Nobody Does It Better
JENNIFER LABRECQUE
Gorgeous undercover spy Gage is in Venice tracking a notorious agent. And hes keeping her under his up-close and personal surveillance!But the more he gets to know Holly, the more he knows she isnt his target. Except in bed, that is
Nobody Does It Better
Jennifer LaBrecque
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JENNIFER LABRECQUE
After a varied career path that included waitress, corporate number cruncher and bug-business maven, Jennifer LaBrecque found her true calling writing contemporary romance. Named 2001 Notable New Author of the Year and 2002 winner of the prestigious Maggie Award for Excellence, she is also a two-time RITA
Award finalist. Jennifer lives in suburban Atlanta with her husband, an active daughter, one really bad cat, two precocious greyhounds and a chihuahua who runs the whole show.
Dear Reader,
I was thrilled to get a chance to set a love story in what I consider one of the most hauntingly romantic cities in the world, Venice. And, of course, a special city demanded a special hero. Enter Gage carswell, British agent tall, dark, sexy and as elegantly sophisticated as Venice itself whos assigned to stop an international threat. What kind of heroine finds herself in Venice? Enter Holly Smith, a rather ordinary schoolteacher from Atlanta, Georgia, in search of her long-lost mother. Stir the pot with a case of mistaken identity and a generous splash of espionage and youve got Nobody Does It Better.
While writing this story I laughed, cried and fell in love with a beautiful city all over again, even as I watched Gage and Holly fall in love. Ive taken licence to create fictional streets, restaurants and businesses just because its easier that way and as the writer, well, I can. I hope you enjoy the result.
Id love to hear from you. Drop by my website at www.jenniferlabrecque.com to check out my daily blog and www.soapboxqueens.com where Rhonda Nelson, Vicki Lewis Thompson and I blog about this, that and the other.
Happy reading
Jennifer LaBrecque
To the guys and gals who show up at the Soapbox Queens blog (www.soapboxqueens.com).
Yall are the best.
Table of Contents
Cover (#u15b42412-550a-54da-b90b-395d39faa08c)
Title Page (#uff28479f-72ac-5ce0-8b08-cfa3bd081cd1)
About the Author (#u03b38da5-893d-5705-b309-d74c390bca60)
Dedication (#u5a6552df-95d9-52cc-9aa5-747eac842ab1)
Chapter One (#u79f0a875-4111-51ee-b7d1-be80a33666eb)
Chapter Two (#ubf1de38e-4a41-5324-902b-a3d9b583dc39)
Chapter Three (#ucc69bb57-5099-5f80-9c3e-980d12a8eb16)
Chapter Four (#uf845bab9-6deb-5818-bc4a-578f0c374b0f)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
1
IT LOOKS AS IF WELL BE flying with clear skies tonight out of Atlanta and across the pond. We expect to have you in London by 8:00 a.m. tomorrow morning, their time.
Holly Smith relaxed her grip on the armrest. She was flying. Yes, indeed. Maybe she shouldnt have ordered that third glass of wine at the airport bar, but she had a pleasant buzz going and she wouldnt be nearly as relaxed otherwise. So far, flying wasnt as bad as shed imagined it might be.
Despite what her ex-boyfriend Greg had said, she was not a neurotic mess. So she had some quirks. Who didnt? Who cared if she checked her silverware for cleanliness in a restaurant before she used it, and had brought along her own blow-up travel pillow and blanket so she wouldnt have to use the airlines? And, she was careful with her money. But cheap? She thought not.
A neurotic mess? Hardly. A mess was just ugly. A person couldnt be a mess, spilt milk was a mess. Screw him. She nearly laughed aloud. Nope, she wouldnt be doing that anymore. And hadnt he been surprised to hear it?
Shed known they were in a go-nowhere relationship. Ending that had been the first step in her new plan to make all aspects of her life proactive rather than reactive.
It was rather funny how such a life-changing event had started out so innocuously. Three months ago, shed been waiting in the hair salon to be called back for a wash and trim. Shed been thumbing through a magazine when shed stumbled across an article. Usually, she never read those pseudo-self-help pieces, but shed found herself sucked into this one. The article focused on being the change you wanted in your life rather than waiting for someone to change it for you. It had been an aha, scales-falling-from-her-eyes moment.
She took charge in so many other aspects of her life. Shed deliberately pursued a high school teaching career that focused on working with gifted students. Shed set a goal and achieved it. Buying her condo? Same thing.
The aha had come in the relationship department. It was as if shed discovered thousands of dollars of therapy between the covers of one glossy magazine.
Shed realized she was the queen of reactive relationships becausedrumrollshe didnt trust herself. Shed known she and Greg were going nowhere but she wouldve waited on him to end it. Her breaking up with him had been huge. Itd been like getting to base camp on a Mount Everest climban important first step.
She reached overhead to direct the stream of cool air from the vent more directly in her face. That felt good. She just wouldnt think about all the germs that were probably in all that recycled air. So far, so good on flying. Of course, they werent there yet. She exhaled, trying to release the anxiety that suddenly welled up within her. When she got really upset she threw up. And throwing up right nownot good.
A little nervous about flying? the woman in the window seat next to her asked, a note of sympathy in the question.
Just a little, Holly said. She dug into her backpack and pulled out the inflatable pillow and a small travel blanket. Ive never flown before.
You picked a long flight for a first timer.
Holly grinned. Only because the boat takes too long to get from Atlanta to Venice. There was a kernel of truth in her humor. Three quick breaths and the neck pillow was done. She fumbled with the plug for a second, but then got it.
If you dont mind me asking, I have to know what or who is so important in Venice that youre willing to take such a long first trip? The woman chuckled. Sorry. Dont answer that if its too personal. Im a writer and I always want to know stuff. My husband says Im nosy. I consider it research.
A writer? No kidding? Wow. What do you write?
Im Martina Larson. Call me Marty. I write romance novels.
Holly read her fair share of romance novels. Who in the world didnt love a happy ending? The womans name was vaguely familiar. I think Ive read a couple of your books before. Theyre verysensual. If they were the ones she thought they were, they were quite spicy. Just the kind of sex she wished she was having. But not trusting herself in a relationship also translated to not trusting herself to indulge in some of her more explicit fantasies.
Marty laughed. My books go way beyond sensual. Im on my way to a writers retreat with a couple of friends. Well be staying in a sixteenth-century castle a few hours north of London. She paused. You never said why youre going to Venice.
Ive heard its beautiful. And that was true.
It is. And it shouldnt be too crowded at this time of year, at least not as crowded as in the summer. Short of going to the Venetian in Vegas, theres no mistaking Venice for anywhere else. My husband and I spent a couple of days there several years ago.
Had Marty abandoned her family, left behind a husband and two children, and stayed in Venice? Had she gone on a business trip and then virtually dropped off the face of the earth? No birthday cards, no Christmas cards, no appearance at high school or college graduation, no contact for twenty-seven years. Hollys wild guess was probably not.
I want to see it for myself, she said.
Are you meeting a friend there?
No. Im going solo. But I have arranged for a tour guide, since I have an abysmal sense of direction. This was her mission, her quest, her confrontation. She wanted a firsthand reckoning with the woman whod birthed her and then abandoned her.
She thought shed put it behind her, the Mothers Day Tea in kindergarten when the teaching assistant had sat with her because shed been alone. Being thirteen and having to get up the nerve to approach her father and tell him she needed sanitary napkins. Unlike her friends, she didnt have a mother to prepare her. Shed told herself she couldnt miss what shed never known. And since Julia, as Holly mentally referred to her, had skipped town when Holly was three, she had no recollection of a time when shed had a mother.
