"You’re acting like an ass, Nikita!" Michael tried to grab an arm with his hand, but Nikita twisted her body and wrenched free. A goodly portion of her shirt came away in his fist and he cursed loudly.

"Screw you, Michael!" She skittered away and he lunged for her. They struggled for a second as Michael tried to wrap his arms around her and as Nikita writhed in an effort to get away. They lost their footing on the melting ice cream and chocolate and crashed to the floor. Michael let out a loud ‘oof’ as Nikita fell on top of him. They were temporarily stunned, but Michael regained his composure first. Swiftly, he locked a leg around hers and flipped her on her back, pinning her arms above her head.

"You are going to be quiet and listen to me, damn it, or I’ll turn you over and spank you!" He told her in a tone that brooked no argument as he tried to blink a wild strand of hair from his eye.

Nikita lay breathing heavily beneath him, eyes murderous and…blouse gaping wide open. Michael’s eyes locked on her heaving bosom and Nikita followed his gaze. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she tried to wiggle from underneath him.

"Uh, I’m calm now, Michael. You can let me up." She said breathlessly as she watched his expression change from anger to desire in an instant.

She wiggled again and Michael grimaced as her thigh came in contact with his burgeoning groin. That now familiar, mischievous light came into his eyes as he watched her humbled countenance.

"Michael." She repeated. "Let me up."

His eyes fastened on her breasts again. Heaving, small, pert, rose-tipped…

"Michael!" She tried vainly to divert his attention and bucked beneath him. Too late she felt the telltale sign of his arousal against her thigh and her eyes grew large with apprehension. Or was it anticipation.

A lick of ice cream melted off his temple and plopped softly into the middle of her chest. Michael slowly scooped it up with his finger and looked from it to Nikita’s tense face. Then, lowering his finger and moving it to the right, he smeared the vanilla around her nipple in a deliberately taunting circle...

************

Nikita’s eyes fluttered closed and she held her breath, waiting for the exquisite pleasure that she knew was about to come. She wasn’t disappointed when she felt Michael’s hand cupping her breast as his tongue gently laved her aroused nipple. A shiver engulfed her whole body and she released a trembling sigh. His teeth grazed the pink tip again and again before sucking it slowly into his mouth. Nikita remained perfectly quiescent as the tender assault on her breast continued. Her breathing was shallow and stilted. She reveled in the delicious weight of his hard body on top of hers. Dizziness engulfed her as he eased forward slightly to press his arousal snugly against the juncture between her thighs.

He granted her breast a temporary reprieve as he moved over her. Nikita opened her eyes to stare into his, excited and dismayed to see the smug, sexy smile on his face.

"I hate you." She whispered unconvincingly as her thighs unconsciously squeezed him.

"Uh huh." Michael chuckled as he scraped a finger across his ice cream covered neck and daubed it over her lips. With relish, he idly licked the sweetness away and urged her mouth open beneath his. He swirled his tongue inside with a moan, pleasantly surprised at the mélange of flavors he tasted there….peppermint, vanilla, chocolate, Nikita.

Michael’s fingers slid up her thigh and under her shirt to tease the waistband of her panties. His lips trailed kisses from her neckline to her throat, his tongue tracing lazy, wet circles at the pulse point. Nikita shuddered as her free hand slid into the hair at the nape of his neck. Her whole body tensed as his fingers playfully pulled at the lace waistband. Her heart vibrated in time to his. A sweet flood of rapture touched her puckered nipples, her heated skin, and her warm moistness as his fingers finally slipped inside they tiny scrap of nylon to caress, indulge, titillate...

He released her wrist to palm her breast, alternately kneading the small, peach globe and brush his thumb over the sensitive nipple.

Michael sucked her chin into his mouth, then delicately bit her jaw. His mouth found hers again, more insistent this time as his tongue mated with hers.

Nikita’s senses were heightened and she felt, heard, and smelled everything keenly…the hard floor beneath her, the tick of the wall clock, and the freshly brewing coffee. She turned her head to nuzzle his ear as his mouth suckled her shoulder. Her hands slipped under his black shirt to massage the smooth, muscled planes of his back.

"Michael." She murmured, vaguely remembering where they were.

"Hmmm." He muttered as he discovered her other breast.

Nikita gasped. "My…mother could…come home any…minute."

His nose tickled the underside of her breast. "Does that mean you want me to stop?"

Nikita moaned as his finger moved inside of her. "That…means I… want you to…hurry!"

Hastily, he pushed up her nightshirt as she licked at the ice cream on his ear. He peeled off her panties and tossed them over his shoulder as she fumbled with his belt. He felt like a love struck teenager as he helped her unfasten and push down his pants, but he didn’t have time for romantic words and skillful lovemaking at this moment. Right now they felt a desperate need to be joined; they could do the hearts and flowers thing later. Michael’s pulse was resounding loudly against his chest, in his ears and his heavy shaft as Nikita pushed down his briefs and encircled it with her hand.

His eyes closed tightly and he expelled a harsh, guttural breath as she stroked him from base to tip. It was her turn to smile smugly as she felt him grow even thicker and harder beneath her fingers.

"Now." She pulled his head down and her hot tongue darted in his ear.

"Ni-ki-ta." He groaned as he parted her thighs and thrust inside her feminine core. Their limbs tightened around each other and they cried out in unison. All Michael’s valentine training fled him as he plunged wildly inside of her. She felt exquisite around him -- snug, warm, wet. He closed his eyes and surged forward, seeking to touch her as deeply as possible.

Nikita wrapped her legs around his back and gripped his shoulders tightly. She threw her head back and hissed softly between clenched teeth as he increased his pace, angling his hips in a number of delightful directions to add luscious friction to their frenzied union.

Michael nearly lost what little control he still possessed as Nikita bucked and writhed beneath him, meeting each frantic thrust with one of her own. Her hands were squeezing his buttocks and boldly caressing their joined sexes. All feeling was directed to the delicious throbbing of his shaft. He felt light-headed, euphoric and grossly unprepared for the myriad feelings that Nikita evoked within him.

He buried his head in the fragrant curve of her neck and slowed his thrusts to long, slow ones as he reached between them to caress her hard bud. He heard her gasping brokenly as he felt the first spasms of her climax begin. Her thighs squeezed him in a vice-like grip as her inner muscles flexed enticingly around his shaft, touching off his own climax as he jerked convulsively inside her. He groaned raggedly into her hair, driving recklessly inside her as he rode out each wave of pleasure.

************

Finally they lay still, panting and disheveled, weak and sated – for now. Michael wondered if he was too heavy for her but he seriously doubted if he could move. Her body was limp beneath him except for her hands, which were stroking and lightly scratching his sweat soaked back. Michael would have nodded off from her tender ministrations had she not spoken.

"Oh my God!" She exclaimed softly.

"What?" He muttered.

"We just made love on my mother’s kitchen floor!" Nikita laughed shakily. "She would kill us if she knew."

"Mmm." Michael began to nibble her neck again.

"Michael."

"Yes?"

"Get off me!" She pushed at him. "My mother will probably be home soon."

Michael shifted his hips, his shaft still buried deeply inside her and Nikita moaned softly. "Stop it! We have to get up. Oh my god, the kitchen’s a mess!" She pushed at his amused form. "Get off!"

"Why are you so anxious?" He teased. "Maybe Roberta won’t mind."

Nikita’s eyes widened. "Michael, this isn’t funny! Move damn it! We have to get this place cleaned up!"

Michael sighed and eased himself off her. Nikita immediately jumped up and he caught a picturesque glimpse of her cute bottom as her shirt flew out behind her. She grabbed a damp sponge and paper towels, then began running around the kitchen, wiping up sticky ice cream and chocolate syrup as she went. Michael watched her as he stood on wobbly legs and straightened his clothes. How did women recover so quickly after earth-shattering lovemaking? He was still a little light-headed and his ears were ringing.

He eventually grabbed another sponge to help her and in a matter of minutes, the area was spotless again. Michael leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he smiled seductively at her. Nikita smiled back and moved to step into his arms when she suddenly stopped.

"Oh, shit!" She looked at the dried ice cream on his face and chocolate splashes on his clothes. "You’re filthy." Grabbing his hand, she pulled him out of the kitchen. She led him into the bathroom and flipped down the toilet lid, then pushed him down to sit.

"I can’t believe this." She muttered as she wet a towel and moved to stand between his legs. Michael parted her shirt to expose her breast and his mouth latched onto it. "STOP IT!" She swatted his shoulder and pushed him back to clean his face and hair, then his neck. She rubbed vigorously at the chocolate on his shirt as his fingers ran up the back of her smooth thighs.

"There." She tossed the towel in a hamper and stepped back. "You’ll do. Go into the living room and sit down. I’m going to change clothes."

Michael stood up and stepped towards her. "Can I help you?"

"Michael!" She picked up a hairbrush and aimed it at him.

"I’m going, I’m going." He raised his hands defensively and strutted back into the living room.

When she emerged from her room dressed safely in old, worn pajamas, he was lounging on the sofa, a wide sexy grin on his face. He held out his arms and she instantly went into them, snuggling her face into his chest as he kissed her forehead and rubbed her back.

"That was memorable." She giggled.

"It certainly was." He murmured into her hair. "Why don’t you come back to the hotel with me?"

"Not tonight, okay?" Nikita looked up at him. "Mom is always moody after one of her meetings."

Michael was disappointed, but hid it from her. He had a month to make love to her in a variety of different ways, some of which were playing out in vivid color in his mind right now. Their hands came together, fingers entwining and caressing each other in a sensual dance. "What about tomorrow?"

"You can have me all to your -- " Nikita sat up quickly, her eyes darting worriedly to his face. "Jesus, Michael."

"What is it now?" He sat up at her worried expression.

"W-we didn’t use any protection."

Michael blanched visibly at her words. What the hell had he been thinking? Or thinking with? He had been so completely engrossed in their spontaneous lovemaking, he hadn't even thought of using protection. A sudden image of a pregnant and alone Nikita appeared before his eyes. Mon dieu, Chernek could show up at anytime. Michael couldn’t bear the thought of returning to his Section life once her father was apprehended, leaving her to fend for herself and a child.

Nikita took note of his anxious frown and quickly reassured him. "I’m on the pill, Michael."

He expelled a relieved breath and ran a hand through his unruly curls. "Thank God."

Nikita disregarded his huge look of relief, but a little twinge of hurt nicked her heart. She shook her head to rid herself of her silliness and touched his arm. "I mean, we just should have been more careful."

Michael nodded his understanding and pulled her back into his arms. "I would never knowingly hurt you, Kita. But if it makes you feel better, we’ll be more careful next time."

Nikita didn’t like the serious mood that had injected itself into their happiness, so she changed the subject. "So what do you want to do tomorrow?"

"Whatever you want to do is fine with me."

"We could go to a museum?"

"Or we could order up room service and stay inside all day." He suggested as he dipped his head to kiss her.

A key rattled in the door’s lock and they broke apart. Roberta entered and peered into the dark room as she closed the door. "Is that you, Frenchy?"

"Yes, ma’am." Michael stood as Roberta walked towards them. "How have you been?"

"Just great." Roberta pointedly tilted her cheek up at him and he dutifully bent to kiss it. "So how long you here for?"

"A month this time." He warily told her.

"Good, good!" Roberta slapped his forearm. "We’ll have time to paint the kitchen and the pantry."

Nikita laughed and Michael threw her a withering look. "I should be going."

"Don’t leave on my account, honey." Roberta shrugged out of her coat as Michael helped her. "Nikita was moping around here for weeks; I don’t want to go through that again."

"Mom!" Nikita blushed.

Michael grinned at Nikita and whispered. "I was moping too."

"Oh, that’s even better." Roberta said approvingly. "Do I smell coffee?"

"Uh, yeah." Nikita blushed again. "Michael made some a little while ago."

Roberta eyed her daughter with a curious look, then shrugged. "Well, I’ll have a cup. It’s decaf, right?"

"Yes."

"Goodnight, Frenchy." Roberta patted his shoulder as she walked by and breezed into the kitchen.

Michael turned to Nikita and pulled her up from the sofa. "She doesn’t seem moody."

"She wouldn’t let it show in front of you." Nikita held his hand as Michael drew her after him toward the door. He retrieved his coat and saw the roses beneath it. Gathering them up, he turned and held them out to Nikita. "These were for you."

Nikita took them with a grateful smile this time. "I was so cruel to you."

Michael nodded as he donned his coat. "I deserved it. But everything turned out better than I expected."

Nikita stepped into his outstretched arms and hugged him fiercely. She tipped her face up and he obliged her silent request for a kiss. His mouth savored hers tenderly, and then he drew back and reached into his pants pocket. "Ni-ki-ta."

"Yes, Michael?" She breathed huskily.

He pressed something soft into her other hand. "These are yours, too." He opened the door and slipped outside as she glanced down at her panties.

"You’re unbelievable!" She whispered with a sheepish grin.

He gave her a smile before closing the door behind him. As she went to lock it, she heard his soft knock. She pulled the door open again and looked up at his sly countenance. "What now?"

Michael reached out and plucked the panties from her hand, then tucked them in his coat pocket. "On second thought…"

Nikita’s body shook with silent laughter as she closed the door after him and floated back towards the living room.

"Nikita!" She heard Roberta calling from the kitchen. "What’s chocolate syrup doing all over the wall?"

