Portrait of a Girl

by Luanna Stewart

When she spoke, her voice was strained. “I realize my dad was a criminal. A really bad man. He may have killed people.” She turned back to him and shook her head. “No, I can’t think that. I don’t want to know. None of that wipes out the memories of him being a good and loving father. Showing me the world. Ensuring I had a stellar education. Engaging me in his love of art. I’ll cling to those memories, and believe he was a good man at the core.”

  “That’s the smart thing to do.” He rubbed her arm and felt her relax into his side. “Will you go back to work at the bakery?”

  “Yes, definitely. How soon will I be allowed to leave?”

  “By tomorrow, I think.” He grinned. “We know where to find you.”

  She met his gaze. “Yeah, you do. I doubt you’ll be living in the big house anymore, though, will you?”

  “Would you mind if I did?”

  Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. She squinted at him, like she wasn’t sure of his species. “Don’t you have another case you need to work on?”

  “Well, here’s the thing. The reason I was so determined to find Jeffers was because my reward is a promotion. I’ll sit behind a desk and leave the fieldwork to the younger agents.”

  “Yeah, you are so old.” She smiled, and this time, the glimmer in her eyes wasn’t from tears. “Will you be based in a large city, like New York?”

  “My desk can be anywhere I like.” He wrapped both arms around her, linking his fingers and resting his chin atop her head. “My office in your house is comfortable, and conveniently located next to the kitchen. Delilah loves having the big yard to run around.”

  “I might sell the place. I can’t promise the new owner will rent the ground floor to you, though.”

  “Oh, I’d want the whole house, in case my new landlord snoops.”

  “Hey, I didn’t snoop. I told you—”

  He stopped the rest of her argument with his mouth on hers. Gently at first, testing the waters, making sure he was welcome. When she didn’t pull away and slap his face, he increased the pressure, breathed in her scent, tasted the flavor that was Heather. It was like her entire body had been infused with her baking, for she tasted sweet and spicy. Like home.

  Thank God she was safe.

  A moment later he raised his head. “Name your price.”

  She slowly opened her eyes, a look of confusion drawing her brows together. “What?”

  “How much for your house?”

  “You want to buy my house?”

  “What are you asking for it?”

  “I—don’t know—I haven’t thought—”

  “I’ll pay whatever you’re asking.”

  “Well…first I have to finish painting the interior, and the windows need fixing, and the roof leaks in a few places.”

  “Stop.” He laughed, loving this almost-ordinary conversation. “You’re making it sound like the house of my dreams. When you decide on a price, let me make the first offer, okay?”

  “Why would you want to buy that old house?”

  “Because you’ll be living right next door.” He smiled and pulled her close for another kiss. The first of many, he hoped.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Heather settled into the back seat of a police car, gazing out at the ramshackle farmhouse. More floodlights had been erected, making the weed-choked yard almost as bright as day. It had been two hours since she’d witnessed M. Jeffers’s suicide, and she couldn’t get the image out of her head.

  She probably never would. It was one of those life-changing moments, like remembering what you were doing when you learned of a parent’s death. Or where you were when the World Trade Center was attacked.

  The door on the other side of the car opened, and Tony slipped into the seat next to her. “How’re you doing?”

  “I’m hungry.” She grinned. Leave it to her to think of her stomach after everything that had happened.

  “Me, too.” He sat forward and spoke through the grill to the uniformed officer behind the wheel. “Where should we go for dinner?”

  The young man turned on the emergency lights. “I’ll have you to my uncle’s café in ten minutes.”

  “Figures he’d recommend a relative.” Tony reached for her hand. His was surprisingly warm, given the plummet the temperature had taken. She shivered and gripped his hand harder, thankful for something familiar to hang on to.

  “Are you done with the investigation now?” She so desperately wanted to go home. To where there were no bad guys sneaking up on her. Locking her into rooms. Forcing her to march through dense forest. She’d give anything to ride on a smelly, crowded city bus.

  “Just a few loose ends, but you’re done. I’ve already got you booked on a flight tomorrow. Direct to Portland.”

  She sighed with relief. But didn’t feel quite as happy as she thought she would. She was returning home. That was good news, right?

  But he wasn’t coming with her. He’d return soon, but would things have changed between them?

  Had they already changed?

  She studied their clasped hands. There was only one way to find out. And as soon as she’d eaten, she’d ask some questions.

  True to his word, the officer deposited them outside a quintessential French café, complete with checked tablecloths and a carafe of red wine waiting on the table.

  The proprietor himself took their order, and delivered a plate of crusty bread and a dish of pâté. Heather all but inhaled a mouthful of the smooth, spiced ground liver and groaned.

  “Oh my word, that is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  “I have a feeling you’re going to say that about the main course, too.” He took a sip of wine. Heather could see the tension draining from his body.

  She grinned and smeared another dollop of pâté on a crust of bread. “I’m hungry. Cheese in a can would taste good right now.”

  “Keep that to yourself. There’s probably a punishment for even thinking that around here.” He used a spoon to scrape the small dish clean and held it out for her. She didn’t demur, but licked the spoon, never taking her gaze off him. When his eyes got intense and dark, she had one of her answers.

