Forbidden Kiss by Shannon Leigh Page B

Casale?” The sudden question so near threw Jule off guard and she jerked away from the man in the slate gray linen suit.
    Get a grip, girl. Nobody here knows you’re running.
    Dark colored eyes set beneath bold brows inspected Jule as though she were a painting in a gallery. Professional and thorough.
    Her ride.
    She offered a weak smile. “Mr. Rossi?”
    “Si.”
    She breathed a sigh of relief. Rossi was an independent art consultant to both museums and collectors, specializing in collections from the early Renaissance. If the paintings resided in Verona, Rossi would know.
    “Sorry if I seem jumpy. Long flight.”
    “Of course. Please.” He held his hand out for her carry-on bag.
    “Thanks. I got it.”
    “ Approvazione . Okay.”
    Rossi walked her out of the baggage claim and into the early morning sun. A light wind ruffled her hair, bringing with it the unmistakable odor of diesel.
    “I have a car waiting.” He gestured to a sleek Mercedes parked in the front of a long line of automobiles. Seeing the car made her anxious to get on with what she’d came here for.
    To find the paintings before Montgomery did.
    She didn’t want to seem rude and ungrateful for Rossi’s hospitality, especially since she’d sprung this visit on him with less than twenty-four hours notice. But she just couldn’t wait. “Mr. Rossi, I hoped we could get right to the paintings.”
    He regarded her over the top of the Mercedes for several seconds. Jule couldn’t read a thing in his expression, as he’d put on mirrored sunglasses.
    Nodding curtly, Rossi slipped out of sight and into the driver’s seat. Jule followed suit.
    Once they buckled in, he pulled away from the curb and eased into traffic. “You are not the only investigator to come to Verona this week. Is something going on in America that would prompt such interest in Veronese art?”
    Jule’s heart sank into her feet. “How many other people have contacted you with a similar request?”
    “One other.” Rossi cast a quick look in her direction before returning his gaze to the road. “You know this other person?”
    She swallowed the disappointment that burned like bile in her throat. “Probably. Rom Montgomery?”
    Rossi shook his head. “No. Montecchi.”
    “Is Montecchi American?”
    “No. A native.”
    Didn’t sound like Montgomery. But if she believed Pio, and she did not want to, Rom went by many names.
    “May I ask what he wanted?”
    Rossi shrugged his shoulders. “The same as you. Looking for other paintings by the same artist.”
    And? “What did you tell him?”
    “What I told you, Ms. Casale. There is much art here in the city. Many residences, public buildings, churches. I have my people looking at the catalogs and the items we’ve studied in detail, but until they finish, I won’t know.”
    Jule forced her body to remain still in the seat. She wanted to grab Rossi’s lapels and demand he hurry up. If the other person wasn’t Rom, then someone else was onto her secret.
    Antagonizing her contact wouldn’t help matters. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rossi. How long will the process take?”
    He paused before answering. “A week maybe. Perhaps less.”
    A week! Could she wait an entire week? Seven days? 168 hours?
    Of course she could.
    Breathing deeply, Jule turned in her seat to face Rossi. “What can I do to help?”
    …
    Rom heard her determined step on the uneven brick even before he saw her face. He’d heard it in his sleep these last few nights, his mind acknowledging what his consciousness would not. That his present was catching up to him.
    “I wondered when you might find me,” he said, still facing away from her approach, looking down the shaded tunnel of overgrown grapevines to the arched wooden door of the abandoned monastery.
    He heard her hesitate at the threshold. Rom turned to face Jule. She hovered just inside the gate, her hand gripping the open door for balance.
    She opened her mouth, but words didn’t sound. Rom read all the