But that wasnt exactly true. Deep inside, for as long as she could remember, shed been waitingnurturing a secret hope that one day the phone would ring, a letter would arrive in the mail, that Julia would show up on her doorstep. Her father had finally started to date last year and remarried this year. And Holly had figured it out. Dumping Greg was base camp. Finding Julia was Everest.
Youll love it, Marty said.
I think itll change my life.
Marty eyed her with a mix of speculation and curiosity, as if she knew there was more to the story than Holly was telling. But they were interrupted when the flight attendant announced the upcoming in-flight movie, a romantic comedy.
Oh, Ive been dying to see this. I missed it at the movies, Marty said.
After all the anticipation and anxietyand probably the wineexhaustion overwhelmed Holly. She settled the pillow around her neck and unfolded the blanket, tucking it over her shoulders. If youll excuse me, Im going to take a nap. If it looks like were going to crash, please dont wake me.
She closed her eyes and tried to relax beneath the blanket. She was only partially kidding.
WE SPOTTED HER ENTERING London under the name Holly Smith. Gage Carswell leaned forward for a better look at the blurry photo enlarged from the airport-security camera as Mason continued his briefing. Shes catching a connector to Venice. Well delay the flight out of London, which should give you ample time to get in place. We ran her schedule. Shes booked a room off of San Marco for a week. Youre going to be in the room next door. Shes arranged for a private tour guide, requesting an off-the-beaten-path experience. Your cover will be as that guide. Monitor her twenty-four/seven. We want to know where she goes, whom she sees, what she does. We need contact information. Names. Numbers. Mason shrugged. Set a honey trap.
Ten years in the spook business and Gage still found all of the spy lingo amusing. Why the hell didnt his handler just say dont kill her, seduce her. He was not, however, amused at being tagged for a honey-trap assignment. Bloody bother, that. He didnt mask his annoyance.
Masons clipped chuckle lacked any warmth. Sadistic bastard. I know the seduction routine isnt your preferred MO, but Eros is currently undercover.
The legendary agent Eros who had never met a woman he couldnt seduce to get whator whomhe wanted. Kazbekistan? Poor sot. At least the food would be better in Venice.
Gage settled back in his chair in the windowless office. Paranoia and caution went with the job of managing covert operations, but it would drive Gage nutters to spend every day in this box, even if it was in London. However, windows meant the other side could use a telephoto lens or other high-tech methods of gleaning information on a desk or computer screen that didnt want gleaning. Give him his field-operative position any day.
He glanced again at the photo of the woman Mason had included in his briefing papers. The Gorgon, aka Holly Smith. Five foot six. Weight listed at one-forty, but Gage figured that contained a fifteen-pound lie. Women couldnt resist shaving down the number. Chin-length brown hair, and startling aquamarine eyes in an otherwise average face. From what he ascertained from the photo, she wasnt a beauty, but she wouldnt set small children off screaming, either.
Why would she book a tour? Gage asked. It didnt make sense.
As a cover? Mason shrugged. To be unpredictable? Because shes a bloody female?
Not for the first time, Gage thought Mason was something of a misogynist, but that wasnt his problem. Theres a tour itinerary?
Mason flicked his wrist toward the file. Its in there, as dictated by the client.
Its a private tour group? Isnt there an office?
No. Your Way Tours is an Internet operation touted as being more low-key and personalized than trolling along with the blue-hairs. Consider it your lucky day that you wont have to wear a natty polyester suit coat, too.
Youre sure shes the one? Gage ran a finger along the edge of the photo. Hed heard of the woman code-named the Gorgon. Dealing in black-market uranium, shed proven to be an elusive target for years. But theyd been getting closer and closer. It was only a matter of time. One slipup, and theyd have her.
Mason steepled his fingers and regarded Gage across the expanse of desktop separating them, his pale green eyes cold despite his smile. Holly Smith is either an alias or a stolen identity. He shrugged. It doesnt matter. Its her. Mason shook his head. She might as well have a tattoo across her forehead with those aqua eyes. Theyre uniqueher one identifying mark. She could easily mask them with colored contacts but she wont. Female vanity. True, shes never operated in Venice before, but if it looks like a Gorgon, walks like a Gorgon, smells like a Gorgon
Its a Gorgon, Gage finished for him.
Theres been some chatter indicating a substantial deal impending. With the Gorgons arrival in Europe, it appears imminent. We could be looking at a drop. Did Mason always have to sound as if he had a stick up his arse? If so, its imperative we intercept the package. By the way, youre going in as an illegal. The Italians dont like us poaching on their territory.
Not a problem. It seemed a bit of overkill for a simple watch-and-monitor situation, but hed gone in without diplomatic immunity before. If he was caught out, he was on his own.
Unbeknownst to the ubiquitous Ms. Smith, her travel case has been misplaced at Heathrow. Pity that. It didnt manage to make the connecting flight to Venice.
Weve examined it?
We will soon enough. If theres a package, well find it. Even so, well still want contacts. Holly Smith is being monitored now, but once she steps off the plane in Italy, shes yours. Youre to initiate contact at 9:00 a.m. at her hotel tomorrow morning. Her tour includes three meals. She specifically requested a Venetian native, a middle-aged female preferred. Her assigned guide, Signora Ciavelli, however, has developed a sudden and most unfortunate gastric problem and youre to be her substitute. Youre not a native but you lived there immediately following university.
Itd require finesse to tail the Gorgon from the airport to the hotel. Even a glimpse of him could give away the game. Familiar anticipation surged through him. He looked forward to outfoxing his new opponent.
Are we tipping our hand with the missing luggage and the suddenly sick guide?
Weve calculated the risk, Mason assured him. We couldnt chance the luggage going through. The most obvious place to hide something is right in front of ones nose. And we need you with her constantly. Unfortunately, Im not convinced your charm is such that you could sweep her off her feet. And if you try and fail to sweep her off her feet, then youll simply appear to be a nutter. Inserting you as the guide was a safer bet. Shell be stuck with you.
Gage took the insult in stride. Surveillance, not charm, was his forte. That works.
A brusque nod and Mason continued, Youre the mate of a mate who owns the guide service. Given your flexible schedule as a gallery owner, you help out in a pinch.
One of the first lessons in spook trainingstick as close to the truth as possible. One was less likely to trip oneself up when one put forth the least amount of lies. Actually, owning an art gallery was not only financially lucrative for Gage, it also offered him the flexibility to extend the range of his spy activities, chiefly because Agnes, his second in command, was a paragon of efficiency and organization.
It amused Gage that spy novels and films often showed an agent simply rushing about, being an agent, whereas in actuality, a legitimate career offered the perfect cover and a measure of interest between assignments.
And when I get the information? It was only a matter of when, not if. What he lacked in charm, he made up for in determination and skill. He wasnt arrogant, just sure of his capabilities.
And he knew hed never have to worry about getting personally involved. There was a void inside him, the detachment that was a curse for him as a man but a godsend as a spy. Hed never cultivated the detachment. Itd never been a conscious decision not to let another human being touch him emotionally. Itd simply transpired. Hed lost his parents to an auto accident and been sent to live with a grandfather who wanted nothing to do with a nine-year-old lad in mourning. Within weeks, hed been shipped off to boarding school. From that time forward, thered always been a distance inside him that buffered him from everyone else, that kept him slightly removed, apart. It served him well in this business.
Once youve verified the information, let her go and well continue to watch her. Just make sure youre not compromised.
He didnt need the reminder of what being compromised entailed. All operative positions were not created equal. His position demanded anonymity. For him, compromise meant, at worst, termination by the enemy or, at best, retirement by his agency.
