Notes: Sidebars are an offshoot of the Mann of My Dreams Universe, and tend to be stories about the secondary characters. This story is about Portia Sebring and Nigel Mann, and their meeting in 1958. The Kellogg-Briand Pact, also known as The Pact of Paris, (1928) was designed to outlaw war. Didn’t work. The title comes from Dean Martin’s Return to Me, which was recorded on 1/23/58. It was the nightingale, and not the lark is from Romeo and Juliet. For a time I considered using this for the title of Where the Heart Chooses. This is for Gail, who also beta’d.
Solo Tu (Only You)
By Tinnean
The first time I saw Portia Sebring, she must have been about twenty. She was visiting her brother Bryan, who analyzed data for the CIA, where I worked also, supplying him with that data. I felt my prick stir, which startled me. Granted she was pretty, but I’d seen many women who were prettier, had even appeared with some of them on my arm, but none of them affected me in this manner.
However, I couldn’t afford distractions to my work. I forced myself to fade back into my office, unseen by either her or her brother.
Things heated up over the years on the international scene - that summit in Geneva in ’55, the Hungarian Revolution in ’56, the launch of Sputnik 1 in ’57 - and I seldom thought of her. Whenever I did, my body no longer reacted in the same way. I assumed it was a fluke, and I went about my job.
**
There was a tap on my door, and I glanced up from the report I was updating. Anthony Sebring, Sr. stood in the doorway to my office.
“Mann.”
“Yes.” What he was doing here in Langley? He was usually at State. “Please, come in.” I rose, about to cross my office to offer him my hand. “You wished to see me, sir?”
He held up his hand. “Sit down, please.” He closed the door and took a seat on the other side of my desk.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Sebring?”
“You know who I am?”
The man whose family had espionage bred into their bones, who was almost royalty in the intelligence community? “Yes, sir.”
“Good. I wish to speak with you.”
“Of course, sir. May I offer you a brandy?” I kept a bottle in my bottom drawer for those times when… for those times.
“No, thank you.” He straightened the crease in his trousers, seeming fascinated by it. I remained silent, watching him. He was a tall, fair man with a hard, angular face. His offspring had no doubt inherited their good looks from their mother’s side of the family, although except for his middle son Jefferson, they were as fair as he. He caught my gaze and smiled, a tight twist of his lips. There was no humor in it. “No doubt you’re wondering why I’m here. My son Bryan has spoken of you.”
“He’s an excellent man to work for.” More than that, I trusted him not to get me into a situation that would result in my death. Of course, it could happen, but not because Bryan Sebring was sloppy or careless.
Mr. Sebring crossed his legs and leaned back, his hands now motionless on his thighs. “You have quite a reputation.”
“I, sir? Oh, my work…”
“Your work is above par, and your file is filled with commendations. That wasn’t the reputation to which I was referring.”
“Then I don’t understand, sir.”
“A number of women here at Langley have shown an inclination to be attracted to you. I can understand that, you’re quite good looking from a female point of view.”
“Er… thank you.” I struggled to keep the color from rising in my cheeks. “I still don’t understand your reference to my ‘reputation,’ however. I’ve stayed away from them.”
“Exactly, treating them with unfailing civility, and yet rebuffing their… offers.”
“I was raised not to… soil my own nest, so to speak.”
“I must say that doesn’t surprise me. I’m acquainted with your father.”
“Yes, sir. He’s spoken highly of you.” I concealed my confusion. I had no idea where this conversation was going.
“You know my daughter, Portia.”
“I know of her, sir. Of course.” Blonde, blue eyes, petite, and rumor had it she could freeze a man with a glance or a word. And of course I’d seen her a few years before.
“I want your honest opinion of her.”
How honest was honest? The intelligence community was littered with Sebrings, and while Anthony Sebring, Sr. worked at State, I knew that was simply his official cover, and it behooved me to tread warily. I could find myself stationed in Paramaribo, the worst, most tedious job in the Western Hemisphere.
I cleared my throat and decided to play it safe. “She’s very attractive, sir.” All parents liked having their children complimented, didn’t they? Well, not my father perhaps, but then, the man sitting opposite me wasn’t my father.
“I know how pretty my daughter is, Mann.” He harrumphed and frowned at me. “Let me be perfectly plain. Does she get your… how do you young people phrase it? Your motor revving?”
I swallowed wrong and choked on my own saliva. He started to rise, but I waved him back, indicating I was all right, and swallowed again.
“Honestly, sir?”
He gave an impatient nod. “That’s what I told you I wanted, wasn’t it?”
“Very well, then. Your daughter is a very cool, contained young lady.” I’d wondered, as I’d seen Portia Sebring from a distance, if that cool exterior hid any kind of warmth on the interior. I had a very similar exterior, although in my case, my interior was as cold as I was reputed to be. I rarely had sex, and when I did, it was perfunctory at best, with women who knew there would be nothing in the future for us beyond that fairly pleasant evening. I’d considered the possibility, when I’d been serving in Korea, that perhaps it was men who would ‘get my motor revving,’ but a single experience while on leave in Japan had shown me otherwise. Not that it had been unpleasant. The young Naval lieutenant had been enthusiastic, but I’d found my mind wandering, even while his talented mouth engulfed my prick and sucked me off.
“Yes, yes, I’m quite aware of her reputation as an ice princess. There was a time… Well, that’s neither here nor there. Is she the sort of woman in whom you would be interested?”
I raised an eyebrow. Now I really needed to watch how I stepped. “Are you asking me as a father, sir, or as Anthony Sebring of State and the CIA?”
“Both.”
“That puts me in a very difficult predicament, sir. Whether I say yes or no, I stand the chance of pleasing the one and displeasing the other.”
His expression became one of grudging respect. “Your father told me you were a cautious son of a bitch.”
