It made Madeline sick to her stomach.

Technically, it did not even break any of the rules she had imposed upon Michael and Nikita. That made it worse.

Michael and Nikita were now free to work together again. Per Operations. Madeline could hardly say a word to that. Especially since she was essentially persona non grata in the Office.

With daily contact, their friendship was gradually deepening into something else. Again. Michael had embarked on an all-out campaign to win Nikita's heart. In his words, 'all over again'.

Instead of spending his time sitting at home alone and lonely, ruminating about what once was and would never be again, Michael turned things around. He focused the intense intelligence he usually reserved for missions on Nikita.

It was working, too.

It was going to take a very long time to resurrect their love from the ashes. But Michael no longer minded. Their roles were reversed. Michael was in hot pursuit, and Nikita the wary one, always holding back something.

They were not even close to resuming the affair. But Michael was nothing if not single-minded about this. He had not come this far to give up. Their relationship right now was warmer than friendship, but hardly the romance of the century.

Nikita might have been starting to enjoy Michael's touch, now that she had new associations to make with him, but it was hard to tell. She would smile enigmatically. He would kiss her, delicious, heart-stopping kisses that made her ache down to her toes.

Michael was beginning to wonder if she was deliberately dragging her feet because she loved being kissed that way. He smiled to himself. There were worse things than not being able to consummate their union. That there was still anything between them at all was a gift.

There had never been a courtship between them. They had been sexually infatuated with one another from the beginning, they had acted on those feelings, finally, in Lyons, but things had undergone subtle changes since then. There was Jurgen. The Armel mission. Posing as husband and wife took its toll on both of them. So did Michael's work as a Valentine Op.

He knew it did not mean anything to his heart. Or even his body, for that matter. It was as if it were happening to someone else, he thought sometimes. And if Nikita only knew how often he needed to summon up her face, her voice, and her body, in order to please one target or another, well… At one time, it might have bothered him to admit that she had truly become his weakness, no matter how much he protested to the contrary.

But their relationship, forged in adversity, out of necessity, became essential to them both over time. They were tested time and again…but instead of ending, their relationship merely evolved into something else. Something stronger. It became that rare thing, a contradiction in terms. The more it changed, the more solidly anchored to each other they became.

It had taken a long time for Michael to accept what he felt for Nikita. It had taken even longer for Nikita to accept what Michael felt. It did not mean that she did not love him as intensely as he did her. But as strange as it seemed, Nikita was at times the more realistic of the two. She was able to pull back when Michael could not.

And so it was that Nikita was now willing to let Michael try to rekindle their love. It was a grand seduction…with Section as its backdrop…and Nikita had every confidence in Michael's ability to make it work…

Michael stood in the comm area, watching the images flicker across his monitor screen. He was finalizing a report on a mission that had gone bad, and he was intently focused on the details. Something tiny but quite significant was eluding him. That bothered him.

He was so preoccupied, he did not immediately register Nikita's arrival. She drew even with him and stared at the monitor before them. "Oh!" she said with a start. "Belize…"

That word more or less said it all. Something went very wrong in Belize. But what it was was so subtle, so inexplicable, it was not easily detectable.

She reached across Michael to hit a few keys on his keyboard, and he turned slowly to face her, a blank stare in place. But his green eyes were dancing merrily as they lit upon her face. "What do you think happened?"

She shrugged. "No one really knows."

"Someone must."

"But who?"

Nikita's hand was still resting on Michael's keyboard. Michael's fingers crept over and touched her hand, noting that she no longer jumped when he touched her. His fingers gently massaged hers in a gesture that was somehow both romantic and erotic at the same time.

There was something dangerous about doing this at Section. It did not matter that Operations had virtually lent his protection to them. Or that they could hardly step one foot wrong in recent days. It felt dangerous. Perhaps from long habit. And that made the simplest touch…incredibly arousing.

Intensely aware of Nikita's every breath…every movement, no matter how small…Michael steeped himself in her fragrance. He drifted slowly behind her as she stood at the keyboard, letting his own essence permeate her senses. Pressing a palm to the back of her neck, Michael inhaled her sweet jasmine-like scent.

Nikita tried to maintain her focus on the monitor screen, but the pictures no longer made any sense to her. Her vision blurred, then finally disappeared, as Nikita's eyes closed. He was right behind her. She could feel him. His warm breath on her neck.

