Richard watched the play of emotion around her mouth and decided that he needed to take a more professional approach to the meeting.

"Let's pretend that little dance didn't happen. How have you been conducting business with your contacts?"

The corner of her mouth lifted and he felt she was controlling a retort.

"Let's get something straight, Monique. I am here to evaluate you and you are here to answer my questions. Now tell me, how have you been conducting business with your contacts?"

The pout was brief and she leaned back with a slight shake of her head. "Like this. Coffee. Small talk. Business and goodbye."

"I meant the actual transfers . . . exactly." His tone solidified and she sat a little straighter. The action brought back visions of his own behaviour at an earlier debriefing.

"My partner would pass the designated amount in exchange for sealed packages." He couldn't keep the surprise from his face and she tilted her head questioningly. "You don't believe me?"

"You didn't wonder why they were giving him something for ostensibly distributing charitable funds?"

"Don't ask, don't tell. It was their- the Agency's edict; one of the rules I was to follow as an apprentice." The term put the ironic smile back on her face.

He drained the remaining wine in his glass and held it up in the waiter's view. Well she knew enough about the agency to learn their rules. "When you first took over, who did the initial negotiating?"

"Obviously someone with the Agency."

"So you must have been surprised when you found out what was actually taking place."

"Did I say I knew?"

"No, but you did." He smiled grimly.

"I thought my partner, was just delivering money to the people he met with. I had no idea there was an exchange . . . at first. And yes, I was surprised. On my first solo meeting, after Ross left, an Agency man accompanied me. When I saw what he received I was stunned."

"Ross?"

"My partner."

 He indicated her expensive designer purse with his chin and sat back as the waiter placed a fresh glass of wine in front of him.

"Now not so much, eh?"

Her look turned almost feral as she dipped a finger into her drink and licked it dry. The air changed as the breeze dropped and Richard could feel a tiny dampness on his forehead and his back.

"Do you mind if I shuck this jacket, the temperature . . .?"

"How gentlemanly to ask first."

"It's what I do in the presence of a lovely lady." He took it off and hung it over an empty chair beside them. "Much better."

"Hmm." Her tone piqued his interest and he offered a small smile as he held up his glass .

"Okay, I think we should get the business portion of this meeting over with and then enjoy our wine in a less tense atmosphere. Do you know why I am here?"

She gave him a look of surprise. "You made that perfectly clear; my evaluation."

He reached down and opened his briefcase, passing her an envelope and smiling comfortably.

"What is this?"

"Look at it."

She opened the envelope, glanced around the patio and flattened the sheet on the table.

He watched her face as she read the message, intrigued with the tiny creases that danced around the corner of her eye and mouth as she tapped a varnished nail on the paper.

"What is this?"

"What it says. I am here to evaluate you for the position I now hold, monitoring the activities of our couriers and contacts."

"You are assessing me for your job?" She lifted her glasses from her face and he nodded to himself; the eyes were wide set and shone with a gorgeous turquoise.

"Who better? I know what's required, what the problems could be and how they should be handled."

"Why me?"

"You'll have to ask the Agency that, I'm just doing their bidding. They said nothing to you about this?"

"Nothing."

She set her glasses on the table and picked up her wine glass, settling back in the chair and appraising him.

"You don't look like someone who just does as he's bidden."

"Right back at you." He raised his own glass and drank.

Her smile grew to a highly amused grin and she ended with a soft laugh and a nodding acknowledgement of his compliment.

"So how does this work?"

"First of all, how do you feel about it?"

"Being the new you? I think I could learn to like it."

"Performance is what's important here, not appreciation." The bureaucratic tone made her reassess him.

"I think I could do the job very well."

"How many of the contacts are known to you personally?"

"Three. Roger Léger, Pierre Tremblay and Avalon Bremmer."

"How do you know them?"

"Avalon and Roger were Ross', originally. I met Pierre at a fashion show while I was learning Ross' routines. When the other two showed, we were all surprised, and we all had a drink together. That's when I found out someone else from the Agency was taking their meetings . . ." She stopped and looked up at him. "That would have been you!"

"It was. I saw the three of you together. I was also there to meet Pierre."

She twisted her glass on the table. "How many contacts are there?"

"That's something the Agency will reveal, should you pass muster."

"And that will be your decision." She stared into his eyes and he felt that she was probing his mind.

"It will."

They spent another hour discussing details of the work, the schedules and the rules she would be required to accept without question and in the end, Richard felt a satisfaction in knowing that she would be more than adequate for the position.

He wondered why she had been left out of the established group and then he realized that she had been considered for this position a long time ago and was given the leeway so that she could be observed. Richard was simply polishing off details. His assumed authority was really window dressing.

More of Nathan's string pulling.

The rest of the afternoon progressed through a late, shared lunch of cheeses and rolls and more wine, leading to a lazy stroll along the same boulevard they had watched others promenade. She said she wanted to walk on the beach and they removed their shoes and traipsed barefoot across to the water's edge.

Richard watched her prance in the tiny wavelets, her lithe body twisting and turning as the water threatened to splash higher on her fine legs. They found a large driftwood log and sat together, brushing the drying sand from their feet.

The business conversation dwindled, drifting into lighter topics, then brief biographies until it ran out, and all that remained was the question of what to do next. There seemed to be an unspoken inevitability as they regained the plaza and put their shoes back on, shortly finding themselves in Monique's hotel room and moments later in her bed.

Richard wrapped her in his arms, the peach scent from her hair filling his nostrils as they moved in rhythm beneath the light sheet. Monique was an eager partner and he found himself swinging between laughter and overwhelming bliss.

She sibilated his name in his ear, pronouncing it, Reeshard, with each surge of their limbs until the completion when she groaned it aloud. This was not a path Richard had expected to travel, and arriving at this conclusion, suddenly made the entire event seem surreal.

Monique appeared to be quite content with moving on, displaying a casual acceptance of their brief encounter and a bland disregard of his position. They both dressed and primped in front of the mirror then, with briefcase in hand he experienced a few awkward moments saying goodbye. None of the affectionate pecks on the cheek nor swoony hugs, just a handshake and a closing of the hotel room door.

That was Monique, he learned, after several selfish meetings to cement his confidence in representing her to the Agency. The meetings also presented another avenue of advancement . . .for both of them.