I didn’t let him see how that affected me, striving to appear merely politely curious. My father and I were not close. One could say, if we exchanged more than a handful of words in the course of a year that we had been exceptionally chatty.
“You’ll go far in this business, Mann.”
I nodded, still not saying anything.
“Playing your cards close to your vest, eh?”
“As you say, sir.”
His thin lips twisted in what might be called a smile. “Very well, I’ll be candid with you. I would like you transferred to my son’s division of the NSA – temporarily, I assure you – where you’ll come into constant contact with my daughter. You were an excellent cryptologist during the Korean War, so having you on board to decipher Russian codes would be eminently logical. Once at Arlington Hall, Anthony will see to it that you meet Portia. You’ll wine her, dine her, sweep her off her feet.”
“To what end, sir?”
“She needs to be married. An ice princess is one thing, but getting the reputation as a…” His eyes became hooded. “… as a sapphist is quite something else.”
That startled me. I’d heard nothing of that. Still, I’d been out of the country for the past four months.
“And you want me to marry her?” I moistened my lips, trying to buy myself some time to think.
“If she likes you. I’m not Victorian, Mann. I want my daughter to be happy.”
“Why the need to have me transferred to the NSA, then, sir? Surely that’s taking matters to an extreme?”
“If I’d realized this matter was going to crop up,” his tone was aggrieved, “I would have had her working for her brother Bryan from the start, and your meeting with her with would have been perfectly plausible, but how could I have foreseen this? As it was, she was needed in Arlington Hall.”
“All right, I’ll give you that, but why marriage? And why choose me?”
“If people talk about her, become curious about her, they’ll look more closely into what she does. Once she’s married, the talk will die down. As for choosing you – you work for the government, you’ve a cool temperament, and you’re frequently out of the country, so the marriage will cause minor distractions to her work.” He tugged on his lower lip. “Right now, Portia’s cover story is that she’s dabbling at being a working woman, the pampered daughter of a well-to-do dilettante.”
“Dilettante? You, sir?” I couldn’t prevent a laugh. “Sorry.”
“My cover story has held for the past forty years, Mann. I have my wife to thank for that.”
“Excuse me for asking, sir, but is Mrs. Sebring aware of what you do?”
“Of course. Clever woman, my wife. Figured it out shortly after we married. Didn’t let on until sometime after I’d returned from Paris in late ’28…” For the Kellogg-Briand Pact, I wondered? “… when we’d been married more than eight years.”
“How do you think your daughter will respond to learning you’re planning her life in this manner?”
“I don’t want her to learn of it. However, she’s a sensible girl. She shouldn’t object. She’ll have a husband.”
“And children?”
“No, no. They would prove to be too distracting. That’s why you’re perfect for her. You have as little use for children as she does.” Who on earth had told him that? And then I realized – my father. If he thought it would ally our family with the Sebrings, who were the blue blood of the intelligence community, he would have no problem prostituting his only son. “Two people with cool, reserved personalities. And of course, if you decide you need a diversion, I trust completely to your discretion.”
I felt sorry for Portia. Didn’t she deserve better than that?
“I assume she’s to be permitted diversions also?”
“Portia? No, not at all. That is to say, her interests don’t lie in that direction.”
Was the man sitting across from me deluded, or was his daughter truly that way? I shivered at the thought of being married to such a cold woman.
“What if she should meet someone after we’re married, if we marry? Fall in love with him?”
“Immaterial. My daughter is a sensible young woman. She will honor her vows.”
“Even though she loved someone else?” I knew if she ever came to me and told me she loved another, I’d have no choice but to let her go, if only for my own self-esteem.
“Even though she loved someone else. She’s a Sebring.”
“But at that point, she would be a Mann, sir.” Was I really considering his proposal?
“Don’t be too clever, Mann.”
“No, sir.” I paused a moment. “And if I tell you that I’m not interested?”
“I understand Paramaribo is particularly unpleasant this time of year.” The air so heavy with humidity moisture could be wrung from it.
“Fair enough. What happens if she’s not interested in me? Will I still be given that assignment?”
“Of course not. I’m not unreasonable. However, your father assures me that once you set your mind to something, you invariably succeed.”
“My father is too kind,” I murmured dryly.
He ran a hand over his face, not hearing or else ignoring my words. “My daughter is excellent at what she does – deciphering codes. One of the best we’ve got. She sees probabilities and possibilities where others don’t or can’t. A pity that she was born a female… This situation never would have arisen.” He sighed heavily, then pinned me with a gimlet stare. “So tell me, Mann. Are you interested?”
I assumed my most detached poker face. “She’s attractive enough, and I eventually need to marry, myself.” And in spite of what Anthony Sebring might think, I did want children, at least one, if only to prove that I could be a better father than my own. Still, it wouldn’t do for him to know this. “Yes, sir. I believe I am.”
“Splendid. Splendid. I’ll see about your temporary transfer to Arlington Hall, to my son Anthony’s department. Portia works with him. And I’ll trust you to keep me updated.”
**
I never went into a mission blind, and although this was nothing like any mission I’d been sent on, I researched Portia Sebring.
Scholastically, she’d outshone her brothers, which was saying something. They had all done exceptionally well in college. She’d graduated summa cum laude from Wellesley, with a degree in International Relations.
Socially, she’d made her debut at the Washington Debutante Cotillion, had a Season in London – the appellation ‘Ice Princess’ seemed to trace back to that time – and had been presented at court.
Physically, she was slight, with a small bosom and slender hips, but she was an expert horsewoman who could control a thousand-pound brute and guide it over jumps that would make a man blanch.
Emotionally – I couldn’t discover much beyond the usual boy-girl relationships of her teens. Perhaps having three older brothers had proved to be a hindrance.