  So, he still found her attractive, even though she looked a mess. But there was more to a relationship than sex. And though the sex was amazing, she wanted more.

  At least she thought she wanted more. It was hard to form an opinion based on the experiences of only a couple weeks.

  Heck, they hadn’t even gone to a movie together.

  Their dinners arrived. Wide bowls of thick, steaming stew, redolent with garlic and mushrooms. She wasn’t sure which animal provided the tender chunks of meat, but she didn’t care, because it tasted amazing.

  “Well, was I right?” He refilled their glasses.

  “This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  He laughed, and they ate in silence for a few minutes.

  “Tell me,” she said, dipping a piece of bread in the rich gravy. “What kind of music do you listen to?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious.”

  He took a sip of wine. “Well, pretty much anything—except rap.”

  Okay so far. “Do you like to cook?”

  “I’ve got a couple of signature dishes.” He leaned across the table. “Is this a job interview?”

  “Yeah, of a sort.” She tried to keep a straight face, but her intuition was telling her this was the guy for her. And her hoo-hah confirmed that impression. So she was pretty sure she was grinning like a fool.

  “I’ve got a couple job requirements of my own.” He winked.

  She waited, but he didn’t continue. “Well? What are they?”

  “Are you finished eating?”

  She discovered she was full. It was a shame to leave the few remaining morsels in her bowl, but it wouldn’t be polite to lick the bowl clean.

  “Yes,” she said. “Unless you want dessert, or coffee, or—”

  He stood, threw a handf
ul of euros on the table, and held out his hand.

  They thanked the owner for an excellent meal and left the restaurant. She had no idea where they were, or where they were headed.

  “Are you going to tell me your job requirements or not?” She tugged him to a stop.

  He pulled her to him, leaned close, and whispered in her ear, “There’s only one, really. You need to like this.”

  He proceeded to kiss her. She became lost in a maelstrom of heat and taste and scent. Somehow her feet left the ground, and she was glued to his body from lips to toes. She grabbed the back of his jacket and held tight, tried to get closer.

  Damn clothes were in the way.

  He feathered his lips along her cheek, but she didn’t like that one bit, and tugged his head back to where it would do the most good. They moved along the sidewalk, and then her back was pressed against a wall, held in place by his thigh tucked between her legs, his free hand cupping the back of her head.

  “Can I assume you like this?” He nuzzled her neck, his warm breath sending shivers along her spine.

  “Mm-hmm.” Forming real words was beyond her powers. Heck, her eyes were rolling back in her head. More of this and she’d be howling.

  “Do I get the job?”

  “You can start immediately.” She bit his chin, and a sound made her look up. An elderly couple were strolling by, giving them a conspiratorial smile. “Um…we have an audience.”

  He let her slide to the ground but didn’t back away. “I happen to know there’s a hotel a few doors down.”

  “That’s a good thing to know.”

  “And I happen to know there’s a room for us.”

  She grinned. “Sure of yourself, eh?”

  “Just hoping that you like me as much as I like you.”

  “I think we’re pretty even.”

  He turned them in the direction of the small pension, keeping an arm around her shoulders. “You like me enough to hang out with me?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “You like me enough to watch football on Monday nights?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I can make that concession, in exchange for an equal number of chick flicks.”

  They entered the lobby of the Hôtel Saint-Louis, he collected a key, and they walked up one flight of stairs. And then they were in their room. And then they were naked.

  As they collapsed onto the bed, skin to skin, she interrupted the soul-searing kiss. “How long do you anticipate staying in the job I’m offering?”

  “I see it as a lifetime commitment.”

  And then she was under him, loving his weight pressing her into the mattress. Loving how his chest hair was slightly abrasive against her breasts. And then he was inside her, and she found all kinds of things to love as he moved, caressed, and kissed her all the way to the nicest orgasm she’d ever had.

  Chapter Thirty

  The following afternoon, Tony put Heather on the plane with promises to call soon. He wanted to go with her, wanted to begin his life with her, but he had a job to finish. He headed back to Jeffers’s château for a final sweep. A thorough mop-up would be done by the locals, but the issue of the missing artwork still gnawed at him. It would give him great satisfaction to cross a few pieces off the list. It would also please the guys who paid his expenses.

  Tony wandered through the rooms, his footsteps echoing off the tile floors. Jeffers had emptied the château of most of its contents, no doubt to pay off creditors. It was a shame the grand house had been furnished and decorated with the proceeds of theft. And murder. He wondered if, when sold, the new owners would be told of its colorful history.

  When Tony stepped into the library, he went directly to the portrait hanging over the fireplace. He’d noticed it the first time he was in the room. The resemblance to the grown woman was remarkable, right down to the mischievous glimmer in her eyes. She’d probably been as much of a handful as a kid as she was now. Knowing he really shouldn’t, he took the picture from the wall, laid it on the desk, and pried off the backing board. The portrait would be easier to handle without the ornate frame. Easier to carry on the plane.

  Hidden between the oil painting and the board he found another picture. He laughed. The elusive Fragonard picture. While it was pretty enough, he couldn’t imagine what all the fuss had been about.

