LITMIR.BIZ

      KATHRYN JENSEN

      has written over forty novels for adults and children, under various names, and lived in many interesting places, including Texas, Connecticut and Italy. She currently resides in Maryland with her husband and two feline writing companions, Miranda and Tempest, who behave precisely as their names indicate—the first, sweetly…the second, mischievously. Their thirty-two-foot sailboat, Purr, promises to carry all four on many new adventures. Aboard her is where Kathryn does much of her summer writing.

      For Roger, with all my heart:

      Two souls, unaware, felt the Italian sun.

       Now sail love’s fair seas on the S. V. Purr.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Epilogue

      One

      The situation was far worse than he’d imagined. Antonio Boniface stepped off the elevator at the tenth floor of the Washington, D.C., high-rise and stared at the plaque on the heavy oak door facing him—Klein & Klein Public Relations and Advertising. Quickly, he checked the address on the slip of paper, his eyes narrowing, the muscles across his stomach clenching as if in preparation for an opponent’s punch. Marco had said nothing about the place being a business establishment. He’d assumed he would end up at the woman’s apartment.

      Don’t make more of this than necessary, he told himself firmly. A simple explanation to this Maria McPherson, the client Marco had been on his way to see before Antonio and U.S. Immigration had caught up with him. That was all that was required.

      “Scusi, signorina—” No! English, he corrected himself, speak in English! “Pardon me, miss. Mr. Serilo is no longer employed by the Royal Escort Service. If you tell me how much you paid for his services, I shall be happy to reimburse you.”

      There. What was so difficult about that? For one thing, he hadn’t counted on approaching the woman at her workplace with such delicate news.

      But too much was at stake to back down now. He couldn’t let Marco’s use of his family’s illustrious name bring further dishonor. The Bonifaces d’Apulia had once ranked alongside the Medicis in power, had been benefactors to great artists including Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci. Their aristocratic roots extended back to the twelfth century, included two popes, illustrious statesmen, men and women of vision and pride. No rogue servant would be allowed to tarnish that name while Antonio lived!

      Determined, he turned the knob and pushed through the door, into a gray-and-beige reception area furnished in sterile Scandinavian decor. The receptionist’s desk was vacant. No one seemed to be around. What to do now?

      Suddenly, he heard shouts burst out from behind a half-closed door to his right. Antonio swung around, strode toward it with purpose, peered through the crack.

      The conference room was jammed with men and women in business attire. On a long mahogany table at the room’s center was a neon-frosted cake, candles ablaze. Poised over the cake, her cheeks puffed out in preparation for extinguishing a blinding array of candles, was a petite young woman with cool gray eyes and long, wavy hair the color of champagne. She delicately blew out each candle then straightened and smiled nervously at the crowd around her.

      “There. Now everybody enjoy a piece of cake. I really do have to get back to work,” she said, starting to turn away.

      “Whoa! Not so fast, Maria.” A tall woman with blunt-cut black hair laughed, stepping forward to block her path. “Your present hasn’t arrived yet.”

      A titter went up around the room, and Antonio guessed that everyone knew what that gift was to be.

      Marco.

      Clearly, the woman whose birthday they were celebrating did not.

      He observed the waiflike creature, feeling sorry for her. Sensing also, in a sudden, too-vague recollection, that he had seen those gentle features before. Somewhere. The sense of familiarity was haunting, gnawed at his mind. But both place and time ultimately eluded him.

      Maria shook her head nervously. “Please, Tamara, you shouldn’t go to all this trouble for me.”

      “Oh, it’s our pleasure, dear. I think we’ll get as much out of this gift as you will.”

      “Not if she’s lucky!” a voice rang out from the crowd, and everyone broke into laughter.

      So that was their plan, Antonio thought.

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