Chapter 1
“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY.” JACK PLACED A large gift bag on the café table in front of Zoe.
She studied it then looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I thought this trip was our anniversary present.” She waved her hand, her gesture encompassing the tiny balcony where they sat, the pots of flowers spilling over the railing, and the buildings in pale yellow, faded pink, and ochre with their dark shutters that lined the street. She paused as a motor scooter zipped along the cobblestone street below them, its whine making conversation impossible. The drone of the scooter faded, and the distant sound of car horns from the busy street a few blocks away filtered back to them. The faint notes of Phil Collins singing about two hearts floated out of the open window of a nearby apartment. “You know, Rome.”
Jack lounged back in his chair, which he’d positioned inside their hotel room, since the balcony wasn’t large enough to hold two chairs and a table. He leaned forward, bringing his face close to hers, fastening his silvery blue gaze on hers. “You’re not saying that you didn’t get me anything, are you? Because I know you. I know you did.”
Zoe raised her eyebrows. “But we agreed. This trip is expensive enough as it is.” Even though a client of Jack’s fledgling security consulting business had picked up the cost of their airfare and hotel for three nights, the other five days they’d tacked onto the trip purely for pleasure were coming out of their pocket.
Jack smiled slowly. “So, you did get me something else.”
Zoe shifted in her chair, but didn’t break eye contact. She didn’t know if she could look away, even if she wanted to. She’d always been a sucker for those blue eyes. And when Jack gazed at her as he was now, with total concentration and a hint of a smile…well, it was a heady sensation. Of course, she’d never been one to shy away from situations that got her blood pumping. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”
In fact, she had gotten him a present, but there was no way she could bring it through airport security. The Glock was locked away in their house in Dallas.
“Very good. Nice delivery, no hesitation. If I didn’t know you so well, I’d almost think that you were telling the truth.”
“How do you know I’m not?”
“Because,” he leaned closer, “your left eyebrow went up slightly higher than your right. It’s your tell. You got me a present, too. And even if you didn’t, I know you love surprises.”
Her face broke into a smile. She closed the distance between them and kissed him. A girl can go only so long with those tempting lips millimeters from her own. She pulled back slightly. “I do love surprises. And, yes, I did get you a present, but you have to wait until we get home. Good thing you’re patient.”
“In that case, should we wait and open them together?” He reached for the bag.
She snatched it away. “No. You’re the patient one, not me.” She dug through the tissue paper while Jack settled back in his chair. She extracted a box about five inches square. She opened it and found another box. Inside was another smaller box. “Jack, this is crazy,” she said, working her way through three more boxes, each one getting smaller. She loved every minute of it. Finally, she got to a square blue velvet box. It had to be jewelry. “Jack.”
“Go on. Open it.”
She pushed the lid back. Two square cut diamonds winked at her from a bed of pale blue silk. “Oh, Jack,” she breathed. “You shouldn’t have. You really shouldn’t have.”
“I wanted to,” he said as he leaned forward to meet her kiss. “They are beautiful. Gorgeous. But we can’t afford these.”
Their budget was tight and certainly didn’t run to diamonds. One year ago, they’d had an unexpected windfall when they recovered a valuable piece of stolen art, and received a finder’s fee from the insurance company, Millbank and Proust Associates. They used the money to create Jack’s company.
His background in covert operations provided plenty of experience, and the notoriety he’d received when the news broke about the recovery of the art helped them gain their first clients. After that first burst of interest, things had trailed off. They both knew that a new business didn’t make money out of the gate, but it was going on one year, and Zoe could tell that Jack was worried. Zoe was used to stringing odd jobs together to make ends meet and had been able to boost their budget, mostly through her freelance copy editing of Smart Travel’s guidebook series, but like many print publishers, Smart Travel had gone out of business. Zoe hadn’t edited a guidebook in two months and had only had a few dog-walking gigs along with a smattering of virtual assistant jobs lately, so their bank account was pretty lean. The loss of the Smart Travel job was a sore spot, and she pushed her thoughts away from it.
He smiled easily. “Yes, we can.” He took the box from her and removed the diamonds as he spoke. “I bartered.”
She narrowed her eyes as her mind raced. “The Underwood account? You didn’t give them a price break.” Fixing the security system at an upscale Dallas mansion had been one of the few bright spots in Jack’s schedule during the past few months, but Zoe remembered the final bill Jack sent them was lower than the estimate.
