He swung it inward and there she was. Without a word she moved into his arms.
"Are you okay?" He touched her face, then lifted her lips to his. They were cold, tight.
"Yes. I . . . I think so. God, what a day. I kept wanting to call you, darling."
"I was out."
"I assumed that. I can't wait to show you my translation."
"Hey, slow down." He kissed her again. "Let's have a celebration drink first. Just you and me."
"Michael, don't talk nonsense. We've got to think."
"I got a bottle of your native wine, a little Tequila Anejo for me. Never hurt the mental processes. Come on, what do you say?" He turned and headed for the bar.
She was unzipping the vinyl flight bag. "How can you . . .?" Then she caught herself and laughed. "It better be frozen, Like ice-cold syrup."
"Cold as Siberia. It should go down well with the latest news item. We've now got a deal on the table with Tokyo."