Duke wasn’t certain what it was that he’d said that afternoon that had upset Caitlyn, but he was smart enough to know that he didn’t want it to happen again. Focusing his attention on her, he pulled out the stops on his best west-Texan charms and concentrated on showing her a good time. In the end, it was nothing that he did that distracted her. Well, aside from making the suggestion to tour the Doge’s Palace on St. Mark’s Square. As their boat pulled away from the dock that evening, carrying them towards the rendezvous point for their tour at their bus, he took a seat next to her and casually but deliberately rested his arm behind her shoulders. “What kind did you get this time?” he asked, nodding towards the meager little cup of gelato in her hand. “Apricot.” Caitlyn dug the tiny plastic spoon into the cold creamy treat and scooped some out, obediently depositing it in his opened mouth like a mother bird. “I was going to get lemon, but that woman in line be

When Dr. Alexander Maddox was diagnosed with a stage-four, inoperable brain tumor less than six months after a one-hundred percent normal annual physical, he’d wasted no time in contacting the US government. The man hadn’t been stupid, even if he had been secretive. He’d known immediately that the quiet but substantial grant that funded both his public research—the work he did in parallel with his brilliant but oblivious wife—and the private, top secret work he did for the US military was the reason. The pair had been under surveillance for years, of course. In fact, Duke’s bureau had provided the undercover waitstaff for the couple’s intimate and private wedding reception, and a team had kept track of them at a distance from the moment they’d married. Originally, there’d been two agents—one tailing Caitlyn, the other on Alex—but when the couple had wed, the staffing had been increased to four on rotating schedules. One each to guard them during the workday at their

Thrilled with his response, Caitlyn beamed. And equally as abruptly, her delight morphed into awkwardness. Suddenly, she didn’t know what she wanted to know about him. All of it—everything—but she couldn’t think of a single specific question to ask. Breaking the ice had been Alex’s forte. It wasn’t something she knew how to do. Her thoughts quickly derailed as, near the center of the room, their tour director stood, clanging a metal spoon against a ringing glass. “Excuse me, please. Excuse the interruption, please.” She lowered her voice as the conversation in the room faded and attention turned to her. “If you are a member of my tour—a member of Caroline’s tour—would you please meet me in the hotel’s lobby in fifteen minutes?” “What’da’ya suppose that’s about?” Duke whispered. Beside him, Caitlyn only shrugged. “There’s been a change of plans since our discussion after dinner last evening and I need to update the entire party,” Caroline conti

Caitlyn’s cellphone battery had less that ten percent left on it after four days off the charger, and even though they’d left Venice, she still had no service. With a frustrated sigh, she powered it off, then zipped it back inside the pocket of her carryon. “When we get to the hotel in Florence, would you mind if I used your phone to call my wireless carrier?” Next to her, Duke turned his head and stared at her, thoroughly perplexed. Though she knew it couldn’t be true, she couldn’t shake the impression that he was a tall, dark and handsome, walking, talking lie detector most of the time, and spending nearly every hour of her last four days with him had cemented it. It was subtle things—so subtle in fact that it hadn’t been until he’d said something about her not liking asparagus to the waiter at one of their meals without her every having mentioned it that she’d begun to think about it. To catalog all the exceptionally specific things he’d noticed about her.

“Oh!” Caitlyn huffed in frustration, extending Duke’s phone to him. “Here. There’s no point calling my carrier. My phone’s dead. I’ll have to charge it when I get to the room.”“Hmmph.” His brows lifted and he nodded in agreement. “Tends to happen when it hasn’t been used for four days. Not saying that’s your fault,” he tacked on hurriedly. “I’ll carry your bag. What room are you in?”“It has wheels. You don’t have to do that.”“Darlin’, I know what I do and don’t have to do. Me taking your luggage to your room isn’t debatable. It’s those manners you’re so fond of, right?” He gave her a pointed look, softening it with a heart-stopping smile that didn’t hide his personal agenda. “So what room are you in?”“Three twenty-five,” she inhaled. “But if you’re on a different floor—.”“I’m not.” He’d made damn sure he wasn’t the instant he’d checked in at the desk. Though the desk agent wouldn’t tell him which room she was in, he’d assured him they were on the same floor. “I think I’m across t