Gage glanced down at the photo of the woman and tamped back a faint tinge of relief that he didnt have to terminate the Gorgon afterward.
Maybe he was getting soft, but he hated it when that happened.
2
HOLLY STOOD WITH HER FEET braced in the vaporetto, Venices water bus, and stared ahead at the city etched against a star-scattered backdrop, enchanted by the centuries-old spires and domes that punctuated the skyline. She resisted the urge to pinch herself. Shed finally arrived, albeit several hours late.
Cool air whipped her hair behind her and she tugged her jacket more firmly around her middle. Her entire body tingled, as if caught up in an awakening. It was the oddest thing, but the sensation had started when shed exited the Venice airport.
Its almost surreal, isnt it?
She turned to the young couple at the rail beside her. Shed met them while waiting to clear Italian Customs, much the same as when you struck up a conversation with someone in the grocery line. She knew they were art-history grad students from Boston whod just married and were honeymooning in Venice, but she didnt know their names. Were not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
Was it worth it? the young woman asked with a smile.
Probably. When Ive had a little distance from this day.
Youve had the trip from hell, havent you? the new husband said with an earnest grimace. Sitting three hours on the tarmac at Heathrow and then learning that your luggage didnt make it to Venice.
The trip from hell about sums it up. When Holly had finally figured out her suitcase was a no-show at Venices Marco Polo Airport, the woman behind the counter assured her it would be delivered to her hotel by early morning. It was frustrating, but if theyd deliver her bag bright and early tomorrow morning, it wouldnt be too bad.
In the interim, Holly had no clean underwear, no clean clothes and no makeup. At least she had her travel toothbrush with her. No toothpaste, mind you, but a toothbrush. Cup half-full, cup half-full, she reminded herself.
She shrugged. Im looking on the bright side. The plane didnt crash.
Theres always the trip back, the young man quipped with a laugh.
His new wife elbowed him. Mark! Thats a terrible thing to say. Nonetheless, she giggled and wrapped an adoring arm around his waist.
God, they were so young and so in love. They barely looked older than the sixteen-year-olds that came through Hollys classroom. Or maybe she was just getting old. Mark murmured something low and intimate into his wifes ear and Holly looked away from what had become a private moment between the two.
Had she ever felt that way about anyone? Had she ever gazed at anyone with stars in her eyes? Uh, no. Did she want to? Despite Gregs accusations to the contrary, of course she did, didnt she? Well, not necessarily with stars in her eyes. It felt too much like being blinded, and that certainly wasnt good. Her parents had been blinded and she knew how well that had worked out.
The vaporetto, much larger than many of the smaller craft theyd passed, slowed and navigated toward the landing. Her heart thumped harder in her chest as the boat docked with a slight jar.
Holly was literally awestruck. No travel guide, no video could have prepared her for this. The city was an entity unto itself. Elegant and beautiful with an air of mystery and sadness. Was this how her mother had felt all those years ago? Enchanted? Seduced by a place to the point that a husband and children back home became meaningless? Holly shook her head. Thats why she was here. She wanted answers. No more wondering. No more supposition.
She wrapped her fingers around the leather straps of her backpack-like purse. This was her stop. Shed memorized it, worried shed miss it and wind up taking the scenic tour of Venice via vaporetto because she didnt get off when she should. She considered herself very capable, but she had to admit, her sense of direction left a lot to be desired. It was the running family joke that Holly could get lost going from one room to the other in a two-room house. It wasnt that far off the mark.
In a flurry of activity, several passengers exited the boat to the stone quay and Holly found herself in a momentary crush. Her breath caught in her throat as she gained her footing on the worn, slightly uneven stone. She could be standing in the same spot Marco Polo had once stood, perhaps one of the powerful doges, a beautiful courtesan, or one of the countless servants to the wealthy families that had ruled this city of power and intrigue. Lyrical Italian floated around her and she thought the young family to her left was speaking German, but it was English she heard spoken at her elbow.
Wheres your hotel again? Mark, the Bostonian newlywed, asked as he retrieved a folded map of Venice from his backpack.
Holly rattled off the address of the modestly priced Pensione Armand. Shed forsaken amenities for price while maintaining a location central to the Grand Canal and San Marco square.
Our hotel isnt far from yours. Want to walk together? he said.
Holly knew from their earlier conversation that the couple was scrimping on day-to-day expenses so they could splurge on a gondola ride. Holly had silently suppressed a shudder and kept her opinion to herself. True, the gondola was the quintessential symbol of Venice and purportedly the ultimate romantic experience, but they were welcome to it.
Yuck. God only knew what kind of germs thrived in the Venetian canals. The vaporetto was one thingthere was plenty of boat between her and the water. However, she had no interest in getting in a gondola, which would put her in alarmingly close contact with the water. Thanks, but no thanks. Shed admire the graceful black boats with their attendant striped-shirt gondoliers from a distance.
And if the newlyweds wanted to walk now she was more than happy to go with them. She could have been deposited at her pensione canal-side, but her budget didnt include an expensive water taxi. And on the map, it hadnt looked like a long walk from the vaporetto stop. But she wouldnt mind the company. While she had some neuroses, shed never been paranoid. However, ever since shed landed in London, shed felt as if she was being watched.
Sure. Id love to walk.
The three of them set off. Staged lights bathed some of the buildings, gilding them with gold. The streets were busy. Couples strolled by, arm in arm. Outdoor cafs hummed with conversation and music. Holly was surprised by how many people were out, but it made sense considering that Venice was a pedestrian-only city.
Mark and his bride easily kept her pace, and conversation between her and the young couple waned. They had obviously succumbed to the soft spring night in the exotically romantic setting. And judging by the looks passing between them, they were several hormones beyond sightseeing and small talk.
Holly was sure the newlyweds were eager to reach their hotel and get their honeymoon in full swing. Venice was made for lovers. As if punctuating the thought, a man and a woman stood silhouetted, sharing a kiss, on one of the picturesque stone bridges spanning the canal.
A wave of sensual longing washed over her. She missed the company of a man. It would be nice to explore the city with a special someone, to feel the warmth of his fingers at her waist, to meet his promising glance, to steal a kiss and have one stolen beneath the lamplights glow.
She bit back a sigh. At heart she was a romantic, and those were the things a true romantic yearned for. But life had taught her that being practical and pragmatic took one much further. She knew she was too quick to fall into relationships, and inevitably, she was disappointed.
She pushed aside the faint tingle of awareness and longing that had danced along her skin since clearing customs. An alarming thought came to her and she quickened her pace. Her room. What if it was gone? She was hours late for check-in.
Late. Luggage-less. And hungry. Finding herself room-less would cap a spectacularly draining day.
GAGE TAILED THE THREESOME from a distance. Hed managed to overhear most of the conversation on the vaporetto by positioning himself behind them. And on exiting the craft, hed brushed against her, planting a nearly nondiscernible audio bug on her knapsack.
Although he had yet to actually see the Gorgon face-to-face, because itd been crucial she not glimpse him, he could now pick her out of any crowd from a distance. Her distinctive walk combined a straight-forward stride with a sensual slight hip roll.
Gage turned left and followed them down the narrow winding street that branched off of the square, dropping back even farther as pedestrian traffic thinned.
Spy technology had enjoyed some impressive advances since hed joined the business. Now, even though he was a few hundred meters behind them, he could clearly hear their conversation, that is, were they to actually engage in it.