************

"So where are we going?"

Nikita leaned back comfortably in the passenger seat of Michael’s rented luxury car and admired his handsome profile. He was the picture of casual elegance in a tan sweater, jeans, and a dark brown suede jacket. She watched his strong hand as it shifted gears and admired the play of his thigh muscles as he worked the clutch. It was simply sinful that a man could be this devastating.

"I told you." Michael glanced at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road. "Wherever you want to go."

"Then lets go to Upper Street. You know where that is?"

Michael nodded. "I’ve visited here before."

"When?"

"On business trips the past several years." Michael answered noncommittally. He had actually been here on at least a dozen missions, but he couldn’t tell her that.

Nikita didn’t question him further, however. She turned and watched the passing view, quietly anticipating spending a whole two days with Michael -- alone. He had called Nikita early this morning and asked if she would spend a couple of days with him. Nikita had consented, but insisted that she had to get some studying in, so he had agreed to pick her up around noon. She had packed a small overnight bag and then informed her mother of her plans.

Roberta hadn’t seemed to mind, but of course, she hadn’t let Nikita go without warning her about the emotional dangers of getting so deeply involved with a man so soon. Nikita had brushed aside her concerns with a reassuring statement about knowing how to take care of herself. But Nikita knew that her mother was as aware as she was that Michael was completely different from the men she usually dated.

The obvious difference was that he was ten years older, more mature, and definitely more experienced than her other suitors. And Nikita hadn’t really been all that upset when Roberta had chased the others off. She would not, however, let her mother ruin any chance of a relationship where Michael was concerned. That would explain why Roberta had backed off her initial suspicion of Michael.

"How is Jamie?" Michael asked suddenly, as if guessing the directions of her thoughts.

"Jamie?" Nikita turned look at him. "Why are you asking about him?"

Michael kept his eyes on the road. "Just wondering how much progress he made with you while I was gone."

Nikita’s eyes twinkled. "Are you a wee bit jealous, Michael?"

"Just curious."

Nikita laughed out loud. "Sure you are. No need to worry about Jamie. He and I are just friends."

Michael snorted at that. "He seems to think otherwise."

She pondered that for a moment before answering. "Okay, I admit he has ideas, but I didn’t put them there. I think its cause we were outcasts while we were in school. Me, him, and Julie. We stuck up for each other. And then when my mom went through her little crisis and his step-dad was beating him up every other day, we both ended up on the streets together."

Michael shuddered at the thought of her homeless, cold, and hungry.

"That kind of closeness can lead people to think they're in love. He took care of me." Nikita went on. "He was the best at hustling food, drugs, whatever…"

"You did drugs?" Michael was more concerned than angry about that information.

Nikita was ashamed that she had admitted that aspect of her life and she turned from him when she answered. "I dabbled a bit while I was on the street. Peer pressure. But I couldn’t get into it, and neither could Jamie." She turned back to look at him. "Does that make a difference to you?"

Michael thought about his own youthful indiscretions, one of which had led him to prison and into Section One. "No, not at all. I’ve done things that I regret as well, Ni-ki-ta. I know I’m not a bad person, and neither are you."

Nikita quietly let out a relieved breath. She hadn’t really wanted to tell him about her wild former lifestyle, but she did want him to know the truth. It was a test of sorts, to see if he would want to continue a relationship with her even knowing about her sordid past. So far, he was passing.

"I can’t say that I’m not a little angry at Jamie for leading you down that path." Michael was saying.

Nikita shook her head. "You can’t blame it all on Jamie. My mother had a lot to do with that too. And me. I should’ve stayed home and tried to work out our problems. But I just couldn’t take it, you know. She was drunk and out of a job all the time. Always bringing home strange men. It was horrible."

"How horrible?" Michael couldn’t help asking. Her file had mentioned the numerous men her mother had been with, but hadn’t noted any kind of sexual abuse involving Nikita.

"What do you mean?"

Michael tried to phrase the question as gently as possible. "Did they harm you in any way?"

Nikita realized immediately what he was asking. "If you mean did they rape me, no. Maybe a few of them tried to touch me, but my mother wasn’t completely out of it. If I told her one of them tried something with me, she’d call the police and send them packing."

Michael said a silent prayer of thanks as he came to a stop at a red light. "So Jamie is in love with you?"

"God, you have a one track mind." Nikita grinned at him. "I told you not to worry about him."

Michael’s eyes widened in surprise as Nikita opened her coat and discreetly pulled up her sweater. He got an enticing view of one naked breast and she pointed at the tiny bite marks around her nipple. "Besides. You’ve done a sensational job of marking your territory."

************

It was cold and windy, but otherwise a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Michael was surprised to see Christmas decorations in some of the shop windows as he as Nikita walked hand in hand on Upper Street. It was only mid-November, but Michael guessed ordinary people who didn’t put their lives on the line, as he did, would be excited about the holiday. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d celebrated it. He probably had only done so with Simone on one or two occasions, but it had never been anything grand. Global terrorist activities didn’t cease on the most holy day of the year.

They ate lunch at a small French restaurant after Michael convinced Nikita they served more than just unpronounceable food with little sauce designs drawn around the plate. She devoured her Quiche Lorraine and Michael had enjoyed watching her do it. He wondered if she knew how earthy and sensual she looked when she was enjoying good food. Watching her had aroused him, but he had managed to restrain himself from dragging her by the hand to the car and racing for the privacy of his hotel room. She was spending the night with him, so he had plenty of time to devour her later on.

After lunch, they continued their leisurely stroll, stopping in a few shops along the way. Nikita got excited upon seeing a display of unusual sunglasses in one trendy shop. Michael had discovered her fetish for them while changing the oil in her car last month. He’d been cleaning out the interior when he’d pulled open the glove compartment and about a dozen sunglasses spilled out of the overstuffed nook. He’d also seen a myriad number strung along her bedroom mirror when he’d taken her to the doctor for her flu.

Nikita modeled several pairs of shades for him before she finally settled on a pair of horn-rimmed black ones that he would never tell her he disliked. He insisted on buying them for her and they left the shop to mingle with the crowd of shoppers and tourists on the busy sidewalk.

Michael knew he probably looked a bit silly, repeatedly staring at her with a besotted look as they walked along. He couldn’t help himself. She looked so beautiful with the wind whipping her silky hair about her face, flushed pink from the cold. And he couldn’t help remembering the fervent consummation of their relationship on the ice cream covered kitchen floor.

Nikita caught his look and gifted him with a knowing smile. "So where are my knickers?"

"I had them enshrined." He told her seriously.

Nikita released a sensual chortle at that remark. "Let’s go, naughty man."

"To the hotel room?" His eyebrows rose and his cheeks dimpled.

"To have you institutionalized. There’s got to be someplace special for sexual deviants."

Instead, they went to the London Tower museum, where Nikita ogled at a collection of opulent jewels and marveled at the rumored tales of ancient ghosts. Her childlike enthusiasm and innocence drew Michael like a moth to a flame and he couldn’t help but be caught up in it. Once again, his guilt at his deception begin to gnaw away at his insides until she distracted him with an impromptu kiss and a squeeze of the hand as they left the museum.

She yawned as they walked to the car and he noticed her eyes seemed to droop a bit. "Are you tired?"

"Actually, yes, I could use a nap. I didn’t really sleep much last night. Me and mom stayed up late watching one of her Gregory Peck movies."

"You and she are very close."

"You’d be surprised at how estranged we were a few years ago." Nikita admitted.

"Because of her drinking." Michael stated. "What changed?"

"She got sick. It was the strangest thing. It just came on all of a sudden. I found her in the bathroom one night, coughing and throwing up. She had this really high fever."

Nikita allowed him to put her in the car and waited until he slid in the driver’s side to continue. "It was after my father tried to contact me. I mean, she had stopped drinking by then but we were still fighting. Anyway, she got really sick. We had to put her in the hospital, and the doctor’s thought she might die. Then, all of a sudden, she got better. They had an expert come in to try to explain it, but he was just as baffled as they were. But it scared us shitless. So we started going to therapy to work on our relationship and it actually did some good. We still go every now and then."

Nikita stopped when she saw Michael looking at her strangely. "What’s wrong?"

Michael straightened and started the car, his mind working frantically. "Nothing." He told her, somewhat distracted. Would Section One deliberately poison Roberta to get her out of the way? Especially if they thought she was the reason Andrei Chernek stayed away from his daughter?

"You sure there’s nothing wrong?" Nikita touched his arm as he shifted into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Yes, I’m sure." He recovered. "It just threw me when you said she almost died."

Michael drove them back to his hotel, trying to tamp down the fear and anger he felt. He fully intended to confront Madeline about this and find out if Roberta’s near death had been masterminded by Section. He didn’t argue that they had to sometimes use and manipulate innocents in order to reach and objective, but playing God was quite a different story.

************

Nikita admired the expensive and elegantly decorated suite Michael stayed in. It was decorated in dark green and gold. There was a small sitting room with a table and chairs and sofa, a wet bar off to the side, and a door leading to the bedroom next to it.

Michael took her coat and hung it up in the closet with his. As she wandered about the room, he looked appreciatively after her slender curves, loving the way her jeans hugged her bottom. "Would you like something hot to drink?"

Nikita flopped down on the couch and began removing her shoes. She was nervous, though she couldn’t figure out why. She’d already slept with Michael once, although she had yet to see him completely naked. Maybe it was the thought of being alone with him for two whole days, with no fortuitous interruptions from her mother or her friends to keep her from doing something scatter-brained while with him.

Michael sensed her nervousness and came to stand before her. "I thought you were tired?"

"I am." Nikita adverted her eyes to keep from staring at his crotch.

He held out a hand to her and inclined his head towards the bedroom. "The bed’s in there."

The word ‘bed’ sounded so inviting pronounced with a soft, French accent.

"I promise not to seduce you until you’re fully rested." He told her with an affectionate tease.

Laughing and more at ease, Nikita allowed him to lead her into the bedroom and he pulled back the covers of the large bed. She shucked her jeans and sweater and Michael eased one of his T-shirts over her head, but not before openly eyeing her breasts, which were dotted with evidence of their coupling the previous night.

"Was I too rough?" He asked with an impish grin.

"Just overly excited." She slid under the covers. "But that’s a good thing. Are you going to take a nap with me?"

He didn’t have to be asked twice. His clothes hit the floor where hers had landed and he slipped stark naked into bed with her, curving his body around hers from behind. Nikita was disappointed that she hadn’t gotten a good, long look at his lean muscles, but what she’d seen had nearly sent her into a swoon.

She stifled another yawn and closed her eyes, lulled by his warm body and his strong arms around her. "So what are we doing this evening?"

"I’d like to add another pair of underwear to the collection I started last night." Michael whispered against her neck.

Nikita shivered as she playfully pinched the hand squeezing her breast. "I have never met a man as focused as you."

"That’s a good thing." Michael kissed her ear and settled his chin against her head with a yawn of his own. "Go to sleep, Ni-ki-ta."

************

Michael rubbed his jaw and heaved an exasperated sigh. Nikita was as animated in sleep as she was awake. He’d only just drifted off an hour ago only to be awakened by a painful jab to his ribs. She was sprawled on her back and had pushed him dangerously close to the edge of the bed. He had tried to scoot her over a little, but received an elbow to the jaw instead. All this movement and she had yet to wake up.

After the fifth inadvertent punch, Michael neatly flipped her over on her stomach and covered half of her body with his. He pinned her lower body with a sinewy leg and hoped she would remain still until he had gotten a least another hour of sleep. He had been up until the wee hours of the morning himself, profiling missions. Operations may have given him a month off, but he still expected him to fulfill his duty to Section.

They slept peacefully until early evening, the room dimly lit by the dusky light streaming in from the window. Michael shook Nikita awake to see if she wanted dinner. When she saw the bruise on his jaw and learned how he’d gotten it, she’d immediately kissed it. It was wrong to take advantage of her, but he might as well have his other sore spots tended to as well. He pointed out each area that had received a blow from her elbow or knee, and she’d happily pressed a kiss to each.

"Here." He pointed to a spot on his inner thigh with an innocent, wounded expression.

Nikita’s eyes narrowed. "I hit you there?"

"Yes." Michael lied. "It’s still sore."

Her lips twisted in an effort not to laugh and she lightly blew on his enlarged shaft as she bent to kiss the spot.

His heart slamming into his chest, Michael pointed to a spot on his lower abdomen. "I remember taking a knee there."

Nikita stifled another laugh as she licked the invisible wound and kissed it. She heard his sharp intake of breath and wondered how much further he would take this whopper lie of his.

"I’m certain I got hit here." Michael’s green eyes were gleaming and Nikita sat up when she saw what area he pointed to.

"You did not!" She laughed. "But it’s definitely swollen."

"So you’ll help me with my…injury?" He pulled her down on top of him, his hands running up under her T-shirt.

"You are so bad." She whispered against his lips.

************

"What’s that?" Nikita pointed.

"What?" Michael stopped buttoning his pants as he looked down at himself.

Nikita slipped on her heels and rose from the bed to walk towards him. "That." She ran a finger over a small scar on his side.

"I got it when I was a child. I think I fell off a bike or something." He improvised quickly. It was actually a decade old knife wound.

"And this?" Nikita’s fingers traveled up to the smooth scar on his shoulder.

"A skiing accident."

