by Terri Reed
Colleen stifled a smile, noting that Adam was just as solicitous to Kate, as well.
She was happy for both her brothers. Each had found the love of their hearts. Their soul mates. Colleen didn’t have time for soul mates or any type of mate. Her life was about getting the next story and that was the only reason she’d agreed to come to this spectacle tonight.
Her editor wanted his people on the lookout for the next scoop. Well, she could only hope there’d be something to snag her interest here; all the town’s most prominent citizens were attending. But she wasn’t into society pieces. She much preferred gritty hard news.
“Ladies,” her older brother Adam said, indicating the coat check.
Colleen frowned. “I’ll just hang on to this, thanks.”
Holly bumped up next to her and whispered none too softly, “Chicken.”
Colleen gritted her teeth at the dual grins her brothers flashed her way.
Being the baby sister of the Montgomery brothers hadn’t made for an easy childhood. Colleen had tagged along, wanting to be a part of that special world that only boys could roam. She’d long ago realized that the only way she’d get the appreciation and approval she craved was to be the best at whatever she did and not let being female hold her back.
That was why wearing a clingy shift that revealed her shoulders and showed off her calves left her feeling awkward and self-conscious. But she wasn’t a chicken.
She slipped the wrap from her shoulders and handed it to Adam. He whistled between his teeth. “Maybe you better leave it on.”
“Be nice,” admonished his wife, Kate. “She looks lovely.”
Colleen caught the dubious glance her brothers exchanged and bit her lip, wishing now she’d stuck to her pantsuit.
“Lovely is not quite the right word,” said Jake. He reached forward and tucked a lock of hair behind Colleen’s ear. “I’d say beautiful is the right one.”
Colleen blinked as sudden tears burned her eyes. She couldn’t remember her brother ever saying something so…flattering.
Adam hugged her. “I think our baby sister’s grown into a woman. Finally.”
His words warmed her like the first rays of sun on a cold winter’s morn even as she punched him in the arm for his teasing.
“Okay, boys. Leave your sister alone,” Kate said in her no-nonsense nurse voice. Then she hooked her arm through Adam’s. “Shall we go in and see these paintings we’ve heard so much about?”
Jake slipped his arm around Holly’s expanding waist and guided her in. Adam and Kate followed. Colleen waited a moment and took a few deep breaths.
She smiled and nodded hello to several people as they filed in. She waved to Reverend Gabriel Dawson from Good Shepherd Christian Church and his wife, Susan, who ran the shelter in town, as they entered.
As she started forward she heard her name called. She turned to find Sam and Jessica Vance walking toward her.
“Hey, Sam. Jessica.” Sam’s wavy dark-brown hair was subdued with a bit of gel, and his tall, muscular frame filled out his tuxedo nicely. Beside him, Jessica, his wife of a year, fairly glowed in her silver floor-length dress and upswept hair.
“You’ve got a story idea for me?” Colleen eyed Sam with hope.
Several times Sam had brought ideas for stories to her attention. Stories that needed the sort of investigating the police didn’t have the manpower for.
“We’re still working on the arsonist cases. Haven’t had any breaks. You turn up anything?”
She shook her head. “I know Chief O’Brien had something to do with the hospital fire but I haven’t nailed down what yet.”
Sam nodded in agreement. “So far we’ve got nothing to hold him on.”
“You know, I keep thinking that somehow the fires at Travis’s and Quinn’s businesses are connected to the hospital fire. I’m working on putting the pieces together.”
Interest sparked in Sam’s eyes. “Keep me posted on anything you come up with.”
“I will. Enjoy the exhibition,” Colleen replied and then excused herself.
She walked into the main area of the museum and looked around in awe at all the glittering ladies and well-dressed gentlemen. She felt like a fake, all dressed up as though she was one of these people.
This wasn’t her. She liked khakis and loafers, not these black torture devices squeezing her feet.
“Hello, Colleen. Enjoying yourself?”