His listening device replicated one of the hands-free mobile phone devices worn in the ear, but this one was custom-made for him. A couple of years ago, if someone had stolen the device, they wouldve been able to hear whatever he was hearing. But now, the piece only transmitted from the listening device if it recognized the shape of his ear, which was, in effect, the pass code for the piece to function as a listening device. Otherwise it was simply another mobile phone earpiece.
Bloody brilliant it was. He loved all the toys that came with his assignments. Prior to the Gorgons landing, hed bugged both her room and the loo with audio and video. Her every move would be recorded. And if anyone were to leave a package in her room in her absence, hed know. Were she to send or receive a text message, hed know. Before the weeks end, hed be privy to all of the Gorgons secrets. One way or another.
Theyd almost reached the pensione. Gage darted down an alley shortcut, barely big enough for two, that would put him at the hotel ahead of them. His gut told him the couple wasnt a contact. Gage excelled at discerning body language and coded glances. Hed guess the Gorgon had befriended them as a coveror perhaps, as a sexual conquest.
Rumor had it that while the Gorgon might look like the girl next door, she had a penchant for a casual mnage a trois now and then. Would she issue an invitation or was she merely initiating contact before the seduction?
It should be just ahead, the bloke said.
Thank you, both. It was a pleasure meeting you. Maybe well run into one another again?
Thatd be nice, the woman said. Were justwhat, Marktwo streets over?
More like one and a half.
For someone with the Gorgons skills, tracking them again would prove easy, Gage thought to himself. Shed invite them to meet her for drinks. One, perhaps two, bottles of Valpolicella later, the wife would visit the loo and the Gorgon would make her move.
Shed lean in close and in her honeyed, slightly smoky, Southern tone, shed ask if hed ever had two women at once. Shed murmur of the pleasure to be had by two eager mouths to suck, nibble and kiss all around his world, four skillful hands to stroke and knead him, two of everything intent on pleasuring him. For one night, wouldnt he like to be the center of attention of two women? No one knew them here. No one would know afterward. It would be their secret pleasure. Maybe shed slide her hand over his thigh, brush her fingers against his cock, and Mark would convince his bride to play because there wasnt a man alive, despite what he might tell his wife or girlfriend to the contrary, who wouldnt want that.
But that would come later. Now the Gorgon merely shared pleasantries. Gage entered the lobby as the trio turned onto the street and quickly mounted the stairs. It would be interesting to discover what contact shed make once she gained the privacy of her room.
SHE HAD A ROOM. YAY. One potential disaster averted. Holly couldnt stop smiling as she climbed the wooden stairs behind the proprietress.
It had sounded as if she said her name was Signora Provolone. Holly was certain it was her horrible ear for foreign languages, combined with hunger that had her thinking the womans surname was a type of cheese.
After putting in hours studying Italian language tapes, Holly could manage. Proficient, however, was a stretch.
She followed Mrs. Cheese up a third flight of stairs. Despite her exhaustion, Holly was pleased with the hotel. Like everything else shed seen since arriving, it struck her as enchanting and romantic. There was a faint shabbiness in the threadbare upholstery of the chairs in the lobby, but it suited Holly far more than one of the opulent palazzo hotels would have.
Simple, yet clean. She welcomed the underlying antiseptic aroma of cleaner and wood polish. She also appreciated the old-world courtesy of the woman showing her to her room rather than handing off a key and sending her on her merry way.
Using a skeleton key with a room tag hanging off the end, the other woman unlocked the door at the end of the short hallway off of the top of the landing. No encoded door cards at the Pensione Armand. She handed Holly the key and ushered her into her sparsely furnished, immaculate quarters.
The room itself was narrow with tall ceilings. An arched shuttered window stood opposite the door. Ochre plaster walls warmed the space under the glow of a vintage glass-globed bedside lamp. Hanging above the standard double bed with its simple counterpane, was an oil rendering of the Grand Canal choked with gondolas and other craft in a regatta. A small writing table and chair sat next to a chifforobe. No television. No phone. Lovely.
Bathroom?
Signora Provolone beamed and indicated the door next to the chifforobe.
While Holly had booked one of the least-expensive hotels, shed splurged for a room with private facilities. The idea of a communal bathroom hoisted her germaphobe flag.
The womans fast Italian was lost on Holly, but it was easy enough to follow her to the door tucked in the corner. Signora opened the door and stepped back. A sink, toilet and an unenclosed showershowerhead on the wall with drain in the floor, no shower curtain or glass wallsseemed as clean as the rest of the hotel. Hollys relief, however, faded at the door opposite the one she stood in.
This is a private bathroom, right? What was the word? Solo? Uno?
No, no, no. It didnt take a rocket scientist to figure out from the proprietresss hand gestures that Holly would be sharing the room with another guest. The woman brushed past Holly and explained in heavily accented English with more accompanying gestures. The setup was sort of a Jack-n-Jill dealher interpretation, not Mrs. Provolones. When she wanted to use the facility, she was to lock the door leading to the other room from the bathroom. When she was finished and the bathroom was available, she was to unlock the door from inside, close her door behind her and then lock her door from inside her room. Signora Cheese finished her instructions and beamed hopefully at Holly. Yes?
Howling in frustration seemed unlikely to get her anywhere other than tossed out. Thank goodness shed packed a full supply of antiseptic towelettes. Packed. In her luggage. Which wasnt here. Never mind.
She pasted on what she hoped passed for a smile. Yes. Grazi.
The woman left and Holly stood in the center of the room, rolling her head on her neck slowly to release tension. After nearly thirty hours of traveling, thanks to time changes and flight delays, she welcomed the rooms peace and quiet.
She longed for a hot shower, but first things first. She might be pushing the backside of thirty, but her father and her newly minted stepmother, Marcia, had insisted she call once she was safely ensconced in her hotel room. She and her father had always been close, but her decision to find Julia had strained their relationship, particularly once her father realized he couldnt talk her out of going. Holly thought it was a combination of him not wanting her to get hurt, as well as his feeling as if her determination to find Julia was an insult to him.
She turned on the cell phone reserved for occasional use, thanks to the exorbitant prices per minute charged. Her dad answered on the second ring.
Im here. Finally. No need to mention the lost luggage.
Thank God. Have you talked to your guide yet?
No. Not until tomorrow. The flight delay didnt affect that.
No trouble getting to the hotel? her father asked.
I had some help, she admitted, crossing to open the shuttered window and look out onto the curved street. She almost felt as if she were dreaming.
Be careful. Her father was a little on the overprotective side. Most likely from being a single parent all these years, and the fact that she was the youngest and a girl. He definitely wasnt this way with her brother, Kyle.
Im always careful.
Just remember, youre in a foreign country.
Ill be extra careful. The conversation felt awkward, but then, things had been awkward for a few weeks now. Her father had nearly come unglued at Hollys decision to find her mother. And when hed grudgingly confessed that he knew precisely where Julia was because hed kept up with her whereabouts all these years but never shared the information with her or Kyle, things had definitely been tense.
Actually, tense was an understatement. Kyle had been pissed off that Daddy had left them in the dark all this time. Even Sherrie, Kyles sweet wife, who always gave people the benefit of the doubt, had thought it was a crappy thing for their father to do.
Once Daddy had divulged that Julia was still in Venice after twenty-seven yearsand saved Holly a ton of search timeshed declared her intent to travel to Venice, which yet again polarized the family, this time along gender lines.
Kyle thought her spending the time, money and effort to travel to Venice to find Julia was, as he so charmingly put it, bullshit. Her father was also dead-set against it.
