Logan Kane stared over the rim of his coffee mug and smiled at Molly Kimball McKay. She often came over to lunch at his restaurant, Kane’s Table, the business next door to her nature shop. He loved keeping her company while she devoured whatever he put in front of her.
She caught him staring and blushed. "I’m really pigging out, aren’t I?"
"Just eating for two." He nodded to her protruding belly. "How’s the little princess?"
"Kicking up a storm. Having dance parties at two a.m. Her daddy spoils her already."
"As he should. He’s got a lot to make up for."
Molly’s chestnut eyes twinkled at him. "You don’t fool me. You were the one who was responsible for getting us together."
Well, that was true. Molly and her now–husband Jase had been on an emotional merry–go–round and Logan had been the one to force Jase’s hand in claiming her. If the guy hadn’t, Logan would have married Molly himself—not that he loved her that way. He just had a thing about protecting pregnant women and babies.
When Molly finished and stood up, she arched her back and was silhouetted against the April sun coming in from the window behind her. At one time there had been another woman Logan had wished with all his heart to see pregnant and ungainly like Molly. And it would have been his kid she carried. But that woman was nothing like Molly. That woman was a lying, devious bitch who would never, after what she’d done, have his child.
"Logan, are you all right?"
He stood too to get out of the memory. "Sure."
"You looked sad."
He ruffled her hair. "You always tell me that."
"Because you always look sad. But today, just now, there’s a sort of a wistful sadness in those green eyes of yours."
Thankfully, his cell rang. Molly glanced at her watch. “Go ahead and get that.” Kissing him on the cheek, she headed for the door calling her thanks out to him.
"Kane here."
"Logan, it’s Simon."
Speak of the devil. It was through this man, Simon Kirby, that Logan had met Isabelle Sachetti. He’d never forget it. She’d come on to him right away.
I think we’re going to be really good together, Kane.
Hmm, I like the sound of that, Sachetti.
They had been good together—in bed, where they’d ended up the weekend after they met. And in the field, too, until she’d not only almost gotten Logan killed, but had also broken his heart in a way that he hadn’t ever recovered from in the full two years since leaving her in that hospital room in Barcelona.
"Hey buddy, how you doing?" Simon was also his close friend. Outside of Logan’s half-brothers and Molly, his best friend.
"Don’t ask. Nothing goes right here." A pause. "I need you, bro."
Damn it. "I helped out a few months ago. You said it would be a while before I heard from you again."
"It should have been. Phil Alderman was shot yesterday."
"What? Is he all right?"
"Yeah. He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time—a drive–by."
"Give him my best." Logan waited. "Let me guess. He was scheduled to go out."
"Yep." Simon wasn’t a man of many words, much like Logan himself.
"When?"
"Next week."
"Hell, I can’t learn an operation that quickly."
"It was one you helped sketch out a while back."
Mentally Logan flipped through the menu of what he’d worked on in the planning sessions he’d done with Simon after he quit. The immigrant smuggling in Mexico. The jail drug deals in Indonesia. The baby kidnapping ring in Italy. Oh, hell, don’t ask me to do that one, Simon.
"It’s the baby kidnapping ring."
Logan remained silent.
"I know this conjures demons for you, buddy."
"Still, you ask me."
"I’m stuck or I wouldn’t."
And of course, Logan would never say no to Simon. He owed the guy. Logan had been undercover in a Belfast jail when all hell had broken loose and the prison had been taken over by the inmates. A very violent riot ensued. Posing as a guard, Simon had gotten Logan out—but in the midst of their escape Simon’s leg had been ripped apart by barbed wire. As a result, Simon’s retirement from active duty had come early, and his marriage had ultimately ended. Now he just ran The Organization.
They all got a kick out of the name of their rogue agency. And out of the way they got their orders, real Mission Impossible style. Funded by the U.S. government, the Organization took on foreign assignments that Uncle Sam couldn’t get involved in publicly for various reasons. Washington also vowed to deny its existence should they ever be caught, just like in the movies.
Logan expelled a heavy breath. "When?"
"You leave Monday."
"What do I do?"
"Come to New York tomorrow. I’ll brief you, then you can get things in order at home."
"All right." Logan hung up before asking who would be on the mission with him. Hell, it didn’t matter so long as Isabelle wasn’t involved. But Logan knew he didn’t have to worry about that. No matter how desperate he was, Simon would never pair them up again.
Because not even for Simon Kirby would Logan work with her again.
oOo
"You didn’t tell him, Simon."
"No, I didn’t."
Belle sat back in a chair in Simon’s office and stared at the phone. "You know he won’t work with me."
"He will, once he gets over the shock."
"Best friends don’t do that to each other."
Simon slapped his hand down on the desk. Only her training in non–reactive techniques kept Belle from jumping. Simon Kirby almost never lost his temper. "Don’t you think I know that?" From his desk drawer he fished out photos and tossed them across the surface. "Look at these. Then tell me you wouldn’t move heaven and earth to help."
Bracing herself, she picked up the photos. The Granger baby smiled innocently from the first picture. The next was of her parents, a young couple whose world was wrecked when some psycho snatched their child out from under them when they were in Rome on a holiday.
"What’s her name?"
"Susie."
Belle’s hand slid to her stomach. She must have paled. Simon swore vilely. "Look, I know this hits close to home. But I have no choice. You’re the best operatives I’ve got."
"He’s an ex–operative."
"Don’t I know it." Simon studied her. "Do you miss him?"
She pictured sage green eyes, a thick shock of dark hair, and a body to die for.
"It’s been two years."
"You were closer than any couple I’ve ever seen. Always on the same wavelength. Never fought."
The possibility of an argument was why Belle had been afraid to tell Logan she was pregnant. She’d kept the knowledge to herself when she’d gotten the news and had sealed their fate in the process. Simon was watching her closely.
"Don’t think about what happened with your pregnancy, Belle. It won’t help."
She stood and smoothed down the straight black skirt that she wore with a black cotton sweater and low–heeled leather shoes. Logan had always teased her about her penchant for dark clothes, calling her his Black Magic Woman. "I won’t. But I suggest you tell him I’m in on this before he gets here."
"I can’t do that."
"Your funeral. You want me here when he comes tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"See you then." She got to the door of the office before he called to her.
"Belle?"
Flipping back her rope–like braid that Logan used to wind around his fingers, she looked over her shoulder. "Hmm?"
"I’m sorry."
"Yeah, me too." She made it out the door before she let herself react. Once in the hallway, she leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes. "You have no idea, Simon," she whispered, "how sorry I am."
oOo
Logan smelled her perfume as soon as he entered Simon’s office. Momentarily, he was assaulted by it. He stood stock still, staring at his best buddy from just inside the doorway. Finally he managed to get out, "You didn’t."
"I did." Simon rose and circled the desk. His limp was noticeable, reminding Logan of what he owed this man. "I had to."
Old debts aside, Logan glared at him, then turned on his heel. He was marching back out towards the elevators when he heard, "Logan."
That one word halted him. Her voice was something out of a wet dream—husky, always a bit amused, snaking out of his memory bank at the oddest times.
Logan, love, touch me there…Logan, thank God you’re all right…and the last time on the answering machine, when he wouldn’t see her or talk to her or open her emails…Please, Logan, I made a mistake, forgive me.
He couldn’t force himself to exit. For two years he’d wondered how she was, what she was doing, if she still wore that glorious black hair long so that it would spread across his belly like velvet. So he turned around. She’d always been strikingly beautiful, but he’d forgotten the vibrancy of her presence. Those dark eyes had a snap in them, the same luscious mouth, a body taut as a whipcord and capable of taking a man down—or inside it—so he’d never forget her.
Standing outside of Simon’s office, she gave him a half–smile. "It’s good to see you."
"I can’t say the same."
Simon shifted behind her and leaned on the doorframe for support. From there he said, "Come back and we’ll talk." He turned, making his way back to his desk.
Out of a sense of duty to Simon, Logan strode back inside. She didn’t move out of his way so he was forced to brush up against her. Her arm swiped his sports coat. He thought he could feel the heat of her skin.
The feel of you is intoxicating.
Good, I’ll keep you drunk and under my spell.
How about if I keep you under me?
Whatever. Just so long as we’re together.
They’d been so good talking in bed, but not outside of it. Hell, he didn’t care until the end, until that last assignment where he’d felt the need to confess what he was truly feeling to her. And she’d gone ahead and did it anyway.
Now, as they took seats opposite each other, Logan tried to keep his mind blank and not remember her betrayal.
Simon handed him some pictures. He took them, and felt the familiar kick in his stomach. This was the baby they were supposed to rescue. "You don’t play fair."
"Neither do the monsters who took her, and will take others unless we stop them."
Logan traced the child’s nose and the soft curve of her chin. He glanced up and found Belle staring at him. "Does it have to be with Sachetti?" he asked, talking to Simon but not releasing her dark–eyed gaze.
"It has to be. Otherwise I would have done the operation differently."