Michael's touch made the tiny hairs stand up on her neck. A frisson of cold made its way down her spine. But the effect was not exactly chilling.

He leaned against Nikita's back, gently pulling her hair off her neck with both hands. He was moving so slowly, she was tantalized.

And definitely intrigued. While she did not remember what their first relationship was like, exactly, she knew what it was not. And this slow, subtle, nuanced spell that Michael was casting upon her was new. She sensed that the first time, perhaps necessarily, they tended to rush, to seize what little time they had together. They were inevitably cautious, yet in their caution, they were quick and impulsive, pushing things to fruition.

Now, Michael was taking his time. Acting as if they were any other couple, on the outside, without Section One scrutinizing their every movement. It was true seduction. Michael was its master. Using every skill honed as a Valentine Op. On Nikita.

"Did you find the anomaly yet?" he breathed against her neck, his lips nearly touching her skin. She almost held her breath.

"What anomaly?" she asked, blushing when she realized she couldn't even recall what they were studying.

Michael smiled mysteriously, glancing around to see if anyone were watching them. His palms resting on her shoulders, he leaned into her body again, and all at once, she registered a distinct change in the contour of Michael's body. That made her blush as well.

Aroused. He was aroused. At Section. Yet he felt no urgency. He was enjoying the chase far too much to race ahead to the finish line.

She was far too aware of him. Her skin felt sensitized to his touch. Instead of flinching, as she had once, she now reveled in the way his fingers lingered on her shoulders, then slowly trailed down her bare arms. She had goosebumps. And it wasn't a bit cold inside carefully climate-controlled Section.

Anticipation.

Now there was a word. Nikita sighed inwardly as Michael moved away from her. Her body ached to follow his. But that was merely lust. Not love. She was apparently quite capable of finding Michael a sexually attractive male. She would even be able to sleep with him, if she chose. But she wouldn't be able to feel the love that had bound their two hearts together.

Therefore, she was not entirely convinced that Michael was going about things in the right way. But, her mouth curved into a saucy grin, it was going to be fun being the recipient of his various sensual experiments. Trying to see what the right combination might be. If there even was a combination of elements that would unlock her memory, and then, her heart.

Madeline stormed into Operations' lair, drawing herself up as haughtily as her petite stature would allow. She scolded him, much as one would rebuke a child for behaving inappropriately at the dinner table.

"Have you seen what's going on down there?" She pointed down to the comm area, barely visible from their perch high above in the Observation Deck.

A smirk twitched at Operations' mouth. "I find it rather…amusing. Watching them dance around each other like that…" Operations sighed, seemingly content with the situation. "Sort of like history repeating itself, wouldn't you say, Madeline?"

Madeline gnashed her teeth together. In the most genteel way possible, of course.

"And then, it's nice to see Michael smiling again, too." Operations continued to smile in what seemed like the most annoying way possible. It grated on Madeline's nerves. It was bad enough to lose to Michael and Nikita, but to have Operations gloating so thoroughly…

"Next thing you know, they'll be sleeping together!" she roared with considerable intensity for such a small woman.

"Hmm…oh, yes…" he drawled in a remarkably salacious manner.

Madeline clenched her fists and stalked out the way she'd come. Operations laughed softly. Really, the woman was quite undone. Was it the threat of cancellation…or the threat of Michael making love to Nikita?

Michael invited himself to dinner. At Nikita's apartment. Whenever he thought of the two of them together, he always envisioned them at her apartment. It held such memories for him.

When they were together, they slept in her bed. Woke up in her bed. Made love in her bed. It was in fact her apartment that Michael referred to whenever he said, "Let's go home."

He was home. It felt right to be here again. Whether or not anything happened between them.

Nikita finished setting the table for dinner. Michael sat down and unbuttoned his jacket. "Would you like me to take that for you?"

Michael smiled warmly, turning his not-so-inconsiderable charm on Nikita. "Would you hang it in your closet?"

She blinked. "In the bedroom?" She almost stuttered. Maybe it was the thought of him in her bed.

He could have let her off the hook. But he didn't.

His smile widened ever so slightly. "If you would."

Her mouth abruptly went dry. Absolutely dry. Suddenly she didn't know if she were in the throes of a genuine flashback or fantasizing. She had the most positive image of the two of them, making love, in that bed. "Michael!" she exclaimed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you remember something, Kita?"

