* * *

When they woke mid-afternoon, Jack mildly regretted not having his phone, because he had to borrow Marissa's to order a massive amount of Thai food delivered to her house, and insisted on Marissa staying in bed when he yanked on pants and went down to the front door to get it. Jack noticed a fair number of neighbors and passerby in the park opposite staring in amazement at a barefoot, shirtless, tousle-haired man standing in Marissa's front doorway, and made a point of nodding politely to any ladies going past as he tipped the driver a hundred and collected half a dozen bags, shutting the front door firmly behind him and making sure the lock clicked shut.

Jack skipped the elevator in favor of the polished mahogany stairs in the front hall that climbed in a square spiral, and taking a better look at her house on the way up. This place had been in her family for a while, he decided, as all the fixtures and most of the furnishings dated to the previous century, and were obviously commissioned to go with the house when it was originally built. The front hallway was dominated by a three-quarter life size oil portrait of four adventurers in 1900's jungle explorer gear, three men and a woman, and Marissa bore such a striking resemblance to the woman in the portrait Jack knew she was a relative, most probably her grandmother. There was an engraved plate on the bottom of the portrait, and Jack stopped and read it, noticing on closer examination Jean-Pierre also bore a not-insignificant resemblance to one of the men in the painting.

" 'John Clayton, Paul d'Arnot, Marissa Challenger, Pedro de le Vega'," Jack read aloud. "So that's Marissa Challenger the first, eh?" Jack studied the portrait. That Marissa had blue eyes, but John Clayton's gray eyes matched his Marissa's exactly. After closer examination, Jack fancied his Marissa might be a bit taller, and Jean-Pierre greatly resembled the man in the portrait named Paul d'Arnot.

He climbed higher, noting on the second floor he could see a library and a music room from the stairs, and the third floor was apparently all bedroom suites.

Marissa was out of bed and wearing a thigh-length tank top in an appealing shade of lavender, but Jack had to admit the little round table in the window alcove where she was sitting would be a lot easier to eat at than the bed, so he diverted there instead and started opening bags.

"It's lucky we got some sleep before Tiny deFlea's party," Marissa said, rolling her eyes and smiling wryly. "Because it's likely to be so boring we'll be falling asleep where we stand otherwise."

"We'll find a dark corner and make out," Jack quipped, and kissed her before sitting down in the other chair.

"Aren't you supposed to be playing company rep at this shindig?" Marissa asked, starting with the chicken tikki marsala and saffron rice. "Or is this an industrial espionage thing?"

"Counter-industrial espionage," Jack told her, amused by how close she was to the truth. "Someone's using Tiny for a front for some illegal business, and the top dog at Statesman wants to know who it is."

Marissa didn't look a bit surprised. "If that's what you're after, you might have a problem narrowing the field. Tiny's an imbecile, anyone with a good line can con him into nearly anything, but he's proved a useful idiot to any number of criminals who can launder their money through his failed businesses. He's tanked dozens." She nibbled on a satay skewer. "Do you know what kind of business they're using for a front?"

Jack was reluctantly impressed as he tackled his plate of red curry. Jean-Pierre wasn't the only one who'd make a good agent, but the idea of Marissa running that kind of risk made his heart stop.

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