“The Underwoods were having a bit of a cash flow problem. They suggested paying the bill out over time. I countered with the barter suggestion. Mrs. Underwood was thrilled with the idea of getting rid of my bill with one of her ‘trinkets.’” Jack handed her the earrings. “Go ahead.”
She fastened them and went to look in the mirror over the dresser, pushing her hair behind her ears. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
Jack joined her. “You’re welcome. He slid his fingers through the strands of her hair and gently twisted it away from one side of her neck. “Couldn’t let our first anniversary go by without doing something special.” He kissed her neck.
Zoe closed her eyes. “It’s not our first anniversary.” Their relationship history was…complicated, to say the least. They’d met and rushed into marriage, but the intoxicating haze of passion faded, and they found they were two very different personalities who seemed to clash over so many things. It was the worst time of Zoe’s life—her hot, angry words thrown up against Jack’s frosty silences had created an unbearable atmosphere.
They’d divorced, but couldn’t sell the house they’d purchased. They’d compromised by living together in the house, but in separate areas. Remote roommates, they barely talked, communicating through notes and text messages. But then an issue in Jack’s espionage past intruded, and their lives were never the same. It had taken quite a while, but they’d worked through their issues. Having married again, they were now a couple. But this time, without quite so much baggage and a commitment to work through whatever came their way.
“Isn’t it?” Jack said.
She tilted her head as his kisses moved up her neck behind her ear. “I suppose it only makes sense to count our years as a married couple from the second wedding, the one where we got it right.”
“Exactly,” Jack said as Zoe turned in his arms to face him.
“I suggest we postpone our visit to the Pantheon,” Jack said. “We have been good little tourists, haven’t we,” Zoe said. “Not at all like last time.” Last year, they’d spent their honeymoon in Rome. Jack had said afterward that except for a few excursions for gelato and pizza they might as well have been at home in Dallas. During this visit to Rome, they had actually seen some sites. Yesterday, they’d fought their way through the costumed gladiators and the aggressive tour guides to the rugged, but still impressive Colosseum, then they’d wandered among the fallen marble columns that littered the Forum. This morning, they’d trouped through the glory of the Vatican where so much of the marble stripped from the most ancient sites had been “recycled.”
Zoe reached for the buttons on Jack’s shirt. “Nothing will be open anyway. It’s the siesta.”
“Excellent idea.”
Later, Zoe, who had been snuggled against Jack’s bare shoulder, said, “You’re sure about the diamonds?” She propped herself up on her elbow, thinking of the cost of the trip. They’d been eating cheaply and avoided souvenirs, but travel always costs more than the budget.
“No, Miss Tightwad. They’re yours. Enjoy them. You need them for the opening.”
Zoe looked at the midnight blue ball gown hanging on the closet door. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about jewelry. Well, that’s not true. I hadn’t thought about my own jewelry.”
The event that had brought them to Rome was tomorrow night, the invitation-only opening of a jewelry exhibit. The exhibit’s sponsor was Millbank and Proust, which also insured several of the most valuable pieces. At Millbank and Proust’s request, Safe Haven was providing extra security. Since Jack was the point man on the ins and outs of security and theft prevention, he’d focused his attention on the nitty-gritty details like the layout of the building and security cameras, which left Zoe free to pore over the catalogue of items on display, an array of gold and precious stones. Jack must have noticed her interest in the gems. She fingered the diamond earrings.
“Not in the same ballpark of what we’ll see tomorrow,” Jack said, sounding almost apologetic.
“But diamond collars and tiaras are so impractical. Can’t wear them to the grocery store. The earrings are perfect.” Zoe slipped on shorts and a sleeveless shirt. Rome was having an unexpectedly warm spring. “Have you gotten any more details about the opening?”
Jack shrugged. “Not much. It sounds like a typical gig.” “So what will you do?”
“Harrington hasn’t briefed me on it yet. He said he’d get in touch today. I expect he’ll call soon.” Harrington Throckmorton worked for Millbank and Proust. They’d met the dapper little British man a year ago when he presented them with the finder’s fee for the recovery of the stolen art. His company handled quite a few high profile objects, and while Jack hadn’t said so aloud, Zoe knew that he hoped that this initial job with Millbank and Proust might develop into more work.
Zoe felt like she was beginning to figure out Jack. Her instinct was to throw most things out and discuss them to death, but Jack was more of an introvert and kept his worries to himself. During their first months together before their marriage disintegrated, she’d taken his silences as a withdrawal, a rejection, but now she realized that even though he hadn’t verbalized his concerns, Safe Haven’s sinking bank balance weighed on him.