Oh, he was cool. She hated him. Well, that was close to love, wasn't it?

She walked calmly to his side and helped him out of his jacket. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt underneath. That did nothing to steady her nerves. At all.

While she was putting his jacket on a hanger in the bedroom closet, Michael stood up and stretched. Moving slowly towards the stereo, he stopped to study her CD collection. He pushed a button on the stereo, and it was like stepping into a time warp. It was the same music that was playing the day he tried to seduce her the first time. When they danced. Together. Here.

He would settle for his own meager memories, if need be. But he was convinced that they could make new memories that would somehow outshine the old.

When Nikita came back into the room, Michael extended a hand to her. "Dance with me."

She smiled faintly. "Oh, Michael, no…I don't think so."

He cocked his head at her. "Are you afraid, Kita? Afraid of being more than friends again?"

She shook her head weakly. "I don't remember how it felt, Michael. How could I be scared?"

"Then dance with me." Again, he commanded her. Again, he stretched out a hand to her.

She reluctantly moved towards him, but he didn't rush her, as she'd thought he might. He clasped her quite gently, almost tenderly. Their bodies had sufficient space between them for her peace of mind. Then he changed things.

He lay his head on her shoulder, slowly swaying to the music. Her entire body was focused on where his head touched her shoulder. She swore she could tell when his eyes blinked, for it felt like his eyelashes lightly caressed her bare skin at the shoulder. Oh, my…

"What about dinner?" That came out too quickly. She felt an attack of nerves coming on.

He smiled. She felt his lips touch her shoulder in the softest of kisses. "We can eat a little later."

"I-I'm h-hungry."

Michael, emboldened by her reaction, nuzzled her neck, feeling the pulse at the base of her throat betray her by quickening. She gasped. When her mouth opened, Michael seized the opportunity to kiss her.

She pulled back, but Michael followed, eagerly tasting her. "Mi-chael," she warned, her voice sing-song.

"Too much, too soon?" Michael looked disappointed, but inside, he was pleased that he was making her react so strongly to such tiny caresses. He stroked her face with his fingers. "Sorry, Kita."

He sounded contrite, but he was anything but. He loved her. And if he had to single-handedly fight his way through her protective firewalls, he would.

"Ki-ta…" he said softly, seductively. Finally, longingly.

She looked panic-stricken, then fled the room. The food would have burned but for Michael's decision to check the kitchen before checking on Nikita. He expertly served both of them. Then, as if nothing had happened, he called to Nikita in the next room. The bedroom.

"Come and eat something, Kita."

"Oh, go away, Michael. Stop trying to bring back the dead. Some things just aren't meant to be. This must be one of them."

He could hear the tears in her voice. Oh, God, she was crying. He couldn't leave her alone in there to cry. But he knew what would happen if he went into the bedroom. He had iron will and the self-control of ten men…but this was his Kita. Her soul called out to his.

"Kita, come out. Please."

She sniffled. He heard her turn over in the bed. It took everything he had to stay put. If he went in there, saw her lying there, in their bed… Damn! He cursed to himself. To him, it was their bed… He didn't want to take advantage of her or the situation. But he would. He closed his eyes against the thought. And that would be a betrayal he couldn't live with.

She walked back to him, slowly, rubbing gently at her reddened eyes. She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

"Come here, love," he whispered. She wiped at her eyes one last time, then threw herself into his waiting arms. He closed his arms around her almost convulsively.

He held her as she cried. It broke his heart all over again. And that wasn't what he meant to happen. At all.

"Michael?"

He looked down at the woman in his arms, his eyes dulled with pain again, the color of dark jade. "What, sweetheart?"

He absently stroked her eyelids one at a time with his thumb, wiping away the rest of her tears. Madeline must have implanted an hypnotic suggestion as well. There had to be some kind of aversive conditioning at work here. Nikita was responding to his advances…then something changed inside her head.

Madeline knew entirely too much about how their minds worked. Nikita's tears were the one thing that could have rendered Michael impotent. And he was. Quite powerless to do anything now. But hold her.

He buried his face against her hair, closing his eyes. He couldn't stand much more of this. Why had he thought he could best Madeline at her own game? Why had he thought that love was somehow more powerful than hatred?

He was murmuring to her in French. He didn't even realize that he was speaking aloud until Nikita sharply pulled back. He opened his eyes, an unspoken question between them.