The more I learned of her, the more I looked forward to meeting her. I began to suspect… well, hope, that beneath her cool, blonde looks was all the passion a man could wish for. The problem was, would I have enough passion for her?
I looked at myself in the mirror as I ran a razor over my cheeks. When we finally met, would she see anything that would attract her? I washed the residue of shaving cream from my face, patted it dry and splashed on aftershave, and dressed in a three piece suit.
I was about to start work at Arlington Hall.
**
I’d been working there for about a week and a half and still hadn’t effected a meeting with Portia Sebring. I passed her in the hallways and on the stairs, always nodding politely but never making an effort to introduce myself. I was sure she knew who I was, if only because her brother would see to it.
Sebring, Sr. called me. “Planning on making a move any time in the near future, Mann?” he demanded irritably.
“I thought you had confidence in my capabilities, sir.”
“I don’t remember saying that.”
“I see. Would you prefer I return to the CIA, then?”
“No, no. No need to be so precipitate. You’ll contact me as
soon as…”
“Trust me, sir. You’ll be among the first to know.”
“See to it.” He hung up without saying ‘good-bye.’
The next day in the cafeteria, I happened to overhear a couple of secretaries gossiping about Portia over lunch. My back was to them, and they didn’t realize I could clearly hear every word they spoke.
“Do you think she heard us?”
“She’s a Sebring. Of course she heard us.”
“Uh oh. Are we in trouble?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of her telling tales.”
“She’s so cold. I get the shivers just from standing next to her in the ladies’ room.”
“I don’t think she’s cold,” although this secretary sounded dubious. “I think she’s just very… well, reserved.”
“Maybe, but I heard that in London they called her Ice Princess!”
“Yeah, everyone’s heard that.” There was silence for a bit while they ate. Then, “Y’know what? I’d like to be a fly on the wall if she and Mr. Mann were ever in the same room.”
“Mr. Mann isn’t bad looking, but he’s as cold as she is.”
“You can say that again! Sally told me that Linda heard it from Beth that Annette tried to flirt with him, and he gave her one of those looks of his, you know the ones, that would make the North Pole seem warm, excused himself, and walked away. You’ve seen Annette.” Annette was a statuesque brunette who attempted to attract every male in the department. She favored very tight sweaters that emphasized her bounteous attributes. “The man must be…” Her voice lowered, and I couldn’t distinguish what she said, although I could imagine. Eunuch was one of the less derogatory epithets with which I’d been labeled.
“Really? Oh, wow!” The other secretary giggled.
“That’s why they would be perfect for each other. Mr. and Miss Freeze!”
I gathered up my dishes and stacked them on the tray. The secretaries saw me as I rose, gasped and turned bright red, but I ignored them. I disposed of the trash and left.
**
I stood outside the office of Anthony Sebring II and fingered the piece of paper in my pocket. A bit of code by that Russian, Sidorov. It had been sent to me by Jefferson Sebring, the middle one of Portia’s older brothers.
No sense in putting it off. I rapped on the door and let myself in without waiting for permission to enter. Tony Sebring, Portia’s oldest brother and my titular superior in the NSA, sat behind his desk.
“Yeah, Mann?” For some reason, he’d been antagonistic toward me from the moment I’d introduced myself to him my first day here.
Not that I cared. There weren’t many people who made the effort to get to know the man behind the icy façade I projected.
“Your brother sent me something one of his people picked up. I thought we could take a crack at breaking the code…” I tapped the paper I’d placed on his desk. “I used every trick I knew, but I’ve had no luck.” Obviously Russian, it was as if the solution was at the edge of my mind, but it kept eluding me.
“You?”
“I’m not half bad when it comes to breaking codes. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”
He looked up at me, startled and then displeased. “What do you mean by that?”
This was why I never let my guard down. I’d tried to joke with a colleague, and it had fallen flat. “Nothing, Sebring. Perhaps you can do something with it.”
We worked on it for three quarters of an hour. I’d removed my jacket, loosened my tie, and rolled up my sleeves, and Sebring had done the same.
“Goddammit.” He growled. “This may as well be Greek for all the sense I’m making of it.”
“Perhaps we should call in your sister.”
“No.”
I looked at him. “I thought the plan was for her to meet me. This is the perfect opportunity.”
He scowled at the paper before him on his desk, then up at me. “It is. I know. I…” He reached for the in-house phone. “If you hurt her, Mann, I promise you I’ll tear off your balls and stuff them down your throat.”
“I have no intention of hurting her, Sebring. And let me remind you, I wasn’t the one who came up with this idea.”
“Don’t remind me. But removing one’s father’s testicles is frowned upon in most circles.”
I couldn’t help laughing. I liked his sense of humor, even if he didn’t like mine.
“As for Bryan…” Sebring’s expression suddenly became unreadable.
“What does Bryan have to do with it?”
“Hmm? Oh, he suggested you.”
“Did he?” I knew better than to be flattered. “Think positive, Sebring. She might not even like me.”
“Yeah. That’s a possibility.” He dialed Portia’s extension. “I need you in here right now. Jefferson’s forwarded a new code to us, and there’s something about it that’s driving me out of my mind.” He listened for a second, then, “Good.” He hung up. “She’ll be right here.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Jefferson?”
“Well, he did forward it to me. Through you.”
“Certainly.”
Within a minute or so there was a brisk knock on the door, and Portia Sebring walked in.
“What have you got, Tony? Oh!” She stopped when she saw me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” Her eyes, frank and open, seemed to lock with mine. She caught her breath, her lips parted, and her small pink tongue peeked out to moisten her lips. Nerves? Or… something else?
“Portia, this is Nigel Mann. He’s been vetted to us from Bryan’s department. Nigel, my sister.”
