Petals in the Storm by Mary Jo Putney

was searing away the cold and loneliness.
    She gasped involuntarily when he caressed her breast. Her nipple tightened and a heated tide began flowing through her limbs. He began to unfasten the buttons of her shirt. The way her breasts ached for his touch told her that she dared not let this continue, or she would be urging him to the bed. After an instant to collect her strength, she spun away, putting half a dozen feet between them before he had time to react.
    He moved to come after her, his face raw with longing. She stopped him with a sharp chop of her hand that was unmistakable dismissal. In her coolest voice, she said, "It's a nuisance to be attracted to a person one doesn't particularly like, but that can be used to help our masquerade. If you look at me like that in public, no one will realize that our affair is pretense."
    Rafe stopped in his tracks. In the instant before his controlled mask clamped into place, she saw anger, and perhaps reluctant admiration, in his eyes.
    Neither of those emotions showed in his voice when he said with matching coolness, "If you react like that the next time I kiss you, the affair will become quite genuine."
    "I won't deny that I find you attractive, but passion is not my master, so you had better accustom yourself to frustration." She smiled maliciously. "If you think that being with me will put too great a strain on your self-control, I suggest that you make arrangements with one of the hotel chambermaids. No doubt one of them will be happy to relieve your frustration."
    "I can do better than a chambermaid," he said dryly. "And don't worry about my self-control. I have yet to meet a woman who could turn me into a lust-crazed savage."
    Deciding that it was time to conclude her business, she pulled a paper from an inside pocket and handed it to him. "Here are the names and descriptions of seven other men who are possible suspects. Read it and destroy it before you go out tomorrow morning. I didn't mention them because I don't want to confuse you with too much information, but all should be observed carefully if you chance to meet one."
    Rafe glanced at the paper. Sorbon, Dietrich, Lemercier, Dreyfus, Taine, Sibour, and Montcan. He set the list aside to study later.
    Maggie said, "There's a reception tomorrow night at the British Embassy to honor the Prussian delegation. Von Fehrenbach will be there, so we should go. I live at 17 Boulevard des Capucines. Can you call for me about eight o'clock?"
    "I'll be there. Try to be punctual." Unable to resist asking a question that had been nagging him, Rafe added, "Incidentally, what does your husband think of your activities?"
    "My
what?"
    "Count Janos, of course."
    The tension in the room eased as Maggie's eyes began to brim with laughter. "Oh, my darling Andrei!" She clasped her hands before her heart and gave a nostalgic flutter of her lashes. "He was matchless. Utterly beautiful in his Hussar uniform, and
such
a pair of shoulders!"
    "Is the matchless count still among the living?"
    "Alas, his noble life was lost at the Battle of Leipzig. Or perhaps it was at Austerlitz."
    "Those battles were nine years apart," he pointed out. "Did you misplace him for all that time, or merely decide that you didn't suit?"
    Maggie waved her hand airily and lifted her cloak, swirling the dark folds around her shoulders. "Ah, well, they say that spending too much time together is bad for a marriage."
    "Do they, indeed?" he said with dry humor. "Why do I have the feeling that you are no more a countess than I am?"
    Maggie was heading toward the window, but she flashed an impish smile over her shoulder. "I, at least, have the possibility of becoming a countess, which is more than you can say," she said flippantly.
    As she pushed the drapery aside, Rafe said, "Wouldn't it be easier to leave by the doorway?"
    "Easier," she admitted, "but I have a reputation to maintain. Good night, your grace." As her dark figure slipped behind the draperies, a faint breeze