Strictly Confidential. Terri Reed
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Interest sparked in Sam’s eyes. “Keep me posted on anything you come up with.”
“I will. Enjoy the exhibition,” Colleen replied and then excused herself.
She walked into the main area of the museum and looked around in awe at all the glittering ladies and well-dressed gentlemen. She felt like a fake, all dressed up as though she was one of these people.
This wasn’t her. She liked khakis and loafers, not these black torture devices squeezing her feet.
“Hello, Colleen. Enjoying yourself?”
She turned toward the older woman who had stepped up beside her. “Lidia, hello. I just arrived. This is very impressive.”
Lidia Vance, Mayor Maxwell Vance’s wife, nodded in agreement. She wore a stunning red two-piece outfit that accentuated her olive skin and dark eyes. Italian by birth, Lidia had come to this country as Max’s young bride back in the sixties. “I wish Max were here to see this.”
“How is the mayor doing?”
Max Vance had been shot, but luckily not killed. His attacker was still at large.
Colleen had a hard time fitting Alessandro into the role of assassin. He was more the playboy type, not one to dirty his hands. But—impressions could be deceiving.
There was no mistaking he held an appeal that few women—except herself, of course—could resist. Like a movie star come to visit in their small community, he attracted attention.
Her sources had informed her that Donato had been hanging around the museum lately. He’d sat next to Dahlia Sainsbury, the museum’s curator, at the Valentine’s Day dinner. Not that Colleen had paid much attention or had an emotional reaction to the pair. It hadn’t mattered to her in the least. But now…what connection did they have?
“Max is improving every day. The doctor says he’ll be able to come home soon to recuperate.”
Refocusing on the conversation, Colleen said, “That’s wonderful. I’m sure Dad will be happy to hear that.” Frank Montgomery and Maxwell Vance were lifelong friends and godparents to each other’s eldest children.
Lidia smiled. “Tell your father hello for me. I know Max would welcome another visit.”
“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?
TWO
“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