Amy sighed happily and took another sip of her fancy tropical drink. She turned over on her back and gazed up at the blue sky. The warm Carribean breezes blew softly across her skin. The air was filled with the scent of flowers and the sounds of Reggae music and lapping waves on the beach. Jamaica. It was Paradise.

She turned her head to look at the man lying in the beach chair beside her. Michael. She smiled again.

He was stretched out on his back, with his eyes closed. His thick brown hair glinted red in the sun and curled riotiously around his handsome face from the humidity.

Amy admired the muscles of his chest and legs surreptitiously through her eyelashes. He was wearing nothing but black swim trunks and a watch. She sighed again, and reached over to touch her fingertips to his. He opened his green eyes and smiled back.

Amy reflected on how much things could change in only a few days. The past month had been terrible for her at work. She hadn't been able to take the stress of one emotional wrench after another. Making a sudden decision, she had asked for a week off and had called her travel agent. The Carribean beckoned. Jamaica called to her.

The trip here had been frazzling, even scary. But not because of the flight. A dark-haired man in a suit had bumped into her in the airport and had tried to wrestle her purse from her. He had given up suddenly when she had cried out in panic.

He ran, not taking her purse after all. Amy, shaken, had boarded the plane.

But after that incident, everything had been wonderful. Jamaica was more beautiful than she had imagined, with its blue mountains and even bluer sea. And at the resort, the first person she had met was Michael.

He had seemed taken with her from the first moment he saw her. He had remained loyally by her side for the last two days, in spite of the many smiling looks of offering thrown his way from most of the other females on the beach.

The vacation has been going perfectly, she thought.

"Hey, you two," said Shirley, the older woman that sat next to them on the beach in her lounge chair. Amy and Michael had struck up an acquaintance with her and several other couples since they had been at the resort. Everyone here was so laid back and friendly; it was easy to make friends quickly.

Shirley's eyes twinkled. "Are you trying to live dangerously?" she asked mischieviously.

"What do you mean?" replied Amy, laughing.

"Put some sunscreen on that man, Sugar, before he fries," she said, admiring the view of Michael's smooth skin over hard muscles. "Nothing like a bad sunburn to ruin your honeymoon, know what I mean?"

Amy giggled and blushed with embarrassment. "Shirley, you are BAAADDD!" she responded.

She and Michael had held hands yesterday on their shopping trip and he had kissed her goodnight at the door to her room last night, but that was all. Amy felt somewhat out of her depth with the suave and charming Michael. Although she was enjoying every moment of his company, disturbing though it was.

Amy reached for her beach bag. "I've got some lotion somewhere in all this mess," she said, rummaging through the bag.

"Here, let me," said Michael gallantly. "If that's O.K.?"

"Sure, go ahead," said Amy, passing it to him.

Michael looked through the tote for a minute until he fished out a bottle of sunscreen and handed it to her.

"Turn over, Michael," she said. He lay down on his stomach, relaxing his head on his folded arms. Amy sat on the edge of his lounge chair and applied the fragrant cream to his back, massaging it in.

"Mmmm, that feels good," he said. He looked at her with his clear green eyes, his gaze soft and appreciative. "You have a wonderful touch..."

"Hey, what can I say? It's part of my job..." Amy joked. Michael knew she was a nurse, but she hadn't gone into details about what she did. Some people were funny about it.

"Your patients must be very lucky..." Michael continued.

Amy stopped abruptly as the sudden tears stung her eyes. She bit her lip hard, but the tears still overflowed down her cheeks in spite of her efforts to stop them.

Michael turned over quickly and sat up, taking her hand in his. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"It's nothing...."

"No, tell me," insisted Michael.

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

Amy looked around. Shirley had left to join the others in the ocean. They were alone on their section of the beach.

"Uh, my patients aren't lucky, Michael," she began softly. "They all die. They have AIDS."

At his sympathetic murmur, she continued. "This past month I lost eight of my patients. In one week, I went to three funerals. One of them was for a little boy, Robbie. That was the hardest..."

