About a month ago, Harry made a visit to the Rawlings estate. He had to see Ms. London in person. He fully monitored every one of her reactions. The first came when Harry introduced himself as Harry Baldwin—Claire’s ex-boyfriend and friend of John and Emily Vandersol. London appeared genuinely surprised to learn Claire had dated anyone else while in California. She offered her condolences regarding Claire’s disappearance. She also promised to contact him or the Vandersols if she learned anything. To make the conversation more believable, Harry mentioned Emily and how upset she was about her sister, especially with her emotions running high, due to her recent pregnancy.
Never once during the conversation did Harry get the feeling she knew of Claire’s location or that she knew anything about him. That reaction begged the question, why would Catherine London order an attack on him or threaten his family? Obviously, the person who did it knew him—knew he was FBI—and knew about Ilona and Jillian. Even though the deputy director had reassigned Harry, he knew that he couldn’t let go of this particular piece of the puzzle. One day, he’d learn who threatened his family, his life, and his investigation.
Liz stirred, murmuring as she rubbed her cheek against his pillow. Her blonde hair and soft skin pulled him closer. He wanted to be honest with her, he really did; nonetheless, it wouldn’t do either one of them any good for her to know that he still thought about Claire, from time to time. Sometimes when he’s alone he remembered what it was like to be with her. It wasn’t just the sex. He thought about how scared she was when she first moved to Palo Alto. Every time he remembered her buying her first cell phone, a smile came to his lips. He didn’t mean for it to happen, but he felt his cheeks raise. When he first met Claire, she was like a frightened fawn exploring the world on her own. He was drawn in by a need to protect her from all the dangers—including Anthony Rawlings. Even before Harry knew the details, he knew that she’d been hurt. Looking into her emerald eyes, he knew that it was something he didn’t want her to experience again.
Harry cared about Liz. He could even see spending the rest of his life with her. She was different than Claire—so strong and independent. How many women would take him back after what he’d done? Granted she gave him hell about it—he deserved it. Harry admired her strength and strong will. With an appreciative smile, he knew he also admired her ingenuity. Never once did she blow his cover with Claire or the Vandersols, yet her jealousy played a significant role in his and Claire’s first big fight. When Amber received the call—at the last minute—about Rawlings being at the gala, Harry knew Liz had withheld the information on purpose. He even told Amber.
Watching her sleep peacefully, Harry moved her soft blonde hair away from her neck. Damn, he loved that neck. Fighting the urge to wake her, he smiled.
There was no doubt that he was pissed during the night of the gala. He was pissed at Liz and at Claire; however, now Harry had to give Liz an A for effort. She took the cards she’d been dealt and played them—she played them very well.
“Why are you smiling?” Liz asked as her eyes opened.
“I was just thinking about that sexy neck of yours.” His fingers went to her collarbone and traced a winding path over her neck and down to her breast.
Liz reached for his hand. Momentarily, their palms touched and their fingers intertwined. “Harry?”
“Hmm?”
“One more question, and then I’ll drop it—I promise.”
He exhaled and laid his head on his pillow. “Go ahead.”
“How do I know that if you run into her in the future that you won’t still have feelings?”
“I don’t know. Some couples have this thing called trust. I realize I’m the one who needs to earn it back”—He lifted his head and allowed his lips to lightly trail over her neck. Breathlessly he whispered—“I will.”
“In Venice?”
Harry lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. “In Venice—what?”
“Did you want to be with her again? Did you sleep together—or anything?”
“No!” Harry pulled the covers back and abruptly left the bed. “Why are you on this kick? No! She was planning on meeting up with Rawlings.” Pacing nude by the bed, Harry lifted his arms. “I screwed up. All I can say is—I’m sorry.”
Liz moved to her knees and crawled to the edge of the bed. With her face lifted, she cooed, “I believe you. I can tell you’re upset. I’m sorry. It’s just that after I saw that picture of the two of you holding hands—well, I guess I needed to know.”
“You saw the picture? How?”
“Amber showed it to me.” She lifted herself on her knees, kissed his lips, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her breasts against his hard chest. “I believe you. If you say it’s over—it’s over.” She moved slightly away to look into his eyes. “Oh, please don’t tell Amber that you know I saw the picture. She just wanted me to be sure that I knew everything—so that I could make an informed decision.”