Compact with the Devil: A Novel (42 page)

“You don’t think that rescuing a woman, crushing a drug cartel, and stabilizing a region was worth canceling a vacation for?” he demanded.

“I might have if you’d told me what was going on!” yelled Nikki.

“I can’t talk to you about work!” he yelled back.

“Oh, this is working?” demanded Nikki, picking up and straightening the picture of Z’ev kissing Nina. “You’re seriously telling me that the CIA made you kiss her? Yeah. No wonder you can’t talk to me about work.”

“Really?” asked Z’ev. “You really want to go there?” He held up the
Star
.

“It was work related,” repeated Nikki sarcastically, her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, right. How?”

“When you canceled our vacation they decided to give me a last-minute assignment,” said Nikki, repeating her story in its now well-practiced format. “The foundation was hoping Kit would donate a lot of money, and when his makeup artist broke her leg I did a little pinch-hitting in the makeup department and got the donation.” She crossed her arms across her chest and glared at him, daring him to call her bluff.

“I’ll just bet you got a donation.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Nikki shrieked, outraged. “I was just filling in for someone.”

“Filling in?” he repeated in disbelief. “This is filling in? What were you doing? Adjusting his eyeliner with your tongue?”

“Why I am even explaining this? We broke up, remember? You canceled our vacation, like you cancel everything else; I broke up with you and you didn’t call me back.”

“I did call you back!”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Yes, I did. It said your phone was out of service.”

“Oh,” said Nikki, dropping down from the height of justifiable anger. “Right. It got broken. I just picked up my replacement today.”

“Oh.” Z’ev ran his fingers over his head and paced the length of the room and back. “I don’t want to break up,” he said bluntly, stopping in front of her.

She looked up, startled. His brown eyes were set deep over a prominent nose and held an expression she couldn’t identify.

“But how are we supposed to stay together?” she asked softly, sitting down on the coffee table.

“You know why I had to break into your house?” he asked. “It’s because I don’t have a key.”

“It doesn’t make sense for you to have a key,” she said dully. “I always pick you up at the airport. You’re not here if I’m not.”

“That’s what I’m saying. I had a lot of time to think about this over the last week. We don’t share anything. You live here; I live in Chicago. And since both of our jobs are prone to last-minute traveling we don’t actually have any time together. How can we have a relationship if we’re not in the same town long enough to see each other for more than two days in a month?”

“Well, thanks for pointing that out, Captain Obvious,” said Nikki bitterly.

“I put in for a transfer to L.A.” he said.

“What?” asked Nikki, blinking up at him. He couldn’t really be saying that. He couldn’t really be trying to get back together. That would be … unprecedented. Men left. They didn’t come back.

“I want to live here. I want us to be together. At least in the same city, anyway. I want to meet your mom. Well, not really, but on general principle I probably should. I want you to meet my parents. I’m not sure I’m expressing this very well, but we can’t keep doing what we’ve been doing.”

“You want us to be a real couple?” asked Nikki. She wanted to laugh. Or cry. She wasn’t sure which. It was as if he were repeating all her thoughts for the last week.

“Yes,” said Z’ev, his shoulders relaxing.

Nikki felt as though a whirlwind were whipping around her brain. Mrs. Merrivel wouldn’t approve. She’d promised Kit they could go on a date when he came to L.A. Z’ev was politically inconvenient.

But Z’ev was here. He had come back for her. Some small panicked voice was shouting in the back of her mind that she should kick him out, make him leave. It was the smart thing to do. She stared into his brown eyes and felt her own shoulders relax. What was she going to tell the girls? She was going to be in such trouble.

“Do you really want to break up?” Z’ev asked.

“No,” said Nikki. “I don’t.”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Did you sleep with that guy?” he blurted out. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“No,” said Nikki, suddenly very, very glad she hadn’t slept with Kit. “Did you sleep with Nina?”

“No.”

“You really tried to call?” she asked. She had to be certain.

“About fifty times,” he said with that Boy Scout look in his eye that made her trust him.

“Well,” said Nikki, standing up and smoothing her skirt, “I guess I retract my breakup then.”

Z’ev’s laugh boomed around the living room, echoing off the ceiling. “Oh good,” he said in his customary gravelly voice. “That means I get to do this.”

He kissed her then, and Nikki felt the champagne bubbles popping all around.

In the making of this book, I first have to acknowledge the contributions of the city of Paris—research has never been so fun or tasty. Although, frankly, I could have done without that riot (which is a story for another day). Second, but much more fervently, I must thank family and friends for their unfailing support and love. And last, but certainly not least, I thank my editor Sarah and my agent Theresa for their considerable help and insightful editing. You have all been great sources of inspiration and expertise on this journey—
merci
!