"I'm sorry," said Michael.

She smiled through her tears, and said, "No, I'm sorry. We're on vacation to get a break from all the stress, not dwell on it. I'm sorry for dumping this on you..."

Michael squeezed her hand more tightly. "You tell me as much as you want to about it. And don't apologize."

Amy sighed, grateful for his understanding. "It's a hard thing to deal with. It takes so many young people. The death of someone ninety years old who's lived a full life, that's hard too; but easier to take than what I see."

She squeezed his hand back. "My oldest patient was thirty-eight years old. And Robbie was only nine... It's not right."

Amy shook her head. "Sometimes the hardest part is not the sickness, but people being so cruel about it. Many of my patients' families refuse to attend their funerals, out of shame. Robbie's grandparents..." She stopped.

"What about them?" asked Michael gently.

"Robbie's natural mother had AIDS. He was born with it. She gave him up for adoption..."

"Adoption?" said Michael in surprise. He thought the child's chances of being placed would be nil.

Amy continued. "He was adopted by a wonderful couple who couldn't have any children of their own, but had adopted six other children with various handicaps. When the wife's parents found out about what was wrong with Robbie, they said they didn't want anything to do with them anymore because they had brought AIDS into the family...."

"Oh, no," Michael said, saddened.

Amy tried to smile. "He wasn't supposed to live to see three years old. He had three times that much life, thanks to his parents. That's what love can do, I guess..."

"Yes, I think you're right," said Michael.

He knew what a sometimes rare and powerful thing love was. And he certainly knew Death intimately. He thought of Nikita, and how many times they had saved each other's lives in missions. How she had given up the location of Section One's substation to save him from further torture and death.

He had seen his share of death; of comrades cut down in their prime, of innocents lost. He lived with it everyday, as Amy did.

"I'm sorry," Michael said again, gently touching her on the shoulder.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "You really are wonderful, you know, Michael." She smiled. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Just for being so sweet to me." Amy looked down. "Are you sure you don't mind spending all this time with me? Maybe you'd like to be free to enjoy your vacation with someone else..."

She eyed a crowd of women in bikinis walking by futher down the beach. She looked down at her own more generous curves and felt inadequate in comparison. She was unaware of just how attractive she was with her creamy, olive complexion, dark eyes, and long curly hair setting off her unmistakenly feminine form.

"Amy, no," said Michael. "I just want to be with you. Please don't send me away...." he pleaded.

"No, I'm not! I'm not!" Amy assured him quickly, kissing him on the cheek. "I was just checking to see if you were as happy as I am....."

"Oh, yes," he said, his eyes glittering. "very happy."

He kissed her gently on the mouth. He WAS happy with her, thinking about how pretty she was, and how nice to be with, and how sweet her lips tasted...

Damn it, I could be really happy if I only knew what she had done with the Directory, he thought, as he kissed her again.

-------------------------------------------------

Note: Robbie and his family are real people I know. The only difference, happily, is that he is now 11 years old and thriving. Love is a powerful medicine!

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

After dinner, Amy returned to their table from her trip to the bar, carrying their drinks. Her face was flushed a little, but she was smiling widely.

"Thank you," Michael said, accepting the drink from her and smiling back. "What's so funny?"

"Uhhh... it's the name of some of the drinks they serve..." Amy said, blushing a shade darker.

He nodded. "I know. Some of them it takes courage to order..."

She laughed. "So you know what I'm talking about?"

"Yes. You mean the ones named after certain sex acts..." Michael's eyes held amusement.

She giggled. "I guess if people get drunk enough , they'll order anything...." She paused. "I chickened out. I got us pina coladas..." She put the drinks on the table and sat down.

She smiled and confessed, "I really couldn't bring myself to ask the bartender to give me a 'screaming orgasm'....."

Michael held up both drinks. "You mean, don't you, MULTIPLE screaming orgasms..."

Amy blushed bright red.