Nikita began examining his upper body, noting for the first time the smooth, faint mars dotting his skin. She took his arm in her hand and lightly rubbed the newest one he’d gotten in Eastern Europe. His mind flashed back to a fleeting image of Angie’s body sprawled in the winter snow before he mentally pushed it away and focused on Nikita again. Her brow was furrowed slightly.

"How’d you get all the scars, Michael?"

Michael gently removed his arm and pulled a black cashmere shirt over his head. "I played hockey when I was at university. I got injured a lot."

"That means you were either really bad or really good." Nikita moved away and begin brushing her blond hair. "Where are we eating?"

"I made reservations for Italian." Michael told her, relieved that she had accepted his explanation of his scars.

Nikita flipped her hair over her shoulder and began brushing the other side. She hummed to herself as she stood before the mirror, her body and mind infinitely relaxed and sated. Their lovemaking had been even more incredible the second time, but this time they were able to savor each other and take their time without fear of interruption.

She watched through the mirror as Michael donned a black jacket and then walked up behind her. His eyes roved appreciatively over her the royal blue jersey dress that clung to her slender form. Encircling her waist and he drew her back against him and nuzzled her ear.

"Can I ask you something?" She continued brushing her hair as he lightly caressed her tummy.

"Yes?"

"What do you do when you’re at home in Paris?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you have any guy friends that you hang out with? What do you do besides work and travel?"

Michael straightened and paced slowly around the room. "I mostly stay to myself."

Nikita turned and watched him. "I never hear you talk about anything but work. Do any of your cousins live in Paris?"

"We don’t keep in touch with each other. There weren’t very many in my family, on both sides. Most of them are dead."

"You don’t have any kind of a social life?"

Michael stopped pacing to stand in front of her. "I have one with you. Why so many questions?"

Was that annoyance she heard in his voice? "I know so little about you, Michael. I just wondered what your life is like."

"Are you afraid of me?" Michael asked quietly.

"What kind of stupid question is that? I wouldn’t have slept with you if I was afraid of you." Nikita moved closer to him and wound her arms around his neck. With her heels on, they were eye-level with each other and she stared into his now unfathomable green ones. "I care about you. I’m only trying to get to know you better. With our clothes on."

Michael finally smiled and hugged her to him. "I care about you too. More than you know. I promise, I’m not a serial killer or a pervert."

Nikita leaned back to look at him. "I never said -- okay, let’s drop it. I’ll won’t ask you about it again."

Michael released her as she turned to enter the sitting room. As they prepared to leave he went over all the lies that he’d told her about his life and his family. If she asked again, he wanted to be sure there were no discrepancies that she would pick up on.

Despite Michael’s obvious reluctance to discuss his life in Paris, Nikita enjoyed the evening. He was as attentive and affectionate as usual, but Nikita sensed something was bothering him. Had her questions upset him? Michael didn’t seem to treat her any differently, so she blew off her doubts and concentrated on him. After all, she only had him for a month and then he would return to his busy travel schedule again.

They had flirted with one another so much during dinner, to the amusement of the waiter and the other diners, they went straight back to the hotel room. They had been unable to do anything more than hold hands in the crowded elevator, but once they’d entered the room, their hands and mouths found each other again.

They left a trail of clothes from the front room to the bedroom. Michael had never been felt so physically and emotionally in tune with anyone since Simone. He would lay in the darkness later and long after Nikita had fallen asleep, contemplating the fierce love and protectiveness he felt for her and how he would live without her once this mission finally ended.

************

"You look beautiful tonight, Nikita." He whispered in her ear as she washed the dinner dishes. "Even in jeans and an old sweatshirt."

Nikita tried not to grimace as she moved to put some distance between she and Jamie. "Yeah, right."

Michael had offered to make dinner for her and Roberta and Nikita had thought it would be just a nice, quiet evening with the three of them. Unfortunately, Julie and Jamie had dropped by to ask her to go to a party with them. Upon seeing Michael, Jamie had squelched the invite and finessed another dinner invitation from Roberta instead.

Nikita was surprised that her mother had been so gracious. Roberta really didn’t like Jamie all that well. He had been the one to turn Nikita on to the fast lane street life that had nearly destroyed her. She supposed Roberta was trying to be kind since Nikita considered Jamie a friend. This time, however, she couldn’t help but wish Roberta had been just a little more rude this time. She didn’t really mind Julie’s presence, but Jamie was making an ass of himself in his effort to one-up Michael. Not that Michael had let Jamie’s irksome manner bother him, but it had annoyed Nikita to no end.

Jamie had maneuvered their chairs at the dinner table so that Nikita was sitting in between Michael and Jamie. All through dinner, he would steer the conversation away from Michael, if it came to that, and onto Nikita or his and Nikita’s ‘close’ friendship. If Nikita required anything, Jamie nearly fell over himself trying to get it for her. He pointedly grabbed her hand or played with her hair. Julie had found the whole situation embarrassing and Roberta’s attempt to stop his inane behavior by giving him dagger-like stares was unsuccessful.

Jamie’s dirty machinations would have made a lesser man explode with jealous rage, but Michael had born it all with a stoic manner. Every time Jamie had pulled some asinine stunt to garner her attention, Nikita had cast a sideways glance at Michael, but his face had been an unreadable, blank mask. He hadn’t protested at all when Jamie had managed to volunteer he and Nikita for kitchen duty, either. Instead, he had joined Julie and Roberta in the living room where he was being soundly trounced at spades again, judging from her mother’s wickedly gleeful laughter.

"You still wanna go out? Julie and I thought it would be good to take a break from studying." Jamie was saying.

"No, thank you." Nikita handed him the last dish. She wanted to discourage him from any romantic overtures, so she injected Michael into the conversation. "Michael’s only in town for another few weeks and we kind of wanted to spend the time together alone."

With a frown, Jamie dried the glass dish. "He afraid to let you out of his sight?"

Sighing, Nikita emptied the dirty water from the sink and began to rinse it out. "Michael’s not the jealous type."

"He’s no good for you, Nikita. What do the two of you have in common besides maybe sex?"

"It’s not all about sex, Jamie. Don’t compare my relationship to the numerous one night stands with bimbos you have."

"Just tell me what you see him." Jamie grabbed her shoulders and forced her to face him.

"Jeez, Jamie, get a grip! You’re doing it again."

"What?"

"Trying to make me feel something I don’t." Nikita shrugged out of his grasp and stalked to the other side of the room. "I told you I only want to be friends."

"Why won’t you give me a chance?" Jamie followed her. "You and I have known each other longer and are closer than you and he will ever be."

Nikita shook her head. "Don’t force my hand, Jamie."

"What are you talking about?"

Nikita’s grabbed his hands and gripped them viciously for emphasis. "Don’t make me end our friendship."

Jamie’s expression was disbelieving. "You’d do that because of him?"

"I’d do that for me, for my peace of mind. You’re driving me crazy with this bullshit, Jamie! If you really cared about me, you’d stop putting me in this uncomfortable position."

"Nikita." Jamie pleaded as he tried to kiss her. Nikita turned her head and his lips grazed her cheek. His arms came around her to pull her into an awkward hug and Nikita stood still, a scowl of consternation on her face.

It was at that moment that Michael walked in, Roberta hot on his heels, and he took in the scene before him with the same apathetic air as before. Only his eyes gave away his anger as he slowly advanced towards them. Jamie released Nikita and stood with his back against the refrigerator, his hands in tight fists, fully prepared to defend himself. His stance was courageous, but he was inwardly apprehensive at the apparent controlled rage that Michael was suppressing.

Nikita and Roberta were also watching Michael with nervous wariness and Nikita unconsciously stepped into his path to shield Jamie from whatever pain Michael was already inflicting on him with his eyes. They all held a collective breath as Michael moved around Nikita, his hand possessively trailing down her arm. He came within inches of Jamie, then stepped around him and reached for the coffeepot.

Nikita felt as if she would crumple to the floor in a relieved heap and she glanced at her mother with a silent, wide-eyed plea. Roberta, seeing her daughter’s obvious distress, gave Jamie another scathing look. This time, it had the desired effect.

Jamie straightened from the fridge as he cleared his throat, watching Michael pour coffee out of the corner of his eye. "Uh, I’d better get going. Gotta finish cramming." He walked towards Roberta and bent to kiss her cheek, but she raised a warning finger at him. Jamie straightened, his face flushed a bright red color. "Thank you for dinner, Ms. Wirth."

"Why don’t you thank Michael since he cooked it?" Roberta taunted. She wasn’t a fan of the Frenchman yet, but she’d had just about enough of Jamie’s grade school theatrics.

"Uh…yeah. Thanks, Michael." Jamie mumbled and slipped from the kitchen.

Michael finally turned to face them and crossed his arms over his chest, his displeasure more obvious now that the source of it had fled. He tilted his head as he took in Nikita’s timorous manner, silently requesting an explanation.

Nikita shrugged and smiled timidly. "Would you believe I had something in my eye?"

************

Julie flung dirty clothes in a basket and dropped it loudly on the floor next to her front door. She kicked Jamie’s feet as she stomped by the sofa towards the kitchen.

"Hey!" Jamie sat up, tossing his textbook aside. "What was that for?"

"That’s for being a fucking jerk!" Julie retrieved a large box of detergent, stomped back towards the sofa, and kicked Jamie’s feet again. Her blue eyes blazed with anger as she stared down at him. "I can’t believe you acted like such a dick last night."

Jamie rolled his eyes. "So you been taken in by that French accent too?"

"This isn’t about Michael, Jamie, this is about you behaving like the dumb ass that you are." Julie dropped the detergent on the coffee table and put her hands on her hips. "How could you embarrass Nikita like that? And yourself? You should feel like shit right about now."

"Are you through insulting me?" Jamie stood up and entered the kitchenette. "Cause I’ve had about enough."

"I haven’t even come close to a word to describe your behavior." Julie tugged a sweatshirt from under the sofa cushion and added it to the pile in the laundry basket. "At the very least, you should have shown more respect for Nikita’s mom. If you thought she hated you before…"

"Look," Jamie came back into the living room, popping the top off a can of beer. "I don’t trust him. There’s something sneaky about him, but Nikita is too blinded by his pretty face to see it."

"Your jealousy is very obvious and so juvenile. Get over it, Jamie. Nikita and Michael are together. She has never led you to believe you two were anything other than friends. Why are you so determined to have her now? A few months ago you didn’t care."

A few months ago, Jamie didn’t have any competition. Nikita had dated a few times, but never anyone seriously. Jamie had been perfectly content with meaningless, temporary sexual flings while he waited for Nikita to realize that they were meant to be together. But then Michael had shown up and what Jamie had seen of he and Nikita together had caused him concern. Nikita had fallen hard for a smooth-talking older man and, although Jamie was loathe to admit it, he could tell Michael cared deeply for her as well.

"It won’t last."

Julie snorted as she picked up the laundry basket and opened the door. "Get a life, Jamie. Or go screw one of your air-headed girlfriends. Just leave Nikita alone."

Jamie flinched at the loud slamming of the door and wandered around the room angrily as he chugged his beer. Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Surely this long distance romance Nikita had going couldn’t last too much longer.

Michael would probably grow tired of the commute or Nikita before long. The guy looked as if he could pull chicks with a simple snap of the fingers. He probably had a dozen of them waiting back in Paris. The thrill of the chase and a taste for something different had probably attracted Michael to the sensually innocent Nikita. Now that he had actually had her, a fact Jamie had discovered while eavesdropping on one of Julie’s and Nikita’s phone calls, Michael would most likely blow her off in a matter of weeks.

"Yeah, I’ll just wait until he dumps her, then I’ll offer her a shoulder to cry on." Jamie thought. "No I-told-you-so’s, just comforting friendship that’s bound to turn into something more."

A knock on the door interrupted Jamie’s careful planning and he walked towards the door with a satisfied grin. His grin disappeared when he came face to face with Michael. The older man stood on the threshold, looking dangerous and very confident dressed in black from head to toe.

Jamie leaned against the doorframe. "Michael. If you’re looking for Nikita, she’s not here."

"I know. She’s in my hotel room. Asleep." Michael moved past him, not waiting for an invitation.

Jamie closed the door in annoyance and turned to watch Michael slowly navigate the cluttered apartment, inspecting it silently as he went. He made a circle of the room and stopped directly in front of Jamie.

"So what brings you here?" Jamie asked with feigned nonchalance.

Michael slowly removed his gloves as he sized Jamie up with a dismissive look. "I think you and I should talk."

************

"You came here to warn me off Nikita." Jamie stated as he draped his long form across a barstool. His chest stuck out slightly as he swilled his beer.

Michael took in the younger man’s bravado. He wasn’t really worried that Jamie would steal Nikita’s away from him. What concerned him was Nikita’s state of mind when she had returned to the hotel with him last night. She had already been more than a little stressed out over work and her studies. Jamie’s unwelcome advances had upset her even more. She had tossed and turned in her sleep all night.

When Michael had called Roberta to ask for Jamie’s address, she had given it to him without hesitation. "You going to kick his ass?" She had asked. "Cause if you don’t, I certainly will."

Michael had assured her he didn’t plan on kicking Jamie’s ass. He did want to try to make him see how much pain his blind pursuit of Nikita was causing her. If he refused to leave her alone afterwards, then Michael would kick his ass.

"I came to ask you to stop this." Michael told him. "I know Ni-ki-ta values your friendship, but your actions are hurting her."