I couldn’t help staring at her. She could have been dressed in a suit of armor or a ball gown for all the notice I took of her clothes. My own breath seemed caught in my throat. I’d never had this type of reaction to anyone. She was so…
“Yes,” Sebring snapped, breaking into my thoughts. “We’re aware there’s a resemblance, so…”
“Actually, she’s much prettier than you or either of your brothers, Tony.” I stepped around the big desk and walked toward her, my hand extended. “Miss Sebring, it’s a pleasure.”
“Please, call me Portia.” There was a faint blush on her cheeks.
“Portia. And I’m Nigel.” Her hand was small in mine. I had the strongest desire to cover it with my other hand, as if to keep it safe. I was average height, and the top of Portia’s head came to just about level with my mouth. If she tipped her head back…
Her blue eyes looked up into mine, and I started to draw her closer, into my personal space.
Sebring tapped a pencil on his desk. “People?”
“Sorry, Tony.” Did my voice sound as hoarse to them as it did to me? I cleared my throat. “You were saying?”
“I was saying that if you’d release my sister’s hand, maybe she could take a look at this code and make some sense of it.”
My cheeks felt warm. I was still holding onto Portia’s hand. I let it go, surprised that I’d been overtaken by physical feelings in a more or less public place.
Portia stared down at her hand as if she had never seen it before, then looked up at me, her eyes wide and so blue I could have gone swimming in them.
“Mann, would you stop distracting my sister so she can see if she can make heads or tails of this code?” Sebring sounded irritated.
That’s right. I was supposed to see to it that the Ice Princess wasn’t distracted. I scowled at him, but he was busy showing Portia the paper with the code.
“There’s something about this line…” He pointed it out.
She took the paper and examined it carefully, then spoke the Russian words aloud. I couldn’t take my eyes from her lips. I must have uttered a sound, because she looked at me. Her expression became cold, and I beheld the Ice Princess.
“Do you find my pronunciation amusing?”
“Not at all. I haven’t heard anything that flawless outside of Mother Russia...” I could have kicked myself. No one was supposed to know I’d been in the Soviet Union. Sebring raised an eyebrow, but Portia was focused inward.
“Mother Russia? That’s it! The key to this code is in Tolstoy’s War and Peace!” Excitement lit her face, and she was vibrant and beautiful.
When had I stopped thinking of her as a cool blonde and started seeing her as beautiful?
She went to the bookshelf and took down the book.
“Portia, are you sure?”
“Tony, I’m more than sure; I’m positive!” She thumbed through the book until she found the passage. “There! See, there! Oh, that sneaky so-and-so! This is Sidorov’s work, isn’t it?”
I’d known, simply because Jefferson Sebring had told me he’d got it from a double agent who worked for Sidorov as well as us. I was impressed. How had she been able to ascertain that so easily?
“He did something very similar with Anna Karenina,” she explained, bubbling with enthusiasm. “The man has a weakness for Tolstoy.”
“Nicely done. Nothing like a fresh pair of eyes!” Sebring was pleased. “I’ll give this to the team to finish deciphering.” He glanced at me, and his mouth tightened. He made a production of looking at his watch. “Mann, why don’t you and my sister go out and grab a bite to eat?”
An excellent way to get us together, perfectly logical.
“That’s quite all right, I can have a sandwich at my desk.” Her words were rushed. “Besides, I’m sure you want him to work on his own code.” Her lips were saying “no,” but there was “I want to know you better” in her eyes.
“Portia.” Sebring frowned at her, but she didn’t notice, she was looking at me.
I barely noticed him myself. Portia’s eyes were so enchanting…
Sebring huffed. “It’s been a long day, and I think you could do with a break. Now go. But remember, you both need to be back here bright and early in the morning.”
I straightened my tie, rolled down my shirt sleeves and fastened the cufflinks, and smoothed my hand over my hair.
“I never say ‘no’ to the man in charge. Miss… Portia?”
“Just let me freshen up.” She touched her tongue to her upper lip, smiled through her lashes, and hurried out of the room, the slim skirt she wore clinging to the curves of her backside and flirting against her legs.
“Mann!”
“Yes, Sebring?”
“Portia’s not stupid. Don’t overdo it!”
“Overdo what?”
“Acting smitten… Oh, my god, you are acting, aren’t you?”
I didn’t answer him, and his expression darkened.
“Listen to me very carefully, Mann. It doesn’t take that long to have dinner.”
“You wouldn’t want me to rush your sister, would you? Give her indigestion?”
“You give me indigestion. I expect my sister to be home at a reasonable hour. I expect her hair to be in place, every button buttoned, every stitch of clothing exactly the same as when she leaves here. I expect…”
“I get it, Sebring.”
“You’d better not.” He took his wallet from his trouser pocket. “Now, I’ll…”
I went very still, and when I spoke, I knew there were icicles dripping from my words. “If you’re about to give me money in order to buy your sister dinner, you can consider this whole mission scrubbed.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I’ll tell your sister something’s come up and I can’t make dinner, and in the morning I’ll be back at Langley. I don’t bluff, Sebring.” Not in my personal life.
He shoved his wallet back in his pocket, looking almost resentful. “I was just trying to—”
“I know what you were trying to do, Sebring – put me in my place, make sure I know I’m no better than a gigolo.”
He turned red. “That wasn’t…”
“Wasn’t it? Listen to me. You did what your father wanted, got us together. Whether we stay together, whether anything comes of this, is up to Portia now. Stay out of it.” I grabbed my suit jacket, turned on my heel, and stalked out.
Portia was just locking the door to her office as I approached. “I’m glad I didn’t keep you waiting.” Her hand went to the back of her head, making sure each strand of hair was tucked neatly in place.
“It would have been worth it. You’re lovely.” Was her hair as soft as it looked? I took her elbow and escorted her to the elevator.
