want to get into this tonight…can we just have one night where we get to be a normal couple?

"It was a cover." Her voice is flat.

"But what could you have possibly—" He checks himself with a bitter laugh. "Oh, right. I forgot how this goes. You can't tell me, or you'll have to kill me. Top secret CIA stuff." Turning back to the stove, he slowly pours the fish stock into the large soup pot. "You know, sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to be married to someone who was just what she said she was-a teacher, maybe—or an artist. Someone who didn't lead a double life."

Her head snaps up. "I can't help it! It's my job, Athos! I don't know how to be anything else!"

"That's what you tell yourself." The white wine joins the fish stock in the pot, and he reaches for the can of tomatoes, which is still unopened.

She stays his hand. "Please, Athos-not tonight. I can't do this tonight. I just want one night where we are a normal couple—having dinner and-I don't know, arguing about the best oysters on the east coast-or some normal topic!"

"Everyone knows Natick oysters are the best," Athos says, sliding a hand to her waist. He is eager to pull back from the precipice, and welcomes a distraction.

"Wellfleet," she murmurs, then sighs. "How is it that your voice can make oysters sound sexy?"

"It's a gift." He draws her to him, and gazes down at her, his deep blue eyes earnest. "No more talk about work or events from years ago. Not tonight. I promise." When he kisses her, she sags against him, grateful that they have managed to avoid the land mines of their past—at least for now.

I didn't think it possible to have a completely conflict-free start to the evening, hence this chapter. More to unfold in the next-thank you for reading, and for the reviews and favorites. Thay are much appreciated!