Jamie laughed as he took a swig of beer. "Nik and I have been friends for a long time. Whatever shit we’ve done to each other, we’ve always managed to forgive each other for it. Who the hell are you to come here and tell me how to treat her?"

"I’m the man who loves her." Michael tapped his gloves angrily against his thigh.

Jamie laughed again. "Sure you do. Come on, Michael, it’s just us guys here. Nikita is a babe and you probably saw her as a challenge. Now that you’ve had her, you honestly expect me to believe that you won’t eventually get bored and move on?"

Michael wondered at his twisted logic. His accusation sounded more like something Jamie’s immaturity would lead him to do. "I’m not an oversexed twenty year old prone to wet dreams and unattainable fantasies."

"I’m twenty-three!" Jamie spat out.

Pacing the room, Michael hid a triumphant smile. He had scored a hit. "Tell me what you have to offer Ni-ki-ta?"

"So you’ve got a few bucks. Money’s not that important."

"I wasn’t speaking of money." Michael stopped in front of him again. "You can find security in love. Are you going to give up all night parties and beer at ten a.m. for her?"

"Who says I have to? Nikita likes parties." Jamie tossed his empty can and rummaged through the fridge for another beer.

Michael shook his head. "Kita is a homebody. Are you going to give up the intrigue of other women for her? Young men your age don’t really know how to be faithful. One week you’re into redheads. The next week, it’s brunettes."

"You’re trying to throw me." Jamie pointed an accusing finger at him. "It’s not going to work."

Michael shrugged. "What do you have to offer her?"

Frustrated at the direction of the conversation, Jamie searched frantically for a reason. He looked up suddenly. "I’m here. All the time. Can you say the same?"

"That’s going to change soon."

"And what does that mean?"

Michael ceased his slow pacing and stood in front of Jamie again. His green eyes glittered with renewed determination. "I want you to leave Ni-ki-ta alone. I’m only going to warn you once. If you continue to harass her, you’ll force my hand."

"What’re you gonna do, Michael? Beat me up?"

"Possibly. But there are other, more permanent ways to get rid of you."

Jamie’s eyes widened. "Are you threatening me?"

Michael shrugged and slid his hands in his coat pocket. "Maybe. You really don’t want to find out."

Jamie studied the dark visage of the man before him. A chill coursed through his body when he realized Michael was really serious, or maybe he just wanted it to seem that way.

"Who are you?" Jamie stepped back. "Are you in some kind of French Mafia thing?"

Michael actually laughed at this. Then he suddenly grew serious again. "No."

The two men stared at each other for several long minutes before Michael abruptly cleared his throat and slowly began to slide on his gloves. "Don’t make me have to come here again."

"You know, I can tell Nikita you threatened me." Jamie sputtered.

"Not so brave anymore." Michael taunted as he walked towards the door. "You hiding behind women now?"

Jamie’s face betrayed the disbelieving train of his thoughts. "You’re crazy, you know that?"

"No. Just possessive. It’s a weakness I haven’t quite gotten rid of." Michael pulled open the door and gave him a last look. "I’m not going anywhere, Jamie. I suggest you get used to it."

Jamie angrily threw his beer at the closing door and the amber colored liquid flew everywhere when the can connected with it.

"Fuck you!" He yelled.

************

Nikita smiled sleepily as a gently massaging hand on her back nudged her awake. She yawned softly and rolled over. Her still drowsy eyes lit upon Michael seated on the bed beside her, his hand now lightly stroking the valley between her breasts.

"Good morning." She murmured as she stretched.

"More like good afternoon." Michael corrected her. "It’s after eleven."

"Damn, Michael." She sat up. "Why didn’t you wake me? I have to be at work by one and I wanted to study first?"

"You’ve been studying too much." Michael reprimanded. "And working too much. You needed the rest."

"I’ll rest during Christmas break." She told him as she slipped her arms under his sweater. "Why are you dressed?"

Michael pulled her into a loose hug and lay his head on her shoulder. "I had to take care of some business."

"What kind of business?"

For a moment, he seriously thought of lying to her, but decided against her. He already had told her more lies than he could atone for when it came to the real reason he was in her life. The least he could do was be honest with her when it was came to other things.

"I went to see Jamie."

He heard her sharp intake of breath as she pushed him away from her. "Tell me you didn’t?"

"I just told you I did."

"Just please tell me you didn’t fight." Nikita paled as she raised a fist at him.

Michael pulled the fist towards him, gently pried her fingers open, and kissed her palm. "No, we didn’t fight. I asked him nicely to leave you alone."

"Nicely, huh?" She looked at him doubtfully. Michael might appear to be a quiet, reserved man on the outside, but Nikita knew if he ever became truly angry, he would be a force to be reckoned with.

"Well." Michael smiled. "He might have misinterpreted some of my words."

"Misinterpreted them how?" Nikita pinched his wrist, as if that could really hurt him.

"He may have gotten the impression that I would kill him if he didn’t stop bothering you?"

"Michael! You didn’t?"

"No, I didn’t. My words weren’t very clear and he assumed…"

"Men." Nikita rubbed her eyes wearily. "Why do I bother?"

Michael hugged her to him again as he lowered her back to the bed. "Because you love me?"

"Says who?" Nikita’s arms encircled his neck. "And we don’t have time for this."

"Says you, hopefully." Michael nibbled her ear. "And we did it in twenty minutes on your mother’s kitchen floor."

"Well…" Nikita moaned as his hand found her under the covers. "…quickies are good too."

************

Michael didn’t notice the other operatives or the brief acknowledgements they gave him as he traveled the path to Madeline’s office. His mind was otherwise occupied. Yesterday he had completed the David Fanning mission and having to seduce his wife had taken a huge emotional toll on Michael.

He felt guilt, remorse, and self-loathing at betraying the woman he loved, Nikita, to fulfill his obligation to Section. The profile had been Madeline’s and Michael had searched for a way around it, but had found none. So he had went through the sexual motions and felt like throwing up every time Lisa Fanning had moaned his name or cried out in release.

He was due to go back to London in two days. After the incredible four weeks they had spent together, they had both been loath to be separated again and Nikita had begged him to return so they could spend Christmas together. Up until the Fanning mission, Michael had been looking forward to it. Now he wondered how he could be with her without letting his guilt at his deception show.

Mentally preparing himself for the mind game to come, Michael entered Madeline’s office. He had given a full debrief on Fanning to both she and Operations the previous day. He knew she wanted to talk about his progress with Nikita and Michael immediately felt defensive. Though it had started as an assignment, his relationship with Nikita had evolved into so much more. It was very real and special and having to discuss the personal aspects of it with Madeline irritated him.

He stood before her desk, hands clasped before him as he waited for her intrusive inquisition to begin.

"I wanted to commend you." Madeline began with that maddening little smile of hers. "Despite the time-consuming nature of the Chernek profile, you’ve completed your duties exceptionally well and maintained extraordinary numbers on your field work."

"Thank you." Michael replied.

"I’ve kept you apprised of the terrorist activities we believe were funded by Chernek. Have you had a chance to read through them?"

Michael nodded.

"Good. Then you know that it is imperative that we bring him down. George is really pushing us on this. We haven’t made any inroads as far as locating him. He’s a very intelligent, very cunning man. He leaves no loose ends, no clues that could lead to him."

Michael remained silent as he absorbed this information. As well connected as Section was, they were stymied when trying to locate two flesh and blood men.

Madeline leaned forward as she inspected his demeanor in an effort to garner his true feelings regarding this mission. "How is your progress with Nikita?"

Michael looked away as he answered. "We’ve gotten closer."

"Have you slept with her?"

Michael steeled his inner turmoil. "Yes."

"Is she in love with you?"

"I don’t know."

Madeline examined his blank expression closely. "Do you think she’s in love with you?"

"I don’t know."

"Nikita strikes me as a cautious young woman." Madeline ventured. "But women her age are also very gullible, as you’ve proven so far. I believe she’ll reveal her feelings once you give her an incentive to do so."

"Meaning?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Michael. Tell her that you love her. That you can’t live without her. All the lies men are so good at telling in order to snare a woman." Madeline reclined in her chair again and cast him a harsh look. "You do any and everything you have to in order to get Nikita Wirth to marry you. Understood?"

Michael seethed inwardly. The last thing he needed from Madeline was advice on how to handle women. And though she should be taking a more professional interest in this meeting, she seemed to be enjoying this line of questioning a little too much. "How does her mother view your relationship?"

Michael looked straight at Madeline for the first time since he’d entered her office. "She was cautious at first, but she’s accepted me."

Madeline nodded. "She seems to have a good deal of influence on Nikita."

"From what Ni-ki-ta has told me, it’s not as great as you think."

"Really? Maybe that’s changed then. We’ve felt for some time that Roberta Wirth was the reason Chernek was reluctant to contact his daughter."

Michael waited to see if Madeline would volunteer any more information on her theory of Roberta. When she didn’t, he recklessly spoke up. "Did Section have Roberta poisoned?"

When Madeline’s eyes betrayed a moment of surprise, Michael knew the truth. "Was it really necessary?"

"At the time, yes." Madeline’s reply was firm. "If Nikita had been left alone, her father would have been more inclined to contact her."

"Why did you let her live?" Michael made fists behind his back. "Ni-ki-ta said her mother suddenly recovered."

"We didn’t. We fully intended to let her die." Madeline drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair. "Her recovery was…not a planned contingency."

"Then how?" Michael wanted to know.

"We’re still not sure. Maybe Chernek."

Or maybe tough-as-nails Roberta was just too ornery to be bested by whatever poison Section had given her. Michael smiled to himself.

"Is that all?"

"Of course. There isn’t anything here that needs your immediate attention." Madeline tilted her head. "You’re free to return to London."

Michael turned to leave.

"Michael."

"Yes?" He kept his back to her.

"I fully expect you to come back here engaged or married."

Michael paused a moment but didn’t answer her as he left her office.

************

Julie smiled affectionately as she watched Nikita cooing gently at her newborn nephew. They were visiting her older sister, Amanda, who had given birth a week ago. As her husband couldn’t afford to take off work, Julie had been coming over to help out around the house when her mother couldn’t. Today she had brought Nikita along, and her friend had immediately been taken in by little Andrew’s red hair and blue eyes.

"He looks so much like you and your sister." Nikita told her as she rubbed her nose lightly against the baby’s downy head. "And he smells so good."

"Doesn’t he?" Julie agreed as she noted Nikita’s serene demeanor.

She had never seen her friend as joyful as she had been since Michael Samuelle had entered her life. Although she was a wee bit envious, Julie was pleased to see Nikita so happy. Her childhood had been so unlike the wonderful one Julie had been so fortunate to experience, thanks to two loving parents and a protective older sister. Nikita truly deserved the happiness she had finally found.

"Nikita, you look so happy." Julie spoke her thoughts aloud. "It’s amazing what a good man and great sex can do for you."

Laughing softly, Nikita gently bounced the warm bundle of baby in her arms as she patted his bottom. "It certainly is. I’m really lucky."

"Luck has nothing to do with it." Julie continued to fold the newly laundered baby clothes. "You and Michael are so perfect together. It must have been fate that brought him into the diner that day."

"God, Julie, you are such a romantic." Nikita grimaced at the mushy words.

"Don’t tell me you haven’t been daydreaming about him and trying on his name. Nikita Samuelle. That sounds so cool."

Nikita blushed and Julie laughed knowingly. "Aha! You’re in love, my girl! Speaking of that, has Michael uttered the ‘L’ word?"

Recalling the day he had playfully asked her if she loved him, Nikita shook her head. "It’s really too soon. It seems as if everything has happened so fast."

"Please." Julie waved a dismissive hand in the air. "My parents fell in love and married within a month."

"Really?"

"Really. It would have been two weeks if my grandmother hadn’t insisted they give her time to put together a wedding ceremony." Julie laughed again. "And look. They’ve been married for twenty-eight years."

"Well, I’m proceeding with caution." Nikita gazed down at the peacefully sleeping baby. She couldn’t help but imagine what a baby of hers and Michael’s would look like.

"Hey, have you talked to Jamie lately?" Julie interrupted her thoughts.

"No." Nikita frowned. "I’m still angry with him. He hasn’t tried to call me either."

Julie giggled. "I think Michael scared the shit out of him. He keeps insisting Michael’s a member of the French Mafia."

Nikita held back a guffaw so as not to wake the baby. "He’s a lunatic."

"You know, Michael does have this mysterious, dangerous air about him. I don’t have to tell you it’s damn sexy!"

Nikita chuckled. "I know. And we’re being so silly, discussing him like a couple of horny teenagers."

They were still laughing quietly when Amanda emerged from the bathroom in a terry cloth robe, drying her bright red hair. "Oh, God, I really needed that. An uninterrupted bubble bath. Thanks, you guys."

"You’re most welcome." Nikita smiled at her. "I’d be more than happy to baby-sit for you anytime you need me. Andrew is so adorable."

"Yeah, we think so." Amanda leaned over to touch her baby’s cheek. "So what were you two grinning about?"

"Nikita’s beau." Julie sighed. "Amanda, you have got to see him. He is the most beautiful creature."

"So you’ve told me. And French too. Mmm, delicious. Nikita, you and your mom are going to my parents for Christmas dinner, right?"

Nikita nodded.

"Bring this Michael with you, then." Amanda insisted. "Julie’s been gushing so much about what a babe he is, me and mom have been dying to meet him."