She turned toward the older woman who had stepped up beside her. “Lidia, hello. I just arrived. This is very impressive.”
Lidia Vance, Mayor Maxwell Vance’s wife, nodded in agreement. She wore a stunning red two-piece outfit that accentuated her olive skin and dark eyes. Italian by birth, Lidia had come to this country as Max’s young bride back in the sixties. “I wish Max were here to see this.”
“How is the mayor doing?”
Max Vance had been shot, but luckily not killed. His attacker was still at large.
Colleen had a hard time fitting Alessandro into the role of assassin. He was more the playboy type, not one to dirty his hands. But—impressions could be deceiving.
There was no mistaking he held an appeal that few women—except herself, of course—could resist. Like a movie star come to visit in their small community, he attracted attention.
Her sources had informed her that Donato had been hanging around the museum lately. He’d sat next to Dahlia Sainsbury, the museum’s curator, at the Valentine’s Day dinner. Not that Colleen had paid much attention or had an emotional reaction to the pair. It hadn’t mattered to her in the least. But now…what connection did they have?
“Max is improving every day. The doctor says he’ll be able to come home soon to recuperate.”
Refocusing on the conversation, Colleen said, “That’s wonderful. I’m sure Dad will be happy to hear that.” Frank Montgomery and Maxwell Vance were lifelong friends and godparents to each other’s eldest children.
Lidia smiled. “Tell your father hello for me. I know Max would welcome another visit.”
“I’ll let him know. I’m surprised my parents aren’t here yet.” Her parents were still heavily involved in community affairs even though Frank’s term as mayor had long since passed.
Lidia patted her arm and moved away to talk to an older couple bedecked in jewels and finery.
Colleen looked for her editor and for the newspaper’s photographer but didn’t see either. She’d wait until they arrived before she started interviewing the guests. This kind of event wasn’t her normal gig, but Al Crane, her editor, had insisted she attend and conduct interviews because her family knew everyone in town and they’d all talk to her.
She wasn’t sure that was true, but she did want to ask the new curator about Alessandro Donato and his interest in the museum. She wandered over to a sand-colored exposed brick wall that made an elegant backdrop for Monet’s “Poppy Field Near Giverny.” She liked the vibrant hues: reds, blues and greens.
She moved along the wall inspecting other works by Monet when a strange awareness brushed over her. She stilled.
Slowly, she turned and scanned the room. Her gaze landed on a tall, black-haired man. Her breath hitched when she realized Alessandro Donato was staring at her. His dark, unreadable eyes conveyed a message she had trouble believing.
Even though her brothers had stated she looked beautiful tonight, Alessandro’s expression made her feel beautiful.
Which was bad, very bad, because even if she had time for a relationship, he was the wrong kind of man to get goofy over. She wouldn’t give up her independence for a playboy, no matter what, so how he saw her or made her feel was irrelevant.
Then why did she have the crazy urge to run and hide?
TWO
“Exquisite, isn’t she?”
“Sì, bellissima,” Alessandro murmured to Dahlia, his gaze riveted on the vision that had walked in only moments ago.
Colleen Montgomery.
How could this feminine beauty standing on the
other side of the room be the tough-as-nails investigative reporter he’d come to admire?
Colleen’s writing was witty and informative as well as thought-provoking. And the times they’d interacted, such as at the Valentine’s Day dinner, he’d enjoyed her feisty personality and charming wit.
He felt Dahlia’s hard stare. Alessandro blinked and realized with embarrassing clarity that he’d lost track of the conversation with the museum’s curator and his only lead to Escalante. “Scusa, you were saying?”
Her red-as-blood lips curled. “The painting.”
He glanced at the portrait of a woman standing on a hillside with a parasol. The painting had a wistful feel to the lines and strokes of the brush.
“Ah, sì. A masterpiece.” He handed his still-full glass of punch to a passing waiter. “Miss Sainsbury, will you excuse me un momento?”
