A coin
Months ago at the Trevi Fountain, Callie Langston wished for a matinee idol to sweep her off her feet. Instead, she got an action hero! A battle-scarred but sexy security expert used to danger and ready for love…
A proposal
Days ago, Joe Russo went down on one knee and put a ring on her finger. But before she can answer him, safe, predictable Callie is heading back to Italy, permanently, on one crazy Christmas adventure.
A wedding?
Joe is everything she’s wished for and more. But Callie’s waited her whole life to live. Among the timeless beauty and ancient traditions of Christmas in Rome, she’s got to decide: Will it be the plan…or the man?
He knew exactly where to find her.
Watching the Trevi Fountain come to life, water spilling from it into the basin.
“Callie.”
Her hips swiveled. Her head turned. Those soul-stripping eyes locked with his. “Hello, Joe. Tracking me down again?”
“We need to talk.”
She gave a short laugh. “I thought that was my line.”
He sat beside her on the edge of the fountain.
“Do you remember the last time we were here?” she asked after a moment, her gaze on the glistening water.
“I remember.”
“I made a wish then. Should I tell you what it was?”
Joe wasn’t sure he wanted to know. When he made a noncommittal sound, she angled her chin and pinned him with those incredible eyes.
“I wished for a dreamy romantic hero right out of the movies,” she confessed.
“Sorry. Looks like you’re zero for three.” He didn’t see himself as dreamy or romantic or heroic.
“Maybe I should make another wish.” Eyes closed, she looked as though she was sorting through dozens of possibilities before settling on one. Then she sent the coin sailing toward the fountain.
“What did you wish for this time?”
She smiled. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
* * *
Three Coins in the Fountain:
When you wish upon your heart…
Callie’s Christmas Wish
Merline Lovelace
www.millsandboon.co.uk
A career Air Force officer, MERLINE LOVELACE served at bases all over the world. When she hung up her uniform for the last time, she decided to try her hand at storytelling. Since then, more than twelve million copies of her books have been published in over thirty countries. Check her website at www.merlinelovelace.com or friend Merline on Facebook for news and information about her latest releases.
Many, many thanks to Machaelie Halsey, who let me pick her brain about counselling techniques during lunch at Chili’s, then read several chapters while we were cooking Easter dinner.
Thanks, too, to Christy Gronlund, who filled me in on the joys and stresses of Children’s Advocacy. You both made this book so rich in detail and rewarding for me to write.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Extract
Copyright
Chapter One
It started with the fountain.
That damned Trevi Fountain.
Callie and her two best friends had to take a long-dreamed-of trip to Italy this past September. Then she and Dawn and Kate had to defy the tradition that said just tossing a coin in the fountain would bring them back to Rome someday. Oh, no. The centuries-old tradition wasn’t good enough. They had to make separate, secret wishes.
Kate’s came true while the three friends were still in Italy, when she and her husband reconciled mere weeks away from a divorce. Dawn didn’t realize her wish had been granted until she was back in the States and acting as surrogate nanny for a lively six-year-old. A few short weeks later, the laughing, flirtatious redhead had made the surprising and completely unexpected leap from carefree bachelorette to deliriously happy mother to Tommy and wife to hunky Brian Ellis.
Callie had made a wish in Rome, as well. One she hadn’t shared with anyone. Not even her BFFs. It was too silly, too frivolous. And so not in keeping with her usual level-headed self.
That ridiculous wish was coming back to haunt her now. Every part of her thrummed with nervous anticipation as she helped Dawn and Tommy loop fresh pine boughs into Christmas wreaths for the doors of the Ellises’ home. Luckily, the determined efforts of Tommy’s three-month-old wheaten terrier pup to get into the action kept both the boy and Dawn so amused that neither noticed Callie jump when the doorbell rang.
The sound of the bell sent the pup into an immediate frenzy. His butt end whipped around. His claws skittered on the pine plank flooring. High-pitched yelps split the air as he careened out of the kitchen and down a hallway fragrant with the scent of the cloves and cinnamon and oranges in the Christmas potpourri.
“That’ll be Joe.”
Pushing to her feet, Dawn dusted the pine needles from the moss-colored turtleneck that clung to her generous curves and made her eyes appear an even deeper shade of emerald.
“His message said his plane would touch down at three and he’d be here by four.” She slanted Callie a sly look. “Tall, dark, handsome and punctual. What more could a girl ask for?”
Nothing, Callie agreed, her stomach fluttering. Not a single, solitary thing.
Except...maybe...
There it was! That absurd coin toss again. How juvenile to wish Joe would let just a tiny smidgen of romance sneak through his solid, masculine, don’t-mess-with-me-or-mine exterior. Hadn’t he put his highly lucrative business interests on hold for her? Devoted considerable time and expense to tracking down the source of the ugly emails she’d begun receiving a few weeks before the trip to Italy? Shaking her head at her own foolishness, Callie followed Dawn, the wildly yipping terrier and Tommy down the hall.
“Joe promised he’d bring me a real, live boomerang from Australia,” the boy reminded them as he charged for the door. “Hope he remembered it!”