  The mailing tube he’d brought, hoping to make the exchange for Heather, sat on the floor. He removed the dummy oil painting and placed it and the Fragonard in a desk drawer, leaving it to the insurance companies to figure out who would get them. Then he rolled up the portrait of the young Heather, put it in the mailing tube, and walked out the door.

  Tony was a half hour from the airport when his cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID—Gaston. Damn. He pulled to the side of the road, next to a vineyard.

  “Hey, Gaston. What’s going on?”

  “Allo, my friend. Where are you?”

  “In my rental heading to the airport to go home. Did you call to wish me bon voyage?”

  “Non, I called with good news. We have located Laroux and are preparing to go after him. I suspect you would like to come along, oui?”

  “Hell, yes. Wait.” He wanted to get home to Heather, not chase around the countryside. Except chasing around was his job. “Do you need me?”

  “As to that, no, I suppose not. If you’d rather stay out of it…”

  Damn and blast it to hell. He’d been so close to leaving this country. He still could. He didn’t need to be involved in Laroux’s arrest.

  “Where should I meet you?” He put the car in gear and U-turned, gradually easing the speed up to well over the limit. He could still get home today if all went well.

  …

  All did not go well. The next morning, Tony walked into a small café in Autun and eased into the chair across from Chas.

  “You look like shit,” the other man said, using his left hand to drink his coffee, his other arm still held in a sling.

  Tony let out a sigh. “I feel worse than I look. I don’t remember getting shot being so effing painful.”

  “It is not a walk in the park, as you say. It is good you are moving around.”

  Tony took a sip of his coffee and gagged. “Christ, the drugs I’m on make this taste like horse piss.”

  “You are lucky to not be drinking through a tube into your stomach.” Chas raised his hand. “Over here, Gaston. What do you know?”

  “Merde, there is no sign of the bastard.” The gendarme ordered a drink before sitting. “We gave it our best try, n’est-ce pas?”

  Tony shifted on his chair. His flesh wound ached like a bitch. Luckily the bullet had just removed a few inches of skin as it whizzed by. Another inch to the right and he’d still be in the hospital. “He’s gone to ground, if he’s smart. You may get another chance in a few months, when he gets hungry or bored.”

  “Oui, I can be patient. Now, what are your plans, mon ami?”

  Tony shrugged and hissed at the sharp reminder that he’d been shot. “I’m flying home this afternoon.”

  “Ah, yes. And you will be seeing Mlle. James?”

  Tony couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.” He clenched his teeth before pushing to his feet. Sweat broke out on his forehead, but he refused to give in. Nothing would keep him from getting on that airplane.

  Chas also stood and held out his hand. “I will be in touch.”

  “Let me know when you’re coming for a visit.”

  Gaston followed him out of the café and held his car door. “I should drive you to the airport, mon ami. You are in no condition.”

  “I’m fine as long as I’m sitting. The long plane ride will do me good. Take care, my friend. I enjoyed working with you.”

  “I will say it now. Bon voyage.” Gaston raised his hand in farewell and went back into the café.

  Tony took a last look around the quaint town square and thought it might be a nice place for a honeymoon.

  Chapter T
hirty-One

  It felt like she’d been gone for weeks, but after a quick calculation on her fingers, she realized it had been only five days.

  Five days that sounded like an action-adventure movie.

  Five days that had completely changed her life. She wouldn’t believe all those things happened if it weren’t for the bruises on her body and the wound on her back. Processing all that she’d learned and done would take days, or weeks. Luckily, she’d have a gorgeous, loving man to help.

  Her little cottage never looked so good, but she dreaded the mess she’d find inside. Opening the back door, she threw her stuff on the table and grabbed the key to the big house. Maybe by the time she’d collected her kitty, the gatehouse wouldn’t seem so terrifying.

  As soon as she unlocked the door of Tony’s house, Delilah about knocked her over in her dash to relief. Then she did knock her over in her glee to see a friendly face. This time Heather didn’t mind being jumped on. She fell into a snow bank, laughing.

  “I know exactly how you feel, Delilah old girl. Being shut up with no way to escape is no fun.”

  Climbing to her feet, she brushed crusty snow from her butt and walked into the kitchen. Samson was spread out to his maximum length on the counter, like the king of the beasts atop Pride Rock. Heather gathered him into her arms and buried her face in his neck fur.

  “I missed you, sweet boy.”

  Samson put up with the public display of affection for twelve seconds, then wriggled free.

  “Okay, let’s go home.”

  Tucking Samson into her jacket, and Delilah following, she trotted down the hill. She peeked in the windows of her little house, surprised to see the rooms so clean, not at all like when she’d left. Well, run away.

  Actually, she’d run away, been kidnapped and shot at, then made a daring escape, if she said so herself. Then held hostage before being forced into making another escape, albeit from the good guys.

  A great plot for a novel, but not something she’d want to live through ever again.

  Stepping into the kitchen, she let Samson loose and left the two animals to explore at their own pace. She did a quick scan of the rooms on the ground floor and was relieved to find everything tidy.