Her stepmother, however, had supported Hollys decision. Marcia saw it as a means for Holly to balance her heart chakra. Holly wasnt sure she bought into the whole chakra thing, but she appreciated Marcias support. Sherrie had also thrown her towel into the Julia meet-n-greet arena, sending school photos of Hollys niece and nephew and a Wal-Mart family portrait of Kyle, Sherrie and the kids for Holly to share with Julia. Even her cousin Josephine, who had been raised by their grandmother after rebel African soldiers killed her missionary parents, and who was often standoffish and prickly, had jumped in to support Hollys decision. Josephine, a veteran traveler, was the one who suggested Your Way Travel, a private tour guide operation, given Venices winding, confusing streets and Hollys terrible sense of direction.
Holly found it ironic that Julia had ripped their family apart at the seams years ago and was still tearing at their familial fabric even now. It wouldve been so much easier if Holly had simply abandoned her plans for the sake of maintaining family peace, but scaling this mountain was too important to her.
She had all kinds of conflicting emotions about Julia and what she wanted the outcome of this meeting to be, but in a weird way, the outcome was almost secondary. It was the doing that was so important. It was Holly taking a proactive stance and not waiting on the elusive one day when her mother might contact her.
Are you going to see her tomorrow? her father asked. Maybe if Holly hadnt known him so well, she mightve missed the quiet yearning, the silent heartbreak underlying his question. She hoped Marcia was in another room and couldnt hear the same thing Holly did.
I dont know. I havent decided yet when Im going to What? March up to her door? Introduce herself as Julias long-lost daughter, one whod been deliberately lost? initiate contact. Ah, that had a vague, euphemistic feel to it.
I still think you should call her first.
Im not calling. Theyd had this discussion countless times, as well. Hed nagged her to call, send a letter, something before she hopped on a plane and traveled across the Atlantic. She was equally adamant she wouldnt. Celeste McKinney, one of the teachers at her school, had discovered she was adopted and spent years tracking down her birth mother. Shed called first, to give her mother time to adjust to the idea of meeting her daughter, and the mother had flat-out refused, informing Celeste in no uncertain terms it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. It had crushed Celeste. Holly was determined to face Julia one on one. She wasnt giving her mother the opportunity to turn her down.
Her fathers heavy sigh echoed over the phone. How about you just call us after youve seen her.
Fine. Does this time work for you?
Whenever you want to call is fine.
She leaned against the window casing and tamped back a flash of homesickness. Venice was beautiful, but home was home. If shed been home, shed be in her chair with a book, with Ming curled up on the ottoman. She could do with a little kitty company right about now. And her own nice clean bathroom.
Youre picking up Ming tomorrow? Shed left her seal-point Siamese rescue at home with plenty of food, water and fresh litter. Dad and Marcia had offered to pick him up and baby-sit him at their house. She knew Marcia was behind the peace offering. Be careful, hes sneaky. Hell get out if youre not careful.
Well take care of him. Dont worry.
I wont. Im not buying trouble. The second the words left her mouth she recognized her mistake. She closed the shutters and latched them, propping the cell phone awkwardly between her shoulder and head.
You bought trouble when you purchased your ticket and got on that plane. Censure marked her fathers gruff voice. Theyd had this discussion umpteen times since shed made her decision. She was here and she certainly didnt plan to enter yet another futile argument.
She hurried the call to an end and tossed the cell phone onto the bed. A shower, a good nights sleep and her suitcase should be here tomorrow morning.
Glass half full.
3
THE LOCK CLICKED INTO PLACE on the other side of his door leading to the washroom, and Gage settled back onto the bed in his adjoining room, the laptop monitor giving him a clear view of the loo and the Gorgons room. The Gorgon proceeded to examine the washroom. She peered into the corners, stood on her tiptoes to check the showerhead and even gave the toilet itself a cursory once-over.
He grinned and crossed his arms behind his head. He wasnt sure what she used in the way of spyware, but Gage employed cutting-edge technology. She could look all day and never detect the motion-activated audio-video equipment planted in both rooms.
She offered an almost imperceptible shrug and leaned into the washroom mirror, peering at her face. A queer feeling jolted through him and he shook it off. Her eyes were positively arresting, yet the rest of her face was singularly unremarkable except for a slightly lush mouth.
She sighed and stepped back. Without ceremony, she unzipped and slipped out of her trousers. He wasnt a voyeur and he would only watch her undress for as long as it took to ascertain she didnt have any information hidden on her.
Her top came past her thighs, but Gage wouldve had to be a eunuchand he wasntnot to notice and appreciate the lovely length of shapely leg. The Gorgon boasted the legs of a 1940s pinup girl. She neatly folded her trousers and placed them on a towel on the washbasins edge.
In one fluid motion she tugged the top over her head and all the air seemed to suck right out of Gages body. Lush rounded curves covered by black knickers, cut high on the thigh and low on the hip, and a black bra. In the center of her chest a small zippered travel pouch was affixed to her two bra straps. Unsnapping the pouch, she stacked it and her top on her trousers.
She raised her arms over her head as she arched her back in a sinuous stretcha sirens call, all the more difficult not to heed as she was unaware of her audienceand then brought them down and back. She slowly rotated her head on her neck, as if ridding herself of the days tension, and then rolled her shoulders in an unerringly erotic motion.
She reached between her breasts and unhooked her bra. One simple shrug of her elegantly rounded shoulders and it was gone, joining her trousers and top.
Throughout the years, his gallery had displayed countless art pieces with nude subjects in varying states of undress. Strictly as a chap who appreciated the human form as a work of beauty, he was appreciative. Her back, from neck to hip, was a fluid, sensual work of art. Golden brown nipples tipped full breasts. As a man who hadnt had a lover in months, he noted the alabaster globes, the slight rounding of her belly and the curve of her hips.
She turned and started the shower, stepping aside to avoid the spray. While the water heated, she skimmed her knickers off. A triangle of crisp curls covered the apex between her thighs and her lush bum formed an inverted heart at the base of her spine.
Desire, usually buffered by an emotional distance, slammed into him with a force that shook him. Intense wanting knifed through him, bypassing all rationale and objectivity. She stepped under the shower spray and he deliberately looked away from the screen, drawing a deep breath and holding it before exhaling slowly.
Hed never reacted this way, felt such aconnection to anyone before. His detachment seemed to have deserted him at a most inopportune time.
His operative task was broken down into a series of small objectives, which would ultimately lead to him attaining his primary goal. This particular objective had been satisfied. His cock stirred and he grimaced. Satisfied was a piss-poor choice of wording. How about met? Hed met his objective. Hed ascertained she wasnt hiding any documents or goods in her clothing, although it could still be in her knapsack or the small pouch shed worn. To watch her shower moved beyond his professional role and there was no room for that. She was a job. An assignment. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Out of nowhere she moaned, a low, husky direct feed in his ear. Like an adrenaline hit, it shot straight to his cock. What the hell? He glanced at the screen. Her head was tilted back. Water cascaded over her shoulders and the slopes of her honey-tipped breasts, running in rivulets over her belly and down the length of her legs, darkening her pubic hair.
Blood pooled between his thighs, thickening his cock to full attention. So caught up was he in the water flowing over her nakedness, he reached between his legs before he realized what he was about to do.
Bloody hell. Hed never sat about wanking his tool while on assignment and he wasnt about to take it up now. He deliberately looked away, willing his cockstand back down.
Hed go one better than a cold shower. Hed ring Mason with an update.
Everythings in place? Mason said. You had time to set up?
Yes. She made contact on her mobile. She says everything is set to proceed as normal tomorrow. She referenced a Ming whos to be picked up tomorrow and she warned he would try to get out.