He would. Callie didn’t doubt it for a second. In the few short months she’d known Joe Russo, she’d come to realize that nothing ever escaped the steel trap of his mind.
They’d first met during a never-to-be-forgotten jaunt to Venice. At the time Joe headed a highly specialized personal security team guarding Carlo Luigi Francesco di Lorenzo, aka the Prince of Lombard and Marino, who also happened to be one of Italy’s most decorated air force pilots. Carlo, Kate’s husband, Travis, and Dawn’s now-husband, Brian, had been involved in testing some hush-hush, super-secret modification to NATO special ops aircraft flying sorties from a base in northern Italy.
Callie and Joe had met again in Rome, when Travis surprised Kate with an elegant ceremony to renew their marriage vows. At that damned fountain! It must have been the stars in Kate’s eyes as she reaffirmed her love. Or the mischievous sparkle in Dawn’s when she announced she was flying home with the Ellises to assume duties as Tommy’s stand-in nanny. Whatever the impetus, Callie gave in to her friends’ urging
that they all toss one last coin over their shoulders. Which was when she’d made that stupid, stupid wish.
Not ten minutes later, she’d found herself separated from her friends and yielding to Joe Russo’s quiet but relentless interrogation. As she’d soon discovered, the man hadn’t transitioned from military cop to soldier of fortune to head of one of the world’s most exclusive personal protection agencies without learning how to extract secrets from even the most reluctant interviewees.
He’d watched her, Joe had revealed. Saw how her shoulders braced every time she checked her email. Noted, too, how her eyes would flicker with distress before she withdrew even farther into her seemingly serene shell.
Callie tried to deny it. Tried to shrug aside his laser-sharp perceptions. She was too used to safeguarding the privacy of the children she’d represented as an ombudsman for the Massachusetts Office of the Child Advocate to spill their—or her—secrets. At that point Joe reminded her that she’d walked away from her job some weeks ago. He also pointed out that he could tap into any legal and/or law enforcement agencies necessary to resolve whatever was scaring the crap out of her.
Callie still couldn’t believe she’d broken down and told him about the threatening emails before she’d shown them to Kate and Dawn. Neither could her two best friends, for that matter. They’d let her know what they thought about that in some pretty forceful terms. But they got over their snit in short order and promptly threw a protective shield around her.
First, Kate insisted Callie stay with her in DC after their return from Italy. Then, when Dawn married and moved out of the elegant gatehouse designed for Tommy’s live-in nanny, she’d insisted Callie take up residence there while Joe investigated the emails. And when the emails escalated from ugly to really scary, Joe tried to hustle her into protective custody.
Callie had drawn the line at that. She was staying in DC, hundreds of miles from her Boston home. She had four fierce watchdogs in the persons of Kate and Dawn and their spouses guarding her day and night. She’d turned over every threatening communication to the authorities, and Joe had exercised the legal system to gain access to the juvenile court cases she’d worked.
Enough was enough.
But her heart had still pounded each time she checked her emails. It pounded even harder every time Joe called or flew in to update her on his investigation. The kiss he’d laid on her last time he was in DC might also have something to do with the fact that she was holding her breath while Tommy yanked open the front door.
“Hi, Joe. Didja bring the boomerang? Didja?”
“You bet.”
One of Joe’s rare smiles flickered across his face. His cheeks creased, almost hiding the scar slashing down the left side. All Callie knew was that it was the legacy of a mission he wouldn’t talk about to anyone, not even to Brian, Travis or Carlo. The angry red slash had faded in the past few months but still drew occasional startled glances.
Callie barely noticed it anymore. The rest of the package was too compelling. The broad shoulders now encased in a leather bomber jacket that had seen its share of wear, the square chin, the ice-gray eyes, the dark brown hair with its barest hint of a curl.
“Don’t forget what I told you,” Joe instructed as he stepped through the door and handed over a package wrapped in brown paper. “It’s not a toy.”
“I remember! Boomerangs are more than ten thousand years old. The aber...um...abra...”
“Aborigines.”
“Yeah. The aborigines used to hunt with ’em.”
While the boy tore at the brown paper, Joe nodded hello to Dawn before shifting his gaze to Callie. In their short time together, she’d discovered that his silvery eyes could turn as opaque and impenetrable as a Massachusetts coastal fog when he wanted, which was most of the time. But they glinted now with a triumph so clear and sharp that she knew instantly his sudden trip Down Under had yielded results.
“The emails!” she exclaimed. “You nailed the sender.”
“To the wall,” he replied with such savage satisfaction that Dawn whooped and flung up a palm for a joyous high five.
“All riiiight, Russo!”
The exuberant exclamation startled Tommy and the pup. Blue eyes wide, the boy clutched his boomerang to his chest and demanded to know what was going on while his pet made indiscriminate lunges at any and all adults.
“Down!”
Joe’s low command caught the terrier in midlunge. It dropped instantly onto its haunches, looking as uncertain as a cuddly, curly-haired puppy could.