Zoe looked at her gown. “Odd that Harrington wants me here, too. Sounds like that’s something you could have done on your own—not that I’m complaining. I’m thrilled he wanted me to come to Rome, too.”
“I suppose we’ll be circulating, keeping an eye on things. He probably thinks a couple will blend in better.”
Zoe pulled her hair into a ponytail then picked up their temporary cell phone they’d bought when they arrived in Rome. They didn’t want to pile up outrageous international roaming charges, but Jack needed a phone, so a burner phone was the best solution. It was a basic phone, but it did have an email feature, which she opened and scanned. She couldn’t ignore the tiny surge of relief she felt when she saw there were no new emails.
“Anything?” Jack sat down on the bed and put his shoes on. “Nothing.”
“You sound glad.”
“I am.” She plopped down on the bed beside him and took a deep breath. She’d been trying to ignore her feelings about her work—or lack of work to be more accurate—but she couldn’t do it anymore, and they needed to talk. Approaching life as a team was still new to her, but she was getting better at it, and her feelings about her work were something she needed to talk with Jack about. It affected him, too.
“Look, this is going to sound weird, but I feel almost…relieved when I see there isn’t a new copyediting job. I mean, I want something to turn up for the money aspect, but the copyediting part, not so much.”
“So you don’t want to do any more copyediting?”
“No, but it’s more than that. I’ve been feeling…twitchy. You know how I am. I like the unknown, seeing what will pop up next, but lately I’ve felt dissatisfied, almost restless. I want to do something else, but don’t know what.”
“Do you want to go back to school? Get a degree?” Jack asked. “Good grief, no,” she said. “I was terrible at school. No, that’s the problem. I want something different, but I don’t know what it is. I’ve always loved drifting from one thing to another, not being locked in. You know, the ‘let tomorrow take care of itself ’ philosophy, but now…” She hesitated, hardly able to believe what she was about to put into words. “Now, I think I want something more permanent.” She threw herself back on the bed. “Listen to me. I’m turning all stodgy and conventional.”
“Trust me, there is no way you’ll ever be stodgy or conventional, no matter what kind of work you do. So you want a steadier job. Big deal. You’ll still be you, eccentric and free-spirited.”
“How can I be eccentric and free-spirited with an office job?” “Who said anything about an office?”
“Because that’s what I can do—edit, file, make spreadsheets.” She ticked off all the things she did as a copy editor and as a virtual assistant. “The dog-walking gigs don’t pay enough for me to do that full-time, but I’d rather scoop poop than sit at a desk all day.”
Jack reached for her hand and pulled her up. “Plenty of jobs don’t involve offices. I doubt you’ll have to resort to full-time pooper-scooping.”
“But I have no idea—literally no idea what else I could do.”
“You don’t have to make a decision today. Come on, let’s get some dinner. You’ll feel better after we eat. You’ll figure it out.”
“Okay,” she said, making an effort to shake off the funk she was in. “We’re in Rome. Can’t do anything about it now.”
She felt marginally better, having broached the subject with Jack. As they descended the stairs, she said, “You know, I can always count on your levelheadedness to balance out my bursts of freaking out. It’s one thing I love about you.”
“That’s not exactly flattering, you know—that you love me for my levelheadedness.”
“I said it was one of the things I love about you.”
When they turned in their key at the front desk, the clerk handed Jack an envelope. “It’s from Harrington.”
“An old-fashioned note on paper, just his style,” Zoe said.
Jack opened the folded paper. “He wants us to meet him at the Pantheon.” He read the last line aloud, “Make sure you are not followed.”
“I didn’t think there was anything hush-hush about our being here or working with Harrington,” Zoe said.
“I didn’t either.”
Zoe and Jack had left their hotel and walked several blocks to a bus stop then hopped off at the main train station, the Termini. They wound their way through the streets, passing vendors selling T-shirts, knock-off purses, and snow globes with miniature Colosseum replicas. They wedged themselves into a second bus then left that bus and walked a zigzag course to the Piazza della Rotunda.
“Finally,” Zoe said, drawing in a breath. “We’re good?” she asked with a quick glance over her shoulder at the narrow street they’d just walked. She hadn’t seen anyone following them, but she had far less experience in that sort of thing than Jack did.
“Yep. Just us.”