Michael put his hand on hers and looked into her eyes. He played with her fingers for a minute, then kissed her hand. Amy felt desire ripple through her.

Looking into her eyes, Michael said softly,"You don't need to ask the bartender for any of those things that he has to offer..." His voice was low and sensuous; Amy felt it caress her as if it had been his hands.

"You can ask me for those things," he said. "I'll give you anything you want..." He kissed her hand again and placed it against his chest, still looking into her eyes.

Amy's head was spinning. She was terrified he was joking. She was terrified he wasn't. She wasn't sure what to do.

She gulped and said,"You're such a jokester, Michael!" She laughed half-heartedly and stood up, her face still frightened. "I'l be back. I just need to go to the ladies' room.." She fled.

Michael sighed. He realized he had spooked her, had gone too far too soon. But time was runing out and and he needed to get into her room.

He sighed again and removed a vial from his jacket pocket. He emptied a little of the liquid from it into her drink. He didn't want to drug her, but it seemed the only way to deal with his trusting, but shy, target.

Amy returned in a moment, still looking a bit disconcerted. Michael tried to put her at ease.

"After we finish our drinks, what would you like to do?" he asked her. "Shall we go dancing? The dance floor is open until 3 a.m. Or there's the piano bar. That's open late, too..."

"You'd sing for me?" she asked, sipping her drink.

Michael laughed. "Sure. I know all the words to all the Bob Marley songs," he told her.

"Buffalo Soldier, Dreadlock Rasta," he sang for her in a deep voice, pulling his hands up as if he was holding reins and rocking in his seat, pretending to ride a horse.

"Omigawd, that's TOO scary," Amy laughed. She took one more sip of her drink. "No, let's go dancing, please!"

She stood up and pulled on Michael's hand. "C'mon, let's get as far away from the piano bar as we can.." she teased.

Michael stood up also, hoping she had drunk enough to knock her out.

His hopes were fulfilled when she swayed a little outside by the pool. No one thought it was unusual for a girl to lean against her beau and be carried to her room.

Lots of people indulged in too much alcohol here, not to mention romance.

"Have a good night, you two," a woman's voice called to them from a chair near the pool. It was Shirley, their friend from the beach.

"Thank you, we will," said Michael, laughing into Amy's neck when she collapsed against him.

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

Michael laid Amy gently down on the bed. Her head fell to the side on the pillow, her silky hair spilling across the coverlet.

He brushed one hand gently across her cheek. She was still, her eyes closed. He regretted having to drug her.

He took off the light summer jacket he was wearing. It had been too warm for it, but he needed it to conceal the gun he was carrying. He took the gun and holster off now, too, dropping them on top of the jacket on the edge of the bed.

Michael walked into the separate bath and dressing area of the room to search in earnest. The dresser drawers and the closet held nothing but clothes. Her purse and suitcases were also missing what he was looking for.

Michael ran his hand through his hair and let a sigh of frustration escape him.

He went through everything in the bathroom. Her make-up case and jewelry box had nothing. He came up empty after searching her bath gear as well.

The disk was not there.

Michael went back into the bedroom. He had touched Amy off and on during the day; he didn't think she had the directory concealed on her, but it was the only place he hadn't looked.

She looked so innocent and sweet, lying there. He leaned over her and ran a hand across the hem of her sun dress, pushing it up.

He moved to pull the dress down from her shoulders when he felt the gun press into his neck.

Amy had hidden it under the pillow after she had retrieved it from the holster on the bed.

Her eyes held anger, as well as pain and confusion; but the anger was foremost.

"Back off!" she yelled.

The hand holding the gun shook. Michael noticed the safety was still on and he knew by the way she held it that she didn't know anything about firearms, making him even more cautious.

Slowly, Michael stood up straight and took several steps backward, raising his hands.

Amy scrambled up and across the bed to the opposite side, keeping the queen size piece of furniture between them. She held the gun out, aiming at him, with one hand, and with the other she fished out the pair of handcuffs from his jacket and tossed them toward the center of the bed.

