And in spite of everything, she felt her own lips answering with a smile, felt her entire body warm with the glow of his presence.
“I hope you remember me, Mr. Young,” she said.
Ten minutes later, they had settled into a private booth at the back of a nearby café. Sydney snuggled deep into her seat across from Winter and regarded him with what she hoped was a neutral expression.
“No black car this time? Where are Niall and Sauda?” Winter said in a low voice as he looked curiously around the empty shop.
“Just me this time, I’m afraid,” she replied. “Panacea bought out this coffee shop for the day, so depending on your answers, we’ll see about sending out a black car.”
“Ah.” Winter’s smile tightened. “I’m guessing the barista is an operative, too?”
She nodded. “And aware that we’re meeting in private here. You won’t see any patrons coming in this morning. Or any paparazzi.”
Winter snorted at that. “Of course not,” he muttered in understanding. “I hope you’re compensating this place handsomely.”
“More than they’d make in a week,” she answered. “So don’t worry.”
His slender fingers tapped against the porcelain of his mug. She found herself studying them before his voice drew her gaze back up to his face. He was taking in her face with care, as if savoring her, which made her heart twist.
“You look…” he began, then trailed off as he idly brushed a few strands of hair from his eyes. “The same,” he finished. “Exactly the same.”
“I don’t know how to feel about that,” she answered.
He gave her a secret smile before taking a sip of his tea. “It was a compliment,” he said.
Her heart twisted again. She couldn’t tell if she liked the feeling or not.
“I see your compliments haven’t improved,” she replied archly.
“Neither has your ability to take one.”
“Clearly nothing has changed between us.”
“Nothing?” He made atsksound with his tongue. “Then we’re in trouble, Ms. Cossette.”
Usually, she could engage someone in a flattering conversation, taking the opportunity to study them while they got carried away talking about themselves. Usually, they never noticed her playing this game, too caught up in their own ego to see they were being played.
But Winter saw through her, and to her annoyance, she could feel her cheeks turning warm.
“Congratulations on your new album,” she said, switching the topic to distract herself. “I didn’t even know they could be Multi-Diamond. New world record?”
His nod in return looked blank, telling her immediately that something else was on his mind.The tell-all book,she remembered, picturing yesterday’s headlines—as well as the footage of him walking out in the middle of the biggest interview of his career. It didn’t take a spy to know that it’d be best to avoid the topic.
“That’s what they say,” he answered with a shrug. “Have you listened to it?”
“No,” she lied.
“Good,” he said. “I don’t want to know what you think.”
She laughed a little. “Good,” she replied. “Because I wouldn’t tell you.”
The truth was that she’d listened to his album on repeat for the last three weeks—in preparation for their mission, of course. She replayed it until she could hear the bars in her sleep, had memorized every lyric and every space where he took a breath. In those private moments, she’d closed her eyes and let his voice fill her mind, allowed herself to miss him. Most of all, she had hoped in vain for a specific track, one titled “You Are My Meditation.” It was a song he’d started writing during their last mission together.
Who is it about?she’d asked him then.
You,he’d answered.
But it wasn’t on the album. Maybe he’d never finished it. She’d thought back and forth about it, caught somewhere between relief and what she would have to force herself to describe as disappointment. That was foolish, though. It would be best for her cover if the song never saw the light of day.