“Good.” Zoe turned her attention to the view as she fanned herself with a map. It had been a long, sweaty trek. The snug piazza was completely different from the vast expanses around the Vatican. Five and six-story buildings enclosed the space, their muted shades of taupe, buttery yellow, and even pastel blue tones glowed above the bright awnings and umbrellas of the cafés that ringed the piazza. Tourists meandered across the cobblestones to the Egyptian obelisk, the centerpiece of a fountain at the center of the square. “It’s a different scale from the Vatican. Everything is smaller, even the obelisk,” Zoe said.
“Wait until you see inside,” Jack said, nodding toward the Pantheon, which made up one side of the square. “The outside is deceptive.” Jack had visited Rome years ago when he worked for the American consulate in Naples.
“Oh, it looks so complete.” Zoe grabbed his hand and threaded through the crowd, quickly moving across the cobblestones that sloped down to the Pantheon. The exterior was arranged in the classic Roman temple design with a triangular pediment and columned portico. “After the ruins of the Forum, I can’t wait to see a Roman building with walls.”
“The dome is nothing to sneeze at either.”
“Amazing that you can’t hardly see the dome from the outside,” Zoe said. The pediment and hefty columns dominated the entrance. She’d edited several guidebooks about Rome and knew that it was the only building continuously in use as a place of worship—first as a temple to all the gods then later as a church, which saved it from the fate of looting and scavenging that the Colosseum and the Forum had suffered.
Zoe gently ran a hand along one of the massive 40-foot red granite columns—more plunder from Egypt—that supported the portico, evidence that the ancient Roman builders either went big or went home. Then they were through the enormous doors and inside the cool hush of the church with its immense, coffered dome. Sunlight poured through the oculus, beaming down in a shaft of light to the intricately patterned marble floor.
“The size of it is overwhelming, even after the doors and the columns,” Zoe whispered.
“I think it’s something about the dome not being a huge part of the exterior design. It kind of takes you by surprise. It’s one of my favorite places in Rome.”
“Mine, too.”
“You’ve said that about every place we’ve been.”
“Can’t help it. It’s a fascinating city. I mean, where else in the world can you see a complete ancient temple, Egyptian obelisks, and have gelato, all in the space of a few steps?”
Jack opened his mouth to reply, but caught sight of something over her shoulder. “There’s Harrington, by the tomb of Raphael.”
Zoe spotted Harrington’s gray hair and immaculate cream suit. “Let’s go slow,” Jack said.
“Right. He doesn’t exactly look like he’s anxious to see us.” They eased up to Harrington, his gaze focused on a statue of a Madonna and child in the niche above Raphael’s tomb. “Any trouble?” he asked quietly without moving. “No.”
“Good. Take a few moments here then meet me at the first café on the Via della Minerva. I’ll be in the back.”
Chapter 2
ARRINGTON MEANDERED AWAY. ZOE AND JACK circled the church, but Zoe couldn’t concentrate on the amazing structure anymore. After a few minutes, they slipped back into the noise and sunlight of the piazza where the fountain burbled and the clip-clop of hooves rang out as a horse trotted away, pulling a carriage of sightseers. Zoe consulted the map she’d tucked into her messenger bag and guided them to the side street where they spotted the café.
Inside, the waiter waved them to any table they wanted, and they made their way to the back of the room to join Harrington. From across the room, she thought he looked exactly the same as he had a year ago when he’d presented them with the paperwork for the finder’s fee, but now that she was closer, she could see dark circles under his eyes. Zoe supposed he was somewhere in his late fifties. He had a full head of gray hair, a kind face, and a thin mustache that made Zoe think of movie stars from the thirties and forties.
“No, don’t kiss me,” she said as he took her hand
and leaned in to kiss her cheek in the Continental manner. “I’m drenched. I love Rome, but wish it wasn’t so blazing hot.”
“Unusual for this time of year,” Harrington said in his crisp accent as he patted her hand in lieu of the kiss.
“I shouldn’t complain,” Zoe said as they sat down. “At least it’s not raining. That would make site-seeing truly miserable.”
The waiter arrived, and Harrington ordered a cup of tea. His posture was casual as he leaned on the table, but he had an edge of alertness in his gaze as he kept an eye on the doorway and studied each new arrival at the café.
“Tea is too hot for me,” Zoe said. “I’ll have a scoop of lemon gelato.” Jack ordered the same.
Harrington ran his hand over his thin mustache and lowered his voice. “Sorry for the intrigue, but it was necessary. As I’m sure you’ve gathered, this is not a typical job. Tomorrow night at the opening, I will present you with an award, recognition of your role in the return of the art last year. As far as Millbank and Proust are concerned, that is the only reason you are here.”
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