By Kristine Zensky
Cinnamon sighed audibly after they safely crossed the border. Rollin pressed his knee against hers, continuing to stare straight ahead. Barney flanked her on the opposite side of the back seat of the sedan and turned to meet her eyes, “Okay?”
Cinnamon nodded, “Not a country I need to visit again any time soon.”
Willy nodded at the wheel. “You said it, Cinnamon.”
“With any luck, we won’t have to.” Dan lifted the cylinder containing the plans for the missile launch sites. “We’ve got enough right here to counter any moves they might make.”
The deception had been strenuous. Few agents had penetrated so deeply into the government complex, therefore advance information was scarce. Without that knowledge upfront, a significant portion of the mission was improvised. Once underway, the pace was frantic.
Cinnamon knew going in that her objective was tricking the defense minister into revealing the codes for the ministry alarm system. She had not anticipated success would require her to get into an intimate situation. While she had narrowly avoided a sexual encounter, she knew it was due more to luck than planning.
She chided herself for not having been better prepared. She was angry that she did not have the mental and emotional shield in place that allowed her to put herself into compromising positions. She realized she was being hard on herself. She also felt guilty. She knew she wasn’t prepared because she had spent the night before the mission began making love in the sand dunes off Point Zuma.
Rollin had called her as soon as they left the meeting at Dan’s apartment. She ran for the ringing phone and answered hello breathlessly.
His voice was low. “You know if you want to keep this relationship under the radar, you’re going to have to stop wearing such sexy outfits to the team meeting. You’re driving me crazy, Miss Lady Spy.”
She smiled. “It was nice to see you too. And we don’t have a choice. We have to stay off the radar.”
“How about a clandestine rendezvous then?” he asked.
She had just walked in the door and reached in her bag for a cigarette. “I’ve got a shoot this afternoon and then I need to prepare. We’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”
“How can you prepare? Even you have to admit we’re winging this one. Dan almost said as much.”
“Well,” She took a drag, “the shoot might run late.’
“A late supper then. Come on, you know we’re just going to be cold and hungry the whole time we’re there. The best preparation you can do is have a nice dinner with me at the beach. Where’s the shoot?”
Cinnamon smiled, realizing that once again she had succumbed to his charms. “Flores Canyon.”
“You’ll practically be at the beach. What time?”
“It’s booked as three to seven.”
“I’ll pick you up at your place at two-thirty, drop you off in the canyon at three, and pick you up at seven o’clock and we’ll go to dinner.”
“It might run over.”
“If it does, I’ll just have to start improvising early.”
He showed up precisely at two-thirty and whisked her to the location, promising to return at seven. Between hair and make-up and fittings, she found herself musing that she was looking forward to an evening with her charming suitor. Their relationship had certainly complicated her life, but she wouldn’t trade the way he made her feel for anything.
In the past, the rhythm of her life was the bounce between two extremes - exciting missions followed by dull routine until the next assignment. Rollin changed the tone and pace of her off-duty time. Now, she was always energized. When she wasn’t laughing at his tall tales or smiling at his solicitous charms, she was in his arms feeling more alive than ever before in her life. He pampered her generously, teased her relentlessly, and loved her tirelessly. She had never experienced such an intense physical connection before. Rollin was under her skin. Everything he did, he did with gusto and flair and a zest for life that she found was contagious.
She was thrilled when the shoot did wrap on time. The designer gave her the last dress she had modeled as a thank you present. She decided to leave it on. The design was a perfect match to the upswept, wispy hairstyle she had been given. She loved the violet color and knew Rollin would appreciate the deep side slit.
He pulled up at seven, top down, radio tuned to a new jazz station. He hopped out to greet the photographer, Gerd a genial German, who he recognized from some theatrical work Gerd had once done. Rollin had changed to a dark blue suit and striped tie. When she approached the car she caught his quick inhalation of breath. When he moved to kiss her cheek and whisper, “You are stunning,” she knew his compliment was heartfelt.
She happily slipped her hand through his arm, “And just where are you taking me tonight?”
“Well I was just re-considering. I had been planning to take you to this tiny little out of the way place I know, but I hate to miss the chance to show you off. You make that dress … indescribable.”
Cinnamon smiled appreciatively. “I think your first impulse was the right one. I like the idea of something low profile.”
Rollin smiled as he closed her door for her. “Done.”