"You drugged me," she said, panting. "Why? Why drug me, when it was obvious I would have been willing enough? I would have done anything you wanted..." Amy felt total humiliation.

"Amy, I'm sorry.." Michael began.

"Shut up! Get on the bed and put those on," she ordered, indicating the handcuffs.

Michael obediently climbed on the bed and clicked the handcuffs closed around one wrist.

"Both hands!" she told him. "To the headboard.."

Michael raised his hands over his head and threaded the loose end of the cuffs through one of the wrought iron slats of the headboard. He clicked it in place around the other wrist.

He was half sitting up, half reclining, on the pillows with his hands cuffed above his head. He was trapped.

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

Amy sighed and put the gun down on the dresser. Michael also sighed, in relief.

Tears welled in her eyes as she sat on the far corner of the bed.

"Why?" she demanded. "Why pick on me? If you wanted an easy lay you could have had your choice of any woman here.."

Michael licked his lips and turned his head away. "It wasn't about that," he said.

Amy's gaze took in the open drawers and her purse on the dresser with its contents spilled across it.

"So, you were nice to me, you pretended to like me, so you could rob me?"

Michael was silent, holding her gaze with his eyes. He did like her, but she would never believe that now.

"That doesn't make sense, either. I'm not wealthy, for God's sake. If you wanted a rich target, you should have picked on someone else..."

She stood up and kicked the leg of the bed in anger, turning from him to face the window.

Michael knew she was crying. "Why did you have to ruin the most wonderful day of my life?" she said, her voice catching.

"Amy, it wasn't all pretence. I do like you. I enjoyed being with you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was an ....assignment..." Michael said truthfully.

Amy was startled. "An assignment? Like secret agent James Bond, or something?" She choked back her tears, her anger returning. "Why should I believe you, when everything you've said and done is a lie?"

They both jumped when the phone rang. It wasn't the phone on the nightstand. The ringing came from Michael's jacket.

Amy pulled out the cell phone and held it, letting it ring a few more times.

"Let's see who that is, shall we?" Quickly making a decision, she sat on the bed next to Michael and flipped open the phone, holding it against his face and leaning in close to listen.

"Yes?" Michael said into the phone.

Operations was on the other end. "You didn't report in on time. Do you have it yet?"

"No, not yet," replied Michael.

Operations did nothing to control the anger and stress in his voice. "This is not a vacation, Michael. I don't need to tell you, if you don't find it, more of our people could end up dead, like before."

"I know. I'm working on it."

"You have twelve hours before I'm calling you in."

"Yessir," said Michael.

The line went dead.

Amy flipped the phone closed and sat straighter on the bed. She placed her hand on his cheek, her anger gone. "So, you weren't lying to me about everything."

"No," he said, smiling ever so slightly. "I'm sorry about deceiving you." His regret was genuine.

"So, I shouldn't bother calling the police, because they're already here, is that it?"

"Something like that."

A look that was half understanding, half tenderness, was exchanged between them.

Amy touched one of his handcuffed wrists lightly. "So, where's the key to these things?" she asked, smiling.

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

"So, where's the key to these things?" she said, smiling.

"In my pocket," said Michael.

She put one hand in the watch pocket of his jeans and retrieved the small key. Kneeling beside him, she reached up to open the handcuffs, her face close to his. She laughed a little.

"Too bad neither one of us is enjoying this situation as much as we could...." She kissed him gently on the mouth before turning the key in the handcuffs, releasing him.

Michael sat up on the bed beside her. Amy turned her head to look at him. "Tell me what you're looking for. Let me help you."

Michael only hesitated a moment before saying carefully, "We think it's on a disk."

"Oh," said Amy thoughtfully. "And whatever 'it' is, in the wrong hands could be dangerous for your people? This happened before?"

"Yes." Michael's face was grim. "Many died. Many were wounded...." He recalled Nikita being tortured and shot during the War, and flinched.

"So, I'm not the only one who had more funerals in a month than they could deal with.." she said softly.

