Shock shot across Connie's mind. She stood against the column, her dress draped around the edge of it, trailing into the light. Jason stood beside her, looking at Sierra.

"What kind of job is it?" he said.

"A man employed me to find his son. About a month after he disappeared, the regular law enforcement gave up. I tracked him to a human trafficking network, but then he was swallowed up by it. I pulled out two threads, two possible leads. If I follow one, the other might go cold. And vice versa. I could risk it—or I could bring on a fellow specialist."

"I'm no specialist."

"But with your expertise, you could become one. And you know the country."

"It concerns Muldavia?"

"Part of it, yes. The threads go through many countries; that is one of its hubs.

"I can't pretend that this is just another case, Jason. To know what they're doing to those children—and to be able to do something to stop it—I might even consider going after them full time."

She rubbed one wrist. The golden bangles on her arms fell back and Connie glimpsed scars ringing them….tiny slivers that caught the light. Her stomach turned over as she speculated why this case was personal to Sierra.

"I wish I could help. But I have to consider Connie in all of this."

"Of course. You two discuss it. Take your time—at least, till tomorrow morning." She handed Jason a card. And then she swept away and disappeared into the crowd.

Jason led her to the dance floor where one song was just ending. She glimpsed Saul and Leila swirl past, their eyes only for each other. Connie wanted to always have such a close relationship. She vowed never to deliberately put distance between her and Jason, to slice through their bond again; no matter how much she hurt, she needed to go toward him, not away from him. But would their love always grow stronger? No marriage was perfect—could theirs be? Or would they have fights, setbacks, drawing apart, growing cold…Horror raced through her at the prospect of such things coming between them. She wanted to be in perfect harmony with him now, no distance between them, no residual awkwardness. Pain cut through her that they weren't there yet. Could they ever get back what they'd had? Or would she always have to be careful to make sure she didn't push him away, or use him like she had that night—

He grasped her hand as the song began, and they swept out onto the dance floor, her ballroom dress feeling cumbersome, her heels feeling a bit too tippy. For a moment she thought she'd fall, but his strong hands supported her. They whirled out into an easy rhythm, completely in sync as they danced. She marveled at him—she couldn't believe she'd never danced with him before. He was very good at it.

His blue eyes blazed into hers, the facets in them purer than any sapphire. Glints of copper gleamed in his hair under the lights. His perfect features, so noble and strong –he looked every bit the dashing secret agent. And the suit, how glorious he was in it. She longed to stay like this, dancing with him till the world stopped spinning and they were the only two people left, their hearts as one….

She was hardly aware when the band shifted to a slower song, but Jason slowed his steps and she slid closer to him, her cheek against his, her arm around him.

When the song ended, they came to a stop along the edge. "Jason, I love you."

"I love you, too, Connie. So much I can't—I can't even speak."

She smiled; a tear fell from her eye, though she wasn't sad, just filled to the breaking point. Next to the ivory-white column, she lifted her hand to his cheek and kissed him softly on the lips. Every touch, every movement, every nuance of who he was, made her want more of him. Reluctantly, she pulled back, though breaking contact only made longing explode inside her.

No matter what, she didn't want to be any further from him than this. She kept her hand in his, reveling in the feel of it, in the beauty of his eyes and his smile.

He leaned in once more. "We can continue this later, if you want," he whispered. She couldn't help but kiss him one more time on the cheek, lingering in the smell of his hair….

A throat cleared behind her. She whirled sideways, nearly tripping over her dress, though Jason kept his hand tightly in hers.

Tasha stood there, her lips pursed slightly. "Excuse me for interrupting," she said.

"No, that's okay," said Jason, a little breathless. "We don't want to get too carried away."

Tasha stepped forward, looking at Connie, the sharp, examining gleam in her eyes turning almost possessive as she looked at Jason. Then it disappeared as if it had never been, replaced by a firm professional demeanor.