"Michael…make love to me. It's the only thing we haven't tried." Nikita sounded as desperate as he felt.

He drew in a shaky breath. "Kita…" He shook his head.

"I can respond to you physically, Michael. It can be almost like it was. Almost." She was so sad, his Kita, but so brave.

"No, Kita."

"But why? You've made love to other women without love. Why not me?"

His eyes filled up with tears. "I've never made love to anyone but you, my Kita. I've had sex with countless women, but that was not making love."

He ran a finger across her mouth, and she closed her eyes, clearly savoring his touch now. But it was not enough. It couldn't be.

"Take me, please, Michael." Her voice was a mere thread of sound.

"I've never taken you without love, my Kita. Never." His voice broke, and when it came back, it was a husky whisper, fraught with underlying emotion. He felt everything she could not.

"Never?"

He shook his head again. "I've always loved you, Kita. Right from the beginning. It's part of what's made my life here at Section both tolerable…and unbearable."

She suddenly understood just how they had been manipulated. All along.

"I wasn't the only one whose feelings were being used."

"No." It was a tiny word, but oh so powerful.

"They've been using me to control you?"

He closed his eyes again, the pain too much to withstand. He wrapped his arms around her, knowing full well it was more for his benefit than for hers now. "I love you," he whispered, his mouth to her ear. He slid his cheek against hers and froze.

He frowned. "Wait…"

"What is it?"

"What I was thinking before…what you said before…"

"I don't understand, Michael."

"There is a key here, if we could only see it." He let go of her and paced his way back to the kitchen table, preoccupied.

Madeline saw how close Michael was to discovering how she had conditioned Nikita. She had to find a way to keep them apart, keep them from finding out how to undo Nikita's 'adjustment'.

There would be no lovemaking tonight. She would see to that.

Michael's cell phone rang a few moments later. "Jacques…"

He sighed and turned to Nikita. "I have to go in. Try to get some rest. I'll call you when I get back."

Nikita stopped him with a tug on his arm. "Michael…come back here when you're done."

"That's not a good idea, Kita."

"Please? You can hold me until I fall asleep. You know I won't be able to rest until you return."

He kissed her on the cheek, much as he would a child or an aunt. But Nikita pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. "Please?" she whispered.

Her fingertips caressed the stubble that was beginning to show on his cheeks. He pressed a chaste kiss to the palm of her hand. "All right."

But he could not come back that night. Madeline invented some problem with a mission profile that only Michael could resolve. Michael knew he was being manipulated, but he wasn't ready to move against Madeline openly again. Not until he was sure what to do about Nikita.

Nikita lay in her bed. Alone. Tracing idle patterns on the sheets. Unable to sleep. Knowing the answer to what kept them apart was locked somewhere inside her own head.

When they met again, it was at Section. Nikita was waiting in Michael's office when he came in. "How did you get inside?"

She smiled enigmatically. "A mutual friend."

He almost smiled. "Walter."

She nodded. Then she stood up, running her hands down the length of his body. His hands shot out and gripped her wrists firmly. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking out loud."

He almost laughed. "Think a bit more quietly."

She reached up and bit at his mouth. He could not help but respond. His hands slid under her hair and pulled her against him. He kissed her repeatedly until her mouth was swollen from his fervent kisses. Then he abruptly stopped, leaning his forehead against hers, as he gasped for breath.

"You do want me," she said triumphantly.

He groaned against her mouth. "That was never in question, Kita."

"Make love to me."

He blinked. "Here? Now? That would be—"

She put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Crazy. I know." She whispered to him, knowing they were under surveillance. Certainly by Madeline.

"I thought about what you said."

He was puzzled. "What did I say?"

She grew frustrated. Talking in riddles was hard to do. And even harder to understand.

"Oh…" Michael's face cleared. His eyes shifted to the surveillance cameras and back again.

"Make love to me," she said, quite clearly and loudly.

He bent his head to hers, smiling his assent. He loved a woman who liked to push their luck. A woman after his own heart. A woman who held his heart.

He nudged her lips apart, with his tongue, and they traded warm, wet kisses for several moments. He could almost calculate to the minute when they would be interrupted.

"Michael!" Madeline's voice barked from the overhead paging system. "I need to see you in my office. Now!"