“I just… I didn’t do more than freshen my lipstick.”
A shame. I was tempted to kiss it off. I didn’t tell her that, of course. “What kind of food are you in the mood for?”
“Italian?”
“Sounds good. I know a little place in Baltimore, Casa del Vitello. They make an excellent Veal Saltimbocca.” We exited the building and walked toward my car, a Cadillac supplied by the Company. “It’s a lovely night for a drive.”
It could have been raining and I still would have thought it a lovely night.
I opened the door, handed her into the front seat, then closed the door and took my time going around to the driver’s side, hoping she hadn’t noticed my erection.
Dinner could have been sawdust for all I cared. I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman who sat across the table from me.
“You’re right, Nigel. This veal is very good.” She ate with dainty bites but with enthusiasm.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” I touched my napkin to my lips. “I understand you were in London a year or so ago. What did you think of it?”
The rest of the meal was spent in exchanging experiences on the Continent, although mine were carefully expurgated. Not that I was afraid I would shock her. However, even though she had a very high security clearance, there were some things no one except my immediate superior needed to know.
I ordered tiramisu and espresso for dessert.
“Very good.” She smiled.
“Perhaps… perhaps you’d like to return sometime?”
“Yes, I would.”
“With me?” I wanted to bang my head with my hand. Talk about gauche.
“With you, Nigel. I’m so glad Tony suggested we go out to dinner.”
“So am I.”
“Would you have asked me otherwise? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.” She took a last sip of her espresso, the tiny cup concealing her face.
“You have a formidable reputation and formidable brothers.”
“I see.” Her face became blank, and she set the cup down.
“You don’t see.” I reached across the table and touched her hand. “Neither would have stopped me from asking you out.”
She looked… happy. Because I wasn’t intimidated by her or her family? I brought her hand to my mouth, turned it over, and kissed her palm.
“Would you like to go dancing, Portia?” I didn’t want the night to end.
“I’d love to go dancing, Nigel.”
“There’s a club just down the street. They have a trio – piano, bass, and sax, and they’re very good, I understand.”
“You understand?”
“I… I don’t usually go dancing in the middle of the week.” Actually, not at all. I knew how to dance – my stepmother had insisted I learn – but there was rarely a call for it in my profession.
“I don’t either.”
“Shall we go see how good they are?”
“That sounds like an excellent idea.”
Because the club was so close, I left the car parked where it was, near the Casa del Vitello. Portia tucked her hand in the crook of my arm, and with her on the inside, away from the curb, we strolled down the street.
It wasn’t quite midnight, the air was cool, and a full moon lit the sky.
“What a lovely evening.” She sighed happily.
“Yes.”
We approached the club, and I opened the door and held it while Portia entered.
“Oh!” she glanced around at the almost-empty club. The only people there were the bartender, a waiter, and the band. “Perhaps we’d better go.”
“Nah, we don’t close until two, and we have to stay either way.” The bartender grinned and shrugged. “What can I get you folks?”
“Portia?”
“A Manhattan, please.”
“A Manhattan and a vodka tonic.” I took her coat and draped it over a bar stool, then held out my hand. “Dance with me?”
She smiled up at me, placed her hand in mine, and we walked out onto the dance floor. The band began playing “It Had to Be You.”
As we moved across the floor, she rested her head on my shoulder. Her breath was warm against my throat.
Dancing with Portia was effortless, like dancing on clouds. Her hair was soft against my cheek, and she fit so perfectly in my arms.
When the song ended, I said, “Excuse me a moment,” and went up to the bandstand. I took out my wallet and handed the bandleader a bill. “Play ‘It Had to Be You.’”
“Anything else?”
“No. Just that.”
He grinned at me and turned to talk to the men who played bass and sax.
I returned to Portia as the trio began playing again. “Nigel?”
“Dance with me, darling.” I bit my lip. The endearment had slipped out.
Her face lit up. “I’d love to.” She nestled in my arms and hummed along with the music.
**
We were at a stop light, waiting for it to change. On the radio, Dean Martin was singing something lush and romantic in Italian.
I glanced across at Portia. Her head rested against the back of the seat, and her eyes were closed, the lashes fanning out against her soft cheek.
“Portia.”
“I’m not sleeping.” She smiled and turned her head toward me.
“Portia.” I’d never felt like this before. I stepped down on the clutch and threw the stick shift into neutral, then reached for her and covered her lips with mine. I couldn’t stop myself from ravaging her mouth.
Vaguely I was aware that the stop light changed – the light against my eyelids changed – once, twice, three times. I sighed and brushed my lips over her cheek to her ear, nuzzling aside the French twist she wore.
“I have to stop,” I murmured into her hair.
“Do you?”
“The light’s changed three times already.”
“Has it?” I could hear the smile in her voice. “It’s a good thing it’s so late. So early. What time is it, anyway?”
I turned my wrist so a street light would illuminate my watch. “Two thirty. Sebring… Tony is going to be unhappy with me.”
“Will it matter? I’m very happy with you.”
“Then no, darling. It won’t matter at all.” I licked my lips. “But if I want to see you again, I’d better get you home now.” I eased her out of my arms and put the car in drive.
It didn’t take too long to get to her apartment house. I parked the car, ran around to open the door for her, and took her elbow.
The elevator operator was drowsing as we got into the elevator. “Morning, folks,” he mumbled. “Floor? Oh, it’s you, Miss Sebring.”
“Good morning, Joe.”
“Another late night at work?” He looked at me with sleepy curiosity, then must have assumed I was simply a colleague.
“Mmm.” She didn’t correct his mistaken assumption.
The car rose smoothly, to come to a halt on Portia’s floor.
“You don’t need to walk me to the door, Nigel.” She smiled at me, knowing if the man hadn’t been there I’d have kissed her the entire ride up.
