The two of them fit together like properly adjoining jigsaw puzzles: when Paul gently laid his hand upon the small of Kat's back, she in turn wrapped her arm around his waist; as they strode around the restaurant to the boardwalk, his typically long stride synched with her shorter, high-heel steps; and when the cold air caused Kat to chill and she pushed closer to him, Paul pulled the beauty in closer with just enough comfort to be intimate and not creepy.

Anyone peeking their direction might have thought the pair was on their third or fourth date or perhaps even out after an anniversary dinner. They would never have known that Kat was enjoying her first true intimate date in a long time or that Paul was getting personally close so that professionally he could pop her grandfather and a bunch of his crooked Syndicate cronies.

Of course, while he would have scoffed at even the thought of it now, Paul's relationship with Kat would become far more personal to him than he professionally wanted. The thought of it didn't even enter his mind now, as they walked under the light of the full moon and he recalled his fictitious history as a wannabe novel writer turned failed screenplay writer turned online news hack.

"You know, I was in the Navy," he told her after he'd initially described in boring detail what he did now for "Good People". "I enlisted as a PH ... a Photographers Mate. I wanted to take colorful, stunning pictures of ships rising and falling in rough seas ... up north in the vast Pacific, waves coming over the bows and being blow aft while a storm raged ... somewhere off the coast of Kamchatka or Kodiak, like something you'd see in one of those reality fishing series like "Dangerous Catch" or in "Master and Commander" ... or maybe jets zooming off the decks of aircraft carriers down south ... in the Caribbean, under a warm sun while we waited to get into port ... someplace exotic, like Puerto Rico or St Maarten ... or maybe the South Pacific, where the drinks are bottomless and the beach babes are topless."

He laughed, pulling at Kat playfully before continuing, "Instead ... I spent my first year taking grainy, black and white pictures of exhausted, culture shock stuck boot camp enlistees standing in line for immunizations ... or running around the track for PT. My second year I got a promotion, yeehaw--" He spoke that last word with obvious sarcasm. "I finally got to the ship, to the Abraham Lincoln ... big ship, wow. But instead of taking dramatic pics of storms and jets and such ... I was sitting in a windowless room reviewing video recordings of aircraft take offs and landings, looking for safety violations or signs of broken equipment or material fatigue."

They stopped at a railing, and Kat turned to face Paul. He smiled broadly to her as he stepped a bit closer. After studying her for a moment, he said with a genuine though obviously suggestive tone, "But I wouldn't change a moment of it, of course. That job led to another ... then to another, and another, and -- finally -- to this one ... and to you."

He moved closer, until their bodies pressed together just enough to assure Kat of what he was going to do. He looked into her eyes, then glanced to her painted lips, then back to those sparkling orbs as he said softly, "And I'm very happy for that."

He leaned in and down slowly, intending to kiss her as his hands reached forward toward her hips...

Kat loved listening to Paul talk, there was a soothing quality in his voice. She would occasionally glance up to watch his face as he spoke while they walked together. She was truly relaxed for the first time in a long time. There were no emergencies, no crisis to deal with, it was just them, and lots of quiet.

She laughed and shook her head as he joked about topless beach babes, and bottomless drinks, but she could sympathize with the less than glamourous parts of what otherwise seemed like a nice gig. When she first started working for The Society, all she saw was the glitz and the glamour of the parties and fundraisers. Truthfully that was the smallest part of her job. She spent her days filling out paperwork or in meetings justifying every paperclip. Then there were her field days when she sat with women in shelters, or vets who needed medications listening to them tell her exactly where the system had failed them over and over again.

She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear as he stepped closer, she knew what was going to happen, and she welcomed it. She reached her hands up to wrap around his neck pulling him closer as she tilted her face upwards toward him.

She felt his lips gently press against hers, his hands tightening around her hips as he pulled her closer. She slid her hand up the back of his neck to run through his hair. Her lips parting under the soft teasing pressure of his tongue. She backed up a step pressing her back against the rail again, trapping her body against his as she pulled him closer.

She had no idea how long they stayed like that, it could have been seconds, or hours. It seemed like time had ceased to pass from the very minute their lips touched. She finally managed to pull away. Her lips were swollen and her breathing was heavy as she blinked to clear her head.