Well see what we can find on a Ming. Any other names? Other references? Masons voice sharpened with impatience.
Wouldnt he have said so? Gage merely said, No. What about her case? Find anything of interest?
Its clean. We destroyed it, ripped out the seams in her trousers and knickers, even took the locks apart, nothing. Not that we really expected to find much. Anything of consequence will be on her.
Perhaps in her backpack, or in the pouch shed carried in her bra but not immediately on her now. The Gorgon was too seasoned to hide anything in her case, although sometimes, the best course of action was the least-anticipated move.
In the next room, the shower stopped. He quickly disconnected the phone.
Listening to the sound of her toweling herself dry, Gage prided himself on his professionalism. There was no need to watch her until she left the washroom. Unfortunately, he seemed singularly incapable of not seeing her in his minds eye.
Water splashed in the sink and the accompanying sound of her brushing her teeth echoed in his earpiece. The water ran a bit longer and a quick glance at the screen revealed she was rinsing out her knickers, the hotel towel wrapped around her, sarong-style. In short order, she unlocked his door from the inside, indicating it was free for him to use it, exited the washroom and immediately locked her bedroom door behind her.
He watched her via the monitor as she hung her clothes in the wardrobe and her knickers on a hanger to dry. She retrieved a pair of glasses and a small notebook and pen from her knapsack, placing them on the bedside stand.
Gage had monitored other operatives numerous times and always with a clinical detachment. Why then did it feel so intimate to watch her perform these routine tasks?
The Gorgon stood before her bedroom mirror and finger-combed her tangled hair. My kingdom for a blow dryer, she muttered before turning away in disgust. Gage grinned. Poor Gorgon. But thats what one got when one made a living selling secrets.
She pulled off the towel and draped it over the chair back. I guess Ill just have to wear the sheet if theres a fire in the middle of the night, she said to her reflection, wrinkling her nose in an innocent way. But Gage knew better. He knew the bad guys werent always all bad and he knew the good-guys hats were more often gray than white. Still, it struck him aswell, rather cute. One didnt expect the Gorgon to display a cute side when she was alone in her room talking to herself in the mirror. Thatd get him in for a bloody evaluation in no time. Yes,Mason, the Gorgon displays a cute side to her when shesalone. For chrissakes, puppies and kittens were cute, not sodding spooks. Actually, itd almost be worth it just to watch the look on Masons face at the thought of his number one agent slipping over the edge.
THE GORGON GASPED HER pleasure. The blond manwas his name Raymond?tugged harder at her nipple held between his fingers and alternately sucked and nipped at the one in his mouth.
Do you like that? Tightening his grip on her massage-oil-slicked thighs, the dark-haired Trevor worked his cock in and out of her harder and faster. She slid her hand up and down Raymonds engorged penis in the same rhythm, scraping her nail lightly against the sensitive ridge on the underside.
Rule one: Dont limit sex to good-looking, well-endowed men. Often the less-attractive ones, or those with smaller dicks, were more grateful and thus much more easily manipulated. They also tried harder to please.
Rule two: She was in chargeand they knew it. No one came until she came.
Rule three: Never let them know her real name or her number. She contacted them. It kept it simple and it kept them needy. Even the ones with girlfriends or wives came, no pun intended, when she called. Sometimes, the men even brought their significant others along. She, the Gorgonshe rather liked thinking of herself by that namehad an appetite for things the wives and girlfriends often didnt.
And rule four: Sex was better with three on the playing field.
On the hotel nightstand, her phone vibrated. Itd be him with an update. Shed instructed him to text rather than call, telling him she had a meeting. Paranoia, possessiveness and insecurity on his part all worked to her advantage, but he wouldnt like it if he knew what she was doing now.
Hold that thought, gentlemen, she said, unhanding Raymonds cock. He was the less gifted of the two in the size department. She had plans for him after the commercial break.
She slid up the four-hundred-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and flipped open her phone. She downloaded the text message and quickly scanned it.
A slow smile curved her mouth and the sexual excitement shed felt with Raymond and Trevor intensified. Everything in Europe was going precisely as shed planned. Carswell had been unleashed on the unsuspecting Holly Smith. She flipped her phone closed.
She got off on this spy business. Shed kind of miss it when she retired. Shed have to find something else to occupy her. And this news definitely called for a celebration. She rolled to her knees and turned to Trevor, where he waited at the end of the bed. I think its time we switched things around, gentlemen. She crawled the length of the bed on her hands and knees, her breasts swinging free and heavy. Braced on one hand, she wrapped her other hand around Trevors cock, teasing her tongue along the tip. He quivered in her palm and her smile widened.
She paused to glance over her shoulder at Raymond. Youre invited to the party, too. But use the back door.
Yes, this called for a celebration, indeed.
GAGE LOUNGED ABOUT IN his bed the following morning, content to do nothing. A bit of a lie-in had always been one of his guilty pleasures. His hard-ass grandfather, the Colonel, had considered it heretical and it hadnt gone over well at boarding school, either.
Better still if it was a lazy rainy day and he had a spot of feminine company between the sheets.
He stretched and bunched the pillow beneath his head. It wasnt as if he could do anything until the Gorgon made a move. Thus far, shed made an early-morning visit to the loo, which hed not watched once he ascertained there was nothing in her hands.
She nabbed her mobile and dialed, hugging one naked arm around her naked waist right below her naked breasts. Why didnt she put on some bloody clothes? All that nakedness was damned distracting. Naked was a good look on her.
Buon giorno. She identified herself and gave her room number. Has my suitcase arrived? She paused. Youre sure? Thank you. Grazie.
She disconnected the call with a snap of her mobile. Damn it to hell.
She revisited the wardrobe, feeling her knickers, obviously far from dry judging by her grimace. She sniffed delicately at yesterdays clothes and recoiled. Thats just gross.
Note to self. The Gorgon wasnt a morning person. And she also had the most delicious voice, dropping sharp consonants and rounding itself around vowels, lengthening them in a Southern drawl. Hed never considered himself much of an auditory person, but her voice sent a rush through him. Christ, she even made swearing sound sexy. Not a far stretch at all to imagine her in her lovely naked state whispering a bit of naughtiness in his ear
She rooted around in her knapsack and punched in a series of numbers on her mobile phone.
In all the spy films, the phone was always being monitored and recorded. But until he found a private moment with her mobile, he was privy only to her end of the conversation. She identified herself and her flight number to someone on the other end. Ah, she was following up with the airline. He settled back against his pillow. This should prove entertaining.
My luggage didnt make the flight from London to Venice yesterday. It was supposed to be delivered to my hotel this morning. What? Theres no trace of it? Her voice escalated a notch. How can you have lost it? It was checked through in Atlanta. I was assured it would be sent to my hotel. Yes, I understand you cant send it if you cant find it. But how about you understand thisI need underwear! Well, now that shed destroyed Gages hearing in that ear I washed out my lone pair last night and they havent dried. I dont want to wear wet panties.
She might be the enemy, but she was magnificent when riled. Her aqua eyes flashed like a stormy sea and her breasts quivered. For chrissake, where was his bloody detachment that had served him so well all his life?
Does that sound like a good vacation to you? It doesnt to me. Listen, if I didnt want to wear underwear, I wouldve left them at home in the first place. I dont appreciate your attitude. Whats your supervisors name? Maybe they can introduce you to the concept of customer service.
Gage took satisfaction in the fact that her missing case had inconvenienced the Gorgon. One had to relish the small victories as they arose.
She disconnected the call. Gage noted the time. Quarter past eight. Grinning, he shoved back the covers and strolled into the washroom, clicking the lock on her door and locking her out of the washroom.
