Engrossed in Ian’s story, Marie barely touched her stew.
“Trish closed the London house and took the children to Kenniston Hall. I moved into this place. End of story.” He dipped a chunk of bread into his bowl. “Then one day a colonel walked into my office at HQ and handed me your photograph. Now here we are.”
“It doesn’t seem fair, asking you to pretend to be in love with me when you’re still missing Alison so much.”
“Actually, that’s one reason I was chosen.” The familiar half-grin returned. “The Twenty wanted to be sure their man didn’t lose his head over you and upset the mission.”
“Like it or not, you weren’t chosen solely because of your acting ability. De la Rivera couldn’t have been hooked with anyone less beautiful.”
“Oh, great. I’m fish bait.”
“You’re a talented and competent agent.”
“I’m not sure the Twenty believes that.”
“They wouldn’t have given you this assignment if they didn’t.”
“Whatever their reasons, I’m glad they chose you to work with me. You’re,” she paused and flashed him her own mischievous smile. “Comfortable.”
“Comfortable?” Ian groaned and grabbed his heart. “That hurts.”
“You are a gentleman in a world gone mad. And I appreciate it more than you can possibly know.”
“Thank me by being careful.”
“As careful as I can.” She absentmindedly ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “Are we making a difference, Ian?”
He didn’t answer immediately, seeming to consider her question as his eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed. “Operation Overlord, the entire invasion, must succeed. It’s our only hope for restoring sanity. Or at least some semblance of it.”
She raised her glass. “To our mission.”
“To no more war talk. At least until after we tidy up.”
He stood and stacked their dishes. “So how was rehearsal?”
“Exhilarating.” She gathered the napkins and tableware, thrilling at the familiar rush of excitement as she told him about her day.
After the dishes were washed and put away, Ian pulled the blackout curtains across the windows and turned off the overhead light. Marie placed a lamp on the square table and removed the shade. By the light of the bare bulb, she photographed the documents from Ian’s briefcase with the miniature camera that Hector had given her.
She was almost finished when a name on one document caught her attention. Picking it up, she skimmed the page and frowned. “Patton?”
“You’re only supposed to photograph the documents, not read them.”
“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” She snapped the shutter on the tiny camera then skimmed the page again. “What’s FUSAG?”
“First United States Army Group.”
“Will Patton really lead the invasion? Or is it a ruse?”
“Ask me again after the war.” He flipped the page and gestured for her to photograph the next document.
“Count on it.” She photographed the last of the documents and tucked the camera inside her overnight bag.
Christian Fiction Friday is a weekly blog hop where authors post snippets from their current works in progress. It is hosted by Alana Terry and Hallee Bridgeman. Click here for a full list of rules and suggestions.