The Rome Affair

by Addison Fox

  He needed to move. Needed to take action.

  And it was only when he saw the flash of movement near the door that he took it. Lifting his hands against the bonds at his wrists, he planted both feet and leaped.

  Kensington came through the door, her gun up, and Pryce used the moment of confusion to aid Jack in the attack on Keene. The sudden motion of all three of them was enough to disorient Holden, but it was the heavy smack of Kensington’s gun at his wrist that had the man dropping his own gun.

  Pryce leaped on his son the moment the man was down, slamming his fist into Keene’s jaw. The loud echo of “No!” filled the space as Holden screamed and put his hands up, but before his father could hit him once more, Jack moved between the two men.

  His bound ankles hobbled his motion, but he kept his balance with the chair, holding onto the arms for support. He used the chair as a cage, pushing Pryce out of the way as he lowered the legs over Keene’s struggling form.

  “Jack!”

  Kensington screamed his name, then dropped to her knees to drag at the tape around his ankles.

  “Get up.”

  She ignored him, dragging a knife from her boot and slashing at his pants. “Hold still.”

  “Would you get up?” He kept one arm heavily pressed to the top of the chair and with the other he dragged at her coat. “Please come here.”

  He felt his legs come loose and then she stood, a satisfied smile on her face. Before he could pull her close, Dante and several of his men swarmed the room, their guns drawn as two of the officers raced toward them.

  In moments they had Holden Keene in cuffs and seated against a wall with two guards for company.

  Satisfied the immediate threat had passed, Jack wrapped his arms around Kensington and dragged her outside into the fresh, cool air.

  “How’d you know where to find me?”

  She smiled up at him, love shining in that crystal-blue gaze. “Intuition.”

  “While I appreciate intuition as much as the next guy, how’d you really find me?”

  “I’m telling you. Intuition. In a roundabout sort of way. It was Hubert who figured out this farm was where Keene took you, but it was my intuition that told me I needed to bring Hubert with me. He wasn’t behind all this.”

  “No, he never was. And since Tuscany, your instincts kept telling you it wasn’t him.”

  “Yes, well, my instincts aren’t infallible. I should have used them last ni—”

  He crushed his mouth to hers, silencing her. He pushed everything he wanted to say into the kiss, willing her to understand how much he cared for her.

  How much he loved her.

  And how desperately he wanted to make a life with her.

  “We’ll forget about last night. And all the misunderstanding that came before. I want to share my life with you. And I want to make a life with you. And as part of that, I want to share who I am and what made me.”

  “I want to do the same.”

  “You pulled me out of the shadows, Kensington Steele. You’ve showed me that everything I’ve worked to be was time well spent. Now I’m going to enjoy all that hard work with the woman I love.”

  “I love you, too.”

  As his lips met hers once more in the cool December air, Jack knew he’d found his future.

  His partner.

  His forever.

  Epilogue

  “Grandfather, what are you about tonight? I already put out the champagne in buckets but we’ve still got an hour to go until midnight.”

  “Preparations, my girl. Preparations.”

  Kensington shook her head as she followed her grandfather down the hall of her apartment. His movements had a decided vigor she hadn’t seen in a while and she wondered how many cookies he’d sneaked that day to put him on such a high.

  Jack’s smile was broad when she walked back into the living room, and she took a moment to take in her family. She and Jack had decided to spend Christmas in Seattle with his sisters and their families and the New Year in New York. And come January, they were packing his apartment in Chicago to move him here.

  As she looked around at her loved ones, she knew there was nowhere else she’d rather be to ring in a brand-new year.

  “Is that the edge of panic in your eyes, darling?” Jack moved up to press a kiss against her ear.

  “My grandfather’s very concerned about the champagne for some reason.”

  “It is New Year’s.”

  “Yes, it is.” She smiled up at him, pressing her lips to his.

  The past few weeks had passed in a blur with wrapping up the Rome job and planning for the holidays. Keene had ultimately confessed to everything the Italian police had suspected and some additional crimes the Tierra Kimber government would be prosecuting him for.

  The diamond shipment Keene had earmarked for terrorists was intercepted in Tuscany, the complaint filed by the contessa going a long way toward drawing an eye to Keene’s actions. Although she’d simply had a bee in her bonnet that Castello di Carte was getting out of complying with some inspections, her complaints had ultimately been the catalyst to stopping the diamonds from making it into the wrong hands.

  From the reports from Dante, the ambassador had already made inroads smoothing the contessa’s ruffled feathers and rumor had it they were spending the holidays at Castello di Carte.

  “You look a million miles away.”

  She pulled her gaze from her family, assembled around the room, and gave him her full attention. “I was just thinking about love. The funny places it finds you.”

  “It found us.”

  “It most certainly did.”

  “Which is why I feel the need to make it official.”

  Whatever she was about to say stuck in her throat as Jack dropped to a knee in the center of her living room.