"Okay, I will." Nikita accepted.

Julie clapped her hands gleefully. "Goody, goody! We’ll let him get a load of blissful domestic life and then Nikita can reel him in."

************

Michael’s hand covered his mouth as he perused the sparkling diamonds in front of him. The proprietor of the small, exclusive jewelry store had set out a large number of beautiful engagement rings for Michael to look over nearly twenty minutes ago. He was growing somewhat impatient with the young man, his desire to make a sale overriding his desire to please his customer. But then again, he understood the reason for his indecision. When he had searched for a ring for his wife nearly fifty years ago, it had taken him two days to decide on just the right one.

"Perhaps you would like to see something else?" The proprietor spoke to Michael in his native French.

Michael nodded and sat back as the old man put away the velvet display and brought out another one. He hadn’t intended on asking Nikita to marry him so soon, despite the warning he had received from Madeline. He had wanted to prolong their courtship as long as possible in order to give Chernek a chance to make an appearance. But after returning to his desolate loft last night and speaking to Nikita for several hours on the phone, he realized that he wanted to marry her. Really wanted to be her husband and not just because he needed to meet a mission parameter.

He loved her. He had admitted that to himself long ago. It was only after the Lisa Fanning debacle was over that he admitted to himself he wanted so much more than too brief trips to London and intimate time together in a cold hotel room. He wanted a real home, brightened by the little touches only a woman could provide. He wanted normalcy. He wanted to come home from a depressing mission to find Nikita eager and loving, waiting dinner for him or warming his side of the bed. Dare he say that he wanted children? He did, but he knew that leaving her and their babies would be doubly hard for him. So he would be content to love her for as long as Andrei Chernek stayed away.

"Now these are much more unique." The proprietor propped the rings up with a flourish. "See anything you like?"

Michael searched the assortment of diamonds before his eyes lit on a delicate gold and silver filigree band with six tiny diamonds circling a large marquis. "This one." Michael picked it up carefully and examined it in the light.

"An excellent choice. Your young lady will be very pleased." The proprietor smiled. "Would you like to have it engraved?"

Michael glanced at the silver watch on his wrist. His flight was due to leave in a few hours. "I don’t have time. I’ll have it done later. But thank you."

He paid for his purchase and left the jewelry store to merge with the crowded Christmas shoppers on the busy street. If he hurried, he’d have just enough time to go home and call Nikita before he packed and left for the airport.

"Michael! Hey, Michael!"

He heard someone calling him. Stopping to move up against a store window, Michael scanned the throng of people for a familiar face. A moment later, Antonia emerged from the crowd, juggling gaily wrapped packages and wearing a wide grin.

"Well hey, you." She greeted. "Haven’t seen much of you lately."

"How have you been, Toni?" Michael asked politely.

Toni raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you remember me? I’m surprised, you know, since I’m only supposed to be your material. After you dumped me on Chuck and pulled your usual disappearing act, I thought you had forgotten all about me."

"I’m sorry." Michael glanced around and then back at her again. "Are you having a problem with Chuck?"

"No, Chuck’s great." Toni shifted her packages more comfortably. "In fact, he and I and Walter are throwing a Christmas party for some of the other cold ops. Who says you can’t have the holiday spirit in Section One? You’re welcome to come."

"Thank you, but I can’t." Michael looked at his watch again. "In fact, I’m due somewhere now."

Toni looked him up and down, wondering what was going on with her former trainer. He sure had been absent a lot lately, so much so, in fact, that Madeline had deemed it necessary to make her Chuck’s material temporarily. Toni speculated that Michael’s prolonged absences in between missions could be due to another assignment he was working on, but she had learned long ago not to ask questions about private matters.

Her eyes fell on a small shopping bag in his hand and she spied the name of a jeweler printed on it. Her dark eyes widened and she looked back at Michael. "Jewelry, huh? You got a girlfriend you’re not telling me about, Michael?"

"Toni, I don’t have time for this." Michael ignored her question. "I should be back in a few days. We’ll talk then."

As he made to move away, Toni grabbed a handful of his leather jacket. "What’s going on Michael? Where do you go when you leave Section?"

Michael pointedly looked at her detaining hand and Toni reluctantly let go. "I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you in a few days." He turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Toni gnashed her teeth and threw him the finger, as she usually did when Michael turned his back on her. She liked Michael, she really did. He had gone out of his way to school her in the sneaky ways of Section and he took extra pains to keep her safe, from enemies and her own stupid mistakes. But he was an enigma, and Toni had always loved a good mystery. Her curiosity had been peaked and she made a silent vow to find out what was going on with her mentor.

************

Roberta lounged on the sofa in faded blue sweats, socks and fuzzy slippers. She sipped a mug of hot chocolate and fought back tears as Gregory Peck’s character, Atticus Finch, hugged his daughter to him in the final scene of ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’. With a sigh, she loudly blew her nose as she watched the credits roll, then channel surfed for another good movie.

"Godzilla Vs Monster Zero. Perfect." She enthused as she threw a blanket over her legs.

A light rapping on the door caused her to issue a terse curse. It was a little after ten and as she tramped towards the door she was prepared to let loose on whomever it was interrupting her rare evening of solitude.

She reigned in her reprimand when she opened the door to Michael. Roberta flashed him a genuine smile and tilted her cheek upwards. "Hey, Frenchy."

"Roberta." Michael bent to kiss her. "I’m sorry to be here so late."

"Oh, hell, you’re practically family anyway." She stepped back to allow him entry. "But Nikita’s working late at the diner. Her boss is getting ready to close the place up for Christmas."

Michael stared at the floor as he removed his gloves. He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over Roberta’s outstretched arms, then tugged on his gloves and ran his fingers through his hair. Realizing he had donned his gloves again, Michael jerked them off his hands and shoved them roughly into the pocket of his jeans.

Roberta had been watching all this with astonishment. Michael -- cool, unflappable Michael -- truly seemed nervous. He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. One hand encountered resistance because of the gloves. He pulled them out of the pocket clumsily and they floated to the floor. He stooped to pick up the gloves, then proceeded to shove them in the same pocket again.

"Er…I’ll take those gloves for you, honey." Roberta held out her hand and Michael gave her an almost relieved look.

"Thank you." He murmured as he placed them into her palm.

"Go have a seat, Frenchy. Nikita should be home soon."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." Michael clasped his hands together tightly to keep from doing something else idiotic. His heart was slamming against his chest and he felt hot and itchy.

He was nervous, and it confounded him that he should feel that particular emotion. He hadn’t been nervous about anything in a long time. This talk he had planned with Roberta had been more for her benefit than his, but he needed to come to another understanding with her given that he would soon be proposing to Nikita.

"Okay." Roberta agreed cautiously. She moved towards the sofa and Michael followed. She sat down, her eyes never leaving his face and he sat next to her, leaving a wide gap between them.

Michael leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Roberta watched him clasp and unclasp his hands, then straighten and rub them vigorously across his thighs.

Roberta frowned and punched his shoulder. "What the hell is wrong with you, Frenchy?"

How did he begin? He had rehearsed this conversation over and over again on the drive over, but now he was at a loss for words. Michael patted himself down, then slipped his hand into his shirt pocket and brought out the ring. He held it out to Roberta with nary a word and she looked from him to the ring and back to him in surprise.

"I really like you, Frenchy." Roberta deadpanned. "But I prefer my men older and uglier."

Michael muttered a French expletive and sighed heavily. "It’s for Ni-ki-ta."

"Well, I gathered that!" Roberta snatched the ring and let out a low, appreciative whistle as she turned it this way and that. "Its prime. Must have cost you a small fortune." She handed it back to him and watched as he twirled it between his fingers, lost deep in thought. "This is rather sudden isn’t it?"

"You think it’s too soon?" Michael kept his eyes on the ring.

"Are you here to ask my blessing?"

"I know you were wary of me in the beginning." Michael rubbed his hand over his face and slumped back into the cushions. "I just wanted to warn you that it was coming…in case you were against it."

"Well, what I think of you doesn’t matter." Roberta leaned back as well and watched Godzilla punch one of Monster Zero’s heads. "Nikita is the one who ultimately decides what’s best for her."

Michael seemed engrossed in the monster flick too, but he was keenly focused on their conversation. "I know you don’t like me, Roberta."

"You’re full of shit. Did I ever say I didn’t like you? I said I didn’t trust you. Which is just as bad, but anyway…you’re cool, Frenchy. I’d much rather have you as a son-in-law than that flake Jamie."

Michael should have been flattered by that huge admission, but he was still not convinced of Roberta’s apparent acceptance.

"Hey." Roberta pulled on his arm and Michael turned to look at her. Her eyes were fierce as she threatened him with the remote control. "Do you love my daughter?"

Michael gently reached out and pushed the makeshift weapon away. His eyes silently entreated her to believe him. "Yes, ma’am. Very much."

Roberta gave a disgusted snort. "I like you, Frenchy. But if you hurt her…well, you’ll be squealing a few notes higher. I will say that you two are moving a bit fast."

"You think she’ll turn me down?" Michael asked with apprehension.

"Oh no, honey. She’s as goofy for you as you are for her. If you make it a long engagement, I’ll give you my blessing."

"I promise. But only if Ni-ki-ta wants it that way."

"Ha!" Roberta clapped her hands together. "That’s my girl! She has you whipped alright!"

Michael could only laugh with her. He leaned over to kiss her cheek, but when he tried to hug her, she pushed him away. "Okay, shit, enough with the mushy stuff."

************

Michael studied Nikita as she slept. He examined the sweep of her blond lashes, the curve of her cheek and her full mouth. Lightly, he traced his finger over her jaw. He kissed her shoulder softly and rolled over onto his back, then pulled the engagement ring from under the corner of the mattress and examined it.

He didn’t feel quite as nervous this morning as he had last night when he’d told Roberta of his intentions. In fact, he felt very contented and at peace with the knowledge that he was doing the right thing. Of course, he had no idea if Nikita would accept or decline his proposal. Maybe he was overconfident or just plain hopeful, but he was extremely happy at the thought of Nikita becoming his wife.

When she’d finally arrived home last night, she had greeted him with an enthusiastic hug and a kiss that had him rushing her to pack and overnight bag so she could return here with him. Roberta had bid them goodnight with a knowing smile. In the car, all his guilty thoughts of Lisa Fanning and Andrei Chernek had fled when she had laid her head on his shoulder and caressed his thigh on the trip back to the hotel. Michael had silently debated on a good time to ask Nikita the big question, but she had been so tired, he had decided to hold off until today.

Should he do it over a romantic dinner or just ask her outright? He’d never proposed marriage before. He and Simone had simply decided to marry one night when the subject had come up. He wasn’t even sure if Nikita loved him. She hadn’t answered his playful query a month ago, so he was just going on instinct and Roberta’s admission of Nikita’s mutual goofiness over him.

He rolled back towards her, molding his body to hers. Last night, she’d dressed in a nightgown, brushed her teeth and washed her face and slipped into bed beside him. Michael had taken her in his arms, eager to make love after their short separation. It was only after he had worked his way down to her breasts and began kissing them that he realized she had fallen asleep. He hadn’t bothered to wake her up, but he had surely had a hell of a time going to sleep himself.

Now, as he pressed his erect shaft into the curve of her soft bottom and curled his body around hers, he wondered if he should propose first or satisfy is libido. Slowly, he ran the ring up her arm to her cheek. He kissed her ear and then rubbed the ring lightly against her mouth.

"Ni-ki-ta." He whispered into her ear as he licked the lobe.

Nikita wrinkled her nose and frowned as she began to wake. She was disoriented at first, but then realized it was Michael who was snuggling up to her and trying his best to arouse her. She smiled in sleepy amusement when she felt his hardness pressing against her from behind. She felt something cool and hard caressing her lips, then her chin, and the curve of her breasts.

"Ni-ki-ta." Michael kissed her neck as he stroked the ring around her nipple.

"What are you doing?" She murmured.

"I’m trying to wake you so I can have my way with you."

Nikita yawned and stretched. "Didn’t you have your way with me last night?"

"You fell asleep on me."

Nikita turned on her back and looked up at him. "I did, didn’t I?" She took his face in her hands and kissed his mouth. "I’m sorry."

"Don’t be." Michael nipped her lips and caressed the ring around her other nipple. "But now that you’re rested…"

"What is that?" Nikita grabbed his hand and pulled it into her line of vision. Michael watched her blue eyes widen and her mouth drop open. Her grip on his hand tightened as she continued to stare at the ring, speechless. She turned her stunned gaze on Michael, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression.

"What is this?" She finally choked out.

Michael threw his leg over hers and propped his head into his hand. "What do you think it is?"

Nikita’s eyes blinked rapidly and she kept looking back and forth from him to the ring. "It looks like an engagement ring."

"Your powers of perception are a little dull in the morning."

Nikita should her head back and forth and opened and closed her mouth repeatedly as she searched for something to say. Her heart was beating out an excited rhythm in her ears, her chest, and her stomach. "Are you…proposing?"

"That’s the purpose of the ring." Michael told her as if she were a stupid, stupid child.

"Michael, you just don’t spring this kind of thing on a girl in the wee hours of the morning and expect her to form a lucent thought afterwards." Nikita turned his hand at different angles to examine the ring. "It’s beautiful."

"Does that mean you’ll wear it?"