He surprised her when he pulled off Pacific Coast Highway into his own carport. She’d only been there twice before, months ago when she dropped off a shirt of his which she had mistakenly packed in her bag, ironically before the start of their personal relationship and once more recently. She remembered the simple lines of the bungalow. He jumped out quickly, rounded the Mustang, and opened her door. “Mademoiselle.”
“Out of the way?”
“For most, tiny for certain. Completely low profile.”
He guided her through the door, the entry, and the living room, straight out to the deck of his beach bungalow. He hit the stereo “on” button as he passed and Cinnamon recognized the new Sinatra album.
The sun was setting over the water. The table was draped in a silky white tablecloth flittering in the light breeze. Rollin quickly lit the candles in the candelabra with his lighter and reached for the bottle in the iced bucket. “Champagne?”
“You spoil me.”
Rollin grimaced. “Damn. You’re on to me.” He tossed the wire cage on the table and twisted the bottle around the cork. The controlled explosion punctuated the moment. Cinnamon reached for the flutes and passed him each in turn. He poured with a flourish, popped the bottle back into the cooler and lifted his glass toward her. “To you, thank you for being here tonight.”
She met his glass with hers. “Thanks for bringing me here.”
Their eyes were unable to disengage, each mesmerized by the other. They sipped slowly, still watching each other closely. Rollin sighed contentedly. Without leaving Cinnamon’s eyes, he moved closer. His fingers grazed her bare elbow. “Warm enough?”
Cinnamon nodded, “Yes.” Nonetheless, she was happy to move closer and held his gaze as he lowered his head. He broke off eye contact at the last second as he pressed his lips against her neck. One hand held his glass, but his free hand moved from her elbow to her hip, turning her into his embrace, pressing her against him. She tipped her head back to meet his lips. Their kiss was wet and hungry. He pressed against her and used his free hand to hold her in front of him. His tongue sought hers and gently entwined.
“Cinnamon,” he whispered as his lips moved to her ear, “You taste as good as you look.” He gently bit her earlobe.
“If you keep nibbling will you still be hungry for dinner?”
He chuckled, stopping to meet her eye. “How about grilled salmon, baked potato, and a salad?”
She kissed his lips softly. “Sounds perfect. How can I help?”
He smiled. “Well, you could pour.” He handed her his glass. “I’ll get the stuff from the fridge. Be right back.” He kissed her again, holding her gaze as he backed through the sliding door.
Dinner was simple and delicious. They traded quips about recent missions, old movies, and favorite Sinatra songs. Both appreciated that they could drop the barriers that made their IMF life off-limits in any other social situation. It was much more natural not to have to self-edit. The sunset was replaced by a nearly full moon.
Rollin proposed a walk and Cinnamon readily agreed. She left her shoes on the deck and accepted Rollin’s offer of his jacket. He tossed his shoes, laid his tie over his chair and blew out the last stumps of the candles. It was a beautiful night – warm and clear with the moon filling the sky. They walked north hand in hand for more than a mile dodging the creeping surf.
Cinnamon looked away from the ocean. “No more houses.”
“I think this is the park land. We must be at Zuma Beach. We walked a long way.”
Cinnamon stopped and turned back to the ocean, then left to look south along their path toward the Santa Monica and Palos Verdes peninsulas, both peppered with lights from houses along the coast. “Rollin, it’s beautiful out here.”
He slipped his arms around her from behind. “Hmmm. We should think about heading back.” He nibbled her neck, reaching to trace her jawbone with tender kisses.
Cinnamon knew he was right, but all she could think about was the warmth of his embrace and the softness of his kisses. Their lips met and she turned to face him. They sank to the sand together. His caresses aroused her like nothing she had ever known. Without conversation he raised her dress and lowered her panties while she unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his trousers. They made love wordlessly. Sated, they lay together quietly gazing at the stars. Clouds crossed the moon. The breeze quickened. Rollin pulled her onto his chest. She straddled him and they began their rhythm again, peaking together.
Now she knew that was the time when she should have been preparing, building the wall that would allow her to enter the masquerade without putting her own true self in play. But nothing could have been any different when she was with Rollin. He commanded her total attention and the reason he got it was he devoted all of his to her without reserve. There was a part of her even now that would give anything to be alone with him in the car, to feel his comforting hands, his gentle kisses. It was not to be.