"I wanted to remind you of the reason for your visit," she said, stepping closer to Jason. "During the reception, you'll meet an important official. Afterwards, he will join you along with us and a few others for a private meeting in the Chinese Room. There, the Muldavians will honor your father for what he did, and we will give you his reward. It will be a short ceremony, since they were expecting Whit to be here."

"It's too bad he couldn't make it. Although I'm glad he gave us this opportunity."

Some martial-sounding music played, and a young man appeared on the stage. There was a collective gasp from the crowd.

"Who's that?" Connie asked.

"That, I believe, is the Muldavian Prince," said Jason. "He certainly looks like his father."

Connie took a step closer to see past the people in front of her. The prince had dark brown hair and an energetic manner, tall, slim, with a noble bearing. Something about him looked familiar….It hit her. "He looks kind of like you."

Jason smiled. "You noticed the resemblance."

The prince delivered a short speech welcoming everyone and telling them how happy he was to join them. Then he invited them to come up and greet him firsthand.

Excitement pounding through her that she'd meet a real prince, she followed Jason up onstage. The prince stood there under the lights, looking even younger than he did from far away, probably about sixteen years old. Several security personnel stood behind him in suits and dark glasses. The prince shook Jason's hand as he said, "My father regrets he could not be here personally to thank you for what you have done for our country. And your father for what he did."

"He's given me all the thanks he needs; I'm sure my father would say the same about himself. It's good to meet you, your Highness."

The prince flashed a brilliant smile. Connie suspected he already had all the girls at home swooning over him. Even the mischievous twinkle in his eyes reminded her of a young Jason.

Jason led her forward. "This is my wife, Connie."

The prince took Connie's hand, kissed it. "Enchanted."

Connie laughed, not sure what to say. "Thank you, your Highness."

"You may both call me James. I will see you again soon."

They walked down the line and greeted ambassadors and others, including the movie star Zef Kane. Afterwards they headed to the Chinese Room where a shiny table stood under a chandelier, the ceiling decorated with intricate designs of blue and gold. The first to arrive, they sat down at the table. For a moment, Connie immersed in the silence of the room, its beauty and grandeur.

A thought came to her. "So, Whit did something for Muldavia too?"

"It runs in the family. I couldn't help but find out when I met the prince—the king now—and saw how he looked a lot like me. His father and my father apparently resembled each other even more."

"There's a story to all this, isn't there?"

"Isn't there always? Now that you're a Whittaker, you're a part of all of it too."

"So, what's the story?"

"Maybe I should let Whit tell you."

"But Jason—if I'm a Whittaker, I have a right to know."

"He'll tell it better, though."

"Can't you, just the gist of it?"

"Wouldn't you rather hear it right the first time?"

"Come on, Jason, tell me." She tickled him—or tried. He just looked at her with an amused expression, not reacting the way he was supposed to.

"That interrogation tactic won't work on me. I immunized myself against it a long time ago."

"What about—this?" She lifted her hand to his face, kissed him on the lips.

"Mm…" he said, pulling back just a little. "I think…this tactic may be working…." He slid his arm around her, kissed her next to her ear. Now that tickled. She laughed, squirmed away—he lifted her onto his lap and kissed the side of her jaw—

A door slammed open. People trailed in, headed by the prince, flanked by Tasha. Heat flooded Connie's face. She slipped back into her own chair, flicking back a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. Jason stood, looking unapologetic. She mirrored him, trying to match his demeanor. They'd been doing nothing wrong…just…personal. It had seemed like a private room but of course the meeting was supposed to happen any moment and they should have considered it…but he'd erased everything else from her mind.

"Your Highness," said Jason, giving a bow. Connie followed suit. The prince gave a slight bow in return and took his place at the head of the table. Tasha sat opposite Jason. Three others joined them. The tall, dark-haired Ambassador from Muldavia introduced himself and his aide, a pretty prim young woman. Tasha introduced the young man at her side, an analyst for the Agency.

The prince gestured for them to be seated. "Thank you for coming in your father's place, Jason. You have both done astonishing things for our country and for my father and grandfather. For that we are eternally grateful. I know that your father refused any kind of reward, but we would like to repay our debt in some way. And so if there is anything the royal family can do for you or your father, you have only to ask."