Nikita laughed nervously. "If you’re asking me to marry you, you’re doing a poor job of it. Aren’t you supposed to be down on one knee?"

Michael tried to rise, but Nikita pulled him back down. "I don’t really want you to go down on one knee!"

He stared down at her as he waited for her to continue. He was as tense and anxious as she was, especially since he stood to lose more than she did. "Will you marry me?"

Nikita’s eyes rested on the ring again. She had no doubt in her heart that she was in love with Michael. That it had all happened so suddenly was of no consequence to her. She was a usually practical person, so she didn’t worry that this was a whirlwind, spur-of-the-moment fling. She couldn’t imagine herself with another man after experiencing Michael Samuelle, not even if somehow their relationship ended somewhere down the road.

She knew that he must love her, given this sudden proposal. But neither one of them had ever uttered the words. Nikita wasn’t the type of woman who needed to hear ‘I love you’ often, so long as she knew and felt she was loved. But she wanted to make sure that Michael was sure of what he wanted.

"Why do you want to marry me?" She cradled his hand to her chest and looked up at him expectantly.

Michael sighed as he raised her hand to kiss it, then returned it to her breast. "Because I like making love covered in vanilla ice cream."

"And?"

"Because I miss you when I’m away."

"And?"

"Because you make me happy."

"And?"

"Because I love you."

Nikita gave him a beatific grin and rewarded him with a long, wet kiss. When she released him, they both were panting heavily and Nikita raised her left hand. "I love you too."

Michael’s hands trembled as he slid the ring on her finger, then kissed it reverently three times. His eyes gleamed brightly as he moved between her thighs and pulled her nightgown over her head. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I’m sure." She ran her hands over his back and reached up to kiss his throat.

"I’m not an easy man to live with." He groaned as her hands squeezed his naked backside.

"Well then we’re even." She chuckled against his neck. "You have to deal with my mother."

************

Michael and Nikita sat hand in hand on the sofa before Roberta, who stood in front of them, arms folded across her chest. "So you two are engaged? Well, I’m surprised. I didn’t think you would get this far."

"You’re supposed to be happy for us, Mom." Nikita told her as she tried to give her mother a warning look.

Roberta ignored her. "I am, I am. I just want you two to be sure you know what you’re getting into."

"We know, Mom." Michael grinned at her.

"Don’t call me that yet." Roberta pointed a finger at him.

"I’m sorry."

"Now, Nikita’s got a good chance of graduating next May, so I think you should wait to get married after that."

Nikita started to speak but Michael gripped her hand in warning and she remained silent. They had already decided that between the three strenuous rounds of lovemaking they’d engaged in this morning.

"And I want you to really think about the serious nature of marriage during that period." Roberta wagged a finger at them. "It’s not all sunshine and great sex."

"I’ve been married before, Roberta." Michael sighed. "I know what’s involved."

"Yeah, but Nikita doesn’t." Roberta replied. "I don’t want her to make the same mistakes I did."

"And I told you before, Michael is not my father." Nikita spoke up, a little annoyed at her mother’s treating them as if they were infatuated teens.

Michael felt a tiny prick of guilt at her innocent words, but he was too happy to let it bother him for long. "We understand your concern, but Nikita and I know what we want and we can handle it."

Roberta looked at them again before she gave in and held her arms out. "Okay, then. Congratulations. Come give me a hug."

Smiling profusely, they both rose to envelop her in a tight embrace. Roberta allowed it for a moment, then pushed them roughly away as she wiped misty eyes on the sly. "That’s enough. It’s Christmas Eve, shit, let’s celebrate."

"Let me take the two of you out to dinner." Michael offered as he hugged Nikita to his side.

"Hey, that sounds good." Roberta agreed. "Let me go and change into my sexy duds." Halfway to her bedroom, she turned. "I don’t want to be a Scrooge, so since you’re engaged now, it’s okay for you to spend the night here, Frenchy. I know you must be tired of that hotel room."

"Mom, the sofa is way too small for him." Nikita looked down at the couch dubiously.

"Well, duh, Nikita, I meant he could stay with you in your room since he’s practically your husband. Don’t ever accuse me of not being a hip, nineties mother." Roberta continued on to her room. "Just don’t let me hear squeaking springs and a pounding headboard. I think that would drive me to drink again."

Michael chuckled at Nikita’s reddened face. "I can’t believe she said that."

************

"Hey, Frenchy!" Michael felt a slap on his bare shoulder. "Wake up, dammit! I’ve been beating on that door for the last ten minutes."

Michael opened one eye and looked up at his future mother-in-law. Roberta stood over him smiling delightedly. "Merry Christmas, Frenchy! Well, hell, you’re kinda buff, aren’t you? You and Nikita sleep like the dead. Get up so we can open presents."

Michael watched calmly as Roberta swept out of the room, not bothering to close the door. He looked down at himself to make sure he was covered and breathed a sigh of relief. He had managed to keep part of the blankets over his naked form despite Nikita’s hogging them most of the night. He felt her pressed against his back and he groggily eyed the digital clock on her nightstand.

It was nearly six a.m. Michael was normally and early riser, but when he was with Nikita, he tended to wake a few hours later than normal. Besides that, Roberta had kept them up past midnight last night trimming the gigantic Christmas tree Michael had lugged inside and helping her make pecan pies to take to Julie’s parents’ home for dinner.

"What time is it?" Nikita groaned behind him.

"Almost six." Michael closed his eyes again. Maybe he could get another five minutes in before rising.

Nikita groaned again. "I can’t believe she came in here. What if we’d been doing something?"

"She probably would have wagged her finger at us and told us to stop so we could come open presents. You should have locked the door."

"You sure you want to marry into this family?"

"We could always send her to a retirement home." Michael yawned.

Nikita pinched his behind. "I warned you. Can you tell my mother gets a little excited about Christmas?"

"Mmmm."

"She still thinks I’m five." Nikita groused as she burrowed closer to him.

"Hey in there!" Roberta yelled from the other room. "Get yer asses in here!"

Michael swore as he tried to roll over on his back, crushing Nikita under him. "Tonight we go back to the hotel."

************

"I think Michael is becoming emotionally attached to Nikita Wirth."

Operations absorbed Madeline’s statement for a moment before answering. "And that’s a problem?"

"You don’t think so?" Madeline raised an eyebrow.

"Madeline." Operations lit a cigar. "You of all people should know that any long term contact with a mark could result in some type of emotional attachment. Hell, it’s even happened to me. Now, from what I’ve seen of Nikita Wirth on surveillance videos, she is a very beautiful and charming young woman, despite her deplorable upbringing. It stands to reason that Michael would begin to care for her."

"Not Michael." Madeline argued. "He has never, in all the time he’s been in Section One, fallen for a mark or anyone he was deceiving inside Section. He has always been able to concentrate on meeting each and every parameter by any means necessary and achieving successful closure."

"Well, what do you suggest we do?"

"Pull him off the mission." Madeline advised. "Bring in another operative to pose as a long-suffering wife. Create a small scandal so Nikita Wirth won’t be tempted to contact him after Michael’s gone. Then, when she’s had some time to recover, bring in another operative."

Operations shook his head. "That won’t work, Madeline. How do you know the next operative won’t fall for her as well?"

"I was thinking of bringing in someone more ruthless."

"And how do you know if she will fall for the new operative?" Operations reasoned. "If she hadn’t taken to Michael, we would have extracted him and sent in someone else. But she did take to Michael, and he is my best operative. I want him to stay where he is."

"He won’t be objective when things go hot." Madeline warned.

"He will. I trust Michael. Despite his feelings for this girl, if he has any at all, he will do what is required of him. He stays where he is. End of discussion."

"May I suggest surveillance be put in the Wirth home?" Madeline tried another tactic.

"No!" Operations expelled the word with a puff of smoke. "If Chernek decides to contact his daughter and wants to put surveillance in their home, don’t you think he’d be suspicious if cameras were already there? Think, Madeline!"

"I still say we need to observe. Michael’s been given too much free reign on this."

"He’s been given the same degree of authority on this as Victor has with the Vacek mission. Were treading on very thin ice here, Madeline. We must be careful."

Madeline pursed her lips tightly as she walked to the other end of the loft. "Have you read his reports?"

Operations cursed in exasperation. "Damn it, Madeline, didn’t I say this discussion was over?"

"Have you?"

Trying to placate her, Operations leaned against his desk and took a deep breath. "Yes I have. Why?"

"He leaves out a lot of details. As if he’s trying to keep some things private."

"He’s screwed her, she trusts him. That’s all I care about." Operations sneered. "Do you want him to detail what positions they use? I know you like to watch, Madeline, but -- "

"There’s no need to be crude. I’m concerned with the course of this mission."

"No more than I am. If we don’t get Chernek, my ass is on the line, not yours." Operations ran his hand through his neat hair. "If it will make you feel better, equip him with a com unit."

"That’s not enough."

"It is for now!" Operations growled. "End of discussion, Madeline!"

Giving him a scathing look, Madeline turned stiffly and left the aerie. She had her own resources. If she wanted to spy on Michael, she could do so without Operations knowing. And that was exactly what she intended to do.

************

Michael fingered the silver rope necklace around his neck and the intricately designed charm dangling from it. He stepped under the shower’s spray as he did so, closing his eyes and tilting his head backward as the hot water washed over his body. He looked down at the charm again and slowly rubbed a finger over the tiny replica of St. Michael, a Christmas present from Nikita.

As he stood under the spray, he closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle pounding of the water against his skin. He placed his hands against the tiled shower wall and leaned forward to allow the spray to run down his neck and back. Smiling, he recalled the tiring, yet pleasant time he had spent with Nikita and Roberta the day before.

After Roberta’s rude awakening, he and Nikita had wearily trudged into the living room and slumped onto the sofa with equally loud yawns. Michael had went all out for Nikita. He hadn’t purchased a present for anyone in a long time, and he had wanted to spoil her. Roberta had been impressed. Nikita had been floored. She had protested his generosity given the costly rock she now wore on her left hand. But she had been as excited as a child when she’d unwrapped the new leather trench, the delicate gold charm bracelet, the beige cashmere sweater, and the small diamond earrings. Upon unwrapping the white, silk nightgown, she’d blushed shyly and Roberta had teased her mercilessly.

Michael’s presents to Roberta, a Gregory Peck video library and a gold wristwatch, had left her speechless. It had been Nikita’s turn to tease then. And Michael had been touched himself when his recalcitrant future mother-in-law had presented him with a hand-knitted sweater and Nikita had given him the necklace. That they cared enough for him to actually take the time to find gifts for him had affected him greatly, especially since he was knowingly deceiving them.

He had watched as Nikita had enthusiastically crushed her mother in a grateful embrace upon unwrapping a laptop that must have cost Roberta a small fortune. Michael had taken her aside and tactfully asked if he could help her pay for it, but she had waved him away. She had scrimped and saved for the computer so Nikita wouldn’t have to keep borrowing Julie’s and the light in her eyes at being able to do something for her daughter had given him pause.

He was hopelessly in love with Nikita and he really cared for her mother as well. Already, he thought of them as his family. How greatly would they suffer when Andrei Chernek was finally captured and he had to leave them? Once married, he would have to completely uproot Nikita and move her to Paris, which would make her more dependent on him. Maybe he should come up with a security plan for her when that finally happened. He didn’t trust Section to take care of either of them once he was permanently removed from their lives. As soon as they reached their endgame, Nikita and Roberta would be completely forgotten.

Michael sighed as he moved his head back and forth under the shower’s spray. They had accepted him and given him the gift of their trust. They’d even taken him to Julie’s parents’ home for dinner and that family had shown him kindness as well. He had never felt so guilty at deceiving innocents as he did now, and no amount of reasoning could make him feel any better about such a hopeless situation.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the bathroom door creak slowly open or the tread of booted feet across the tiled floor.

"Michael?" Nikita called over the hiss of the shower and pulled the fogged door back to peak at him. He jumped slightly at her sudden appearance, then gave her a welcoming smile.

"Hi." He said softly as he pushed his soggy hair back from his face.

Nikita allowed her eyes to roam appreciatively down his glistening body, then back to his face. "Hey, honey." She drawled. "You getting all clean for me?"

"Who else?" Michael stepped back from the spray and rubbed his hand over his face. "Why aren’t you at work?"

"It was slow." Nikita told him. "Brent gave me the afternoon off. I had lunch with Julie and now I’m here to ravish my fiancé."

Michael grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her into the shower, but Nikita squealed and jerked away. "Are you dense? You’ll ruin my new coat."

"I thought you were going to ravish me?" Michael grinned as he leaned against the shower door.

Nikita lowered her lashes as she moved backward, seductively untying the leather sash. "If you want to be ravished, you have to come out here."

Michael was never one to back down from a challenge. He squeezed the water from his hair, then opened the shower door wider and stepped out. He advanced towards Nikita as she leaned back against the porcelain sink. With lightning quickness, he gripped her around the waist and dragged her to him. Nikita squirmed as he wet body molded against hers.

"Could you at least dry off first?" Nikita laughed.

Michael lowered his head and slanted his wet mouth over hers. Nikita snaked her arms around his neck, her fingers playing in the damp hair at his nape. He slipped his arms under her coat and begin pushing up the calf-length red wool dress she wore.