There was a long moment of taut silence. "Fine. I’ll be a part of this."
Her chin raised, she didn’t look away either. "Simon, could you please leave us for a minute?"
Simon left saying, "Don’t storm out, either of you. We got details to cover."
When the door closed, Logan lazed back in his chair. "What do you want?"
She bit her lip, a truly uncharacteristic move for Ms. Tough–As–Any–Man. "I thought we might make a truce."
"No."
"Logan, it’s been two years."
He lurched forward and grabbed her shoulders roughly. "What did you think, sweetheart. That I’d forget, in two years, that you killed our baby?"
oOo
Asleep, she curled into Logan like a longtime lover and buried her face in his shoulder. He would have thrust her away, but he didn’t want to wake her up because the plane ride was bumpy as hell, and he knew how she hated to fly. Traveling at high altitudes was the only thing she was afraid of.
He also didn’t know if they were being watched on the flight to Rome. The powers–that–be warned them to expect constant surveillance as a test period of sorts on this mission.
To distract himself from the feel of her body, he reviewed in his mind what else he’d read in documents that had been destroyed as soon as they memorized the contents.
Names: Logan and Belle Kane
Residence: Upper East Side, Manhattan
Ages: 38 and 34 respectively
Status: happily married ten years, irrevocably infertile
Purpose of trip: private adoption, contracted on the internet, no lawyers involved, instructions to be given to agents when they arrive in Italy
Provider’s MO: to surveil the couple for an unknown time period, usually a few days, no longer than a week. Make sure they’re who they say they are. Agents must pretend to be a loving couple, wanting a baby that no other source would provide because Mrs. Kane is in remission from breast cancer. Couple should assume they’re followed everywhere except inside the hotel room. The Hotel Cavalieri will not be bugged as dignitaries and heads of state stay there and rooms are equipped with internal detecting devices for surveillance hardware.
Logan’s hands curled into fists. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to get drawn into this. But the thought of other people losing their child, as he’d lost his, compelled him to comply. He’d suffer proximity to the beauty next to him—hell he’d have worked with Satan himself —to stop this ring. Still, he berated God and The Organization and life in general until they finally landed in Rome.
Time to play loving hubby. "Sweetheart, wake up."
Her nemesis, coming awake. He used to do it…uniquely.
What are you doing?
Waking you with a kiss.
She’d arched against him. This is more than a kiss.
Now, in the airplane, she stirred. Huge eyes opened. They always looked like melted chocolate first thing in the morning. "Logan." She smiled, forgetting where she was, he guessed. She burrowed into him. Then she glanced down at her clothes and scowled. "What?" The pink linen suit was high–end and pretty but the real Isabelle Sachetti would never wear something like it. She brushed the thick skein of her hair out of her eyes and met his gaze. "Oh." The agent fell back into place. "Good morning, darling."
Because he had to, not because he wanted to, he hooked a hand behind her neck and kissed her nose. "Morning," he said huskily.
He busied himself getting their carry–ons, helping her out of the seat, deplaning. Once they hit baggage claim, customs and immigration, they found their chauffeur, who could have been one of the bad guys, and headed out of the airport.
The day was still cool as they rode to Rome. She asked the driver, in fluent Italian, if the weather had been good.
Logan didn’t understand the response. She was the language expert. The man kept glancing back at them, so Logan was forced to slide his arm around her. "Excited, honey?"
She melted into him. She always did. He used to tease her about it.
You can’t stay away from me. You want me bad.
I could, she’d said honestly. But why should I? We’re soul mates, Kane.
He’d joked, like one of them always did when the other got serious. Body mates is more like it.
They took the twenty minute trip to their hotel, cooing to each other, touching each other. At last they pulled onto the hotel grounds, full of spring vegetation, waterfalls and service people at their beck and call, befitting the exorbitant nightly price tag.
And Logan wondered how he was going to survive a week pretending he was in love with this woman when he’d spent two years trying to forget that fact.
oOo
Her body humming from Logan’s touches, albeit for show, Belle struggled to keep her head as she closed the door to their hotel room. At least here, they wouldn’t have to pretend. Her goal was to make some peace with Logan, but she didn’t exactly know how to begin, and now that they were alone, she was nervous and needed some distance to collect her thoughts.
She opened the wall of glass doors and stepped out on the balcony. Rome, in all its ancient splendor and modern progress sprawled before her. "No matter how many times I come here, I’m awed by the city."
Logan came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She startled. He whispered, "Binoculars. They could be watching us."
So much for distance. She leaned back into him and he nuzzled her hair away. Put his mouth in a favorite spot on her.
Your neck is an erogenous zone, Sachetti.
Everywhere you touch is an erogenous zone, Kane.
He kept up the ruse for a minute then finally stepped away. "Let’s go inside. They’ll think we’re making love if we close the blinds."
Once in the room, she pressed a button by the door. A curtain of vinyl blinds descended, plunging them into darkness. He switched on a low light.
She said, "Wow, that’s cool. Remember the time in Paris when we—"
He held up his hand, his eyes an icy green. "Don’t. No reminiscing." She watched him walk to the dresser and remove his wallet, coins and other belongings from his pockets. "I’m going to shower."
"Logan, please, can we talk?" She’d taken a seat in one of the three plush chairs in the sitting area.
He slid off his belt. "About what?"
She tapped her foot. "This forced proximity. How are we going to handle being together?"
His shoulders tensed beneath the suit he wore. He looked ready to spring. "Like we always handled ops. We play the part." His gaze lasered her. "Even if we can't stand each other’s company."
Raising her chin, she narrowed her gaze on him. "I like being with you again."
He plopped angry fists on his hips. "Don’t you dare use this situation to manipulate me. After what you did, I told you I never wanted to see you again. I have nothing to say to you."
Clearing her throat, she summoned her undercover cool. She stood, stalked to him and got in his face. "I have a lot to say to you."
"Tough." He started away.
She grabbed his arm, holding him back. "Six months before that last mission in Barcelona, I had a pregnancy scare."
"I know that. We talked about it."
"You implied, strongly, that you wanted nothing to do with children."
His color rose and his eyes seared her. "I never implied that."
"Of course you did. You said it was for the best that I wasn’t knocked up—your term, by the way. And that if I ever thought I was pregnant again, to tell you right away. We’d take care of it."
"I don’t want to talk about this." He ripped off his suit coat, tossed it on the bed and headed for the bathroom.
She followed. "I thought you meant we’d get rid of the child."
In the huge gilded bathroom, mirrors surrounded them. She watched him at the sink in front of one. He said nothing, unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. His chest was covered with perfectly placed dark hair.
"I didn’t want to get an abortion," she continued. "So I didn’t tell you when I did get pregnant."
He wet his face and lathered on the shaving cream. Ludicrously, she remembered one time in Vienna when she shaved him.
"Logan, I wanted that baby. I know you think I wouldn’t have gone into the operation if I did, but you’re wrong."
He whirled on her then, grabbing her by the arms. "You forget one little thing, Sachetti. I told you I loved you before we left. I told you I wanted our children and when we got back, we needed to talk about the future." He swallowed hard. "And you went anyway. You went into the most dangerous sting we’d ever taken on knowing you were pregnant and risking our child."
"I didn’t know what else to do. That op was important. I was afraid it would distract you if you knew I was pregnant. A lot was at stake."
"What was at stake was our child. Which you willingly put in jeopardy, hotshot agent that you are." He shook her. "And your luck ran out when that bastard cornered you in a warehouse and threw you over a railing twenty feet above the ground."
"That wasn’t my fault."
"The hell it wasn’t! If you weren’t there in the first place, you wouldn’t have lost the baby." And almost lost her life. She remembered he’d stayed with her in the hospital until he found out she was going to live. "Now get out of here and let me shower. The sight of you makes me ill."
Slowly Belle turned and left the bathroom. She raised the blinds, opened the door and walked back out to the balcony. Shaken, she breathed in the beautiful spring morning and forced down the emotion she felt rising inside her like a tidal wave, threatening to drown her.
It took ten minutes before she was back in control.
oOo
Puffing on his cigar, he stared down at the chess board and pressed the record button on the recorder. "Time, 17:00 hours. Subjects in hotel room. First assessment: affectionate, somewhat tense. She speaks Italian. He’s smitten. All is well."
He pressed the stop button before reaching out and moving his pawn, then laughed aloud. Pawns—all of them. And he was the Chess King, manipulating them to his will. As it well should be. "Time for another move," he whispered into the semi–darkness.
oOo
"Take the picture, darling. I can’t hold the pose much longer."
Logan shook his head at the understatement he’d just voiced. He couldn’t believe he had to hold the pose, so to speak, for days with her. They’d been in Rome four hours and already had one blowup. His only hope for sanity was that they’d make their contact, get the baby quickly and be done in much less than a full week.
God, she looked gorgeous when she was angry. This morning, in the hotel room where she’d cornered him, her dark eyes had snapped fire and her words had cut him to the quick. He’d been unable to push them out of his mind all day long.