Barney broke the silence as they approached the driveway to the isolated lodge where they would overnight. “Anyone else hungry?”
“Starved.” Rollin replied simply.
Dan turned from the front seat. “We’re travel agents. One night in each hotel, rating room comfort, food, service, the usual.” He opened five sets of papers. The only female name he passed to Cinnamon, he pocketed one, then gave the other men the remaining three. “After we check in, let’s meet in the dining room in one hour.”
Barney glanced at his watch, “Fine.”
Willy slowed to a stop in front of the entrance. “I hope we give the restaurant a good score.”
Cinnamon was happy to have an hour of privacy. She took a long, hot shower, lathering the soap vigorously, working to wipe away all traces of the minister’s wandering hands and possessive lips. It had only been a few weeks since a trying mission to catch a short tail spy. That too had tested her barriers, this time for different reasons. She felt no attraction to the aggressive minister, but, like her dealings with Andre Fetyukov, she went in with less emotional protection than it would turn out she had needed.
She wrapped herself in a toweling robe and removed the hotel shower cap. Her hairdo survived the shower relatively intact. She moved to the bedroom to stretch, using the footboard of the bed as a barré. She felt her breathing relax as she went more deeply into her routine, albeit the abbreviated, on the road, hotel room version. Lengthening her muscles, feeling the kinks in her back loosen, helped her feel energized. Her mind wandered back to the last time she felt this way – four nights ago with Rollin. If only she had used that time to focus on the mission.
But it was no use pretending. She could not have resisted then; she longed to be with him now. She reached for the phone, but stopped. Was he Peter Morgan or was that Willy? She knew Dan was George Anderson and she had memorized the other three names as Dan passed out the papers. Unfortunately the photos on the visas were not visible and she had not noted who ended up with which set of papers. Rollin was playing Peter Morgan, Frank Barrett, or Ben Carmichael. She couldn’t very well call all three rooms and make up excuses if she reached Barney or Willy.
Maybe this was why all her training supervisors had stressed that getting involved with fellow agents was against the rules for good reasons. Instead of scheming about a way to be alone with Rollin she should take advantage of the downtime and rest. She was on duty until after the de-brief at LAX tomorrow.
She was excited when the clock read eight o’clock. She was pleased she had packed a spare dress. She touched up her lipstick one last time and tucked her cigarettes and room key into her clutch. She was looking forward to seeing Rollin, even if dinner was with their three teammates. At least it wouldn’t have to be business as usual rehearsing plans. This mission was nearly over. They were across the border and could relax a little, so long as they kept up the travel agent charade.
When she approached the table she noted Dan and Barney nursing cocktails, deep in conversation. Three empty seats. She had a shot at sitting next to Rollin if he turned up next. She knew he’d find a way to press his thigh against hers and stroke her ankle with his toe. Barney rose and offered her his seat next to Dan, indicating he’d move over one to allow her between them. Cinnamon smiled, “Stay with your drink. One of the guys will be along in a minute.”
“Your usual?” Dan asked. So, it would be a night avoiding use of names. That always made things easier. Cinnamon nodded and Dan told the waiter “Bourbon and water, please.”
Cinnamon followed the waiter with her eyes toward the bar. Rollin’s reflection in the mirror caught her eye. She squinted slightly, the mirror angles made it difficult to figure out where he was, but it was certainly his reflection. He was engrossed in conversation with a buxom blonde. She was practically sitting in his lap. Hanging on her every word, he reached over to top up her glass of champagne before pouring his own and signaling for another bottle.
Barney touched her arm. “What is it?”
“What?” Cinnamon asked.
“I asked how you rated your room, but you were miles away.”
She nodded. “Yes. Sorry. I guess I’m just tired.”
Willy arrived and pulled out the chair next to Cinnamon. “I think we should order without him. He’s pretty well hooked.”
So the men had all seen Rollin, she reasoned that they had all ordered drinks in the bar. They didn’t realize she could see Rollin’s image. “Do you mean the fifth member of our traveling band?” She asked to make conversation.
Dan nodded. “Yes, Mr. Carmichael seems to have been distracted by something in the bar.”
Willy grinned. “A stewardess. Guess they’re talking business.”