Nikita broke the kiss and gasped for air as he gently suckled her neck. Her hands glided over the slick muscles of his shoulders, his back, and his buttocks. Her fingers slid over his toned abdomen, moved lower to tangle in the damp thatch of curls, then flexed around the rigid evidence of his arousal.

Michael groaned at the contact and his hands hurriedly worked the dress up to bunch around her waist. He lifted his head to seize her mouth again, his hand parting her thighs to cup her intimately. Amused at her lack of underwear, his fingers fondled the moist flesh. Nikita moaned under his mouth and moved sideways toward the bedroom, desperately trying to pull him with her.

Michael was much more impatient. He eased her slowly down onto the tiled floor, his mouth never leaving hers. Vaguely he realized that she was still fully clothed and wearing her leather trench coat, but he was too caught up in the moment to worry about removing them. He couldn’t push the thick material of her dress up any farther than her hips, so for the moment he contented himself with massaging her breasts through the soft material. Nikita tried wriggling out of her coat, but Michael’s wet body effectively pinned her to the floor, his tongue and teeth fervently ravishing her mouth.

So caught up was she in the tempest of erotic sensation that she barely noticed he had eased her legs, still encased in knee-length black boots, up and around his waist. He released her mouth to bury his hot tongue in her ear at the same time he thrust his shaft deep inside of her. As he plunged deeply and wildly into her, he gasped brokenly in his native language against her neck. She held him close to her as she cursed her decision to take Spanish instead of French at school.

"Vous étes ma vie." He rasped.

What was he saying to her now? Nikita abandoned the thought as he grasped her hips and ground slowly into her, his lower body wedging itself tightly between her thighs. She moaned at the exquisite pulsation within her. Nikita gripped his shoulders, pressed her heels firmly against the floor, and thrust upward. Her efforts were rewarded with an appreciative male groan.

"Si bon, Ni-ki-ta." Michael whispered fervently in her ear.

A delicious shiver coursed through her body as her previous thought returned.

"Yes, I have definitely got to learn French."

************

A low growl rumbled in Nikita’s stomach as she snuggled into Michael’s warm back. After making love to her dripping wet fiancé on the bathroom floor, Nikita had moved them into the bedroom where they had engaged in a continuous loop of talking, sleeping, and making love for the rest of the evening. Food had been the last thing on their minds, but now, as Michael slept again, her tummy was protesting.

Chinese food. That was what she wanted, she decided. She slipped her leg between Michael’s as she snaked an arm around him to caress his chest.

"Kita, give me at least another hour to recover." He muttered groggily.

Softly, she bit his shoulder as she leaned over him. "I don’t want that." She rested her chin on his arm. "I’m hungry."

"I think there’s some snacks at the bar."

Nikita huffed. "I don’t want peanuts and candy. I want real food."

"It’s after midnight, Ni-ki-ta. Can’t you wait for morning?"

"Babe, I’m craving Chinese and I have to have something to eat now

Michael sighed as he buried his face under his pillow. "I think the kitchen is closed."

"I know this place that serves the best Chinese food. I think they’re still open." Nikita pleaded as her stomach rumbled again.

Michael turned on his back and pulled her head down onto his chest. "I love you, but I’m not going out at this hour for -- " He paused suddenly to peer at her in the darkness. "You’re craving Chinese food?"

"Yes." Nikita perked up in the hope that he was changing his mind. She raised up slightly to look down at him. "Can we go, pretty please?"

Michael’s hands splayed over the soft skin of her hips. "Are you…I mean…is there something you’re not telling me?"

Nikita frowned. "Like what?"

"Like why are you craving Chinese food in the middle of the night? You’re not…pregnant are you?" Michael tensed as he waited for her answer. Even though he had dreaded the thought of leaving her a single mother before, he felt a tiny prick of anticipation at the thought of Nikita bearing his child.

"Well…" she began. "My period was a little late…"

In the dimness, Nikita could see the widening of his eyes and his mouth opening in surprise. She placed her hand on either side of his head and shook it gently. "I was just kidding, Michael. I’m not pregnant. I told you I was on the pill."

Michael expelled a partly relieved, but disappointed breath. He leaned up to kiss her, then cradled her against his chest as he sat up. "Then lets get you fed so I can get some sleep."

As he moved to get out of bed, he heard the low ringing of his cell phone. He suddenly grew serious as he nudged Nikita aside and retrieved it from the nightstand on the other side of the bed.

"Yes?" He asked crisply, aware of Nikita hovering curiously behind him.

"Jacques." Madeline intoned. "Come in."

Michael glanced back at Nikita. "Now?"

"We’re under attack. Red Cell has the directory."

A sickening dread filled Michael as he slipped into mission mode. "On my way."

Michael snapped the phone shut and jumped up from the bed, mentally going over the train and airline schedules he had memorized and deciding a train to Paris would deposit him there in an hour. He switched on the bedside lamp and quickly yanked a suit from the closet.

"Michael? What’s going on?" Nikita clutched the sheet to her naked breasts as she squinted to adjust her eyes to the sudden light.

"I have to get back to Paris." He told her in a rush. "There’s a problem at my office."

"Now?" She echoed his earlier question to Madeline.

"Yes now." Michael swiftly flung his clothes in a garment bag and alternately dressed at the same time. "It can’t be helped."

Nikita watched him incredulously. "What kind of problem would have you racing back to Paris at one in the morning?"

Michael cursed audibly. Now was not the time for an argument and he sensed one brewing. He knew at some point that Nikita would again begin to question his abrupt absences, but he hadn’t yet conjured up a plausible explanation for when the inquisition started. Tonight, given the seriousness of the situation at Section, he just didn’t have time to explain.

"Can’t they get someone else to take care of whatever it is?"

"No." Michael uttered tersely as he sprinted around the room, throwing things into a carry-on.

He didn’t notice Nikita’s furious countenance as she sat stunned in the middle of the bed. "Michael. You just got here two days ago. You asked me to marry you, and now you’re going to just leave? For how long?"

"I don’t know, Ni-ki-ta." He stopped only a moment to look at her as he sat on the bed to put on his socks and shoes. Regret filled him as he drank in the lovely sight of her -- naked, bright hair spilling around her shoulders, his ring glittering proudly on her hand. "I’m sorry, ma chere. I’ll send for you when I can. You could stay with me in Paris the rest of your break and I promise we’ll spend more time together then."

"I can’t just up and leave!" Nikita yelled. "Brent needs me at the diner. He’s already short-handed as it is."

Exasperated, Michael rose from the bed again. "Quit the damn job, Ni-ki-ta! I can take care of you."

"I don’t want you to take care of me! I’ve been taking care of myself for a good while now."

Michael spread his hands wide in anger. "What do you want me to do, then? I have to leave -- this is an urgent matter."

"I want my fiancé to stop running off to God knows where every time that damn phone rings! I feel like fucking Lois Lane!"

"Ni-ki-ta." Michael buttoned his suit jacket, then jerked on his trench. "I have to go." He walked towards her and pulled her up to kneel in front of him on the edge of the bed. "I’ll make it up to you, okay?" He bent to kiss her, but she angrily turned her head away, azure eyes furious and filled with tears.

Michael wanted to comfort her, but so many other things were racing through his mind. Despite his flurry of activity and simultaneous quarrel with Nikita, he had already begun plotting possible scenarios to diffuse the Red Cell threat. She would have to stay mad at him until Section was no longer in danger. He let her go to grab up his bags, then strode towards the door. Turning back to her, his eyes pleaded with her for understanding. "I’ll call you."

As he closed the door behind him, he heard her scream angrily. "Don’t bother!"

************

Humming along to the radio perched on the windowsill, Roberta washed breakfast dishes and observed her daughter’s dejected state. Nikita sat slumped in her chair, a frown on her face as she plucked at a piece of toast. She had awakened this morning to discover Nikita curled up on the sofa, still dressed, her eyes swollen and red from crying and mumbling something about Michael being called away to Paris suddenly.

Roberta hadn’t probed for more than that, but she had correctly concluded that Nikita was a little put out at Michael for leaving her yet again because of his job. She really didn’t think it was her business to offer an opinion on the situation. The worst thing you could do was bring others into your personal relationship. But she couldn’t stand seeing Nikita so unhappy, especially after the thrill of getting engaged on Christmas Eve.

"Must have been a hell of a fight?"

She thought Nikita was ignoring her or simply hadn’t heard her, but a few seconds later, she responded. "Not really."

Wiping her hands on a towel, Roberta took a seat across from Nikita. "So, I guess you’re mad because he went tearing off to Paris again."

Nikita broke the toast in half and begin crumbling it with her fingers. Roberta wondered it she was picturing Michael’s dick instead of the piece of toast.

"Baby."

"What?" Nikita mumbled.

"At least he has a job. Some of the smucks you brought home couldn’t even say that."

"They were students, mom."

"So fucking what?" Roberta snorted. "You knew when you accepted Michael’s marriage proposal that he had a crazy job that required him to travel a lot and took up a big chunk of his time. Didn’t you?"

Nikita glanced up angrily. "You taking his side now? You didn’t even like him."

"I didn’t trust Michael. I like him just fine, but I’m not taking his side." Roberta pounded the table with a small fist. "I’m just trying to make you see how unreasonable you’re being. You’re not even married yet, and already you’re freaking out at the first test of your relationship."

"Whatever, mom." Nikita went back to demolishing her toast. "He could’ve said no, or found some other way to take care of the problem."

"How do you know? Do you know how to do his job?"

"He could’ve found another way." Nikita repeated. "And then he tells me to quit my job so I can go to Paris with him. How selfish is that?"

"Baby."

"What?"

"You. Are. Stupid."

Nikita pushed her toast away with a disgusted sigh. "I don’t even want to talk to you about this anymore."

"You’re being silly, Nikita. Michael travels here all the time to see you and you’re too worried about your burgeoning career at the diner to go to Paris to see him." Roberta propped her hands on her hips and shook her head. "I thought I taught you better than that."

"You taught me not to let a man make a fool out of me."

"If I had a looker like Michael buy me a rock like yours and worship me like a lovesick puppy, I’d let him make an ass out of me."

"You wouldn’t."

"Nikita." Roberta took the plate of withered toast and went to the sink. "You’re supposed to stand by your husband, not behind him throwing daggers at his head. While Michael is away, I suggest you think long and hard about what you have to deal with when you’re married and if you still want to marry him after you’re through thinking. I’d hate to see you lose a good man because you were too immature to cope with minor shit like this."

Nikita lay her head on the cool table and brought her hand up close to her face. She replayed her mother’s words or wisdom in her mind as she fondly recalled the last few incredible months. Sadly, she gazed at her engagement ring as she contemplated her future as Mrs. Michael Samuelle.

************

Michael and Toni danced slowly in the dark, smoky interior of a jazz club. He looked nonchalantly over her head as she rested it against his shoulder and followed his lead.

"Perimeter team converge." Michael spoke quietly. "Tyler’s coming up the north stairwell now. Do we have new intel, Birkoff?"

Birkoff’s voice came through clearly over their com units. "None. Still not sure why he’s here."

Toni allowed Michael to turn her as she swayed to the music. "He’s at the bar with someone. Do you know him, Michael?"

"No. Birkoff, can you ID him?"

"Hold up." Birkoff told him. "Drayson, give me a visual." Several moments passed as they waited for the data.

Michael’s eyes fell on a leggy blond and his thoughts wavered for a moment as a vision of Nikita entered his mind. Forcing his thoughts back to the mission, he spoke brusquely. "Birkoff?"

"No match, Michael." Birkoff replied. "He’s not in any of our databases."

Toni tilted her dark head slightly. "Well, they’re moving. What do we do?"

Michael turned her again as he issued orders. "Drayson, stay with Tyler. Teams one and three, pick up our mystery man. Let’s find out who he is."

"What mode?" Birkoff asked.

"Make it look like an arrest."

"Okay. All teams switch to ‘B’ channel."

Michael abruptly released Toni and grabbed her hand. "Let’s go."

Toni wondered at Michael’s dark mood as they rode in the mission van on the trip back to Section. He had seemed preoccupied ever since they had won the war with Red Cell last week.

Toni herself had been a bit preoccupied and pissed after that mission. Chuck’s deception during their capture had hurt her deeply. It was bad enough that she had actually developed feelings for him, and that he knew it. That he would knowingly lead her to believe he cared for her so she would reveal the substation location in a twisted but brilliant Section plot had been too much for her to handle. She had begged Madeline to be reassigned to Michael, and she had acquiesced.

But her ire wasn’t so blinding that she hadn’t noticed Michael’s own lack of concentration on this assignment. He sat at the rear of the van, looking delectable in a black suit and dark red open-neck shirt. He was idly toying with the silver necklace he wore around his neck and seemed deep in thought. Toni’s eyes had been drawn irresistibly to the beautiful necklace and the charm that dangled from it. She hadn’t been able to recognize the image and she wondered what it was and what woman had bought him the necklace. It didn’t look like anything a man would purchase for himself, so Toni had surmised that it had had to come from a woman.

Though she knew it was none of her business, she decided she would ask her mentor out for coffee and see if she could extract some personal intel from him. Wouldn’t all those delusional sluts be sick to know the most wanted hunk in Section was spoken for?

Upon reaching Section, Michael locked himself in his office and logged onto his computer. He had spoken to Nikita only once since their argument. She hadn’t sounded as if she were still upset with him, just a little melancholy.