I thought you’d want me to get rid of it.
Hell, that couldn’t possibly be true. He’d confessed his feelings before they left because he’d become aware of the acute danger that they would face in Barcelona.
I didn’t want to distract you. That op was important…so much was at stake.
Damn it, she shouldn’t have gone! She knew that. She was playing him again and he wouldn’t be sucked in.
Finally, she snapped the picture and crossed to him. The Colosseum loomed behind him, and she stared out at the huge circular landmark. Again they were dressed in character: she in a gauzy yellow dress and a straw hat, he in a golf shirt and Dockers. The outfits were so not either of their styles, it was almost laughable. But then, neither of them was the person they used to be.
"Hard to believe they kept slaves and animals and gladiators down there in those small tunnels," she said, pointing to the lower level of the historic site. Her voice was sad. "Man’s inhumanity to man always surprises me, I guess."
He turned to look at the ruins. Sections of the top two levels of the structure were missing, having been pillaged during the Renaissance, the stone used for other buildings. The floor of the famous arena had been partially restored so tourists could see how those tunnels she hated were once covered with wood, blocking out sunlight and air. There were platforms that raised and lowered through trapdoors to allow the entertainment and sets to rise out of the depths. The guide had told them that the inhabitants were going to die, anyway, so no one cared what it must have been like to be confined down there.
Because they were ordinary tourists, he slid an arm around her waist and pretended to worry that she was feeling bad. As normal as breathing, she leaned into him for comfort. Damn, it was so easy falling into the role of a loving couple.
I feel as if I’ve always known you, Logan.
Me, too. Maybe in a past life.
Oh, I like that. Anthony and Cleopatra, do you think?
Nah. More like Samson and Delilah. You have power over me, woman.
It had taken him two full years to rid himself of that spell.
Giving her a perfunctory kiss on her cheek, he straightened and took her hand. "Come on, love, let’s go get your picture with the gladiators out in the square. That might cheer you up."
She laughed. Man she was good. Instead of sultry Isabelle, she was innocent Belle Kane. She even batted her thick lashes at him. "Oh, Logan, should I?"
"When in Rome…" he quipped chuckling.
But that suggestion, too, was a mistake. While he took the picture, she posed as if she was having such a good time with the handsome gladiator that Logan could almost forget what was between them and remember days that were filled with fun and frolic. When the guy slid his hand to her fanny, Logan did forget his real role and fell into the pretend one. He drew her away like a jealous husband. "Hands off, paisan," he said dramatically.
When they finished with the photos, he linked his arm with hers, this constant touching was killing him. They walked out of the square and took the cobblestone streets to a small outdoor café called The Miraggio. She sank onto a chair at a table in the shade and sighed.
"Feet hurt?" he asked. She’d worn sandals and they’d walked all morning.
Reaching for his hand across the table, she smiled. "A bit."
"Slip off your shoes. I’ll rub them while we wait for service."
She tossed him a look that said, Isn’t this carrying it a bit too far?
"Like any loving husband would, honey."
He felt bare feet plop into his lap. Under the tablecloth, he put his hands on her. Her sole was soft, supple. No calluses. No dead skin. He knew she loved pedicures and manicures and massages. Hell, he’d loved pampering her and had searched for new and exotic ways to do so. He rubbed her instep, and watched her eyes glaze over. A lot like they did during sex.
"Ahhhh," she whispered, and he felt his body respond. Damn it. He was grateful when the waiter approached them.
"Bounjorno," the dark–haired swarthy server said, smiling. "Signor, Signora. Come sta?"
"Bene, grazie," she replied.
He asked about drinks.
"Vino Rosa. Two glasses of the best in your house."
When the waiter was gone, Logan opened his menu. "Hmm," he said aloud looking down at the small white envelope inside it. "Looks like the games have begun."
oOo
Later that night they took a cab to the Piazza Navona, as was instructed in the terse missive they’d gotten at lunch, and found a table in the outdoor area of a wine bar. It was 7:00 p.m., and most people were just coming out for the night so the place had some empty seats. They sat close to the edge of the big square, the perimeter lined with old stone buildings, sporting a fountain at one end. They ordered espresso and took in the sights and sounds of Roman nightlife.
"Why do you think it said to come here?" she asked in a whisper.
"Cat and mouse, I guess. I studied the theories Simon came up with. Whoever is doing this seems to need control and likes to play games with his victims."
"You were always so good with their minds."
"I have a degree in psychology." Then he added meanly, "Too bad I didn’t figure you out sooner."
Ignoring her crestfallen expression, he stared at the square, which was filled tonight with vendors, performers and stalls selling souvenirs and paintings of the city. Faint smells of baking pizza dough and flowers just blooming in boxes along the windows of the buildings filled the air. In the open space in front of the restaurant, a mime was preparing his act.
As they waited, she made small talk, intimate and wifely, in case there were eavesdroppers near. "What did Mike have to say on the phone?"
His brother hadn’t called, of course, but he always liked talking about his family. All three of his half–brothers held a place in his heart. "Gearing up for next year."
Mike Kingston was a coach for the Buckland Bulls, a football team housed about a hundred miles from Hyde Point, where Logan had grown up with his mother. After his father had died, she’d married Jim Kingston. They’d moved south, but now resided in Buckland where Mike coached the team.
He recounted his pretend conversation, filling her in on Mike’s life with a twinkle in his green eyes. He didn’t ask about her family, though, which was another distancing maneuver. Ludicrous, she thought, to be disappointed. But Logan had related better to her protective dad than any other man in her life.
I like your father.
He likes you.
He asked me my intentions.
Oh, God, I’m sorry.
Then Logan had whispered naughty things in her ear that he pretended to say to her father, making her blush. She remembered now how she’d wished he’d be serious. Wished he’d told her father his real intentions. She’d been falling in love with him at the time.
They held hands during the show, laughing at the mime—until he brought little children into his act. Then Logan’s fingers disengaged with hers. Toddlers of about two and three joined the show. Belle was mesmerized watching them, though regret swelled inside her. One of them could have been their child. She could have had Logan’s two–year–old, and maybe an infant, too. Her throat closed up.
She felt his arm go around her and pull her close. In her ear, he whispered mockingly, "Nice touch. The sad woman yearning for children. If they’re watching, they’ll fall for it big–time."
"It’s not an act," she said achingly.
"Spare me. I refuse to believe anything you say this time around."
Still, she laid her head on his shoulder. She needed the comfort. He let her stay that way until a woman approached them.
"Scusi," she said in Italian. "For you."
Logan’s whole body went on alert. "Who gave this to you?"
"Non cabisce." She hurried away.
He opened the note and Belle read over his shoulder.
Friday, was all it said.
She stared down at the paper. Damn it! Friday was five days away. Could she possibly endure Logan’s contempt that long, while he touched her and hugged her and pretended to feel as he did before? His constant attention, his demonstrativeness, only served to remind her of what she’d lost because of one mistake.
"So, sweetheart, looks like we’re in for a week of fun." He whispered the words in her ear, so that only she caught the underlying sarcasm in his voice.
She remembered real vacations where he’d wanted to be with her.
In Venice…Isabelle, do me the honor of a gondola ride down the canal.
In London…Oh, Logan, you got tickets to that play I wanted to see?
In Spain…Don’t close your eyes during the bullfight, love.
The memories made Belle want to cry. Angered by her reaction, she stood, but he tugged her back down and grabbed her close. His hand bit into her arm and she realized she wasn’t the only one affected. "Do not, under any circumstances, blow this because your temper is sizzling." When she said nothing, he gripped her harder. "I mean it, darling."
He was right. She had to get control of herself. So, like the good agent she was, she leaned her body into his. He stiffened, which gave her a good deal of satisfaction. Smiling seductively, though she wanted to rage at him, she said sweetly, "Oh, I can’t wait to spend the week with you."
oOo
The next night, Logan’s feet pounded on the treadmill as he tried to blank his mind. He’d had to get away from Belle. He couldn’t stand being with her so much, staying in the same room, sleeping in the same bed. Even the familiar, sexy scent of her had gotten to him. He was going crazy—and it had only been two days.
Friday couldn’t come fast enough. His mind whirled with a thousand things, so he tried to focus on the assignment and how the operation would go down.
It was simple, really. Their job was to get the baby back. The money, now in a safe–deposit box in the hotel, could be traced, and other operatives would be in place to follow the drop man. Logan and Belle were to absorb as many details as they could about the people involved, but ultimately they were to ensure the safety of the child. That alone was an awesome responsibility.
He hoped nothing went wrong. He still remembered how bad the last mission with Belle had gone. He ran faster, trying to block out the memories, but he could see it unravel in his mind.
They’d been in Barcelona three days and were good to go. They arrived at the warehouse separately. Belle was the plant, the one to meet with a man who claimed to have access to guns being smuggled into the U.S. from a remote area of Spain. Logan was hiding behind gallons of fuel in case anything went wrong. Concealed from the bare lights glaring overhead, he could smell the stink of oil that permeated the cavernous space…
"Up here, senorita," the man said when Belle entered through the door and stopped on the first floor. The smuggler she was to meet had been reputed to be ruthless and very good at keeping his activities quiet.