The men laughed heartily. Cinnamon smiled automatically but her stomach had flipped. She was grateful her drink had arrived and took a long sip, holding it on her tongue a moment longer than normal while her insides stopped shuddering.
Barney stopped chuckling long enough to whisper to Willy, “You should have seen his face when she told him she was in the travel trade too.”
“Serves him right.” Dan said fondly.
“No, she jumped him!” Barney exclaimed.
Willy nodded, “Made a beeline for him the minute he walked into the bar.”
“Our Ben, the innocent?” Dan swirled the ice in his scotch.
“For once!” Willy chuckled.
“He didn’t even make it to our end of the bar.” Barney shook his head.
“Not that he did much to try!” Willy added.
Dan waved the waiter back and advised him that they would go on and order and his colleague might join them later. Cinnamon was glad to bury her face in her menu. She felt embarrassed and hurt. Even though the rest of the team had no idea about their relationship, she thought Rollin would be gracious enough to respect her presence. Her eyes burned thinking about everything she had imagined they had being reduced to just another notch in his belt.
“Thanks, guys.” Rollin said sarcastically as he pulled out the chair. He turned to Cinnamon but her eyes fled back to the menu. “Sorry I’m late.”
“We weren’t sure to expect you at all.” Dan added teasingly. “Wouldn’t be the first team dinner you missed because something suddenly came up.”
“Alright, alright, alright.” Rollin tried to move things along. “Who’s got the wine list?”
Cinnamon thought back. He’d never missed a dinner since she’d been on the team. In fact, times when they were well away from danger or risk of discovery, he was usually the ringleader of boisterous late nights. Never before had they involved women, or any one from outside the team. Dan must be referring to past missions. What else was she going to find out now?
“Red or white?” Rollin turned again to Cinnamon, trying to engage her. “Cinnamon, what are you having?”
She looked up and met his piercing blue eyes. She couldn’t hold them and turned away again. “I’m not sure yet.”
Barney closed his menu. “I haven’t eaten in three days and I am having an enormous steak.”
“Amen.” Dan said as he closed his menu.
Willy folded his menu. “I’m going to order the swordfish, but no wine for me.”
Rollin turned back to Cinnamon. She spoke softly, “Swordfish for me, too.”
“Same for me, so bottle of red and a bottle of white.” He beckoned the sommelier and ordered a bottle of Chablis and a Cote du Rhone.
The dinner was relaxed and friendly. There was no opportunity to talk about the mission in such a public place. They all knew they’d be thoroughly de-briefed upon arrival at LAX. They teased each other with esoteric travel trade questions. These games were often lots of fun, using their covers for protection, but actually sharing real views. The wordplay and duality usually amused her. She liked the mental gymnastics and knew it kept them sharp. Cinnamon made an effort to participate for appearance’s sake. The food was fine, not worth a return visit, but filling after three days without a real meal.
They agreed to meet at nine am and share two taxis to the airport. The sedan would be picked up later. Dan paid the bill. The waiter brought him a receipt, along with a folded piece of paper, which he passed to Rollin, saying, “From a young lady in the bar.”
Barney and Willy laughed heartily. The actor opened it sheepishly and sighed. “This is unbelievable.”
“Come on, out with it.” Dan prodded.
“No.” Rollin shook his head and folded the paper.
Before Rollin could put it in his breast pocket, Barney grabbed it and passed it to Willy, who read it aloud, “Come fly with me. Sherry. Room 523.”
“Good lord. Ben!” Barney exclaimed teasingly.
Rollin threw his hands up. “What can I say? Animal magnetism.”
Dan rose quickly. “Right. This is bound to degenerate. I am going to sleep. Nine in the lobby.”
“Great idea,” Cinnamon rose quickly. She felt as if she was escaping. Feigning illness had seemed the coward’s way out. She had seen it through, but was glad it was over. “See you all tomorrow.”
The three men rose to acknowledge Cinnamon’s departure and bid goodnight to her and to their leader. Before she was out of earshot she heard Willy ask “So you going to 523?” She quickened her pace, not wanting to hear Rollin’s answer.
Back in her room, she was surprised her cheeks were not more flushed. It wasn’t often that a man turned the tables on Cinnamon Carter. She and Rollin had made no promises to one another. She had been wrong to expect that the relationship was anything more to him than one of convenience. They had been lovers for weeks rather than months. Now she knew where she stood. Her eyes stung as she fought back tears that surprised her.
