LITMIR.BIZ

      BEVERLY BARTON

      has been in love with romance since her grandfather gave her an illustrated book of Beauty and the Beast. An avid reader since childhood, Beverly wrote her first book at the age of nine. After marriage to her own “hero” and the births of her daughter and son, Beverly chose to be a full-time homemaker, aka wife, mother, friend and volunteer. The author of over thirty-five books, Beverly is a member of Romance Writers of America and helped found the Heart of Dixie chapter in Alabama. She has won numerous awards and has made the Waldenbooks and USA TODAY bestseller lists.

      To LJ, Linda, Gayle and Leslie, thanks for all the fun and laughter, all the shared moments, the shared confidences and the friendships I treasure.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Epilogue

      Prologue

      W hat he needed was some fun, Matt O’Brien decided. A week of wine, women and song. And what better place to enjoy himself than here in Paris. He’d checked into the hotel the night before, arriving from Switzerland on an evening flight. His latest assignment had left him in bad need of a vacation, so he hoped to spend a week in France, seeing the sights and enjoying the company of at least one or two lovely mademoiselles. When he opened the door to allow room service to roll in the breakfast cart, he lifted his index finger to his lips in a silent request for the waiter to enter quietly. Matt nodded toward the man sleeping in one of the double beds. The waiter bobbed his head up and down and smiled. Matt signed for the meal. As soon as the waiter left, Matt poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down to take a look at the latest edition of Le Monde, the Paris newspaper he’d requested.

      Being able to speak several languages—adequately if not fluently—was a plus in his business. He’d been an agent for the Dundee Security and Investigation Agency, based in Atlanta, Georgia, for several years now, after serving his country in the Air Force for more than ten years. Since the agency’s reputation as “the best in the U.S.” had become known worldwide, more and more requests were coming in from foreign countries. That’s how he and Worth Cordell, his fellow Dundee agent, had wound up in Switzerland investigating the disappearance of a wealthy Swiss banker. They’d been hired by the man’s daughter, who hadn’t been satisfied with the way the local authorities had dealt with her father’s case. In the end, Matt had risked his life to protect Maura Ottokar, whose stepmother had arranged the murder of her husband and had intended to kill Maura, too, as she was the only other heir to the man’s fortune.

      Matt propped his feet on the ottoman, flipped open the newspaper and scanned the headlines. He had discovered that reading foreign newspapers was a great way to practice his language skills. As he sipped the coffee and indulged in a delicious pastry, a headline caught his eye. The engagement of Princess Adele of Orlantha to Dedrick Vardan, Duke of Roswald, was announced by King Leopold. Matt chuckled. Why any modern-thinking people would allow themselves to be ruled by a monarchy seemed implausible to him. It was one thing for the monarchy to be a figurehead and another if they were part of the governing power, as they were in the Rhode-Island-size country of Orlantha. In the equally small neighboring principality of Balanchine, the monarchy was the absolute governing body. From time to time news about these two little squabbling countries that had been one country two hundred years ago became a front-page item.

      “What’s so damn funny?” Worth Cordell rolled over in bed, opened his eyes and glared at Matt.

      “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

      Matt grinned. Worth didn’t. The Switzerland assignment had been the first the two men had shared, and Matt had found out rather quickly that his comrade-in-arms wasn’t the friendly good-ol’-boy type like Jack Parker, a former Dundee agent who’d been a hell of a lot of fun when they’d shared assignments. Worth was a quiet, withdrawn man, with a deadly stare that could destroy an opponent a good twenty feet away. He didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t gamble and, as far as Matt could tell, didn’t womanize. And he didn’t share war stories or personal confidences with his co-workers. All Matt knew about the big, rugged loner was that he stood six-four, had originally come from Arkansas and had once been a Green Beret Ranger.

      Worth

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