The knowing look in Dahlia’s eyes as she gazed from him to the corner of the room where Colleen now studiously inspected a Renoir led him to believe his distraction had been quite obvious.
And it was a distraction he didn’t need, because he had a drug lord to bring down.
“Of course, Mr. Donato. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk business at a later date.”
Alessandro hesitated. He’d come to the museum tonight to insinuate himself into Dahlia’s life as a path to Escalante. He should stick close to her, but if he couldn’t concentrate he’d screw up. Screwing up was not an option after what had happened to Paola.
He bowed slightly and moved away, slowly and methodically making his way toward Colleen. He’d talk with her and get her out of his system so he could get back to his real purpose: finding Escalante and taking him down, once and for all.
“Buona sera, bella signorina.”
Colleen blinked as Alessandro Donato took her hand and placed a light kiss on the knuckles. Sparks shot up her arm. “Good evening to you too, Mr. Donato.”
She tilted her chin up in an effort to dispel the way the smooth cadence of his oh-so-pleasing accent caressed her senses, much as his lips caressed her fingers.
“Please, call me Alessandro,” he said, a gentle smile touching his well-formed lips.
Her throat suddenly dry, Colleen swallowed. “Alessandro.”
Saying his name aloud felt strange and thrilling. The name rolled off her tongue in such a delightful way, making her aware of a threat she hadn’t anticipated.
This man affected her in ways she’d only experienced around him. With every interaction they’d shared, the effect had intensified.
It made her nervous. She didn’t like to be nervous. Nervousness was a weakness she’d learned to overcome in order to pursue the gritty stories that would one day propel her career to new heights.
“Lovely party, no?”
“Yes, it is.”
Feeling slightly off balance when she gazed into his eyes, she glanced around, hoping to find some equilibrium, and spotted her parents entering the room.
The former mayor of Colorado Springs looked handsome in his dark tuxedo with his shocking-white hair and bushy eyebrows. Her mother wore a floral tea-length dress in vivid shades of coral that brought extra color to her rosy complexion.
Fondness for her parents tightened Colleen’s chest. Her mother’s bright eyes and warm smile made anyone who came in contact with her feel special.
Colleen met her mother’s gaze and saw a question in her pale blue eyes: why was her only daughter talking to a man suspected of shooting his uncle?
Colleen gave a slight shrug as if to say “so what?” Her mother would understand how little stock Colleen took in the rumor mill. So often she’d proven the gossips wrong when she’d investigated a story.
She turned her gaze back to the man standing beside her. The knowing look in his dark eyes made her sense he’d somehow interpreted the exchange between mother and daughter correctly.
“Your mother is protective, no?”
His words confirmed her thoughts. “Yes. I’m her only daughter and you’re basically a stranger, even though you’ve been in town off and on for over a year now. Still, even your aunt Lidia doesn’t seem to know you well.”
She studied him, liking his dark wavy hair and the aristocratic lines to his jaw. His soulful eyes could be hard and demanding yet turn so charming and compelling that her heart pounded with a rapid beat.
He’d said he was an accountant. He certainly didn’t come across like any number cruncher she’d ever met. Superhero, Holly had said. Determination to uncover his secrets slid into place. “What is it exactly you do for the European Union again?”
A slow smile tipped the corners of his mouth upward. “I’m gathering information to bring back to Europe on the feasibility of opening a branch of the E.U. Bank in Colorado Springs.”
“What kind of information?” She’d heard her father and Max talking about how they’d yet to see any results from Alessandro’s work.
“Information that will further transatlantic economic integration and enhance the flow of investments as well as trade between the E.U. and the U.S.”
“That sounds like a party line to me,” Colleen stated as her reporter’s instincts kicked into gear. “Does such information include art?”
“Scusi?”
“I’ve heard from sources that you’ve taken an interest in the museum. And its new curator,” she commented, thinking of the brunette he’d been talking to when she walked in.
