EIGHTEEN

Rome, six weeks later

Talia fell back onto the couch in her apartment, propped her feet up on the coffee table, then let out a sharp sigh of relief.

Carla, her Italian friend and coworker for the last three years, stood over her. “Oh, no, you don’t. This is not how you’re going to spend your evening off. Because when I suggested we hang out tonight, I didn’t mean here in your living room.”

“Why not? A movie and takeaway after a week of interacting with tourists sounds pretty perfect to me.”

“Forget it. You’ve been moping around this apartment for the past month. It’s time for you to get up off that couch and do something. We could go to the market at Campo de’ Fiori, or drive up to Monte Mario, or there’s a concert tonight—”

Talia frowned. Clearly her friend wasn’t planning on letting her off the hook.

“Too touristy?” Carla asked.

“My feet hurt, and—”

“Seriously, girl, I think it’s time for an intervention. All you do is work, then come home and stare at the television. You eat cereal for dinner and leftover pizza for breakfast. You barely go out with your friends, let alone on dates.”

“Your point?”

“My point?” Talia caught the exasperation in her friend’s voice as she spoke. “My point is that you need to snap out of it.”

Except she wasn’t quite sure how. Instead she was distracted, moody and barely had enough energy to get through her day, let alone go out again at night.

“I know what the problem is,” Carla said, plopping down beside her.

“What?”

“It’s that tall, dark and handsome FBI agent you haven’t wanted to talk about since you returned.”

“How I feel has nothing to do with Joe.”

“Then why do I keep catching you staring at that selfie you think I don’t know about on your phone?”

Talia’s frown deepened. “I’ve done that once...maybe twice.”

“Right. And I know he calls you. Almost every day.”

“So? He saved my life. We’ve been chatting. Talking on the phone. Messaging each other.”

“Just be honest with me. Okay?” Carla pulled her legs up underneath her. “And if you won’t be honest with me, at least be honest with yourself. Because I know the signs. You can’t stop thinking about him. It affects your sleep and your eating—”

“Okay.” Talia picked at a hangnail, wishing her friend’s diagnosis wasn’t so spot on. “What if I am in love with him? I’m afraid if I hand him my heart, I’ll lose it, and I don’t think I can do that again.”

“Love’s always a risk.”

“But Thomas was a lawman. Joe’s a lawman.”

“I get the connection, but not the problem. He’s not Thomas.”

The reality of the situation wormed its way through her as she made an attempt to explain. “I loved another lawman who had a dangerous job. What happens if I let Joe into my life and lose him?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard this one before, but what happens if you let him into your life and don’t lose him? Or what if you don’t let him into your life and you never find out what could have been?”

Talia groaned. “Stop making so much sense.”

“Why, because you’re about to walk away from the best thing that’s happened to you in a long time?”

She couldn’t argue with her. Because everything she was saying did make sense. Falling in love again always seemed a bit like stepping off a cliff. And yet as sappy as it sounded, there was something about being with Joe that made her feel as if she could fly.

“He wants me to go back to the US,” she said.

“Sounds romantic.”

“I’m not sure that romantic is the word. The paintings are being donated to the museum. He thought I might like to be there. Thought it would help with the closure of everything that happened.”

The nightmares had begun to fade. She no longer found herself jumping at every loud noise or constantly looking over her shoulder, as she had been. And she’d begun to look forward to Joe’s calls, making the line between her desire to guard her heart and give it away begin to blur.

“If you went to the States, you’d get to see him,” Carla said. “Isn’t that what the trip would really be about? Besides, it’s time you moved on with your life.”

Talia closed her eyes and allowed a flow of memories to surface. The moment he’d come to her rescue outside the Colosseum, walking through Florence, sitting beside him in the gondola when he kissed her... If she was completely honest with herself, she wanted to see him again. Badly.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” she said.

“You’re ready,” Carla said. “And it’s time you followed your heart.”

* * *

“On behalf of the Flinmore Gallery, we want to thank you for returning these paintings to their rightful owner...”

Joe tuned out the pale, lanky curator’s detailed history of the Li Fonti paintings and how the museum originally came into possession of them. As far as he was concerned, their journey over the past couple years had been far more newsworthy. They’d been stolen from the museum, used as collateral for the drug trade and had eventually cost the lives of at least two people. He was glad they were out of his hands and back in their rightful place.

He just wished Talia could have been here to see it happen.

At the end of the curator’s speech, the small crowd gathered around them gave a short round of applause, then silently dispersed.

A woman walked up to the display and stopped in front of the paintings next to where he stood. “I can’t believe I missed the ceremony. Traffic from the airport was horrible.”

“Talia?” Joe felt his heart catch as he heard the familiar voice.