Sure she did. Michael gave Nikita one last kiss, made all the sweeter for having incensed Madeline.

Michael leaned against the entrance to Madeline's office without coming in. His body said casual. His expression said, Don't mess with me, even unintentionally.

Arms crossed in front of his chest, he regarded her with something akin to thinly veiled hostility. "What…could…you…possibly…want?" he asked, carefully enunciating each word.

"You seem to be making some kind of progress with Nikita."

"Are you asking me or telling me?" he asked sarcastically.

Madeline nervously flushed and shuffled some papers on her desktop, quite unnecessarily, the excessive movement catching Michael's eye immediately. He had her rattled, all right. Now if he could only figure out why.

He straightened up and moved into the room, his presence clearly unnerving Madeline, though she was the one who demanded his appearance. "I wonder why Operations hasn't canceled you yet, Madeline. Does he know you defied his order to restore Nikita's memory?"

Before she could answer, Operations appeared in the other doorway. "No, Michael. I attributed Nikita's progress with you to Madeline's intervention, but now I see Nikita is responding to you, not her. Why is that, Madeline?"

Madeline looked uncharacteristically flustered. She had no answer to give. She was well and truly in trouble. She had no hope of ever extricating herself from this. Perhaps Michael would be merciful and shoot her where she stood.

What was she thinking? Michael merciful? She killed his entire reason for being. She would be lucky if he didn't skin her alive and wear her for a coat.

"There is one way to bring back Nikita's memory," she offered tentatively, waiting to be rejected by both men out of hand.

"And that would be?" Operations asked, a sharp impatient note entering his voice.

"I think I've already figured out that part, Paul," Michael said thoughtfully. Operations turned and looked in the direction of the younger man inquiringly.

"It has something to do with making love to Nikita."

Operations raised an eyebrow. "You mean you haven't tried that already?"

Michael flushed angrily. "What would you suggest, Paul? That I rape Nikita to bring back her memory?"

Madeline almost smiled. "It wouldn't be rape if she were willing."

"If she can't feel anything but passion, it would be meaningless, Madeline. Just what part of this do you not understand?"

Madeline spoke so softly, her voice was nearly inaudible. "You were so close the other night, Michael. That's why I called you in."

He blinked. "I was?"

Did she think to save herself by volunteering the information that would bring Nikita back to herself, in the truest sense of the word? Michael pondered.

All at once, he made the connection. Nikita was responding to him, but when he started to get too intense, she fled, retreating into tearfulness. Her tears then killed his libido by summoning his protective instincts. That was the result of the aversive conditioning Madeline had done to Nikita. It was surprisingly simple but effective, nonetheless. Their romance was permanently stalled in second gear.

"What you said before, about it not being rape if she was willing? What are you suggesting?"

Madeline met his eyes evenly. "Do you still wish me dead, Michael?"

"With a passion."

"Even if I could bring her back to you?"

"You vowed to keep us apart forever, Madeline! You'll forgive me for not trusting a word you say!" Michael all but snarled at her.

She turned to Operations. "Paul?"

Operations studied the woman he once considered his right hand. "I think I'm with Michael on this one, Madeline."

"Very well." She began to gather up her paperwork. "But Michael is the only one who can break the aversive conditioning. Without my help, it could take even him…years. You'll both die of old age long before you figure it out, Michael."

"The answer is in Nikita's mind, Madeline. Somewhere."

"You'll never find it without me."

"That's a chance I'm willing to take."

"You fool!" Madeline spat vindictively at him. Operations nodded to someone unseen and two burly operatives appeared in the doorway behind Michael. Michael moved out of the way as the two operatives approached Madeline.

Madeline shrieked her dismay to the heavens. "You're lucky I don't turn you over to Michael. I don't think he's in a forgiving mood." Operations gave a careless wave of his hand and Madeline disappeared, courtesy of the two chasers.

"Are you going to cancel her?"

Operations nodded. "Eventually. She may have some limited usefulness, but I doubt that we will ever be able to trust her again."

Michael's eyes glowed bright green for a moment, then flickered back and forth slowly. "What about Nikita and me?"

Operations smiled. "What about the two of you, Michael? I sanctioned your relationship. As long as you keep your numbers up, I see no reason to change anything. Do you?"

"What about—would we ever be able to get married?" Michael asked, almost hesitantly.

Operations laughed shortly. "Now you're pushing your luck, Michael. Get the heck out of here. You've got work to do."

