LITMIR.BIZ

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would think she was going mad. Even Fabio had lifted his head questioningly. She could sense it.

      “You know you’re in trouble when even your dog turns on you,” she murmured, scratching him behind the ears.

      And so she was, though it had nothing to do with Fabio at all. Her trouble was all about a restlessness that had come over her since meeting the child Jeremy and his disturbing father the day before. She felt as though she’d been sleepwalking, living life in a daze, and now, suddenly, the man she’d met had shaken her awake. Awakening was painful. She had to face the fact that she’d been letting herself drift. If she didn’t pull herself together and begin to take charge of her life, she was going to hit the rocks.

      Elena had lived in Niroli all her life, and that life had been pleasant and peaceful despite her disability. She’d been raised by her grandmother in a small cottage here in the sleepy town of Monte Speziare, where the old ways were treasured and the new tourist hotels and other developments to the south were looked upon with horror. Her grandmother had recently died, leaving nothing but the little cottage they lived in, and Elena was supporting herself by giving piano lessons and hoping to scrape together enough money to attend a special music therapy training program in New York.

      At least, that was what she told herself. And yet, she’d just found out that morning that one of her best students was leaving for Italy. That left her with hardly enough daily fees coming in to feed herself, much less prepare for any sort of future. It was definitely time to start getting serious about things. She needed new revenue.

      And she needed to stop thinking about men. Well, not men, actually. One man. One man who had shaken up her emotions at the same time he’d shaken her assumptions. It was strange the way he’d tangled himself into her thoughts. She didn’t like him and yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

      Suddenly, she felt prickles on the back of her neck. “Oh, no,” she whispered. She didn’t need to see him. She could feel him. He was coming toward her and there was nothing she could do to avoid him.

      Well, at least this was a completely public place. Maybe things would go better here. He couldn’t try to intimidate her.

      Better yet, maybe they would pass without seeing her. She tried to make herself small in her chair, turned her face toward the stucco wall of the café, held her breath.

      And then she heard a familiar voice.

      “Hey! Look! It’s Fabio. Come on!”

      “Jeremy!”

      She slumped in her chair. It would seem that things were just going to get more and more complicated. There was no way out.

      Adam saw her at the same time Jeremy did, and he tried, too late, to steer his son toward the other side of the road. Jeremy ran straight for the little street-side café where she was sipping a drink and he followed, reluctantly. The last thing in the world he needed was another run-in with the aggravating lady in the Gucci shades.

      He had enough on his mind. He’d barely been in Niroli twenty-four hours and already he was itching to leave. Jeremy was driving him crazy and his first meeting with the counselors at the palace had been less than reassuring. He’d expected to show up, meet his grandfather, King Giorgio, maybe have a lot of people make a big fuss over how glad they were to see him, and then come away with a contract to look over, options to weigh. That was the way things were done in the real world, weren’t they? It should have been cut and dried.

      Instead, he’d been received as though no one was quite sure who he was or why he was there wasting their time. He’d been shuffled from one room to another until he’d finally ended up talking to a dour man named Tours who had claimed they’d thought he wasn’t coming until the next week. The truth had finally come out—the royal counselors in charge of this thing were off on holiday and now they expected him to cool his heels until they came back.

      He didn’t have time for that. His company was undergoing a hostile takeover back in California. He needed resolution and he needed money and he needed both fast. Strong words had ensued. Thinking back, he realized that hadn’t helped matters. He was going to have to work on controlling his temper. They didn’t seem to know how to react to it.

      Tours had then insisted he transfer from his hotel to rooms in the palace, all the better, no doubt, to keep tabs on him. Adam had insisted he would do no such thing. If he had to wait around for a week, at least he was going to do it on his own terms.

      And when he had asked to see his grandfather, Tours had acted as though he had to prove himself worthy first. But why should that surprise him? Had he really imagined they were going to welcome him with open arms, his illegitimacy forgiven? More fool he. It was more than evident that the situation of his birth was a big issue, and that there were factions who were opposed to him being offered the job in the first place. This had certainly turned out to be more complicated than he had been led to believe.

      What was the big deal, anyway? All they wanted was to hire a king for their little island country. He’d put together multimillion-dollar international projects with fewer hassles than this looked as if it was going to take.

      In the meantime, he couldn’t get hold of anyone back in Hollywood and he needed to make sure some dotting of i’s and crossing of t’s was going on in his absence. He was also going to have to warn Zeb Vargas, his number two at Ryder Productions, that this was going to take more time than he’d thought it would. Deals were hanging in the balance. Banks were waiting for authorizations. Writers and actors he wanted under contract were being enticed away by other producers with more ready cash. Profits were melting away in the sun. He needed to get things settled.

      And so he approached the beautiful lady without a smile, nodding shortly and grunting a greeting, while Jeremy wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck and murmured unintelligible love to the animal, who accepted it all with happy panting.

      “Hello,” she said, turning slightly toward him and then away again. “What a surprise. I didn’t think we’d ever meet up again.” She frowned slightly. “This is a bit off the beaten tourist path. Are you staying nearby?”

      That was another problem. The press had already sniffed out his hotel accommodations and for that reason—and other, having to do with Jeremy—he was in the market for a new place to stay. Nothing seemed as simple as it should be in this little country.

      “Not for long,” he said gruffly, wondering why she didn’t look at him. Memories of their last meeting came back to him and he felt a vague sense of irritation. She could at least pretend not to hate him.

      “Can I take Fabio for a walk?” Jeremy interrupted eagerly.

      Elena hesitated, obviously reluctant to extend the meeting. Adam picked up on that and shared her impulse.

      “Uh, I think we have to get going,” he began, but his son’s intensity drowned out his words.

      “Oh, please, please!” Jeremy cried, with Fabio happily licking his face. “He’s my best friend now.”

      Adam looked at his son in astonishment. He’d never heard that childlike pleading tone from him before. Usually it was all demands and whining. There seemed to be something special in Jeremy’s relationship to this pair. Odd.

      “Well, just for a moment,” Elena was saying, and he knew it was reluctantly. “I’ll tell you what you can do. Do you see a butcher’s shop down the street a bit?”

      “Yes. The one with the hanging sign?”

      “That’s the one. If you take Fabio to the back door of that shop, I think the butcher will give him a bone. He often does. Just knock on the door.”

      “Great,” Jeremy said, jumping up and brimming with joy.

      “Wait a minute,” she added. “He has his harness on today. You must hold it from the top, like this.” She demonstrated and Jeremy took over, racing off with his new best friend.

      Adam watched them go, dodging the few people who strolled up and down the charming street, window-shopping

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