The knock at the door startled her too. “Yes?” she called warily.
“It’s me.” Rollin replied.
Cinnamon froze. She didn’t want to see him. More importantly, she didn’t want him to see her this way. “It’s late,” she called toward the door.
“Ci-- please, we need to talk.”
“I’m not sure we have anything to say.”
“Don’t make me do this in the hallway.”
She looked in the mirror and quickly daubed her eyes. She knew she could find the strength to face him. She took a deep breath, set an unemotional mask of composure on her face, and crossed to open the door. He stood there hesitantly, waiting for a sign from her. “Come on in,” she said softly.
“Thank you.” He closed the door behind him. “I can guess how you must feel and I am sorry, but I was – “
“Only flirting? Flattered? Intrigued?” She turned away from him.
He sighed, “No. I was going to say trapped.” Cinnamon turned to stare at him incredulously. He reached for her arms and she pulled away. He could see this would be difficult. He took a deep breath. “Cinnamon, I really did nothing to encourage anything.”
“And nothing to stop it.”
“Exactly! I couldn’t. The minute I did, the guys would wonder why.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true. They expect me to take advantage of … situations like that. If I suddenly didn’t … well…”
She decided she needed to make him say it. “Why would they expect that?”
“Because I would have done it. Before … you … I did do it.”
“I see.”
He hung his head. “If I didn’t … react to what was on offer, then … they’re smart guys. I’ve never hidden the fact that I find you incredibly attractive. For them two plus two would make about seventeen pretty quickly.”
She thought maybe she had gone too far. “Maybe I shouldn’t expect…”
“You should.” Rollin cut her off, then moved closer to stand in front of her. He held her eye. “You should expect any man who’s with you to be only with you.”
Cinnamon exhaled slowly. Rollin turned away and continued. “I can’t lie to you. I’ve never been faithful to one woman in my life.”
Cinnamon sighed, not altogether surprised. Rollin continued softly, “But I want to try. I only want to be with you. I know how lucky I am.”
“Rollin, we need to talk about this when this is over, when we’re back. There’s too much going on right now.”
“I meant it when I told you I loved you.” His conviction was fierce.
Cinnamon shook her head. The last thing she wanted to think about now was the weekend after Andre. “We need to do this later.”
“Don’t make me go.” Rollin’s ragged sigh revealed his frustration. He moved to block the door, worried she’d open it. “Barney asked why you seemed so subdued and Willy said the minister turned out to be a shit. I didn’t know Cinnamon. If I had, I would have figured out some way to be with you, for us to be together, just us. I’m sorry that instead you had … well, the evening you had.”
Cinnamon felt the pressures of the last three days move into the red. “Rollin, I just can’t do this now.”
He moved toward her. “Don’t do anything.” He reached for her shoulders. She turned away from him, but he held her firmly from behind. “Just let me hold you. Let me do all the things to you I wanted to do the minute I sat next to you in the car.” His lips moved to her neck, kissing her softly, trying to tease her into his embrace. “Cinnamon, I hate the rules. I just want you.”
Cinnamon pulled away. She turned to face him, her eyes filled with tears. “Don’t you see? This is why there are rules! So that this doesn’t happen in the middle of a mission. So we don’t make love in the sand the night before we go undercover. So we’re … prepared … focused.” Cinnamon wrapped her arms across her body, suddenly chilled.
Rollin spoke softly. “Some of the stuff we get asked to do … we just can’t prepare for.”
“I could have done more to prepare –“ Cinnamon shook her head and inhaled sharply. She couldn’t speak, she knew the tears would fall and she wasn’t sure she could make them stop. Rollin moved closer again and reached for her elbows. His touch electrified her, but the charge conflicted with the polarity of every other emotion she felt. She short-circuited and her tears began to fall.
He pulled her into his arms. She could not resist. He was warm and vital and wanted her and she needed to feel that around her now. He made her feel safe and loved. He kissed her hair, whispering into her ear, “We’ll be home soon.”
She nodded against his shoulder.
He pulled her even closer, surrounding her, trying his best to shield her from her fears. “Cinnamon, I do love you.” She nodded. His hands moved down her back, amorously caressing her bottom.
She shook her head. “I can’t, Rollin.”
He sighed and nodded. “I just want to show you…”
“I know. Just hold me.” And he did.
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