Michael could still hear Madeline screaming bloody murder in the White Room. Part of him said that he should still be interested in seeking revenge for everything she had done to him and Nikita. But most of him was focused on getting Nikita back. He couldn't be bothered with something as petty as revenge now. If there were pieces of Madeline left after the Torture Twins finished with her, Michael would see if there were some way to wreak vengeance upon her. But if he succeeded in resurrecting Nikita's memories of him and their love…he wouldn't care about revenge any longer.

A man had to have his priorities straight. What was one more bitch on her way to Hell?

Michael left Nikita at the door to her apartment. He didn't go inside. He didn't even come in for coffee. He merely kissed her goodnight and waved. She stood helplessly in her doorway, staring after him.

He was a few steps down the hall before she summoned the courage to speak to him. "Michael?" she called out to him.

He turned, his face completely devoid of any expression. She pouted prettily, willing him to come back. "That wasn't much of a kiss."

His eyes turned a deep hunter green. "It's as much as you can handle right now, Kita. We need to go slow."

"Did you find out what the trigger is? To bring back my memory?" She pretended a disinterest she did not feel.

He smiled at that. "If I had, I wouldn't be standing in the hall, Kita." He waved again and left.

When she went inside, she undressed slowly and slid between the covers. As she lay on her side, she suddenly realized that she smelled a lovely scent. There was a single rose on the pillow next to hers. A single red rose. For love.

There was a note. From Michael. "For you. My one and only true love. Each and every night until we can be together."

She held it to her nose and inhaled. It was beautiful. But not as beautiful as the man himself. It brought tears to her eyes. For a moment she wondered if she was remembering something about their past. But no…he was merely compelling her to fall in love with him. All over again.

The days passed in a blur. Every day, they would meet for lunch in Michael's office. They would talk, and they sometimes held hands. Rarely, Michael would kiss her, and even then, most chastely. It was as if there were some line he had drawn that he refused to cross.

It was driving her mad.

She didn't know if this was how she felt when she was in love with him. She still could not remember anything significant. But she was fairly certain that she was falling in love with him a second time.

This was more than lust. She longed to be with him, yes, but she was grateful for the merest touch of his hand on her face. Surely that was love.

The nights? Sometimes he would come for dinner at her apartment. He never stayed long afterwards. But every night, no matter what, whether she saw him or not, there was a single rose on the pillow next to hers. She had gotten to the point where she thought that she would not be able to sleep unless she confirmed that it was there. It was like a piece of him was with her. She even thought of it as his pillow.

One night, they had just finished dinner, and Michael dabbed politely at his mouth, making some excuse for leaving soon afterwards. But Nikita grabbed his wrist and stopped him. He blinked, stared at her, then at his wrist.

Lifting his pale green eyes to hers, he said, "Is there something wrong?"

"I can't stand it anymore," she whispered.

"What?"

"Your leaving me. Every night you walk out that door…and all I have left is a beautiful flower to remind me of you."

He smiled patiently. "I told you we had to go slow."

"Slow was wonderful…when you were touching me…and seducing me…with your eyes…and your mouth…and the very air you breathe in my direction. But now…there is only a single rose…on my pillow…" She paused for breath, and that was when he noted the tears standing like crystalline gems in her eyes.

"You don't like the roses?" he asked sadly.

"Oh, no! I love them! Michael, it's like having part of you with me, always! Until they die…"

"The roses make you sad…"

"No! Michael…" She grasped his hands in hers and kissed them. He tried to step back, but she refused to let him go.

"Make love to me, Michael, please…"

"Kita, you're not ready—"

She stared at him, swiping at the errant tears that sparkled and twinkled like bright diamonds within the sapphires that were her eyes.

"Michael!"

What wasn't he telling her? He didn't kiss her because he could no longer trust himself to stop at one kiss. He didn't stay after dinner because he could no longer trust himself to stay away from her bed. That sensual game he had played with her mere weeks ago had tantalized them both. But Madeline's strange admission made him think that the only way to restore Nikita's memory was to betray her one more time. To take what she offered in helpless longing and passion as love seemed a greater cruelty to him than what Madeline had done. She had only hidden things from view. If Michael made love to Nikita, without her memory, it was as if she could not give consent for the use of her body.

What had seemed a simple seduction had become much more complex.