Belle was dressed in a plain blue suit, with all that hair pulled back in a knot at her neck, having taken on the identity of a rich businesswoman from Italy who wanted in on the action. Slowly, she’d climbed the steel steps, briefcase in hand. It contained half–a–million dollars in marked money.
From his vantage point, Logan watched as the guy came toward her. He’d never been more proud of her—her head was high, her shoulders set, though the situation was critical. Still, it was hard for him to let her do this by herself. He wished he was making the deal instead. She met the guy midway between the two ends of the second floor, and he could see them above the railing. She spoke to him in Spanish.
Then, all hell broke loose. Someone burst in downstairs—not one of Logan’s people. Almost in slow motion, he saw the guy on the second floor lunge for Belle. Bolting out of his hiding place, Logan took the steps two at a time. He was halfway up when Belle pitched over the rail. His heart stopped. She’d fallen twenty feet to the floor…
I thought you’d tell me to get rid of it…I didn’t want to distract you.
None of it mattered. Not even the realization that he’d already been unduly worried about her when the operation went down. If he’d known she was carrying his baby, it would have distracted him.
Hell! He had to stop this. Nothing could make him forgive her. She’d been careless and cavalier with his child and he’d never be able to accept that.
Sweating badly, he wiped his face with the towel. Through the glass surrounding the work–out room, he saw a young Italian woman smile at him. She gave him an appreciative once–over. Hmm…was she someone putting the moves on him? Or someone trying to confirm his cover?
If he was the sappy husband he pretended to be, he’d never look twice at her. Not that he had the slightest urge to take her up on an offer, anyway. There hadn’t been one single woman he’d met in two years who held any allure for him. As he’d told her, Delilah had ruined Samson, and Belle had ruined him.
He admitted he couldn’t stay in the gym any longer. It was already 22:00 hours. If he was who he said he was, he’d be anxious to get back to his loving wife. To her bed.
Son of a bitch, he thought winding down. He had to go upstairs.
oOo
In satiny red pajamas, Belle scanned the room for something to do. Trying to amuse herself while Logan worked out, she’d done her own calisthenics, some pushups and Tai Chi in the space she’d cleared of furniture. Given her new identity’s health, fragile Belle Kane wouldn’t run or work out, so she was forced to stay in the hotel room. When Logan still hadn’t come back after ninety minutes, she was starting to get pissed off at him. It didn’t take much.
Spying his notebook computer—which he locked securely in the safe when they were out of the room—she decided to play some poker until he returned. She settled down at the desk in front of the machine, and waited until it booted up. The instant messaging system came on screen first.
She thought of turning it off, but she craved knowledge of his life, wondered what he’d been up to, who he communicated with routinely. So she studied the incoming addresses. SK007. They’d teased Simon, their commander, about his screen name. Several more buddies but she couldn’t decipher who they were. Just then, one cha–chinged on. M&MSweetie. What the hell?
The dialogue box came up and typing appeared.
Hey, Logan. So glad I caught you online. All’s well. Closing Kane’s Table while you’re gone has everybody coming in here asking about you. Don’t worry. I’m taking care of everything. The baby’s getting bigger…you should feel her inside me. I think she misses your attention.
Spots swam before Belle’s eyes as she slammed the cover of the laptop computer down. Oh my God…oh my God…oh my God… Why hadn’t Simon told her? Why didn’t she know this? She threw back the chair and paced. Then she strode to the balcony. It didn’t help. The fresh air couldn’t make her breathe better and the lights of Rome winking up at her didn’t calm her. The pain was so sharp, so acute, she doubled over with it. No, no, please don’t let this be true.
The stark fact stayed in the forefront: some other woman was pregnant with Logan’s baby.
Belle straightened. Be sensible, she told herself. What did you think, Isabelle? That he’d mourn the loss of you and your child forever? No, of course not, but it hadn’t been that long. And she hadn’t let another man touch her, ever, since Logan. That he could sleep with someone else, love someone else enough to create a baby with her…oh, God…
Unable to deal with the slicing pain, she let the anger come. Damn him. Damn him. Well, so be it. She straightened and went back into the room. Tearing off her pajamas, she fished in her drawer for sweatpants and a T–shirt. She put them on, then her sneakers. It was late, and unlikely that anyone was watching the hotel. Tucking her hair into a baseball cap, she decided no one would recognize her even if they were out there. It didn’t matter, anyway. She had to escape from here. She had to burn off this anger, this hurt, or she’d never be able to complete the mission. To that end, she let herself out of the room.
oOo
He knew she was gone when he opened the door. He could always sense her presence. The feel of Isabelle in a room was tangible. And she wasn’t here. He checked the balcony and the bathroom to be sure.
Stay calm, he told himself. She could take care of herself. Had someone discovered who they really were and gotten to her? With a keen eye, he studied every detail of his surroundings. There was no sign of a struggle. And Belle would have struggled.
Okay, don’t worry. She wouldn’t desert a mission. After all, she’d jeopardized their baby for one. The job was too important to her. Still, he checked the closet, the drawers. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found that her clothes were intact. On top of that, he took deeper breaths to quell his anger…and his fear.
He paced. He went out to the balcony. What to do? Would she have contacted Simon? Coming back inside, he crossed to his computer. He went to boot the machine up, and discovered it was humming. Belle must have used it earlier. Maybe there’d be a message on it for him. Or some clue to where she’d gone. It seemed like forever for the hibernation to end. The screen had just materialized when the hotel room door opened.
For a minute, she stood in the entryway. He could see she’d been running, as she was sweaty and red–faced. She stared at him, then she slammed the door. Without saying a word, she strode to the bathroom and banged that door shut, too.
What the hell? He heard the shower go on and bolted off the chair, infuriated that she offered him no explanation. He’d be damned if he’d be kept waiting. She’d left a secured situation to do what? Exercise? He stalked to the bathroom and whipped open its door. Steam had already begun to fill the space but he could see her clearly enough. She was naked, and about to step into the shower.
His mouth went dry, despite the moisture in the air. For two years, he’d forced himself to forget what she looked like unclothed. Only in his dreams had he touched her silky skin, traced her generous curves, tasted her sweet warmth. Eventually, he’d even quelled those nocturnal memories. Now, faced with the reality of her, he saw how his dreams had paled in comparison to real life. Every inch of her was perfect. Her breasts were firm and high. Her waist and hips voluptuous. Long lean lines everywhere. He couldn’t tear his gaze away.
Instead of being embarrassed, she threw her shoulders back and her dark hair fanned her like a cape. They’d gone to the Uffizi Museum today, and he’d come across some of Titian’s paintings that reminded him of her. Tonight, she outshone all the masterpieces.
"See anything you like?" she asked silkily.
He couldn’t quite decipher her mood. He chose anger to be his. Stalking over to the shower, he yanked the faucet to Off. Then he picked up a towel and tossed it at her. "Cover yourself up."
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
He grabbed her naked shoulders, which was a mistake. Her skin was damp from her run and glowed. She was slick with perspiration, reminding him of the times he’d made her sweat during sex. "Your loving husband," he said shaking her, "who right now has good reason to be ticked."
Her eyes sparked. Not so much in anger. But in challenge. In desire. His body went granite hard. Some of their best sex had been after—or during—an argument.
When she just stood there, he grabbed the towel from her. She arched a brow, and lifted her arms. Roughly, he wrapped the cloth around her torso and secured it in a knot between her breasts. Her eyes flared. He knew his did, too. She met him face–to–face. He was breathing hard. But somehow, he managed to back away.
And like always, Belle got the last word. Or gesture in this case. Slowly, she raised her hand and undid the knot; the towel dropped to the floor. With a Mona Lisa expression, she closed the distance between them. His back hit the wall just as she hit the lights, plunging them into deep and dangerous darkness.
oOo
He moved the King. Then the Queen. He laughed and sipped his expensive brandy. Savoring it, he leaned back, pleased with himself. Apparently, his own little king and queen were having a spat. The report just came in. Trouble in paradise. The husband was working out downstairs like a man on fire; the wife left the hotel room in a huff. She came back even angrier. Bet sparks were flying in that bedroom right about now.
He smiled into the darkness. God he liked upping the pressure, making people act on tension and nerves. Before he was through, they’d bark like dogs if he wanted them to. Ah, it felt good to be so powerful. And to have so much control over other people’s lives. That was why he kept doing this over and over again.
oOo
Belle had no idea what she was doing—in the bathroom of the Hotel Cavalieri, for God’s sake.
All she knew was that finding out another woman was carrying Logan’s child made her furious and hurt and wanting revenge. Not that this was the way to get it. Who the hell cared? She was on him in seconds.
"Belle, what the…God, Belle, what are you doing?"