“Let me take your jacket,” Dawn said in the sudden, blessed silence. “Then we’ll go into the kitchen and you can tell us every detail.”
“Mooooom.”
Tommy stretched the single syllable into a mile-long protest that stopped Dawn in her tracks. Despite the butterflies in her stomach, Callie had to smile at her friend’s goofy expression. The bubbly, irrepressible Dawn still wasn’t used to being a mother to anyone, much less a blue-eyed imp with the face of an angel and enough energy to propel the Hubble Space Telescope into extended orbit.
“Joe’s gotta show me how to make my boomerang come back,” Tommy insisted. “Or...” He assumed an air of patently false innocence. “I guess I could take it outside and figure out how it works myself.”
“Yeah,” Dawn snorted. “Like I’m going to turn you loose with an ancient hunting weapon.”
The Ellises’ home was in an older part of Bethesda, just over the Maryland border from Washington, DC. The neighborhood consisted of gracious brick and stone houses set on large, tree-shaded lots. Their backyard was enclosed in mellow brick and graced by a fanciful gazebo now dusted with a light snow. It was also overlooked by a half dozen plate-glass windows, all of which were at risk despite Tommy’s assurances that he would be real careful.
“We want to hear Joe’s news,” Dawn told the boy firmly. “Then we’ll all put on our jackets and go out with you.”
His lower lip jutted mutinously. “But...”
“Chill, dude.”
Always a man of few words, Joe got his point across without raising his voice. Dawn flashed him a rueful smile as she created a diversion for boy and dog.
“Why don’t you go into the den and get on the computer? You can pull up that website on the aerodynamics of boomerang flight your dad bookmarked for you. I bet Joe would like to see it after we talk.”
Reluctant but outnumbered, Tommy caved. “’Kay. Just don’t talk too long.”
Still clutching his prize, he scampered off with the pup hard on his heels. Joe shrugged out of his jacket and raised a brow as Dawn hooked the well-worn leather on the hall coatrack.
“Aerodynamics of flight, huh?”
“What can I say? Brian and his first wife were both engineers. It’s in Tommy’s genes.”
It was a measure of Dawn’s basic warmth and security in her two-month-old marriage that she didn’t want Tommy to forget his birth mother. Caroline Ellis had died of a brain tumor less than a year after her son’s birth. Tommy had no real memories of her except those captured in the exquisite digital book Dawn had made for him using all her skills as a graphic designer.
“C’mon. I’ll brew you some coffee while you tell us all.”
Dawn turned to lead the way down the hall, so she missed the casual hand Joe laid at the small of her friend’s back. Callie, on the other hand, felt the light touch right through her baggy purple sweater and cotton camisole.
When Joe called to say his plane had touched down, she’d almost dashed to the gatehouse to change, slap on some lip gloss and drag a brush through her mink-brown hair. She’d been thinking about taking Dawn’s advice and getting the shoulder-length mass shaped at one of DC’s elegant salons. With her life pretty much on hold these past weeks, though, she’d settled for just pulling it back in a ponytail or clipping
it up.
She made a futile effort to tuck back some of the wayward strands as she and Joe settled in high-backed stools at the kitchen counter and Dawn plugged a fresh, single-cup, dark arabica blend container into the coffeemaker. As hot water steamed through the cup, the coffee’s rich aroma competed with the sappy tang of the fresh-cut pine boughs on the kitchen table.
“Okay,” Dawn demanded when the super-fast appliance delivered a steaming mug. “Talk! We’ve all been speculating like crazy since you took off so suddenly for Sydney. Tell us who the creep is who’s been sending those emails and why.”
Joe swiveled to face Callie. “Do you remember acting as ombudsman for a girl named Rose Graham?”
Frowning, she flipped through a mental filing cabinet of the cases she’d worked in her six years with the Massachusetts Office of the Child Advocate. Some files were slender; others were fat and crammed with tragic details. Still others were truly horrific. As best Callie could recall, though, Rose Graham’s case file was one of the thinner ones.
“I remember the name.”
“She was five when her parents duked it out in divorce court.”
From the corner of her eye Callie saw an all-too-familiar mask slip over Dawn’s normally expressive face. Her friend had been a young teen when her parents’ increasingly bitter arguments led to an even more acrimonious divorce, with their only daughter caught smack in the middle. Kate and Callie had acted as buffers as much as possible, but sharing Dawn’s heartache had been a significant factor in Callie’s decision to pursue a master’s degree in family psychology and accept an appointment as a children’s advocate.
“The mother worked as a paralegal,” Joe prompted. “The father was a software developer at one of Boston’s ultra-high-tech medical research companies.”
The details seeped back. Callie could visualize Rose Graham—fair-haired, small for her age and very bright.
“I remember the case now.” Her forehead crinkled. “As best I recall, it was pretty open-and-shut. The child was well adjusted, doing fine in preschool and clearly adored by both parents. Judges are predisposed to leave a female child that young with the mother unless there’s evidence of gross neglect or abuse. But...” Her frown deepened. “I’m pretty sure I recommended generous visitation rights for the father.”
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