I watched as she walked down the hallway. Sebring wasn’t going to be pleased. Her hair was in disarray and her blouse was only partly tucked into her skirt. There was a run in her hose where the catch on my watch had snagged it.
Fuck Sebring.
Portia stood at the door, fumbling in her purse for her key. She glanced over her shoulder at me and smiled.
And suddenly I couldn’t catch my breath. Was this how it happened?
“Dammit,” I muttered to myself, and, “Wait here,” I told the operator. I stalked toward her, pulled her into my arms, and kissed her. Her lips were soft and pliant under mine. Her purse fell to the floor, and her fingers threaded through my hair, stroked the hollow at the base of my skull, and I growled and deepened the kiss.
Finally I let her go, running my fingertips over her cheeks. “God, you’re beautiful!”
Her eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, her breath coming in little pants. She touched her lips… her swollen lips, but before I could apologize for bruising them, she brought her fingertips to mine. “Nigel…” Her sigh was voluptuous. “No one’s ever kissed me like that.”
“Like how?”
“Like he was a starving man.”
“I am, Portia. I’ve been starving for you my whole life, and I never even knew it.”
“Oh, Nigel!”
I pressed her palm to my mouth and kissed it. “Keep tomorrow night available for me.”
“Yes.”
“Good night, darling. Sleep well, and dream of me.”
“Darling.” She picked up her purse. Fortunately it had been closed, and so nothing had spilled out of it. She let herself into the apartment she was sharing with her oldest brother.
Only you, Portia Sebring. I smoothed my hair down and went back to the elevator. The operator was studiously examining the design in the carpeting.
“Thanks for waiting.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Nice to see Miss Sebring having a life outside work.”
“Mmm.”
The doors slid shut, and the elevator descended.
I got out on the ground floor. “Good night, Joe.”
“’Night, sir.”
I took my car keys from my pocket, tossed them in the air and caught them, and began whistling softly as I walked to my car.
**
My dreams that night were intense, although they quickly faded when my alarm clock woke me out of a deep sleep. I hadn’t slept so well in a long time.
I whistled as I showered, shaved, and dressed. I hummed “It Had to Be You” as I made a pot of coffee and fried some bacon and eggs. My stepmother’s cook had taught me the rudiments, and while I wasn’t the world’s best cook, I didn’t starve.
As I dipped a strip of toast into the egg yolk, I considered sending flowers to Portia. I had an account with a local florist—my father had beaten the necessity of sending flowers to my stepmother on her birthday but most importantly on Mother’s Day.
When I arrived at work, I’d—
A glance at the clock showed me I was going to be late unless I hurried. I folded the last strip of bacon into my mouth, washed it down with the rest of my coffee, and left the frying pan, plate, and cup soaking in the sink.
**
I had no sooner removed my overcoat and unlocked my desk when I was summoned to Tony Sebring’s office. I smoothed a hand over my hair and went to face him. Was he going to take me to task for keeping his sister out so late the night before?
I nodded to his secretary and let myself into his office. “You sent for me—”
I found myself shoved back against the door, Sebring’s forearm pressing against my windpipe.
“You son of a bitch!” he snarled. “I ought to tear your cock off!”
I had training in self defense, and I could have hurt Sebring more than he realized. Instead, I raised my knee and gently nudged the vee of his thighs, making him aware of just how vulnerable his position was at that moment.
He froze.
“Let me go, please.”
He growled and released me.
“Now, suppose you tell me what caused this reaction?”
“You were supposed to take my sister to dinner. She arrived home last night looking as if she’d been mauled.” He retreated behind his desk and glowered at me.
“I apologize for that. Frankly, I lost my head. Your sister is irresistible.”
“Are you saying it’s her fault?”
“Good God, of course not!” A sudden thought occurred to me. “Did Portia complain of my treatment of her?”
He met my gaze, his lip curled. “No. But I don’t want you seeing her again.”
“Is this what Portia wants?” My breakfast threatened to reappear. I took the seat across from him.
“Portia is a Sebring. She’ll do whatever is best for the family, for the country.”
“Has Portia said in so many words she doesn’t wish to see me again?”
“No,” he said reluctantly. “But there’s something you should know about Sebrings: we only love once.”
“Are you saying Portia is in love with someone else?”
“No, I’m saying you’re not her one!”
“And you know this… how?”
“She isn’t in love with you!”
I made a show of studying my fingernails, although I was actually studying him. “Suppose I made her fall in love with me? I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”
Sebring’s face turned a deep red, and I kept a bland expression on my own face although I was irritated with myself. Usually I had better control of my tongue. I had no doubt he would use my words against me, telling Portia I considered her nothing more than a conquest.
I rose from the chair. “Very well, Sebring. I won’t ask Portia out again. However, if you’ll remember, this was your father’s idea. Will you explain the matter to him?”
He ground his teeth. “Never mind. Just keep your filthy hands off my sister. The last thing she needs is you leading her down the primrose path. Now, get out of here.”
I returned to my office and sat behind my desk, drumming my fingernails on the blotter. Portia was a delight, but her father and brother both seemed like relicts from the last century. I’d had more than enough of that with my own father.
Finally, I reached for the phone and called the florist. “I want three dozen red roses delivered to Arlington Hall.”
The roses would mean nothing more to Portia than a thank you for being such a lovely dinner companion, but they would drive her brother insane.
For a moment I debated including a note that canceled our date for this evening, but I decided I deserved one final evening with her.
**
There was a tap on my office door. “Come in,” I called.
The door opened, and Portia entered, holding a single red rose.
“Portia.” I regretted acceding to her brother’s wishes.
She smiled at me. “I wanted to thank you for the beautiful roses.”