  The jovial conversation stopped as all eyes turned toward her and Jack. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew what it meant, but try as she might, she couldn’t seem to get a handle on anything.

  Why was he on his knees?

  And what was in his hands?

  And what was that he was saying?

  “Kensington Steele, until you came into my life, I was only half living it. I made my work my life and I now understand how much I missed out on. But you changed that. You made it brighter. More vivid. And a hell of a lot more interesting.”

  His hands trembled as he fumbled with the opening to the box in his hand, and then he had it open and the ring from the jewelry store winked from where it sat nestled in velvet. “Jack!”

  “This was yours the moment I put it on your hand. Please tell me you’ll wear it every day and you’ll make a life with me. I love you. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes!”

  She pulled on his shoulders, dragging him up and into her arms. “Yes. I’ll marry you. And make a life with you. And build all that’s still to come because I love you.”

  The loud shouts of her family surrounded her as she leaned into Jack for a kiss that sealed their future. Then she heard the pop of a cork and her grandfather’s satisfied harrumph.

  “About time, Penelope. Took the boy so damn long tonight I thought it would be next year.”

  “Hush, Alex. He did it in his own time.”

  Kensington laughed as she heard her grandmother’s quick and ready retort and envisioned the day she’d hush Jack when their own grandchild got engaged.

  Until then, she was going to do just as Jack had said. She’d live her life. Day by day, year by year.

  And she’d have Jack Andrews at her side for every moment of it.

  * * * * *

  There’s one more single Steele—

  Come back to discover Liam’s match!

  Don’t
miss THE MANHATTAN ENCOUNTER

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE BURDEN OF DESIRE by Natalie Charles.

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Romantic Suspense title.

  You want sparks to fly! Harlequin Romantic Suspense stories deliver, with strong and adventurous women, brave and powerful men and the life-and-death situations that bring them together.

  Enjoy four new stories from Harlequin Romantic Suspense every month!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  Chapter 1

  Sally Dawson sat in her car and waited for disaster. A meteor, perhaps, or a freak bolt of lightning that would knock out power to the city. Whatever happened, it would have to be significant enough to distract her boss from the morning meeting he’d called with her. In her experience, morning meetings with Jack Reynolds were never called to convey good news.

  She smoothed a light gloss across her lips, puckered at her reflection in the rearview mirror and took a deep, calming breath. Her father had a term for what she was about to experience: a Day, with a capital D, to indicate the gravity. How tragic that she’d been too upset about this meeting to notice her surroundings until this moment. The sky was the radiant, cloudless blue that seemed unique to early autumn, and the air was clean. She heaved a sigh. The butterflies still flittered against her stomach, but she was already running late. Time to face the Day.

  She tapped her hip against the door of the sporty blue BMW to shut it, balancing the tray of coffees in one hand and her briefcase in the other. A few members of the defense counsel bar were gathered along the steps to the courthouse, eyeing her and whispering to themselves. Sally was well aware of the rumors that preceded her. She was a spoiled trust-fund baby, petulant and dramatic. She could be brash and short-tempered. Headstrong. Stubborn. She worked for fun and didn’t take it seriously.

  Sally had heard it all before, and she’d stopped caring a long time ago. The gossip was as unfair as it was immutable. Besides, people could say what they wanted about her bank account or her temper. She was equally aware of her reputation for being an impeccably dressed fashion symbol, and there was some comfort in that. There was also some comfort in winning difficult cases and rising to the top of her department. In her experience, nothing shut up the naysayers like a show of competence.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said with a knowing smile as she passed the gossipers. Her quirks had never bothered her. She liked who she was just fine.

  The click of Sally’s heels up the marble steps resounded like a battle march as she walked into the courthouse. She’d labored for too long over her wardrobe that morning, carefully considering each fabric for optimal effect, but some decisions could not be rushed. She’d finally settled on a gray Valentino dress with a plunging neckline, black Louboutin pumps and a Ferragamo handbag. Every perfect stitch of her clothing bolstered her confidence, the kind of confidence that comes with polish and excellent tailoring. She was unstoppable, a one-woman lawyering machine. These were her fatigues, and this was war.

  Well, maybe not exactly war. A business meeting first thing in the morning didn’t feel too far off from it, though. Jack Reynolds hadn’t said much in his email, only that he’d seen her time sheets, and he was concerned about the long nights she’d been pulling while preparing for the Kruger murder trial. It’s time that we discuss getting some help for you, he’d written. Someone who can sit second chair.

  She would set Jack straight easily enough. She did not need a partner on the Kruger case. She’d managed to get along without one for this long, and jury selection was only days away. To bring on another attorney, catch him or her up to speed— Was Jack out to sabotage her performance? To throw a wrench in her perfectly oiled machine? No, she couldn’t have that. Sally flew solo; she didn’t need someone else cluttering up her cockpit, and the sooner her supervisor accepted this fact, the easier her life would be.

