Terri Reed - Strictly Confidential

“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?

“E xquisite, 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.”