“I still think they’re beautiful, but I’m glad that they’re here, out of my life, where hopefully no one can ever steal them again. Or at the least involve me.”

“You came,” he said, uncertain he wasn’t dreaming.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to. Not at first. But I thought seeing the paintings hanging on a museum wall would bring closure.” She drew in a deep breath then caught his gaze. “And there’s another reason I came. I missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, his mind whirling with the implications of her presence. “You look... beautiful.”

He caught the blush creep across her cheeks as she glanced down at the bright blue fabric of her dress swirling just above her ankles.

“Thanks.”

“How long are you staying?”

“I’m not sure yet. I thought for starters we could spend the day together. If you’re free.”

“Of course.” There were so many things he’d imagined showing her if she ever visited, but for the moment all he could think about was the fact that she was actually here. “Would you like to look around the museum for a few minutes first?”

“My only plan for today is to spend the day with you, but you know me. I can’t exactly pass up a new museum.”

He took her hand, enjoying watching her as much as the artwork. Over the last few weeks, he’d found himself waking up every morning hoping there was a message from her. Between the time change and their jobs, connecting had been a challenge. It usually meant him calling her before he went to bed and before she went to work in the morning.

But they’d managed to make it work. He’d laugh over something a tourist had said, while she’d worry about him when he told her he’d taken on a new case. She told him funny stories of trips to Europe with her parents, and how she’d gotten the scar on the back of her hand. How she hated broccoli and loved tapioca pudding. Preferred coffee over tea, and never passed up anything with frosting and sprinkles on it.

And now here he was, getting to spend the day with her. But the thing was, he’d already realized that he didn’t just want to spend today with her, but every day. Text messages and phone calls weren’t enough. And while part of him had no idea how to pull it off, he’d decided that any effort he had to put into making them work was going to be worth it.

“This room is stunning,” she said.

“I thought you might like it. A few Italian masterpieces on the wall. Carlevarijs, Guercino, Li Fonti...”

“You’ve been doing your homework,” she said.

“Just trying to impress you.”

Talia laughed. “You don’t have to try to impress me. You already do.”

“There’s something you need to know about the Li Fonti paintings,” he said. “I got a call as I was arriving here in regards to my brother.”

“You found out who killed him?”

“Anna confessed that the gun she used had been in the house and belonged to one of the drug dealers. We were able to finally get a hit on the fingerprints and connect them to the museum robbery. The two men believed to be involved were arrested earlier today.”

“So it’s really over now. For both of us.”

Joe nodded. “And like you, I’m learning to put all of this in the past. But as for the present...” He hesitated before continuing. There were so many things he wanted to say to her. He just wasn’t sure when it was going to be the right time. Or if another time would ever be better.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about my future,” he said, finally.

“With the FBI?”

“More of a personal nature.”

“Meaning?”

“I promised I’d give you time, and I meant that. I won’t push you. But the last few weeks of getting to know you have only managed to convince me even more that I’d like to find a way to work around the different time zones and continents and see each other more. Like this.”

She stopped in front of another painting and studied it for a few moments before turning to him. “What would you say if I told you I was considering moving back to the States?”

He fought to curb his excitement. “You know I’d be thrilled to have you closer.”

“Living in Rome was always supposed to be temporary. I just never left. But after these past few weeks of emails and phone calls, I realized I’m ready to take another step. Then last week I received a job offer from an art school not far from here I’d always dreamed of teaching at, and I thought...I thought it might be time to move back.”

“And Italy?” he asked. He needed to make sure she wasn’t going to regret any decision she made.

“I plan to return. In fact, I promised you I’d take you back one day and be your tour guide. I’d still like to do that.”

“I was hoping you’d say something like that, because honestly, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He caught her gaze. They’d talked in what-ifs. What if they got married? What would happen after that? But they’d never got to the point of figuring out all the answers. But right now, any complications didn’t seem to matter. “I don’t want to lose you, Talia.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either, and I think—I am...ready to move forward.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t think I was crazy.”

She laughed. “As far as I’m concerned your timing is perfect. You’ve made me realize that I’m finally ready to give my heart away.”

“Then you’ll marry me?”

“Yes.” Talia drew in a sharp breath as tears flooded her eyes. But she was smiling. That same smile that had caught his heart from the beginning. She let him slide the ring onto her finger, then pulled her close and lost himself in her kiss.

* * * * *

If you enjoyed this story by Lisa Harris, pick up these previous titles:

FINAL DEPOSIT

STOLEN IDENTITY

DEADLY SAFARI

TAKEN

DESPERATE ESCAPE

DESERT SECRETS

Available now from Love Inspired Suspense!

Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com

Keep reading for an excerpt from PROTECTIVE MEASURES by Maggie K. Black.

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