  She frowned at her watch. It wouldn’t help her cause that she was ten minutes late as a result of the wardrobe dilemma. She supposed she could blame the shoes, which forced her to calculate each and every step lest she tumble and break something. Black leather peep-toe pumps with an ankle strap weren’t practical in Connecticut’s autumn, but since when was fashion about pragmatism? She could concede the three-inch heels were high, but they were also beautiful.

  Sally glanced down at her feet and changed her mind. The shoes were divine. She would concede nothing. If she was lucky, Jack was running late, too.

  She balanced the coffee tray and pressed her hip against the heavy metal door that led to the state’s attorney’s office. “Morning, Delia.” She beamed as she swept up to Reception and planted a coffee on the desk. “This is for your troubles. I’ll no doubt add to them today.”

  “Bless you.” Delia swiped a finger across her temple to tuck a stray hair behind one ear. Sally had purchased hair dye for her once during a lunch break. Shade #47, glossy chestnut. “Jack’s waiting for you in his office.”

  He wasn’t late. Shoot. Sally beamed a smile that she didn’t exactly feel. “Great, thanks!”

  She continued down the hall, taking a breath when she saw that Jack’s door was open. Sally always came prepared, and today was no different. She had a plan. She would pretend to listen to his concerns, but she’d already decided that to the extent Jack was feeling worried about her workload, she was feeling equally resistant to working with another attorney. This was why she’d spent last night preparing a compelling speech that would culminate when she peered out the window, turned her face to receive the best of the morning light and declared in a tone that conveyed both struggle with and acceptance of her circumstances, “The thing is, Jack, I just don’t play well with others.”

  As a backup plan, she’d brought him a coffee. Another deep breath. This would work.

  She rapped gently on the door, before entering and saying brightly, “Sorry I’m late. You wanted to see me?”

  But that’s as far as she got. Jack had a guest. So much for blaming her shoes. So much for finding her best light in that lousy excuse for a window, and dramatizing memorized confessions. The skin on her arms prickled. She suddenly didn’t care if Jack Reynolds chewed her out publicly and called her a lousy attorney on the record. She didn’t care if her beautiful, expensive new shoes spontaneously combusted. All she cared about was the man talking to Jack. The man she’d once lived to hate.

  Ben McNamara. The devil himself.

  “Hey, Sally.” Jack beamed as he gestured to the man. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to introduce you two.”

  Ben gave her a cocky smile that showed the top row of his perfectly straight white teeth. “Hello, Sally.”

  He extended his hand, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from his blue eyes. Those familiar cobalt-blue eyes behind those thin silver frames. Even now the anger bubbled in her gut. Just what did he think he was doing here? Here, on her territory. She made a point of looking at his hand before setting the coffee tray on Jack’s desk and folding both her arms across her chest. Ben withdrew his hand and brought it down to his side. “Suit yourself,” he said.

  Jack looked back and forth between them. “You know each other already?”

  “Oh, we’ve met.” The tone of her voice was blistering. “Hello, Ben. It’s been a long time.” And yet somehow not quite long enough.

  He was smiling at her as if they were old friends, which they were not. She’d like to pretend that they didn’t know each other at all. They had no history worth revisiting, just a series of progressively bad choices. Graduating from law school with someone didn’t make you friends. She hadn’t so much as thought of Ben in years n
ow. And he had to show up now of all days, just as she was preparing for trial. He had to dampen her trial buzz. Damn him.

  “We went to Columbia together,” Ben explained to Jack. “I remember Sally. She was second in our class.”

  Ben arched his eyebrow at her, and Sally’s cheeks burned with rage. She’d been second, and in some false display of humility, Ben had neglected to mention that he’d been first. “Oh, Ben. No one cares about law school rankings,” she said through a tight smile.

  “I couldn’t agree more, Sal,” he said easily, giving her a little wink. “Nothing’s more important than experience.”

  No doubt he believed his experience, whatever it was, trumped hers. He was still smug and unbearable. Good to know that some things really never changed. Bastard.

  He looked...all right, she supposed. Healthy. That was good, that fate didn’t smite him with some awful disease, like leprosy or rabies. It wasn’t as if she wished rabies on him. Now, maybe she could’ve gotten behind a good case of poison ivy—one that kept him up for a night or two. That would only be karma. But rabies? Too far. So it was good that he wasn’t foaming at the mouth and that he looked normal. Passably attractive.

  She rubbed at her suddenly pounding temple. Maybe “passably attractive” was an understatement. He looked hot, as if he’d just wandered off a billboard advertising that dark gray designer suit he was wearing. She could admire his bone structure, the sharp angles on his jaw complimenting an aquiline nose. His olive skin had darkened over an apparently leisurely summer, bringing attention to his deep blue eyes. He looked clean and showered and still raging with whatever pheromones he exuded that made women weak-kneed around him.

  Other women, not her. His pheromones repelled her. Just the sight of him spiked her blood pressure and made her want to do rash things, like throw something hard through something glass to distract him long enough so that she could run away. And now he was watching her, waiting for some kind of response.