She hadn’t missed the way they’d stood close together, as if they were involved romantically. Perhaps that was why he’d been hanging around. Why did a bubble of disappointment lodge itself in her chest?
He arched a brow. “Really? You are checking up on me, bella? I’m flattered.”
A heated flush flamed in her cheeks. “People talk. Especially about a mysterious newcomer.”
“Is that what I am to you, bella? Mysterious?” His dark eyes probed her as if he wanted to see deep inside her where she held her own private thoughts.
She rubbed at the sudden goose bumps prickling her arms. “I think you’re a man with much to hide.”
“For you, cara mia, I would gladly tell all my secrets.”
“Yeah, right.”
Not for one second did she believe him, but his smooth-as-silk tone and roguish smile still made little butterflies take flight in her stomach.
She lifted her chin. “I’ve heard that Italian men are dreadful flirts. You are very accomplished, indeed.”
He chuckled, a deep sound that penetrated all the way to her heart. “What a delight you are, Colleen.”
Unaccountably pleased by his words, she sought to bring some reality to the situation. “I doubt my brothers would agree with you,” she replied as she caught sight of her two brothers standing side by side, glaring at them.
She smiled. They both shook their heads, clearly indicating they didn’t approve of the person she was talking to.
Alessandro followed her gaze with his own. “Ah, the protective Montgomery brothers.”
“What can I say? Do you have family besides your aunt Lidia?” she asked, needing to turn the conversation back to him.
There was a story here. She wanted to unravel the mystery of this intriguing man so he’d no longer hold any appeal for her. Besides, she’d promised Holly.
“What is family? Only those whose blood you share? Or those who stand by you in time of need?”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but she saw something flicker in his eyes, something dark and painful, and she fought the urge to reach out to him. She had no experience in offering comfort to anyone, let alone to a man who was not family.
“Family can be both of those things. Family comes through connection. Whether through blood or friendship. Or through the bond of faith.”
His expression softened. “Ah, sì. Faith. You believe deeply in God, no?”
“Yes. Very deeply.”
“Because you were raised to believe.”
“I was raised to bel
ieve, but that’s not why I believe.”
“Tell me, then, why do you believe?”
“Because without faith in God there is no hope.”
“So is that what keeps you going, even when you investigate the travesties of the world? When you report about an abused wife whose life has become a nightmare at the hands of the one man she should trust? When you report on the drugs and the crimes perpetuated by evil men? Is it hoped that God will deliver justice? Where is the justice for the victims?”
Surprised by his passionate words, Colleen laid a hand on his arm. “God is faithful all the time,” she said simply. “I don’t understand God, can’t fathom why the bad things in life are allowed to happen. All I can do is put my faith in the only One who does know.”
Alessandro covered her hand with his. The warmth of his palm against the back of her hand made her toes curl inside her pointed black sandals. “I admire your steadfastness,” he said.
His admiration was pleasing, not to mention the tender expression in his dark eyes. If she weren’t careful, she could get used to having him around.
A commotion near the entrance interrupted the moment and common sense rushed in. Colleen extracted her hand. Having him around? What was she thinking? Obviously, she wasn’t.
She didn’t have time for such things. She needed to stay focused on her job.
Raised voices drew her attention. She turned to see Fire Chief Neil O’Brien push past the burly doorman.
“I’ve a right to be here, just as everyone else does,” Neil said, his words slightly slurred.
“Not in this condition, you don’t,” the doorman replied and made a grab for Neil’s arm. Neil dodged and continued forward, his gaze scanning the crowd, obviously looking for someone.
He looked even more haggard and worn than he had the last time Colleen had seen him, at the fire station when she’d confronted him about his gambling debts. His hair was mussed and his brown eyes bloodshot. A generous amount of weight had settled around his middle.
Colleen guessed his gambling was getting to him. She felt bad for his pregnant wife, Mary, and thankful that she wasn’t here to witness the spectacle her husband was making of himself.