She didn’t answer. It was pitch dark in here and they couldn’t see each other, but they could feel. His hands at her waist…to push her away? No, he wasn’t resisting, he was participating.
Roughly, she captured his mouth, took it, devoured it. After only a moment’s hesitation, he kissed her back mercilessly. She dropped one hand to his crotch. "You’re hard for me," she taunted against his mouth.
"What else is new?" His breath was coming in gulps. His hands were all over her. One grasped her butt, another teased her nipples. When his mouth replaced his fingers, she tried to crawl up him. He reversed their positions, pressed her naked back to the wall. She could feel his sweatshirt, soft knit but abrasive, on her heated skin.
Once again he suckled her. She moaned, tunneled her fingers through his hair to keep his head there. When his hand went lower she groaned. "Oh, God."
"Yes," he said gruffly and delved two fingers inside her.
In only seconds she climaxed, sobbing, calling his name.
When she came back to reality, she felt his body grow harder, tauter. Reaching inside his shorts, she grasped him. "Logan," she murmured.
His response was a grunt, a groan, swearing. She slid to the floor and buried her face in his groin. Yanking down the shorts, she massaged him, licked him then took him in her mouth.
He, too, spiraled in seconds.
It was all over in just minutes.
She was still on her knees when he edged back, dragged up his shorts and said, "Well, now that that’s over, mind telling me what brought all this on?"
oOo
She was shaking uncontrollably. Logan couldn’t take her reaction. He grabbed a robe off the hook on the bathroom door and pulled her to stand. Bundling her inside the white terry, he scooped her up and led her out to the room and sat her on the bed. Kneeling in front of her, he took her hands in his. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that."
She stared at the floor, shivering.
He rubbed her arms up and down. "What did bring it all on, Belle? You compromising a mission by going out? The anger?"
Clearing her throat, she glanced over at the computer. Tears sparkled like tiny stars in her eyes. "You got an IM from your…" She clapped her hand over her mouth. "Did I just do that with somebody’s husband?"
"Husband? What are you talking about?"
"There was an instant message from M&MSweetie. She said your daughter was doing fine." Now Belle started to cry. "Logan, why didn’t you tell me there was a woman in your life? That someone else was having your ba–by." Her voice broke on the last word.
He could lie. It would distance her. And hurt her like she hurt him. But the sobs coming from the woman in front of him, whom he’d once loved to distraction, tore at his heart. He tried to take her in his arms.
She flung him off. "Not if you’re married. Don’t touch me if you’re married."
"I’m not."
Bleak, red–rimmed eyes stared at him. "But you’re having a baby."
"No, I’m not."
"I don’t understand."
He explained the situation to her. "Molly must have been updating me on her and Jase’s child."
Belle’s whole body slumped. He caught her in his arms, sat on the bed against the headboard and pulled her close to his chest. "I don’t understand something," he said after he felt her calm.
"What?"
"Why this reaction?"
He was glad to see the color return to her face when she drew away. "You’re kidding, right?"
"I never felt less like kidding in my life."
She grabbed his arms. "I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else. Having a child with another woman. I wanted to be your wife. I wanted your baby!"
By God, if he wasn’t tempted to believe her. Could she be faking this? Why would she? Did it even matter? "Belle, we can’t go there. We’re over. What was between us died two years ago in a cold warehouse with our baby."
She seemed to take that in. "Then tell me you believe me. You don’t have to forgive my mistake, but tell me you believe I wanted that child."
His mother had taught him to examine his heart. When he did, tonight in the dim hotel room, he realized he could believe what Belle was saying. She’d simply made an irrevocable, awful decision. Though it made no difference with what had happened, she was telling the truth.
"I believe you. But it doesn’t change anything between us now."
Finally, she said, "I can live with that." She put her head on his shoulder.
And despite the fact that he knew damn well no one was watching, he held her close and kissed her hair.
oOo
"Oh, babe, look at that." Logan had reverted to old habits and didn’t even realize he’d done.
Don’t you dare call me babe. It’s sexist and insulting.
I think it’s sexy and intimate.
She’d come to love the endearment.
He was also holding her hand like he used to, fingers linked, binding them together. He gestured to their surroundings, the Sistine Chapel. She’d been here before, but he hadn’t.
"That’s my favorite part of the ceiling." And everyone else’s, too, evidenced by the T–shirts and ads that focused in on God creating Adam, their arms outstretched, their fingers almost but not quite touching.
"You like seeing man created?"
She leaned into him. "No, look under God’s arm. That’s Eve. Art historians say the panel shows that God always had Eve in mind as Adam’s mate."
Glancing down at her, he smiled. "And? I know this has a punch line."
"I think it means God created Eve first. This view confirms the creation of Adam second."
His laugh was hearty, though soft. Every ten minutes a guard asked for quiet in the long, high room. "Well," he said glancing back up, "the result’s the same. Man and woman were made for each other, like it or not."
"I like it," she whispered.
If he heard her, he didn’t respond. They took seats on one of the benches that lined the perimeter, except for the front altar. A tour guide happened to be standing in front of them, and as Logan listened to him talk about "The Last Judgment," which covered the entire front wall, Belle leaned back against the padded cushion and closed her eyes.
She was tired today. After the emotional wrenching of last night, she hadn’t slept well. Logan had finally turned toward her, dragged her to him, and held her the rest of the night. Only then did she catch a few hours.
They’d made a truce after the debacle with the instant message, Belle’s run and then, of course, having sex in the bathroom. Though her body tightened at the memory of them together again, she was also sad about it.
Hers and Logan’s sex life had been the stuff of dreams—hot, wet and sweaty. But there had always been an underlying tenderness in what they’d done together. They’d cherished each other’s bodies. What had happened in the bathroom had been missing that quality. Belle felt bad about that.
She opened her eyes and peered over at him. Today he wore a black and gray shirt with gray slacks. His hair was a little long; she remembered cutting it for him, then he’d return the favor and trim her halfway–down–the–back locks. They’d insisted each other be naked, and it invariably turned into fun.
"You okay?" he asked. Gone was the angry man, but his resigned tone hurt almost as much.
"Yes, I was somewhere else." She kissed his cheek, not for show, not to taunt him. "Logan, do you think after…"
His hand came to her lips. "You know what you’re about to ask for isn’t going to happen. But at least we aren’t sniping at each other. Be grateful for that." Again he laced her fingers with his and led them into the crowd.
oOo
Logan was trying hard to keep them busy. Keep their minds off each other. This new, emotional tangle wasn’t good for the operation, which was why their truce last night had been a good thing. Now, if only he could forget the mind–blowing sex in the bathroom, and how it felt to hold her during the night.
"Let’s get some gelato," she said as they left San Pietro’s Basilica where seeing Michelangelo’s Pietà made her teary–eyed. Though it was behind glass, on an altar twenty feet away, the muscles and veins had almost pulsed with life to any viewer.
"You’re on."
There were numerous small ice–cream stores lining the streets of Rome, though ice cream was a poor description of the creamy, custard confection. Since the closest had a long line, Logan led her to one down a side street that appeared less crowded. When they got their treat, they began walking back to the church’s square, which was really a circle, enclosed by pillars. It was almost deserted this time of day. A few monks milled about. One approached them as they went to look at the center monolith from which radiated several markings on the cement pavement. "We need to talk," the monk said.
Logan recognized him right away. He didn’t ask what was wrong. Something had to be a big deal for Simon to fly down to a mission. He never came into the field anymore.
"There’s a problem." Simon drew them off to the side, but far enough away from the Swedish guards who stood at attention near the Pope’s quarters. He gestured toward the Basilica as he spoke to Logan. Periodically, he’d throw in a tidbit about the church’s history more loudly in case anyone was watching. "We’ve got a line on the King Pin, or rather the Chess King, as he’s called."
"The guy running this?" Belle asked.
"Hmm. His name is Diego Martini. He’s wealthy, bored and ruthless. Seems he likes playing with his prey. Mr. and Mrs. Logan Kane are his latest." Simon pulled out pictures from his pockets. "You need to look at these. This is what he does to anybody who crosses him."
Belle gasped as she took in the mangled bodies. "Oh, dear Lord."
Logan swore vilely.
Simon said, "I’m aborting the mission."
"Just because he’s ruthless?" Logan asked.
Shooting a glance at Belle, Simon faced Logan. "No, because one of his henchmen had a brush with Belle in Russia. He could recognize her."
Logan nodded. "Well, that’s it then. We’re done here."
Belle grabbed his arm. "Not so fast," she said.
oOo
Belle undressed slowly in the half light of the hotel room. Her mind was still whirling from the news they received from Simon earlier this evening—the identity of the kidnapper and the possibility of her being recognized. She’d won her argument to finish the mission, but both Simon and Logan were unhappy.
"In Russia I wore a short red wig," she’d said calmly. "Remember, Logan?" He’d thought she looked sexy as hell. "Not once did I take it off in public."
"I don’t care, it’s too dangerous."
"Simon?"
"I know about the wig. My opinion? It’s not worth the risk."
