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    Slowly he turned and headed back down the hall. In the morning her father, Mikhail, would arrive, and he could deal with this impetuous daughter. Sergei’s job was to protect her, not to babysit.
    The big man reached the dining room where the long table was set for two. His stomach gnawed with hunger as he beheld the silver dishes, steaming with something fragrantly delicious. He eased himself into the chair made specifically for his girth and waited. Hopefully she would conclude her phone conversation quickly and come to dinner, but where Natalia was concerned, one never quite knew what would happen.
    _____
    “That was a fabulous dinner, Miles,” murmured Darby holding his hand as they walked down Central Park West. Knowing her fondness for French cuisine, he’d taken her to a small but bustling bistro tucked a few blocks from Broadway. “Brings back such good memories of my mother’s efforts to master every dish in Julia Child’s cookbooks.”
    He chuckled. “I was hoping you’d like it, love. There are so many options for fabulous food in this city. I had a very difficult time deciding where we should go. Do you think Jada would have approved?”
    “Yes, I believe she and my father would have enjoyed themselves there.” Darby felt a quick stab of regret at having lost her parents at such an early age. They hadn’t had many opportunities to visit restaurants other than the few on the small island of Hurricane Harbor, Maine, where Darby had grown up. Their death in a sailing accident when Darby was thirteen had seen to that.
    The spring air had turned chilly and the trees lining the edge of the park shook in the wind. Darby thrust her hand—the one that wasn’t holding on to Miles—deep into the pocket of her trench coat.
    “Here we are, then.” Miles stopped in front of an opulent limestone building which covered the whole block. Grinning, he nodded at the heavy front door. “Right this way to my Big Apple flat.” He reached for the door and a uniformed doorman quickly appeared.
    “Let me get that for you, Mr. Porter.” The man ushered them in and grabbed Darby’s small suitcase at the same time.
    “Thank you, George.” In a low voice he said to Darby, “I feel like a real New Yorker. I actually know both the night and day doormen.”
    Darby smiled appreciatively as she entered the lobby, her feet tapping on the polished marble floors. Crystal chandeliers spilled soft light onto an enormous flower arrangement of spring blooms. “It’s lovely—a new building with old world charm.”
    “Custom English oak paneling,” grinned Miles, gesturing toward the walls. “And a staff of forty. Makes me feel right at home.”
    “I’m sure.” Darby elbowed the tall Brit good-naturedly. “You’re from the landed gentry, I suppose?”
    “You’ll just have to take a trip with me at some point and find out.”
    “Oh, so that’s how it works. You know everything about my upbringing, while yours remains shrouded in mystery.”
    “I’ve visited your island and found it perfectly charming. Now you need to fly across the pond and visit mine.” He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Shall we save the grand tour of this building for another time?”
    “Yes. I’m ready to see Professor Burrows’s pad, I think.”
    “Follow me.” Miles steered Darby to a sleek elevator and pushed the button for the ninth floor. “Charlie’s place is stunning, as you’ll see, but the condominiums on the higher floors are supposedly magnificent. I’m told there are several full-floor penthouses that exceed six thousand square feet.”
    “I’m impressed.” Darby knew—as did anyone who sold real estate—that there were some of the most expensive and unique properties in Manhattan, covering everything from coveted pre-war mansions, to spacious lofts, to Donald Trump’s fabulous towers. She also knew that this building, covering a full city block and across from the Park, was one of the more