Page 33 of North

“I love them. The intrigue, the secrets.” She leaned forward. “The way nothing is quite what it seems.”

A strand of her hair dipped into her coffee. Alexander reached across, tucked it behind her ear before he could stop himself. Her skin flushed pink.

“Sorry.” He pulled back. “You were about to wear your coffee.”

“My hero.” She covered her mouth when she laughed, like always. “Speaking of Russian, there’s someone you should meet. My classmate Damien—he’s from Moscow. Perfect for practicing.”

And there it was. The opening he’d been waiting for. The reason he’d chosen this particular Russian tutor from the university’s bulletin board.

Thunder rumbled outside. Timea glanced at the windows, where drops had started to fall. “We should walk before it gets worse. The castle is beautiful in this weather.”

They paid and stepped into streets that smelled of wet stone and an approaching storm. Wind tugged at Timea’s hair as they climbed the cobblestone paths toward Buda Castle. She pointed out architectural details, making him repeat their Hungarian names. And then making him translate them into a Russian sentence.

“You’re getting very good.” She bumped his shoulder when he got through a particularly difficult phrase. “You’ve been practicing.”

“Maybe I just have a good teacher.”

The rain picked up, fat drops splattering the stones. Timea grabbed his hand. “Quick!”

They ran down the path, onto a sidewalk, and ducked into an arched doorway at a corner, right near the tram stop. She pressed against him, laughing, rain dotting her face. Her fingers were cold in his.

“You’re freezing.” He rubbed her hand between his. Oh, he was in trouble. The way she looked up at him, those impossibly blue eyes in his, a smile on her beautiful lips.

He was not here to fall in love. But maybe it could be part of his cover?

“Worth it.” Her eyes caught his. “I love this city in the rain.”

Him too.

A streetcar’s bell clanged. Timea glanced behind her, stepping back, out of the doorway.

Everything happened at once—her heel catching the wet cobblestone, the streetcar’s brakes squealing, Alexander’s hand circling her waist and yanking her back against him.

They stood frozen, her clinging to his jacket, his arm locked around her waist. Her heart hammered against his.

“That was…” She gasped. Her face tilted up. “You really are my hero.”

Before he could respond, she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Soft. Sweet. Everything he’d tried not to imagine.

He shouldn’t kiss her back. Shouldn’t pull her closer. Shouldn’t let his hand slide into her rain-damp hair.

He did it all anyway.

She tasted sweet, of the Hungarian pastry, a hint of the forbidden.

When they broke apart, her eyes were wide. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually…”

“Don’t apologize.” His voice came out rough, his pulse in his throat. “But maybe we should get out of this rain.”

They found another café, this one small and wood-paneled, with windows fogged from coffee steam and warmth. They sat close at a corner booth, hands wrapped around hot cups, knees touching beneath the small table.

“Tell me about your father.” He had to focus. Had to remember why he was here. “Teaching English literature must be fascinating.”

“He loves it. Sometimes I think he lives more in books than reality.” She stirred her coffee. “You should come to dinner. Meet him. He’d love discussing Le Carré with someone who appreciates the complexity.”

Remember. He was here to meet Russian student Damien Gustov. Turn the young man, son of a cabinet member, toward the CIA’s goals. Complete his mission.

He didn’t want to break her heart.

Lightning flashed outside, illuminating her face. Trust shone in her eyes, along with something deeper. Something that made his chest ache.

He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be watching her lips curve into a smile. Shouldn’t be memorizing the way her finger traced the rim of her cup.

But he was already in too deep, drowning in blue eyes and secrets and the taste of her kiss in the rain.

Thunder rolled across Budapest’s spires. In the window’s reflection, he watched himself smile back at her, already knowing he was in big, big trouble.