"Tell that to the Grangers, who won’t get their baby back."
The men had both cursed, but eventually had agreed.
Logan came out of the bathroom, dressed only in black boxers. He took in her hot pink tap pants and camisole and his eyes flared. He was such a guy. She crossed to the mini bar and took out a bottle of wine. "Want some?"
"Yeah, sure. Out here," he said and headed for the balcony, where he braced his arms on the railing and stared at the scenery.
Belle poured two glasses of merlot and followed him outside. The sultry night air caressed her bare arms, raising gooseflesh, and the soft breeze ruffled Logan’s hair.
He faced her when she held out a glass and he took it. "I don’t like the turn this has taken."
"You agreed."
"I did. But you could be in danger." He brushed his knuckles down her cheek. "I hate when you’re in danger."
He didn’t always. The first year they were together, they’d gone undercover in Paris at an opera house that was supposedly a front for the Parisian mob. The operation was dangerous, as Belle was to be the bait for the young mob boss’s son…
“Nervous?” Logan asked the night before and they prepared for the mission
“No, energized. You?
“Excited.”
“Is there something wrong with us, Logan, that we thrive on this?”
“Who cares? We’re in it together. That’s all that counts.”
He laughed. “That and how we help other people, babe…”
But things had changed the third year they were together, when they started worrying about each other. They both tried to hide their concerns and never talked about their feelings of fear. She wondered if they should have. She had so many questions about her past actions.
She grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles, then turned to look out at the city. "Why didn’t we ever quit The Organization and make a real life?" she asked.
He waited a very long time before he answered. "I was going to talk to you about that when we got back from Barcelona."
"I figured as much. It’s odd, isn’t it? If we’d talked sooner, we could have redirected our whole lives. We could be married now, with a child."
Reaching over, he palmed her stomach. She could feel his heat through the silk. "Likely with another on the way, if I know us."
She smiled.
Setting his glass down on a small table, he disposed of hers and stood over her in the moonlight. The stars seemed to kiss his hair, sparkle in his eyes. "This operation just turned a lot more dangerous."
His fingers gliding up and down her arm made her shiver. "Because I might be recognized?"
"No, because of Martini. Simon gave me a file on him. He takes no prisoners. He’s also playing with us."
Feeling an adrenaline rush, she smiled. "We’re up to the challenge. We’re a good team, Kane. We can take him, or anything else thrown our way."
"God, Sachetti, you’re beautiful when you get that gleam in your eye."
She recalled something then. The night before a mission, they’d always made exquisite love.
He said, "You remember, don’t you?"
"Yes."
He moved in close. "I want you, Belle. More than I want to breathe."
"I want you, too."
"But—"
She put her hand to his mouth. "Shh. No buts. I know being together again won’t mean you want me back in your life. I don’t care. I want to be with you, like we used to be, not like we were in the bathroom."
The corners of his mouth turned up. "Oh, I don’t know, the bathroom was pretty damn good."
She laughed, then sobered. "I want to make love, Logan. Not have sex."
He smiled. "You’re on, babe." Gently, he swooped her up into a carry again and headed into the room. He waited while she pressed the button, plunging them into semidarkness. He turned on the bedside light. "I want to see you tonight. All of you."
She kissed his neck. "Me, too, love."
They undressed slowly, facing each other. Watching. She wrested off her camisole. He dropped his shorts. She lost her tap pants. They stood naked, not touching, just absorbing.
Logan had a scar on his left shoulder. She moved in close and brushed her lips over the tiny flaw. She had one on her biceps that he’d kissed. Battle wounds, they called the marks.
With pure Logan tenderness, he eased her onto the sheets that the maid had folded down. She stretched out like a cat. He lifted her arms over her head. He’d always done that, too, so he could look his fill, touch his fill—foreplay which drove them both crazy. "You are so lovely," he said, gliding his hand over her throat, her breasts, down to her thighs. "I’ve dreamed about doing this again."
After a few moments, she whispered, "Logan, love. That feels so good."
Staring down at her, Logan’s heart swelled at being able to touch her after all these months of sensual starvation. He reveled in their contact, continued the exploration, until she tugged on his arms. "Logan!" She was breathing fast, her pupils were dilated and a rosy blush had spread everywhere.
Finally, he released her. She pressed him back into the mattress and took the reins. Closing his eyes, he let himself feel her fingers glide over his chest, her lips tease his nipples, her lower body meld into his. Her attentions went on a long time, until he angled her around to face him, both of them on their sides.
He suckled her breasts.
She massaged him.
He ground his hand against her.
She moaned. "Please, now."
When he slipped inside her, and because it felt like coming home, he panicked for a second. But he was able to force the worry back. He began to move. She helped him, arching her hips, taking him deeper. They came together in a cataclysm so binding it blew him away.
oOo
"Who was the monk?" he asked impatiently, staring at a frozen frame of the videotape he’d just received. The shot showed the Kanes talking with the good priest. Seemingly innocent, but still…
"Just a monk," the underling on the other end of the secured line said. "Telling them the history of the church."
"Hmm." Martini wasn’t sure. He looked down at the knight on the chess board. Tried a few different moves until he got what he wanted. "I don’t like this. Stay where you are. I’ll be in touch."
For a long time he stared at the screen and thought about changing his strategy with the couple who longed for a child. To that end, he picked up the phone.
oOo
Logan pretended to read from the guidebook, but he kept getting distracted by her. She was even more beautiful today. She always was, after a night of lovemaking. He tried to curse himself for what he’d allowed to happen, but he couldn’t regret their coming together again. When this mission was over, he’d have that memory of her, minus the bitterness. It would be better for both of them to part friends.
"It says here that most people think the Trevi Fountain was always in Rome. But it wasn’t. It was built by—"
"Honey, stop." She was fishing in her purse for coins, as water from the huge fountain splashed and plopped around her. "You’re taking the romance out of the legend."
He continued to read. "Throwing coins in assures your return to Rome."
She stamped her foot. "It does not. It means your wish will come true."
"That’s not what the book says."
She laughed. "Come over here. I have a coin for you." She held out a quarter. He took it and kissed her. Hard. Meaningfully. Then he turned, wished and threw the coin in the fountain where Neptune, flanked by two tritons, spewed water.
Closing her eyes, she held on to her own quarter, wished and tossed it in the water.
He was just about to ask her what she wished for when a shadow fell over them.
And just like that, Logan knew they were in trouble.
"Plans have changed," an ominous voice said. "Do exactly as you are told, and you will get the baby."
"It’s two days early." Belle made her voice shake. At least Logan hoped the tremulousness was intentional.
"Did you not know, Signora? Babies always come early." The man’s laugh was menacing.
Logan glanced at her. She stared back at him. We can do this, his look promised.
I know, hers said.
He was glad they were in this together.
It didn’t hit him until they were in the black Mercedes, destination unknown, that he and Belle had made love last night and hadn’t used condoms. Déjà vu, he thought truthfully. Once again, Belle could be pregnant with his child while they headed into an impossible situation that—given this new development—could very well go way south.
oOo
Belle called on every bit of expertise she had to sit still and pretend to be the pampered, suburban housewife who only wanted a baby. She worried the strap on her purse, bit her lip and fidgeted the right amount. The man across from her in the Mercedes stared hard at her. She said to him, "A–are you sure the baby’s well?"
Dressed in a baseball cap and sunglasses with a beard that covered half his face, the guy growled. "You will see soon enough, Signora."
She watched out the window as the city scrolled by. They were down in a section of Rome near the Vatican and took the winding roads, lined with big concrete buildings, at a fast pace, like all the Italians drove. Once she and Logan had been overtaken at the Trevi Fountain, the men had driven them back to the hotel and were mercilessly silent the entire way, until they reached the circular drive…
Get the money. The guy handed Logan a sheet of paper. Meet us at this café. We will have the bambino.
Come on, honey, Logan had said, holding out his hand.
Per favor, signor. She stays with me.
Not on your life.
Then no trade.
She scowled at him. He knew he had to leave, but his face told her that was the last thing he wanted to do. Bending over, he’d kissed her on the mouth.
I’ll be there soon. Scared?
She didn’t have to fake the answer. Yes.
I love you.
I love you, too…
The car pulled to a stop in front of a huge warehouse. Oh, hell, just what they needed—more reminders of Barcelona. Her escort opened the Mercedes door, jumped out and drew Belle up by the hand. The nervousness came easily. "Where is she?"
"Inside." The man grasped her arm and led her through a solid steel door into the semi dark interior. It took her eyes a while to adjust. The space rose up three stories, was filled with boxes and smelled like seaweed. Then she saw something about twenty feet away—over in the corner, a baby carriage. "Oh," she said clapping her hand over her heart. "Can I see her?"
"Si." The man led her to the child.
Belle’s heart practically stopped when she looked down. Cuddled in a nest of blankets, the baby was sucking on a pacifier. She had beautiful blue eyes. When she saw Belle, she waved her arms and kicked. The cover came off, to reveal a pink one–piece suit and small pink booties.