Crap, she muttered in his earwell, his earpiecebut it might as wellve been in his ear.
His grin broadened and he turned on the shower.
Ugh. Yuck.
Apparently shed elected to wear the wet knickers. He pushed the sexual connotation out of his mind. Ah, the Gorgon was going to be in rare form when he met her this morning. Might as well go for broke.
A passable tenor, Gages voice always improved with the acoustics of a tiled washroom. He burst into a shower rendition of La Bohme, from act one.
I have descended into the bowels of hell, the Gorgons voice muttered in his ear.
Gage sang louder.
HOLLY HAD BEEN DETERMINED to put her bad-day karma behind her yesterdayuntil shed rolled out of bed naked this morning and discovered still-damp panties, no luggage and a rude airline-customer-service representative.
The only good thing to come of that conversation? She knew her luggage wasnt showing up today. The woman on the phone had actually seemed delighted to tell her if it hadnt arrived by now, it wouldnt make it today.
In the next room, the shower and the singing stopped. Thank God. The voice wasnt particularly unpleasant, but she wasnt in the mood to be serenaded this morning. Yet another grand reason for having requested a private bathroom.
Missing luggage necessitated a change of itinerary. She was more thankful than ever that shed arranged a private tour guide. Shed specifically requested a woman, slightly older than herself and a Venetian native. Holly would feel comfortable with a woman and shed look less like a tourist, gaining insight into what it was like to live in Venice. Shed been introduced, via the Internet, to her assigned guide, Signora Ciavelli. Forty-seven, with a slightly round face and dark hair sprinkled with a bit of gray, shed looked kind and capable in her photo.
Signora Ciavelli would know exactly where they should shop. And shop they would, because clammy panties, clothes shed worn for thirty-six hours, no makeup and no hair-care products just werent working for Holly.
She checked out her reflection in the bedroom mirror. To quote her brother, Kyle, she looked like shit on a stick. Some women fared well going au naturel. She wasnt one of them.
She knew she wasnt a head-turner. She was just an average woman with odd-colored eyes. The entire time she was growing up, shed loathed having the eyes shed inherited from her fathers grandmother. Shed hated it when people commented on them because the compliments always ended a little flat, as if it was a pity the rest of her didnt match up. Shed embraced her averageness to the point that when shed begun earning her own money, shed started wearing brown-tinted contacts. In fact, shed had brown eyes for more than a decade. Her mother was the beauty. Thank goodness Holly looked more like her father. She didnt want to be like Julia, flighty and vain. But with all her recent activities, shed also realized hiding her eye color wasnt exactly embracing who and what she was. Holly had forsaken her contacts several months ago. People still commented on her eyes, but oddly enough, it no longer bothered her. Funny how self-acceptance colored ones perceptions. But there was no coloring her appearance anything but lacking this morning.
She desperately needed concealer for the lovely dark shadows beneath her eyes. As for her hair She leaned forward and tried fluffing it with her fingers while she held her head upside down. She stood upright again and it looked decentfor about three seconds until it settled back into flat waves against her head. Not a good look.
Shed planned to show up at Julias address this afternoon. Holly wasnt the great American beauty, but shed be damned if shed arrive looking like something the cat had dragged in.
The lock on the other side of her door clicked, signaling the bathroom was available. She might not have toothpaste, but she could at least brush and rinse with water before she ran downstairs.
She stepped into the bathroom, ribbons of steam hanging in the room. She had to admit she liked the scent of the shampoo and cologne lingering in the room. However, the guy must be near-ancient and hard of hearing, considering how loudly he sang in the shower.
She locked the door on his side. Granted, she was only brushing her teeth, but she still didnt want the old fellow to get confused and wander in.
Five minutes later, she shrugged into her backpack and headed downstairs to meet Signora Ciavelli, determined to turn a bad start into a good day.
She descended the last stairs into the small lobby area, catching a tantalizing whiff of coffee and fresh bread. Hollys stomach growled in recognition. Maybe the scent was wafting in from a kitchen that was out of sight. Maybe it was from somewhere else. She just knew she was hungry. Many pensiones included a continental breakfast but once again, shed thought to shave a couple of dollars by choosing one that didnt. Besides, her meals were included in her tour.
Shed kill for a cup of coffee and one of the Italian pastries shed read about in the guidebooks. As soon as Signora Ciavelli showed up, shed talk her into grabbing a bite to eat.
A couple stood by the front door studying a map and speaking in Germanor was it Swiss? Heck, it couldve been Russian. She just knew it wasnt English, Italian or French. Tucked in one corner of the room, to the left of the stairs, two chairs upholstered in worn burgundy velvet flanked a small table. A man sat in one chair, his face obscured by a newspaper. The other chair stood unoccupied.
Mrs. Cheese stood behind the dark wood counter that served as the reception desk to the right of the stairs, speaking, in rapid-fire Italian, into a phone propped between her ear and shoulder.
No one, however, remotely resembled Signora Ciavelli. She stepped over to the window beside the heavy wooden door to peer outside. She experienced that same tingling awareness shed felt the night before when shed landed at the Marco Polo airport. Maybe it was something in the air here.
Ms. Smith?
Startled at hearing her name spoken in a masculine British voice, she whirled aroundand found herself in heart-pounding close proximity to one of the sexiest men shed ever encountered. Average height, dark hair worn a little longish, a lean jaw, dark eyes rimmed in thick dark lashes beneath heavy eyebrows and a hard, masculine mouth. Yes. And you are?
Dont let it be Signora Ciavelli with a sex change, which wasnt as far-fetched as it might sound, considering her luck the past couple of days.
Gage Carswell. He thrust a very capable-looking hand with well-shaped fingers toward her. Because she wasnt sure exactly why she shouldnt, she shook hands with the man, whoever he was. His handshake was strong and firm without being a vice grip, and if she thought shed tingled before His touch resonated through her, all the way to her toes. Signora Ciavelli had a medical emergency. Shell be fine, but Ill be taking her place this week.
Shed never met him before, she was sure of it. But something about him teased at her, a familiarity she couldnt quite identify.
But youre a man. She realized how idiotic her comment sounded the moment it left her mouth.
Ive had occasion to notice. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, which further upped his make-her-heart-race quota.
But I requested a woman. And a native. She wanted Signora Ciavelli because they would blend in with the locals and Holly could feel relaxed around her. Gage Carswell didnt appear to fit either criteria.
So I understand. But I lived in Venice for a few years and Im quite fluent in Italian. To illustrate his point, he broke into the language. She thought he said he looked forward to showing her the beauty of Venice. But he couldve said her butt was too wide and her hair disgustingly flat and she wouldnt have known the difference.
The missing piece, however, clicked into place for her. He didnt look familiar but he smelled familiar. And once he spoke Italian, she placed his voice.
The voice in the shower this morning, the scent that lingered in the steamy room. You wouldnt happen to be staying here at the hotel, would you?
I am. As luck would have it, the room next to yours was available and the agency put me in there. Shed pegged her bathroom buddy as elderly and deaf. When she was wrong, she was really wrong. She didnt want to think about him naked in the bathroom, but her mind seemed intent on painting just that picture for herwet dark hair, water clinging to well-formed shoulders, white towel knotted low on his hips
She nodded and worried her lower lip between her teeth. I recognized your voice when you spoke Italian.
He flashed a not-quite-contrite grin that set off butterflies in her tummy. The singing this morning. Pardon that. I tend to get carried away.
She was flexible. She could roll with the punches. She was not, however, this flexible. Gage Carswell was too male, too sexytoo everything. He just wouldnt do. Isnt there someone else they can send for the week?