He gestured toward Jason, who walked toward the prince. "We would like to award you with the highest honor, Protector of the Realm. Since you don't want official recognition, I will simply give you this." He deftly pinned a blue, red and gold ribbon to Jason's jacket. "You will know what it means. And for your father, and for both of you." He handed Jason some objects. Then he bowed. "Thank you for your service."

The prince shook Jason's hand, and they both sat back down. Jason showed Connie a coin-like medal in his palm along with the ribbon for his father.

"Perhaps we should honor you as well, Jason," said Tasha. "But we tend to avoid giving accolades to agents—your father is the exception. As I'm not authorized to give anything beyond what's officially granted, I can only offer my own personal service to the both of you: if you need anything, please don't hesitate to call me. As long as it does not compromise my duties with the Agency." She took something from the analyst and handed it to Jason—a piece of paper and a plain black box. Jason looked at the paper. "What is this?"

"Your father will understand."

"It's in code, isn't it?"

Tasha just smiled.

He tried to open the box, but it was locked. "What's in here?"

"The key's an encryption. Your father will know it. It's something so classified I don't even have clearance for it."

"Oh."

"He is certainly a man of secrets," said the ambassador. "I do not even know what he did for our country. Only the royal family knows."

"For the sake of national security," said the prince solemnly, "I will take the secret to my grave."

No wonder Jason was so reluctant to give me the secret, thought Connie. I don't know Whit as much as I think I do….like whatever kind of mission he's on right now.

I'm in a family of spies. I might as well get used to secrets. Though most of them are in the past, and Jason will probably tell them to me…if I'm persistent enough.

After a few more minutes, they stepped back out into the hallway. "Would you like to join us for the more…unofficial party after this?" said the prince. "Who knows, it might go all night." He looked less like a prince and more like a teenage boy excited about a party away from his parents.

"Perhaps we will make an appearance," said Jason. "What do you think, Connie?"

"What time is it?"

"Eleven o'clock."

"You didn't look at your watch."

The prince pulled a watch out of his pocket; it chimed a melody. "He's right."

"I've always been able to guess the time," said Jason.

"Hm…" said Connie, suddenly feeling exhausted. "This has been fun…but I'm pretty tired. It's been a long day."

"Well," said the prince, looking disappointed, "you could come tomorrow to the luncheon at the Embassy."

"Maybe we'll do that." Jason took Connie's arm. Slowly, they wound their way through the tables and out through the doors to the marble lobby, then out into the dark warm air of DC. The limo drove up and Jason helped Connie inside. Afterimages of the party floated in front of her eyes. She leaned back on the seat. Her feet ached—she hadn't worn such punishing high heels in a while. She slipped them off and rubbed her feet.

"You okay?" he said.

"Yeah. Just…the price of fashion."

"Let me see." He took her foot gently in his hand. "You've even got blisters! How did you stand it?"

"I didn't really notice till now."

"You don't need such torture devices. Your feet are just as beautiful without them."

"I couldn't go to the party with bare feet. Ow!"

He let go of her foot. "Sorry!"

"No—keep doing that. It feels good. Just—the blisters hurt."

"I'll avoid them." He rubbed her foot, then the other, soothing the places where the straps had pressed. I probably won't wear those shoes again….She leaned back and let him massage them. She could do this for a while. But what about him? He didn't have the torturous shoes she did, but the tie did look uncomfortable.

She slid over to him. Tucked her fingers beneath the tie and tugged it loose. He pulled it off. "That does feel better—I've never been a fan of ties."

"You did look handsome in it. But I like you just as well this way." She unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt so it opened at his throat and ruffled up his hair so pieces of it sprang free of the hair gel and stuck up randomly. In the soft light, his eyes sparkled over infinite depths, a rosy pink at his lips. She sat there in awe of him for a moment, not daring to touch such a perfect being for fear he'd vanish like a dream….

But then he pressed his lips to hers, and she fell headlong into the dream with him.