Madeline had set up a special phone line for Nikita to call when she tried to get in touch with him. When Nikita called Michael’s ‘office’, she had no idea that she was really talking to a surveillance operative specifically assigned to such tasks. The operative would either patch her through to Michael, if he was in Section, or tell her he was in a meeting or out of the office. He also had a special email account set up for her to contact him and he accessed it now in hopes that there was a message from her.

To his relief and pleasure, she had emailed him, hoping he would turn up in London tomorrow for a New Year’s Eve party Julie’s parents were having. Not likely, Michael thought. The current mission with Tyler was would probably prevent that. He picked up his phone to dial her number, but there was no answer at her and Roberta’s apartment. Disappointed that he couldn’t hear her voice, he sent a reply to her email, hoping she wouldn’t be too ticked off that he wouldn’t be able to be with her.

There was a buzz on his phone’s intercom and Michael answered it. "Yes?"

"Michael." Came Operation’s commanding voice. "Can I see you in my office?"

"Of course." Michael replied and logged off his laptop. He was exiting his office as Victor was about to knock on his door.

"Michael." Victor acknowledged. "I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment."

"I can’t now." Michael returned. He had seen Victor only once in passing during the war with Red Cell. They hadn’t spoken to each other since that day in his office, when Victor had admitted his quandary involving his mark.

"You think you might have time later? We could go get a beer?"

"I’m sorry. My schedule’s full." Michael lied. He really didn’t want to talk to Victor when he knew the topic would be the deep cover assignments they were on. His feelings for Nikita and his disdain for the mission were too intense to discuss with anyone else, even the only other person who was sure to understand Michael’s conflict. Besides that, he really didn’t trust Victor. They may both be in the same predicament, but he could very well be a spy for Madeline or Operations.

"Well." Victor appeared genuinely disappointed. "Maybe some other time."

For a moment, Michael watched the other operative walk away with slumped shoulders before he continued on to Operations’ loft.

************

"I’ve read your most recent report regarding the Chernek mission." Operations propped himself on the bar in front of the glass window of the loft. He studied Michael’s rigid stance as he went on. "I understand you’re engaged."

"Yes."

"Good. You’re proceeding quicker than anticipated. Has she set a date?"

"May."

"You can’t talk her into anything sooner?"

"No."

"No matter." Operations decided. "Chernek probably won’t make contact before then anyway."

Michael remained silent until the older man continued. "When you marry her and bring her back to Paris, there will be some things expected of you. Your mission rotation was cut back a little, but once you and Nikita are settled, that will return to normal. Also, we will find a new location for the both of you. No one is privilege to that info put Madeline and myself. If anyone else compromises us because of the directory’s loss, I want to be sure Chernek’s daughter is out of harms way."

"Of course." Michael was elated at this bit of news.

"There will be no surveillance in your home, for obvious reasons. You’ll be required to wear a com unit from time to time. If your conversation ever centers around Chernek, it’s your duty to activate it for that purpose."

"Understood."

"One more thing, Michael." Operations eyes locked with his. "If you have feelings for Nikita, make the most of it while you can. When Chernek comes on the scene, I expect you to do whatever it takes, no matter what it involves, to get the job done. Are we clear?"

"Yes." Michael replied stoically.

"Dismissed."

************

Michael finally returned to London three days into the new year. Nikita must have missed him during his absence. She had greeted him with an ardent kiss and had not even mentioned their argument or his inability to return for the New Year’s Eve party. He had wanted to question her about her reticence regarding his ‘job’, but he thought it best not to rock the boat.

The next evening they went out for dinner. It was a clear, cold night, the kind he knew she loved. Although she never mentioned their previous rift, Michael sensed there was something bothering her. Nikita was usually more animated and talkative, but she responded to his attempts at conversation with a forged smile or a barely perceptible nod. She’d begged off going dancing, claiming fatigue. In the car, Michael assented to her need for silence as he made to drive her home. When she saw the direction he was headed in, she laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"Aren’t we going back to the hotel?"

"I thought you might like to go home. You seem…distracted this evening."

Michael kept his eyes on the road.

"I’m sorry. Just thinking about some things." She leaned over and softly kissed his ear. "But I want to be with you tonight."

Relieved at her words, Michael guided the car towards the hotel instead as Nikita laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh. She still seemed troubled but he was slowly learning not to pressure Nikita where her thoughts were concerned. Eventually, she would make them known.

Hand in hand, they strolled through the lobby of the hotel, Michael carrying her overnight bag. The clerk at the concierge desk gave them a familiar greeting. He had seen the young couple coming and going, separately and together, on numerous occasions. Michael realized what a fixture he had become in the past several months and wondered if he should rent a flat somewhere for the few months he would be visiting here until Nikita moved to Paris.

Nikita was quiet on the elevator as she leaned against him, her forehead pressed against his shoulder. He ignored the other three passengers as he his arm encircled her shoulders and he kissed her forehead in a gesture of comfort. The more time that passed, the sadder she seemed to become.

Silently, they exited the elevator and Nikita waited patiently beside him as he swiped his cardkey in the door’s entry slot. He stepped back to allow her entry and took her coat from her and hung it in the closet with his.

She stood at the window, looking down on the brilliant lights of the city, still covered in Christmas decorations. Michael moved next to her and reached up to caress her hair from her forehead and run a thumb gently across her eyebrow.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" He asked.

"No." She sighed. "I’m tired. I’m going to take a hot bath."

He watched her as she slipped from the room, then went to the bar to pour himself a brandy. Patience, he thought. He had so little of it where Nikita was concerned. Be it protecting her, arguing with her, or making love with her, he found that hard fought for fortitude he’d prided himself on eluded him completely when it came to Nikita.

Michael remained in the sitting room to allow her some time to herself. He logged on to his laptop and established the connection to Section One. As he sipped his brandy, he checked his email. He studied the one from Madeline, detailing another terrorist coup possibly funded by Chernek. He worked up a profile for a mission in Syria and cleaned up the tactical maneuvers on several others. Two hours later, he logged off and stood with a yawn.

He entered the warm, dark bedroom, his eyes seeking her out. Nikita was in bed, her back towards him. He bypassed the bed, undressing as he went. He took his turn in the bathroom, then shut out all the lights and eased under the covers beside her. Michael lay on his back and stared unseeing at the ceiling. He had assumed she was asleep, judging by her stillness and her deep, even breathing. But then she suddenly rolled over and curved her arm just under his neck.

"What took you so long?"

Michael rubbed her arm lightly. "I was doing some work." He instantly regretted the words once they were out, not wanting to remind her of the one sore point between them. She didn’t withdraw from him however. Instead, she moved her body over his and took his head between her hands. She stared at him for a long moment before lowering her mouth to his for a sweet kiss.

He still didn’t have an inkling as to the cause of her current mindset, but she didn’t seem distressed at all as she leisurely explored his body. He lay docilely beneath her as she expertly aroused him to the point of incoherence and brought them both to a resplendent climax.

Sometime later, as he lay curled around her body, his ears still ringing and his body still humming, he resolved to find out what was bothering her. He couldn’t sleep for her constant heavy sighs and shifting. Everything he’d learned about women was solely attributed to Simone, the only other woman with whom he’d had a serious relationship. She used to harumph and stalk around their home in an effort to get him to ask about her bad mood. Why didn’t women save themselves a lot of time and energy and just say what was on their mind? But then, he supposed, men wouldn’t be as intrigued if they made it that easy.

When Nikita breathed another somber sigh, Michael heaved an exasperated one of his own. "What is it Ni-ki-ta?"

"Mmm?"

"Don’t play dumb." He rolled her over on her back and threw an arm and a leg over her. "What’s wrong? You’ve been moping since I got back. Are you still mad at me?"

"No." She quickly assured him. "I’m over that."

"Then what?" He yawned loudly.

Nikita paused before answering. "We…never discussed where we would live after we got married."

"I assumed you would move to Paris with me." Michael raised up, suddenly alert, and looked down at her. "You don’t want to move to Paris?"

"It’s not Paris, per se." She hedged.

"It’s your mother?" Michael guessed.

Nikita played with his fingers. "My mother and Julie."

"Paris is only an hour away by train." Michael reasoned.

"My mom is a recovering alcoholic, Michael. Any little thing could start her drinking again."

"You should trust your mother more. Roberta is a strong-willed woman."

"But she would be lonely. And I’d miss her too." Nikita turned on her side to face him and laid a hand on his jaw. "Why can’t you move here?" She asked timidly.

"Because…I have sort of a long term contract with my employer." Michael silently apologized for the lie. "I can’t get out of it…for a while."

"How long is a while?"

He steered her from the subject by offering her an alternative. "What if Roberta moved to Paris with us?"

"You want mom to come live with us?" Nikita repeated, happy but disbelieving.

"I wouldn’t mind." Michael told her honestly. Given Madeline’s admission of poisoning Roberta, he thought having her with him and Nikita in Paris would be a good way to protect and keep and eye on both of them.

"Michael." Nikita warned. "Are you sure you know what you’re getting into? My mom is the Peg Bundy type of mother-in-law, not the Carol Brady type."

"Peg who?"

"Do you ever watch TV, Michael?"

"I watch the world news."

"Figures." Nikita’s fingers drifted over his lips. "Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?"

Michael kissed the fingers and scooted down to rest his head against her breast. "I’d do just about anything to make you happy."

Grinning, Nikita wrapped her arms around him and held him close. "Spoken like a soon-to-be husband. We can tell her the good news tomorrow."

************

"No way am I moving to Paris with the two of you."

Nikita was surprised at Roberta’s firm statement. Given the almost suffocating way she protected Nikita, she had figured her mother would jump at the chance to be with her baby. Nikita and Roberta stood in front of each other in the center of the living room while Michael watched them from his seat on the arm of the sofa.

"But, I thought for sure -- " Nikita began.

"Well, you thought wrong." Roberta told her. "You two are just starting out. You should begin your married life together alone."

"But mom -- "

"And you can’t tell me that Frenchy here wants his mother-in-law living with him?"

"It was his idea." Nikita gestured towards Michael, then looked back at him. "Tell her, Michael."

Michael straightened on cue. "I’m very fond of you, Roberta. We’d both love to have you with us."

Roberta sat down on the coffee table and balanced her hands on her knees. "That’s sweet, Frenchy, but I really don’t want to hear you and Nikita going at it all night and all day."

"Mom!" Nikita placed her hands on her slim hips, then kneeled in front of Roberta and clasped her hands. "Please, mom. You’ll like Paris. I don’t want to be away from you."

"Now, Nikita." Roberta ran her hands lovingly over Nikita’s blond hair. "If Frenchy hadn’t come along, you really want me to believe you would have never moved out?"

"Well…"

"I thought so. And Paris is only an -- "

"An hour away by train, yeah, I know." Nikita mumbled.

"Roberta, really." Michael came forth, not liking this turn of events. Like Nikita, he had been sure that Roberta would want to be wherever her daughter was. "I can get a big house with a bedroom on the other end just for you. I’ll even buy a muzzle for Ni-ki-ta."

"She’s really loud during sex, huh?" Roberta chuckled. "Like mother, like daughter."

"I am not loud!" Nikita threw Michael a murderous look. "Mom, please?"

"No, Nikita." Roberta shook her head. "I have friends and a great job here. And I don’t want to leave those old folks at the nursing home. They really depend on me."

"I need you too." Nikita insisted.

"No, you don’t. You’ll have a husband to take care of you." Roberta patted her head and rose from the table. "Now let’s stop all this sad talk cause I’m not changing my mind."

Nikita stood and watched in frustration as Roberta retreated to the kitchen. Michael came up behind her, his arms encircling her waist. He felt horrible about separating the two women. True enough, they’re relationship had suffered because of Roberta’s drinking, but according to Nikita, they had worked hard to become as close as they had the last few years and he was a witness to the results. Besides that, there still was the nagging feeling that Section would try to dispose of Roberta once Nikita was firmly ensconced in Paris with him.

"Don’t worry." He kissed her cheek and hugged her to him tightly as he rocked her back and forth. "We have a whole five months to convince her."

************

EPILOGUE

Nikita stared out of the car window as Michael drove them through the busy Paris streets, on the way to their new home. She was excited, nervous, and a little afraid of the unknown. Mostly she felt elated and weird all at once. She could scarcely believe the enormous change her life had undergone.

She was married.

She lovingly admired her engagement ring and the plain gold band nestled next to it. She looked across at Michael as he carefully navigated through the hectic traffic. A day after her graduation, they had been married in a simple ceremony at a small church they had sometimes attended, with only her mother and Julie in attendance. Jamie, who had been pointedly avoiding her since he’d heard of her engagement, had called her before hand to grudgingly wish her well. True to form, he didn’t failed to inject that she was making a huge mistake. He had told her that he couldn’t be friends with her anymore given her decision. She had told him she still cared for him and that she would abide by his decision.

Michael had been unable to contact any of his relatives in time for the ceremony. Nikita had felt bad that he had no one from his family there for him, but he hadn’t seemed concerned at all. His nonchalance only made her more curious about his cousins and she vowed to somehow change the distance between them.

They had spent their honeymoon in Italy, then had returned to solemnly pack her things for shipment to their new loft in Paris. Roberta and Julie had seen them to the airport and Michael had felt guilt anew at their tearful farewell. He and Nikita’s combined efforts weren’t enough to convince Roberta to come to Paris with them, but she had promised to come for a visit once they wer