Was my singing that bad? Another smile and that tingling blossomed into something that felt dangerously akin to lust.
She did not want to be charmed by him. She didnt need the distraction. And he definitely wasnt part of her plan.
She ignored his comment and his smile. I wanted a Venetian native.
And Im quite sorry that you have to make do with me. The agency has authorized me to refund half of what you paid in recompense.
Well, this was a fine mess. Shed be hopeless navigating her own way around. And now she also had to spend money she hadnt planned to spend to replace her luggage and clothes. If she settled for this guy, she got half of her money back. And being on a tight budget
Okay. She just couldnt muster being gracious.
His own smile seemed a tad tight. So, according to what youd arranged through the agency, well have a spot of breakfast and then its off to Dorsoduro.
That had been her plan, to check out the southwestern district, or sestiere, which was her mothers last-known address. From what shed read, it was an area of quiet neighborhoods and charming canals replete with tree-shaded squares, home to wealthy Venetians and foreigners. The Dorsoduro, however, would have to wait until this afternoon. Theres a change of plans, Mr. Carswell. After breakfast, were going shopping.
Want to get the souvenirs out of the way up front?
She knew her smile was grim. No. Were going to buy panties.
4
HED UNDERGONE EXTENSIVE training in hand-to-hand combat, weaponry and guerrilla warfare tactics. He held a third-degree black belt and the powers-that-be considered him an expert in electronic surveillance. So it was ridiculous that one simple handshake and exchange with this woman had rattled his cage.
Still, one touch and the Gorgon had neatly thrown him for a loop, landing him on his figurative arse. No one had managed to put Gage Carswell in that situation since that first miserable week at boarding school when hed been literally arse-ended into a rubbish bin by Geoff Winkley and his bully mates. Gage had sworn then and there hed never find himself in that state again. Although this was figurative rather than literal, it was the same out-of-control feeling. He didnt like it any better this time around.
She turned those brilliant aquamarine eyes on him and a spark kindled low in his belly. Actually, Im sure shopping for womens underwear is more than you signed up for as a tour guide. She shook her head and did a good job of looking chagrined, apologetic and annoyed all at once. The airline lost my luggage, but theres no reason both of us should be punished. If you can point me in the direction of a womans clothing store, Ill manage. Just consider this morning a freebie and Ill meet you back here, say around one?
Light slanted through the window in the pensione lobby, tipping her brown lashes with gold. He wasnt quite sure at all why she elicited such a response in him. Aside from her eyes, she possessed a quite ordinary face as hed already noted.
A creamy complexion with a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, which was a bit longish, a mouth that was at close inspection full and plump, all set within an oval-shaped face. Average heightnot gamine enough for cute, not tall and thin enough to merit striking, she looked like a nice young woman. Looks however, could be deceiving and, in her case, deadly, if one relaxed their guard.
Did she suspect he was a plant? Shed certainly been hacked to find him taking Signora Ciavellis place. Did she need the time alone to alert her contact of the companion change? None of it really mattered because she wasnt going anywhere without him.
He summoned a smile. Shopping in Venice is never a punishment. My agency would be most unhappy if I left you to your own devices. That was an effing understatement. But Ill tell them
If you go alone, Ill simply have to follow at a distance to ensure you dont get lost. Im charged with your wellbeing here, and at YWI, we take that very seriously. Leaving you to wander about on your own could get me fired. Surprisingly, that swayed her. He read it in her eyes the instant she decided it wasnt worth the argument. He took her by her armonce again feeling the energy swirling between them, through himand steered her toward the door. Lets have a bite to eat and then well go shopping.
Im ready for breakfast, but Id like to check here afterward in case my luggage shows up. Id rather not waste my time shopping if I dont have to.
Hows your Italian? He didnt think shed understood a word hed said earlier.
Dismal. She smiled and it literally transformed her face to something quite lovely. I can ask where the bathroom is, but theres no guarantee Ill be able to follow directions unless the person I talk to points.
Which is why you were very wise to hire a guide. Ill give the desk my mobile phone number. They can ring through if your case arrives.
Gage approached the small counter nestled in an alcove to the right of the front door. The same older woman with slightly graying hair who had shown him to his room yesterday evening sat folding a mountain of washroom linens.
He exchanged greetings with her and explained Ms. Smith was waiting on an important package to be delivered. He then relayed his mobile number as a contact.
The entire time he could feel the Gorgon behind him. He sensed her gaze roaming over him as surely as if she were touching him.
Everything taken care of? the Gorgon asked.
Theyll call if your case shows up.
And if a note or any other package was delivered instead, hed know. He had the Gorgon under control.
HOWS YOUR COFFEE, Ms. Smith?
A shiver slid down her spine. The timbre of his voice and that accent was a heady combination to her. Honestly, she could just prop her chin in her hand and listen to him talk, but then shed look like a total idiot.
The coffees excellent. She raised the cup and blew a cooling breath over the surface. Shed surreptitiously examined the china and found it clean and spot-free. She sipped again at the rich, full-bodied brew. It was stronger, more intense, than the coffee she normally drank, but if shed wanted what she was used to, she wouldve stayed home. Im feeling much more human. Amazing what a little caffeine can do for a person. And its Holly. Ms. Smith makes you sound like one of my students.
And Holly was almost certain she couldnt teach this man anything he didnt already know. He wore an air of experience and sangfroid as casually as he wore his black slacks and dark brown shirt. She found him one part intimidating, one part intriguing.
Very well, Holly. The way her name rolled off his tongue shot a small thrill through her. And Im Gage. Never underestimate the power of caffeine and food.
Yeah. And panties that werent clammy against her skin would also go a long way toward making her feel human again. But she wasnt sharing that with a guide who scored an eleven on the one-to-ten hot meter. There is that. Hows yours?
Shed been torn between the sfogliatelli, a ricotta-and-fruit-filled pastry, or a simple brioche. Mr. Carswellum, Gagehad ordered the brioche and shed opted for the sfogliatelli. Shed lost twelve pounds before the trip, thanks to Weight Watchers, but shed be damned if shed count points in Venice. At least the cheese was a protein and there was some fruit in there. Besides, dinner last night had consisted of a hastily scarfed-down granola bar. One bite of the sfogliatelli and shed thought she was in heaven. But then nothing had ever smelled quite as good as the aromas that had assaulted them when theyd walked through the door of the cozy shop with its glass counter of fresh pastries and strong coffee perfuming the air.
Excellent. The food and drink is outstanding in Venice.
Well, this was some scintillating conversation between. What was next? The weather. She took another bite of sfogliatelli and a silence settled between them. Around them, the other patrons chatted in a mix of languages. She heard a snippet or two of English.
When they came in, Holly had snagged a table at the picture window overlooking the narrow stone-paved street.
Holly people-watched through the glass now, a part of her scanning the face of every female passerby on the off chance it might be Julia. That was crazy. Maybe the whole trip was crazy. Doubts crowded her. All the money, the time, the plane trip to find a woman who most likely didnt want to be found. She shook the doubt off. Coming here, finding her mother, meant Holly was taking charge, setting the course of this relationship.
And Holly had been three the last time shed seen Julia. How likely was she to recognize a woman she hadnt seen since? How likely was it that her mother would stroll by the very caf Holly was sitting at on her first full day in Venice? Not likely at all, but she couldnt seem to stop searching the faces for her, all the same.
It was even less likely that her mother would walk into this place, but she still took note of every woman coming in. And if she was honest, it also helped her ignore the heavy thumping of her heart brought on by her substitute tour guide.
.
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