“You’re welcome.” The stack of papers on my desk didn’t need straightening, but I picked them up and straightened them anyway. “Was there anything else?”
“Yes.” She came around my desk, eased herself up onto it, and crossed her legs. They were encased in silk, and I gripped the papers between my fingers to keep from reaching out and stroking her shapely calves and ankles.
Reluctantly I withdrew my gaze from her legs and met her blue eyes. “Yes?”
“You said I should keep tonight open.” She smiled and snapped off the rose’s stem. “I’d love to have dinner with you.” She leaned forward and threaded the rose into the button hole on my lapel. “This evening would be lovely.” She smoothed her palms over my lapels.
I could make her love me, but I could also make her sorry she’d gone out with me, and the hell with her father’s threats.
She hadn’t met Mr. Freeze. She would tonight, and afterward she would tell her father and brother she had no desire to see me again. I’d be back at the Company by the end of the week.
And I regretted that more than I’d thought possible.
**
We had dinner at a French restaurant, and afterward I pleaded an early meeting in the morning. I walked her to the apartment she shared with her brother.
“I had a lovely time, Nigel. Thank you.” She offered her mouth to me, and I had to stop myself from leaning in and kissing her properly. Instead, I brushed a kiss over her petal-soft cheek.
“Good night, Portia.” I could feel her watching me as I walked back toward the elevator.
**
I was at my desk, working on some intelligence that had come to me through a friend who worked out of MI6, when the phone rang, and I picked it up. “Mann.”
“Mr. Mann, would you mind coming to my office?” It was Portia.
“Not at all, Miss Sebring.”
“Thank you.” She hung up before I could ask if this involved the latest message her brother Jefferson had intercepted from Sidorov, the KGB agent.
At her father’s... suggestion... I’d accompanied her to various functions and had even taken her to dinner a few more times, but for the most part, I tried to keep some distance between us.
I smoothed my hair, tugged the sleeves of my suit jacket to make sure they hung properly, and glared down at my prick. “Behave, sir!” I ordered it. I’d made a point of not touching her in the weeks since our first date, but apparently she wasn’t affected by Mr. Freeze, and she accepted each invitation.
I hadn’t been to her office before. I knocked on the door and let myself in. It was the epitome of elegance, befitting Anthony Sebring, Sr.’s daughter, with a Queen Anne desk in pride of place at the center of the room and a Victorian loveseat framed by two windows. On a corner of the desk was a vase filled with coral rosebuds.
They weren’t from me, and I realized my plan must be working.
Why wasn’t I more enthused by that fact?
“Thank you for being so prompt.” She smiled up at me.
“I try not to keep a lady waiting.”
She murmured something… “And yet you have?”
No, I couldn’t have heard correctly. I cleared my throat. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m having a small dinner party this Friday evening—actually, it’s something of a housewarming—” She’d recently moved into her own apartment, and her brother had called me into his office and ranted for half an hour, demanding to know why I hadn’t done anything about it.
“Really, Tony,” I’d admonished him. “How can you expect me to exert any influence on your sister when you object every time I take her out?”
He hadn’t been happy.
“—and I wondered if you’d care to attend,” Portia murmured. “If you’re available, of course.”
I opened my mouth to decline and heard myself say, “I’d be delighted.” Well, having committed myself, I could hardly refuse. “What time did you want me?”
“Shall we say around seven thirty? We’ll have drinks and hors d’oeuvres. And we’ll dine at eight.”
“I’ll be there.”
**
“You’re as bad as a woman,” I scolded my reflection as I fussed with the midnight-blue tie I’d threaded under my collar. After going through the contents in my closet twice, I’d chosen a navy blue suit and white shirt.
I finally had the knot tied to my satisfaction. I smoothed a hand over my hair, then gathered up my overcoat, hat, and the bouquet of red roses for Portia.
I arrived at seven thirty on the dot. “Good evening, Portia.”
“Good evening, Nigel. Please come in.” She took my hat and coat and hung them up in the tiny closet off the foyer.
I offered her the roses, and she brought them close to her face and breathed in their fragrance.
“Thank you. They’re lovely.”
No lovelier than she was. She wore a blue silk dress whose bodice clung to her torso and lovingly cupped her breasts—my fingers twitched to do the cupping—and matching sandals that brought her mouth to within two inches of mine.
I was so enraptured by her appearance I barely noticed Billie Holiday singing in the background. And then I did: “It Had to Be You.”
“Let me get a vase for these.” Her gaze lingered on mine.
“May I help you?”
She smiled at me, and I followed her into her tiny kitchen. “I should have something in this cabinet.”
I wrapped an arm around her waist to brace her as she reached into the upper cabinet. She leaned back against me, and all my noble plans went out the window. Once again, she wore Taboo, and I inhaled the scent and nuzzled her throat.
“Nigel.” She shivered in my arms.
“Portia. Perhaps I’d better….” I released her and peered into the cabinet. “Portia?”
All that was there was a pitcher.
“Yes.”
“Ah. Necessity, the mother of invention.” I took it down, handed it to her, and watched as she filled it with water and then arranged the roses. “You weren’t in today,” I said.
“She’s taken the day off.” Tony had been unhappy about that.
“Portia is entitled to a life outside Arlington Hall,” I reminded him.
He growled under his breath.
“I imagine she’ll want to have everything in readiness for the dinner party she’s hostessing this evening.”
“Will you be there?”
“I’ve been invited, yes.”
“I hope you’ll bring some Brioski with you. My sister can do a good many things, but cooking isn’t one of them.”
“I’m sure if she so desired, she’d be an excellent cook.”
He ground his teeth together and then once again ordered me to get out.
“No. I wanted to have everything perfect.”
“Well, it certainly smells delicious.” And her most of all.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
I was startled until I realized she hadn’t picked up on my unspoken words.