"Oh, darling, aren’t you beautiful." She bent over and picked up the chubby six–month–old. Tears—real ones—fell from Belle’s eyes. "Someone’s been taking good care of you, haven’t they?"
Another man came out of the darkness, but was still semi–concealed in the shadows. He stayed there so she couldn’t see his features very well. "Mrs. Kane. Good to meet you." His accent was Italian. Could this be Diego Martini? Belle couldn’t believe he’d be in on the actual drop.
Her agent’s mind superseded her maternal instincts. She told herself to memorize details. He was over six feet. On the heavy side. Dressed in a suit. God, if they could catch the top man, no one would ever have to suffer the loss of a child at his hands again.
Demurely, Belle lowered her lashes and nodded. "T–thank you for giving us this baby." You swine, she added mentally.
"Prego." He tipped his chin to the man in the baseball cap. "Her husband? He knows what to do?"
"Si. He will have the money. He will bring it to the café across the street."
Martini looked at her. "You have the baby. We have you. When he brings us the payment, we will go. You will stay in the café for one half hour."
All in a public place, Belle knew, so neither party could renege. All safe. God, she hoped so. She hugged little Susie so tight she began to cry. Belle forced herself to relax.
Martini glanced at his watch. "It is time."
Placing the baby back in the carriage, Belle circled behind and began to push. She and the bearded baseball cap guy stepped out into the sunlight and the other man remained in the warehouse. Belle had no doubt he was watching them.
The carriage snagged on the cobblestone Roman road and the baby whimpered. Belle said, "Shh, sweetheart, pretty soon you can come home with mommy and daddy."
The outdoor section of the restaurant was like most others in Rome—crowded tables, the bustling of waiters and even at midday, the sounds of an accordion down the street. Belle and the man found a table on the perimeter of the dining area, near the alleyway. Stupid move, she thought. If they were inclined, which they weren’t, the alley presented myriad opportunities to disrupt the trade.
But Belle and Logan’s orders were clear. Get the baby safely. Agents who may or may not be in the area, now that the instructions had changed, could attend to the capture of Martini and his men.
When Susie began to cry, Belle picked her up and cuddled her to her chest. "Shh, sweetheart. In a few minutes, it’ll be all over."
oOo
His heart beating like a drum, Logan grasped the briefcase which held a million dollars in marked money and drew a few bills out of his pocket. "Grazie," the cab driver said when Logan told him to keep the change. As soon as he exited the taxi, he saw Belle.
For a moment, he was overwhelmed with relief. She sat primly in her little chic suit, holding on to the Granger baby like she’d been taking care of children all her life. Ruthlessly, he shoved the notion out of his mind. He needed a clear head here to keep all three of them safe.
He was smiling like a goofy dad when he approached her. He merely glanced at the man sitting next to her. Diners around them paid them no notice, but Logan knew they were the key to safety. A simple exchange would be made. No one hurt.
He would have preferred this to go down with both him and Belle armed—he had his Glock secreted away in the waist of his pants, but changing the time hadn’t allowed her to get her weapon. This surprise meeting, sooner than anticipated, could work against them.
"Belle, sweetheart, are you all right?" he asked when he reached them. Leaning over, he kissed her head.
"Oh, Logan, look at her."
Logan smiled down at the baby. God, she was beautiful. "Hey, little one. How you doing?"
Innocently, Susie batted his arm. Simultaneously, the henchman stood and took the briefcase from his hand. "Stay here, Signor, with your family, and no one will be hurt."
"Of course." Logan sat down next to Belle. She was breathing fast, but that could be explained to the kidnappers as excitement. She laid her head on his shoulder as he slid his arm around her. "I can’t believe this, Logan. Finally, we have a baby."
"It’s a miracle." Lowering his head, he let the child take one of his fingers and pretended to ooh and ahh over her. All the while, he observed…the man with the money got back into the Mercedes. They stopped in front of the warehouse and picked up someone else. Then the car sped off.
Still he and Belle needed to play the part. They weren’t home free. Belle put her lips to his. "Martini was there, I think," she said into his mouth.
He kissed her lightly. "Damn, I want him."
Looking down at the baby, she cooed. "Me, too." She sighed. "At least we’ve got her. Don’t we, honey?"
Belle played the loving mother as they stayed the requisite half hour. Finally, it was time to go. They stood, placed the baby in the carriage and headed out. The taxi ride back to the hotel was uneventful. They took turns holding Susie as they packed quickly. In under sixty minutes, they were headed to the airport. With any luck they’d be on a plane out of Italy inside of two hours.
They chuckled over the baby as they made arrangements at the airport, cognizant that someone could still be watching them. Relief seeped into both of them as they got tickets to New York, and found the right gate.
Belle smiled at Logan when they reached the waiting area. "I think she needs to be changed."
"Go ahead." Logan sat with the luggage as he watched them walk to the women’s room. Now that most of the danger had passed, he allowed in the thought he’d been keeping at bay—he wished like hell that Belle really was his wife, and the child was indeed theirs. Chiding himself, he picked up his newspaper.
And, for some reason, felt a chill go up his spine—the kind that he and Belle often experienced in the past when they’d worked together. Something was wrong. Ignoring the don’t leave your luggage unattended rule, he stood just as Belle disappeared into the restroom. He strode to the john, stared at the Signora on the entryway, thought, "What the hell?" and went inside.
He was just in time to see the employee who’d been mopping the floor bend over and take something out of her bucket. It was a gun, and before he or Belle could react, the woman raised it and pointed the barrel directly at Logan.
oOo
In the glass mirror ahead of her, Belle saw Logan stride into the ladies room. Puzzled, she pivoted to face him. His look told her something was wrong, so she clutched the baby to her chest.
Before she could speak, the door to a stall opened and a small dark haired woman came out. She looked behind Belle and shrieked, "Oh, my God."
Belle pivoted fast. The cleaner had dropped her mop and now held a black Beretta. Aimed at Logan.
It all happened so fast. Belle thrust the baby into the poor spectator’s hands and the woman shrank back into a stall.
Logan yelled, "Belle, don’t!"
Belle lunged for the cleaning woman.
A blast rent the air.
The baby and the woman screamed.
Logan swore.
And pain exploded through Belle.
oOo
"You are the most maddening man I’ve ever met in my life."
At the insult, Logan looked up over the bar to see Molly practically waddling toward him. He’d been back from Italy for two weeks. In the interim, her belly had popped out considerably.
"What’d I do now?"
She sat down and he put a glass of milk in front of her. "Just get more and more miserable. Tell me who she is. Tell me what happened. I can’t stand to see you like this anymore."
Stripped of his control, of his willpower, by nights of sleeplessness and worry, he said to Molly, "I’ll tell you some." He kept washing glasses. It was easier if he didn’t have to look at her. "For the past several years, I worked …somewhere I can’t share with you. You don’t need to know what it was, anyway." Molly looked puzzled, but she nodded, so he continued.
"I quit two years ago, but I still help out occasionally because a good friend of mine named Simon runs the place and I owe him. There was a woman, Belle, involved in the whole thing. When I went back this time, I saw her again and it was hard to leave her."
Molly touched his hand over the bar. "Why did you?"
Simon had asked him the same thing. He’d spent agonizing hours in the hospital with Logan, waiting for Belle to come through the surgery. The bullet had torn ligaments in her shoulder. And they still had no idea how their cover had been blown. What with Belle under the knife, Simon had put that on hold. At least Susie was safe and returned home to ecstatic parents.
"I’m not sure why I left. She did something that made me angry."
Damn her—she’d saved his life! He was furious. The bullet she’d taken had been meant for him. She’d stepped in front of it on purpose, and Logan didn’t know what to do with all that.
Molly’s amber eyes danced. "Is she a good match for you?"
"She was." He swiped a towel over the bar. "Too much has happened between us."
Molly rubbed her stomach. "She’s the one with the baby. The one you had experience with."
"Yeah. That makes it even more complicated." He told her about the IM debacle.
"Hmm. Nobody knows as well as I do how complicated a relationship can get. And look what happened to me." Molly grinned. "Happily–ever–after."
He leaned over and ruffled her hair. "For that, I’m grateful."
The door to the bar opened and a woman entered. For a minute, he thought it might be Belle. But then he caught her profile and smiled. "Your sister’s here."
Jill Sullivan, two months further along than Molly, gracefully walked into the bar. Damn, he was surrounded by pregnant women.
"Ah, there you are." She smiled over at him. "Hi, Logan." Then at her sister. "Ready to go shopping, sis?"
"We’re picking out baby furniture." Molly rose. "The guys are meeting us at the store."
Logan gave them a perfunctory smile. He was jealous as hell. Molly leaned over the bar. "Life’s so short, Logan. Don’t waste it." She kissed his cheek and was gone.
Damn. Nothing was right now. In the last two years, he’d found a way to live without Belle. Forced himself to forget her. But seeing her again, thinking about how she closed around him when they made love, how she took him into her body and soul, shot his discipline to hell. He couldn’t forget her again.
