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the way who was willing to spend twenty years stashed away in some cruddy base housing facility somewhere, waiting and worrying over them, the Tom Follys of the world weren’t dumb enough to turn them away. But she’d seen plenty of those relationships head south when the men finally did retire—cynical, psychologically messed up and emotionally fried.
    No, thank you very much. She was having nothing to do with a guy like Tom Folly. He might kiss like the Devil himself, but he could keep his priorities and his toy soldier life. She shook off the last vestiges of their kiss.
    In the meantime she needed to stop by the embassy and make a few last-minute arrangements. Her boss figured it’d be at least tomorrow before the Gavronese government, which was a veritable model of inefficiency, came looking for her. She had to be in hiding by then.
    She glanced around the dingy bedroom. It needed something to brighten it up. She and Tom were going to be stuck here for a while, and this depressing room wasn’t going to help his frame of mind one bit. Oh, and she needed to lay in more food. She hadn’t realized just how big a guy Tom was when she’d been shopping yesterday. He was no doubt going to eat like a horse.
    Fortunately, the apartment had a working refrigerator. There’d been several biology experiments growing in it when she rented the place, and it had taken her a whole day to work up the courage to clean it out, but it was spotless now.
    She tiptoed out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She took a critical look around the apartment’s only other room, a combination kitchen-dining-living area, cataloguing items she’d need to make the place a little more hospitable.
    She took a last peek at Tom before she left. He was sleeping soundly, one arm flung wide and dangling off the side of the bed. Satisfied he’d be unconscious for several hours, she eased out of the apartment, locking the door carefully behind her.
    Tom woke up to the feel of an unfamiliar weight covering him. He blinked open his eyes and was startled to see a cheery quilt lying on top of him. Yellow tulips and dark green leaves twined over its white background. It looked like something his grandmother might’ve made.
    A cool breeze blew across his shoulders, and he pulled the quilt up higher. A breeze? He opened his eyes again. The two tall casement windows stood wide open, admitting fresh air to the room. Between them, tottering on a rickety ladder was Annie, paint brush in hand.
    Two of the filthy, grayish walls already sported a brand-new coat of yellow paint. It was nice—a bright, lemony color. A jar on the table beside his head was filled with daisies, their clean white heads nodding a greeting to him. Yards and yards of gauzy white cloth draped over a chair, and two iron curtain rods lay across the fabric, waiting to be hung.
    The room already looked completely different.
    “What in the hell are you doing?” he growled.
    Annie lurched, startled. The ladder wobbled and gave an ominous squeak.
    Crap. His reflexes took over and he leaped out of bed. In slow motion, the ladder gave way while Annie flailed her arms, trying to maintain her balance.
    He caught her as the ladder toppled over. Her weight knocked him to the floor, and they landed with a thud. Paint splattered beside them.
    She scrambled off of him. “Oh, my gosh! Did I hurt you? Tom, are you okay? Talk to me!”
    “What do you eat, anyway? You weigh a ton.”
    “I do not. I weigh 125, and that’s pretty good for a girl my height.”
    “You’re 130 if you’re a pound.”
    “Well, maybe I am, but it’s rude of you to say so. I can’t believe you did that! I’d have been okay, you know. I’ve had skydiving training, and I know how to do a parachute landing fall. Are you hurt anywhere?”
    What was she mad at him for? He was the one who saved her butt.
    “I’m hurt in a number of places, as I recall. But no, I don’t have any new injuries. And you’re welcome, by