“For hors d’oeuvres, we’ll have tuna pineapple dip, crab salad in puff shells, and a Jarlsberg and Gruyere cheese fondue.” Her smile became roguish. “The main course will consist of Cornish game hens, Brussels sprouts, creamed asparagus, and mashed cauliflower.”
She threaded her fingers through mine and led me back to the dining room, where she placed the “vase” at the end of the table.
“Portia, there are only two place settings on your table.”
“Yes. Didn’t I say it would just be the two of us?”
“Somehow you neglected to do so.”
“Do you mind?”
I didn’t have to think about that. I was tired of acceding to everyone’s wishes but my own. “Not in the least.” And the hell with what her brother wanted.
“I’m pleased. What would you like to drink?”
“Show me where your liquor cabinet is, and I’ll make us both Manhattans.”
“But you drink vodka tonic.”
“And tonight I’m in the mood for something a little sweeter.”
A warm blush colored her cheeks, but there was a pleased expression in her eyes. “While you’re making our drinks, I’ll bring out the hors d’oeuvres.”
I caught her hand and drew her close to me.
“Your eyes are almost green,” she murmured as she rested a palm on my shoulder.
“My eyes are hazel.”
“Not always. When you kissed me goodnight that first night, they were very green.”
I had no idea. No one had ever noticed, or if they had, they’d never mentioned it.
“Do we really want to discuss the color of my eyes?”
Her lips parted, but whether to say yes or no I had no idea. I leaned forward and kissed the words off them.
**
“Dinner was marvelous, Portia.” We were having coffee, and all that was left on my dessert plate was crumbs.
“I’m so pleased you enjoyed it. Would you care for another slice of cake?”
“No, thank you.” Although it was the most decadent chocolate cake I’d ever tasted. “One more bite, and I’ll have to roll myself down the sidewalk to my car.”
“And we wouldn’t want that.”
“You’re quite the cook, Portia.”
“No. I’m quite the hostess.” She smiled into my eyes. “I have a confession to make.”
“You didn’t make all this yourself?” I teased.
She burst into laughter. “How did you know?”
“Your brother made a point of warning me just before I left for the day.”
“Well, I had every intention of telling you before you left.” She reached toward me and brushed back the hair that always seemed to spill over my forehead. I vaguely remembered my mother doing that when I was three, one of the few memories I had of her. “Are you disappointed?”
“I’m not.” I glanced at my wristwatch, pushed my chair back from the table, and rose.
“You’re not leaving!”
“I think it might be a good idea if I did.”
“Why?”
“Shall I be truthful with you?”
“Please.”
“If I don’t leave now, I’m afraid I won’t leave until morning.”
She came to me and rested her palms on my chest. My heart began pounding in slow, heavy thuds, and I wondered if she could feel it. She raised a hand and ran a fingertip over my lower lip. “Please stay.”
“Portia, you understand we won’t simply sit on the couch and… and neck. If I stay, I won’t have any choice but to make love to you.”
“Yes, please.”
“Portia….” If she looked down, she would see how aroused I was. “Are you trying to seduce me?
“If you’d rather do the seducing, I’d be more than willing. I want you, Nigel.” She didn’t take her eyes off mine. “I don’t say that casually.” And then she kissed me. Her lips were soft and moist, and she tasted of coffee and chocolate.
I groaned and scooped her up into my arms. “Bedroom!” I murmured against her lips.
“Yes, darling.”
“No.” I gave a strained laugh. “Where is it?”
She gestured toward a door, and I carried her there, kissing her the entire time.
**
Making love to Portia was like nothing I’d ever experienced. In fact, I’d been so carried away, I did something I’d never done before—I hadn’t put on a condom.
“God, Portia, I’m so sorry!”
“Why?”
I braced myself on my hands and looked down into her blue eyes. “I… I didn’t pull out.”
“You don’t need to worry.”
“Of course I do. If you become pregnant….”
“I won’t. Before you arrived this evening, I inserted my diaphragm.”
“You… you use a diaphragm?”
“Shouldn’t I? I don’t believe in being careless.”
“I….”
“However, even if I should become pregnant, I wouldn’t use that to entrap you.”
“It wouldn’t be entrapment.”
“Excuse me?”
“There are two of us in this bed, Portia.” But of course she’d take precautions. “I can’t say I blame you for not wanting to marry me—”
“What?”
“What woman wants to marry a cold fish?”
She burst into laughter. “And what man wants to marry an ice princess? Now, stop talking nonsense. You’ll have to leave before dawn—”
“Yes. If your brothers discover I’ve been in your bed, they just might see I become this century’s Abelard.”
She reached down and caressed my prick with her fingertips. I shivered, startled to find myself aroused again so soon. “That would be such a waste.”
“Portia, I’m serious.”
“I know. And so am I when I say I wouldn’t allow it. Nigel, this is the middle of the twentieth century. I’m a grown woman, and my decisions are my own.”
“I’d better leave.” I started to rise.
“Not yet. Please stay a while longer. It won’t be dawn for some time.”
“It was the nightingale, and not the lark?”
“Yes.”
“How can I resist you?”
“Do you want to try?”
“Frankly? No. Portia, I….”
“Yes, darling?”
How could I tell her I loved her? It was bad enough that I’d made love to her without taking precautions. I drew her into my arms and said, “I promise that I won’t hurt you.”
“Yes, darling.” She stroked my chest, teasing a nipple before dragging her fingertips through the hair that wandered down past my abdomen. I caught her hand in mine and brought it to my mouth, then settled my weight on her, and she hummed in pleasure.
“Is this too much?”
“It’s perfect.” She was right. We fit together perfectly, and I realized pregnancy or not, I wanted to marry her. I might not be her “one” just yet, but I was a determined man, and perhaps one day?
Because she surely was mine.