Amy smiled at him and took his hand in hers. "Michael, I know you can't tell me everything and I won't push for answers. But I don't understand. Why do you think I have this disk?"

"The man who attacked you in the airport-- we think he placed it on you."

"Oh," she said. From the beginning, she thought. It was all just an assignment.

She released his hand and stood up. "I see." She paused. "I don't have what you're looking for, Michael. I would have noticed a disk.."

"It could be smaller than that. It could be on a micro disk." Michael explained, trying not to lose hope of finding the Directory.

"What does that look like?" she asked.

"Gold, half an inch long, oblong..." answered Michael.

"With little ridges, like a piece of jewelry?" Amy asked.

Michael paused. "You've seen it?"

She laughed. "I've seen it, and I know where it is."

Michael was stunned. He took in a sharp breath.

"I can give it to you now, Michael. Let's go..."

She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him toward the door.

They walked in the moonlight toward the main hall of the resort. Though it was late, people were still up enjoying themselves, drinking and dancing, some lounging in the pool as well as at the tables around it.

The band played on the dais; Raggae music wafted through the halls as they approached the registration desk, unmanned because of the lateness of the hour.

"Do you have a safe deposit box?" Michael asked.

"No, it's in my locker," she answered, leading him a short way down a hallway.

Amy took a key from her pocket and opened the door to the small storage locker. She removed a white paper bag and handed it to him.

Michael led her outside to a quiet bench at the entrance to the resort. They sat side by side as he opened the bag.

There was a gift-wrapped box inside. He looked at her. "Amy?"

"Go on, it's what you're looking for," she said softly.

Michael removed the wrapping paper and took the lid off the box. Nestled in cotton was a bracelet made of links of gold rectangles, some shiny and smooth, some filigreed, each one different.

Amy lifted the bracelet out of the box. "I bought it the first day I met you. To give you as a farewell present. I was hoping.." she paused, blushing.

She went on. "It's made from gold recovered from a sunken treasure ship found off the coast of Jamaica."

Amy smiled at him shyly as she explained further. "The night I bought it, I found your micro disk in my purse. See, I think it's this one," she said pointing to one of the links.

"When I found it, I thought one of the links had come loose and I took it back to the shop to be fixed..."

Michael recalled that she had picked up something in the shop yesterday while he had waited outside for her, but hadn't realized at the time that it was what he was looking for.

"I hid it in my locker so you wouldn't see it and think I was so forward to assume.."

Amy didn't finish, but Michael knew what she meant. She had been hoping they would grow close during the week's vacation, that they would be intimate enough for her to give him such a personal present.

Michael smiled at her in relief and delight. Amy laid the gift across his palm and he fingered the directory linked in bracelet; amazingly, it was undamaged.

He slipped it on his wrist. "Thank you," he said. Letting out a sigh, he turned his head to meet her eyes. "Thank you, Amy," he said again.

Amy was smiling back at him. He reached for her, taking her into an embrace and then kissing her deeply on the mouth.

Amy put her arms around his neck, kissing him back. After several more kisses, Amy put her head on his shoulder, still holding him close.

"So, I take it you like my present?" she said into his ear.

He laughed, and rubbed his chin against her hair and then kissed the top of her head. "I owe you," he said.

"Yes, you do!" Amy lifted her head and looked at him. She stood up and pulled on his hand. "C'mon, let's go..."

"Where are we going?" he asked, smiling.

She looked up at the moonlight and the palm trees , tilting her head to listen to the music. "We've still got ten hours or so to dance, and walk on the beach, and drink, and..."

He stood up and kissed her. "And find a use for the handcuffs?" he finished, his eyes gleaming.

She gasped and laughed at the same time. "Ohhh, you are such a bad boy!" Amy giggled, slapping him playfully on the behind in a mock spanking.

Michael took that as an invitation to kiss her again. A few minutes later, both breathless, they held hands and walked together toward the music. The band was playing Bob Marley.

