LITMIR.BIZ

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stretch. The annoying pull she had experienced along her midsection the other day had come back with a vengeance, likely from sitting so many hours as she watched the videos.

      At his nod, she started walking, intent on reaching the Tiber. Mitch matched his longer strides to her shorter ones. She kept the pace steady but reasonable. It was quite a walk to the Lazlo Group location, which was on a small street close to the Spanish Steps and the Villa Borghese.

      It was odd walking beside him in uneasy silence, considering how many times they had been together in Rome. In that wonderful year, whenever had Mitch visited, they had regularly strolled the streets, exploring the sights of the ancient city. The talk had been non stop then, as had been the loving.

      Of course, none of that was possible any longer. He had deceived her—as she had him. The fact that both of their deceptions had been for good cause did nothing to alleviate the concern that they both had carried out their deceptions quite well.

      It left her wary, uncertain of whether Mitch’s actions could be trusted now, and yet his honor had been one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place. As for her own deception…

      It had been necessary in her quest for justice.

      At the river, she gestured toward one of the bridges, but as they crossed over the small square cobblestones, she paused to look over the sluggishly moving waters to the other bridges down river—the Ponte Garibaldi and, just beyond it, the small Isola Tiberina in the midst of the Tiber.

      “Something wrong?” Mitch asked.

      She laid her hands on his. “Loosen up, Mitch. Just pausing to enjoy the view.”

      Mitch glanced over his shoulder, tracking Dani’s gaze. The river and bridges stretched out before him, a nice view, much as she had said. But not as nice as the view in front of him.

      He faced her once again, telling himself he shouldn’t take such pleasure in seeing her. In walking with her along these streets as they had three years earlier. But the pleasure was as undeniable as the pain that followed at the realization of all they had lost. Somehow, the last didn’t communicate itself to his brain as he said, “Yes, nice view.”

      Bright color blossomed along her cheeks as she apparently realized his attention was on her. “Let’s go. It’s starting to get dark.”

      Dusk approached quickly, a testament to how many hours they had spent reviewing the materials Lazlo had sent. His stomach growled, a reminder that the boy from Baltimore hadn’t ever gotten accustomed to late-night European meals.

      Dani grinned at the rather loud noise from his midsection. With a playful tug on his hand, she said, “Come on. It’ll be tough to sneak up on anyone with all that grumbling going on.”

      Her pace was faster than before and they were soon at a familiar place, the Campo de Fiori. He remembered shopping away many a morning with her among the assorted vendors’ stalls. At this hour they were gone, clearing the plaza for artist types and the outdoor dining spots that the restaurants along the edges of the piazza set up.

      “Just a snack, mind you,” Dani warned as she pulled him along to a tiny café. In perfect Italian she ordered some cappuccinos and buttered rolls.

      He’d had something more substantial in mind, but this would tide him over for another couple of hours. He sipped slowly at the cappuccino in between bites of the deliciously yeasty and buttery roll. He was done long before Dani, who shot him a look out of the corner of her eye and took pity on him, handing him her half-eaten roll.

      “But keep your hands off the coffee,” she warned him.

      He chuckled, earning a dimpled grin from her. He reminded himself to keep this all business between them. It was about the mission and nothing else.

      He reined in his reactions to her—those of his heart and body—and sipped the coffee and ate the roll that suddenly wasn’t as tasty. He was too busy recalling the taste of Dani’s mouth and lips against his.

      They finished quickly and continued on their way. The walk took them past the Pantheon and through an assortment of small streets to the Via dei Corso. He remembered that the Trevi fountain stood just a stone’s throw away, and he took the lead, but when they reached it, the area was mobbed as always by tourists. The way it had been the first time Dani had brought him there.

      They had waited then, inching their way to the edge of the fountain where Dani had playfully slipped a handful of coins into his hand and he had turned and tossed them over his shoulder to ensure his return to Rome as legend claimed.

      And he had returned, time and time again, to see her. Each visit filled with pleasure until the realization had come that he was in love with her. But she hadn’t been the woman he had thought, he reminded himself. He didn’t know if he could get over that or deal with her quest for vengeance for her parents’ deaths. The file Lazlo had given him on Dani said that she hadn’t gotten that information from Donovan. That quest had consumed her before, and he was certain he could never replace it as her number one priority.

      He put his head down, ignoring the fountain, and pushed onward until they reached the Via Condotti, where they passed an assortment of elegant shops as they approached the Spanish Steps.

      Beside him, Dani paused and gestured to something that looked like little more than an alley.

      “This way,” she said and slipped into the narrow street.

      He followed, trusting that she knew her way better than he did. Sure enough, within a few minutes the alley opened into another street lined with shops and supply houses that likely provided the materials for the larger fashion houses on the Via Condotti and closer to the Spanish Steps.

      At one corner, a quick motion of Dani’s head identified the building to him. On the exterior it appeared to be a store selling fashion trimmings. Its front window displayed an assortment of buttons, ribbons and embellishments, but he knew that a couple of stories below the shop was the location of the Lazlo Group’s Rome headquarters.

      They paused for a moment, reconnoitering the area. Scoping out the access to the building. Making mental note of everything nearby, because they knew they had to be prepared for anything and everything. They both understood that possibly better than any others.

      As Dani mimicked examining some fabrics in the window of a store across the street from the Lazlo offices, Mitch leaned against the stone column beside the window. He noted the vehicular traffic going by as well as the pedestrians, mostly shoppers with bags from the larger stores on Via Condotti.

      Beside him, Dani muttered what sounded like a curse beneath her breath and rubbed at her side, snagging his attention. She looked pale. Or maybe it just seemed that way thanks to all the black she wore, from her sneakers to her jeans and shirt.

      “You okay?” He straightened and laid a hand on her shoulder.

      “Just a stitch,” she said, but it was obvious that it was more. He wondered if he had misjudged her physical readiness for the mission and was about to question her comment, but knew Dani wouldn’t take kindly to coddling.

      “Good. I mean…good that it’s only a stitch.” You’re an ass, he thought and then his stomach growled more loudly than before, dragging a chuckle out of Dani, who seemed to leap on the opportunity it presented.

      “Do you think you can hold out until we get back to Trastevere?”

      “Are you up to walking back?” He winced as she immediately got her guard up.

      “I can make it. Can you?” She lifted her chin in challenge.

      Discretion, he told himself. “Actually, no. I’m tired and hungry and I’d like to get back to the room because we don’t want to disappoint Signora Garibaldi.”

      She grinned at the mention of the exuberant hotel clerk who had checked them in earlier that day. “I guess we need to give her something to talk about.”

      “Definitely need to keep up our cover, so let’s

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