She closed her eyes and ran her teeth over her lower lip trying to take slow deep breaths. She rested her hands on the rail beside her and managed a smile at Paul. "Wow" She said breathlessly. "Just wow." She was normally a much better conversationalist, it was her job after all, but that kiss... That kiss had stolen her ability to do any thinking, so talking was certainly beyond her abilities right now.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Paul said after their lips had parted and Kat gave her assessment of the kiss. He smiled, then chuckled lightly. He leaned in for another shorter though no less passionate kiss, then a bit of a wet lipped peck as he whispered, "I like kissing you, too."

Paul was good at a lot of things: squash, chess, snow skiing ... killing. He was good at kissing, too ... or, at least, he'd been told he was often over his adult years. For his looks and confidence, most people wouldn't believe that he'd been a late bloomer when it came to women. But he'd learned quickly, and one of the biggest lessons he'd learned during those first few relationships was that the way your current partner did it -- whether it was dancing, grinding, groping, fucking, or just kissing -- that was the right way if you wanted to continue doing it. Paul had sensed that which Kat had been looking for in a kiss, and the result was a passionate kiss that he hoped had made her as hot inside as he was hard down below.

"Sound like a couple of teenagers standing out front of the house, 'fraid daddy's gonna turn on the porch light and interrupt the fun," he said, kissing her once more before pulling back with Kat's hand in his, pulling her away from the railing. He walked backward a couple of steps, eying her hungrily before finally turning while keeping his eyes on her. After a few steps he stopped short, turned to pull Kat to him again, then said without shame, "I would like to take you to my room, Kat Malloy." He gave her just a moment to contemplate his next words, then added, "I would like to make love to you."

She laughed as he joked about feeling like being teenagers. It was exactly what she felt like. She was feeling giddy with excitement as he kissed her again. He invited her back to his hotel. She wanted to tell him no, she wanted to call it a night, but she stepped forward into his arms, and once again kissed his lips.

"yes." She breathed. It was all she could say as he pulled her into his arms, the two of them making their way back down the boardwalk. They walked in silence back to his hotel, but words were unnecessary now. They both knew where they were going, and how this was going to play out.

The elevator trip to his room seemed to take forever. He waved her into the room and she walked to the window wrapping her arms around her stomach as she looked out at the view. She felt him come up behind her and she leaned back into his exhaling slowly.

Accompanying a woman somewhere for sex the night of their first date was not a new thing for Paul. As far as that went, accompanying a woman somewhere the night they’d first met wasn’t new either. And, just like this evening with Kat, most of those evenings -- or even afternoons or mornings for that matter -- had been more about work than pleasure. They had been meant to get Paul into a building to which he otherwise didn’t have access; or get him close to a target to whom the woman at hand was close; or, often, simply give him a place to spend a night that didn’t involve him having his name or credit card number recorded in a ledger or on a bill.

But with Kat, there was a very big difference. This wouldn’t be a one night stand or even a short, wild weekend of sex that ended when Paul slipped away to put a knife through some mark’s neck or -- from a greater distance -- a bullet through his head. No, if he played his cards right and impressed Kat -- which of course would be a pleasure to attempt -- Paul would be seeing her often over the weeks to come.

Just as it was with Kat, it had been a long time since Paul had what anyone would call a relationship. That one, as with the prospective one with Miss Malloy, had begun as a business ploy. Paul had been able to keep that one professional, leading the woman on for just short of a month while he searched for a way to get to his reclusive billionaire target. He got the kill, of course -- making it appear accidental, as the Client had requested -- then told his standard break up lie about having a wife and child who needed him to come home.

With Kat, though, Paul would simply disappear. He and his nearly $29 million would just vanish into thin air, reconstituting as a newly born, full grown man with no past of which to speak, on an isle in the South Pacific where his former life would soon be forgotten.

Slipping up behind Kat, Paul placed his hands softly upon her hips, leaning forward to kiss the flesh of a bare shoulder, then the other. He pulled her hair from one side, moving his warm, wet mouth to her neck to kiss it as well. As his lips explored, so did his hands: the right one caressed its way to Kat’s belly, then upwards until his fingers gently curled around a young, firm breast; while the other slipped to Kat's upper back, where it found and began to lower the zipper holding her dress tightly to her shapely form.

“I've wanted you from the moment I saw you on the boardwalk,” Paul whispered at her ear, nibbling gently at its lobe. “And every moment with you has only strengthened my desire for you.”

It may have sounded a bit corny, like something from a romance novel with a cover upon which an open shirted, muscular man was seducing a sexy, leggy woman with a lacy dress wafting in the wind. But Paul’s tone was sincere, because -- honestly -- it was actually true.