I want to love you and treat you right
I want to love you every day and every night
Is this love, is this love, is this love that I'm feeling?.......

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

Is this love, is this love, is this love that I'm feeling?
I am willing and able
So I lay my cards on your table
I want to love you and treat you right
I want to love you every day and every night
We'll share the same room, yeah
With a roof right over our heads
We'll share the shelter of my single bed....

The music wafted out to them as they paused before entering the hall where the band played.

The couple turned to each other to share another kiss before joining the others inside.

In the shadows, Amy dared to let her hands drift lower from Michael's back down to the firm curves she had spanked playfully a few moments before.

Michael, in turn, slipped his hand into the top of her sun dress, exploring her smooth skin. Amy closed her eyes and moaned. Oh yes. She was in Paradise. She laughed. She was in Michael Paradise. The paradise of his lips and his hands and his......

When she broke away from the kiss, they were both breathing raggedly. "Michael..." she gasped. "Can we skip the dancing ..." She kissed him again. "I want you to be my bartender. I need to order a few things from you..." she breathed in his ear.

Michael groaned and lifted her up, carrying her across the path by the pool. Shirley looked up from drowsing in her chair by the pool and saw them.

Hey, weren't they just here a while ago? she thought to herself. She looked at the rum drink she was holding. I must be getting double vision from these things. She laughed. Oh, well. She took another sip of her drink and thought smugly to herself, I KNEW it was a honeymoon. Shirley grinned. "you go, Girl!" she said, toasting Amy.

In Amy's room, Michael laid Amy gently on the bed and joined her there, lying on top of her. He pulled her dress down from her shoulders and nibbled all along her throat.

In her ear, he said huskily, "My name is Michael and I'll be your bartender for the evening..." He kissed her mouth hungrily. "May I take your order, Miss?"

"Ohh, yes..." Amy was laughing and moaning at the same time. "First, I want..." she whispered the rest into his ear, reaching for his belt.

Michael proceeded to fill her orders all night long.....

The sun was just coming up when Michael's cell phone rang again. Michael was unable to answer it because, like the last time, he was again handcuffed to the bed. Amy was straddling him, enjoying her fifth or sixth drink order. She had lost count...

Michael opened his eyes and lifted his head up. "Amy, let me get that.." The phone rang again.

Amy stayed where she was, her eyes gleaming. "No. You're busy..." She kissed him.

"Amy, please," said Michael, trying to focus. "I have to get that.."

Amy laughed and picked up the cell phone from the nightstand without moving from where she was.

"Amy, no!" Michael protested, as she flipped open the phone and answered it.

"Hello? Is this the Spy Boss?"

"Who is this? Where's Michael?" demanded Operations' voice.

He could hear her giggling, as well as Michael pleading breathlessly in the background, "Amy, please..."

Operations surmised that Michael was not in any immediate danger and smiled to himself.

"Michael can't come to the phone right now," Amy told him. "He's tied up...."

"AMY!" Michael squirmed under her, which delighted her more.

She laughed and said into the phone, "He's my prisoner, in fact. Do you by any chance negotiate with terrorists?"

Operations laughed out loud. "What do you want?"

"O.K., here's the deal," she explained, smiling at Michael, who groaned once again and leaned his head back on the pillows.

"I've got four days left to my vacation. Your secret agent man stays in the handcuffs til then. You'll get him back in one piece." She giggled again. "Well, maybe a little exhausted.."

"It's a deal," said Operations, laughing. "Let me talk to him."

Amy held the phone to Michael's ear.

"Yes," Michael gasped.

"Michael, your assignment has changed. I want you to return here with the directory in four days. Got it?"

"Yesss," Michael moaned.

"Go get 'em, Tiger," said Operations and hung up.

Amy tossed the phone aside and leaned forward to kiss Michael. "Now, where were we?" she asked.

Michael's only answer was to lift his head off the pillow and kiss her back, expertly.

Oh, yeah, I remember, thought Amy with a happy sigh. In Paradise.....

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