He picked up the phone and called Simon. "Kirby," a clipped voice answered.
"Hey, buddy, it’s Logan."
A hesitation. "How you doing?"
"I’m fine. Um, how is she?"
"She’s pissed as hell you left her in the hospital. A second time."
"She healing well?"
"Hmm. She’ll be good enough to go out again in no time."
"Oh, that makes me feel better."
"You got it bad, buddy. You should do something about it or another guy’s going to scoop her up." He chuckled. "Maybe me."
Logan told Simon to do something anatomically impossible and hung up. His bartender came on a few minutes later, so Logan changed and decided to go for a run to chase away the demons.
Why had he left her? he asked himself as he hit the pavement. Was it still the old stuff—losing his baby? No, he could forgive that mistake now. How could he not? She’d taken a bullet for him, and might have gotten killed in the process. He sighed. Was it because she could have been pregnant when she did it? Had she knowingly jeopardized a child of theirs again?
He stopped abruptly. What the hell was the matter with him? What were the chances that she was pregnant? And what kind of fixation did he have on this, anyway? Isabelle Sachetti was a female agent working for The Organization. She was simply doing her job. This time and last.
Hell, he wondered as he started to run again, why couldn’t he have seen that before?
Maybe because he didn’t want to. Maybe he just wanted to nurse his hurt and strike out at her because he couldn’t do anything about fate, which had taken their child.
And if that was the reason, he was a shit. He wondered now if she could ever forgive him for it.
oOo
"What did he say?"
"He wanted to know if you were all right."
Belle massaged her shoulder over the sling. "Like he cares. He left me." She kicked the wastebasket. "Just like before."
Simon stood and came around the desk to lean on it. "You are a pair. I’ve never met two people who belonged together more, or who were more stubborn and single–minded."
Belle swore at him over her good shoulder. Then she felt a hand on it.
"Did I ever tell you why my marriage broke up?"
Startled, Belle turned to him. "No, you’re as closemouthed as he is."
Simon’s blue eyes turned sad. She always thought he was ruggedly handsome, yet so soft inside. "I blew it with my wife. I let the job come between us. She left because of that, and then, when I got hurt, and lost the job, I had nothing." He ran his hand down her cheek. "Don’t let that happen to you and Logan, Belle. This Organization isn’t worth the sacrifice."
"It’s all I know. All I ever wanted." Which wasn’t quite true. After this last brush with death and with the underbelly of the world, the job didn’t hold as much allure.
Still, she was furious at Logan. After what they’d shared, after saving his freaking life, he’d left her!
Simon’s cell phone rang before she could say any more. "Kirby." He waited. "No kidding? Yeah, thanks, I’ll tell them both."
She arched a brow when he clicked off. "What?"
"They know how your cover was blown."
"Really, how—" A second ring cut her off.
He rolled his eyes and answered, "Kirby." A scowl. "Um, yeah, I guess." He held the phone out to her. "It’s for you."
"Logan?"
Simon shook his head. "No, somebody named M&M Sweetie."
oOo
After sulking for two more days—when had he become such a whiner?—Logan dropped down at his desk chair in his office and picked up the phone. He was going after Belle. He’d call the airport and get a flight out to…oh, great, he didn’t even know where she was living. He’d never let himself find out. Damn, now that he’d decided, he wanted to get to her right away!
There was a knock on the door to his office. "Go away," he shouted. Nothing was more important than this.
The door swung open. Who the hell? Molly stood there, smiling her happy grin.
"Mol, this isn’t a good time."
"Too bad." She stepped aside.
Belle stood behind her. She was dressed in her usual garb—long black skirt, pretty spandex top with beads on it, though there was a black sling over it, and earrings that he was pretty sure he’d bought her in Dublin. "Hello, Logan." Oh, hell. That look, combined with that sultry voice was gonna kill him.
Still, he’d play this out. "What are you doing here, Isabelle?" He glanced at Molly. "And what do you have to do with it all?"
Molly smiled, scooted to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Just returning the favor." She squeezed Belle’s arm on the way out and closed the door behind her.
"I understand you had something to do with getting Molly and her husband together," Belle said.
Logan nodded. "How did she find you? I just realized I didn’t have any idea where you were living."
"Trying to get in touch with me?" Her eyes danced. "I like hearing that."
"Maybe. Molly?"
"Seems she commandeered your cell. Called Simon, since you’d mentioned him by name and had him in your speed dial."
Waiting, he leaned on the edge of his desk, tucking his hands in his armpits to keep from reaching for her, especially when she moved closer. Her perfume pulled at him.
She reached up and straightened the collar of his green shirt. "Our cover’s blown."
"Really? Did somebody recognize you?"
"Not me. You. Seems there’s some kind of international bad–guy network that passes pictures around on the Internet to all the sleazebags. An operative fingered you. From there, they caught on to me. So, I’m blown, too."
"I’m sorry if you’re out of a job," he lied.
She shrugged. "Your fault. Got any ideas for employment?"
"Employment? No."
The saucy look faded from her face. "I see."
Closing in on her, he grasped her waist and pulled her to him. "But I have lots of ideas for your future."
"Oh, yeah." Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Like what?"
Hell, he was done dancing. "I love you, Belle. I never stopped loving you in two years. I want you to marry me, have my babies." His grip on her tightened. "I don’t want a life without you."
"Oh, Logan," she said achingly. "I love you, too. I want a life with you, too."
They held on to each other. He reveled in how right she felt in his arms. Finally, he set her back. "Won’t you miss the excitement of the chase?"
She shook her head. "I’ve had enough of the chase, thank you." Again her eyes twinkled. "But I guess you’ll have to provide some kind of excitement for me."
He grinned down at her. "I think I can handle that."
She grinned up at him. "I know you can. But just to be sure, let’s give it a try."
"Here?" he asked, already reaching behind him for the remote that locked his office door.
"Here, or anywhere in the world," she said, smiling when she heard the lock click into place.
"We’ve had enough of the world together, babe." He lowered his lips to hers. "We don’t need it anymore."
"You’re right. You’re my world, Logan. You have been since the day I met you."
"And you’re mine. Now and forever." Then, to seal the deal, he kissed her.
–THE END–
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oOo
I’m so pleased to share these novellas, written years ago as a Harlequin online read published exclusively on their website. Because I don’t think many people ever read them, I believe they’re new to my most of my readers.
An interesting thing about this series is that the relationships between the couples are stormier than those in many of my books. But their stories simply unfolded this way and I ran with them. Of course their problems make their happily ever after more satisfying.
CAUGHT OFF GUARD was innately tough to write because the conflict deals with infidelity, a subject many readers shy away from. And yes, Jillian’s reasoning behind what she did was not acceptable. But I wanted to tell a story of true remorse, true forgiveness, and so I set Jill and Riley on this very difficult course.
For OPPOSITES ATTRACT, I ran the risk of making Jase unlikable. I wanted to kick him in the pants much of the time, as I adored Molly and he hurts her badly. My only hope was that with his dysfunctional background, the reader would understand his flaws. There was simply no other way to write this story.
I’m afraid I have a favorite of the three. I loved AN IMPOSSIBLE MISSION because Logan was my kind of guy in all three novellas. I didn’t agree with how much he blamed Belle for her actions, but I understood it. And I loved getting him to soften toward her.
I hope you enjoyed the unusual settings in these books. I walked those streets of Paris myself not long before writing the stories, and I actually stayed in Logan and Belle’s hotel room in Rome. I had fun “revisiting” them.
I’m pleased that I’m getting to share these books with a wider audience and that you all had a chance to meet these interesting characters.
Kathy
oOo
Visit or Contact Kathryn at www.kathrynshay.com
http://pinterest.com/kathrynshay/
oOo
If you liked this book, you might want to post a review of it at Smashwords.
Be sure to follow Paige, Darcy and Anabelle fifteen years later, and see what happens to these all-grown-up women in the Serenity House Series:
In PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT, Paige Kendrick is a successful doctor who keeps people at a distance and refuses a relationship with hunky doctor Ian Chandler. But Ian won’t stop until he gets what he wants—Paige! And because of his assertiveness, he almost destroys their chances of a life together. Smashwords
In A PLACE TO BELONG, Darcy O’Malley and Hunter Sloan have more in common than they know when they meet at her daycare. Both have troubled kids, both grew up as outcasts in their hometown, and both find a deep and driving passion for the other that cannot be denied. Smashwords
In AGAINST THE ODDS, troubled Anabelle Crane fell in love with Nathan Hyde, the town’s fair-haired boy. He broke her heart and she left town to become an undercover cop. But now, she’s back to guard him from a stalker. Some things haven’t changed, though, and Anabelle and Nathan find that the passion they have for each other has not died! Smashwords
Or buy the trilogy in a boxed set. Smashwords
To browse Kathryn’s impressive list of titles go to http://www.kathrynshay.com/books/.