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materials waiting for you at your office. It has photos, copies of the original purchase agreements, authentification, and so on. I included copies of the appraisals for each of the paintings, and the secondary appraisals proving them to be counterfeit. I had it couriered over, just in case I caught you on the way and you decided not to join me this morning.”
    â€œAh. Okay.” Now what? He’d sent her all the info she needed to get started. “The other painting,” she began.
    â€œThe other paintings will have to wait until we can discuss it with Dav. By your rules, Agent.”
    Hoist with her own petard. Now that she’d made a big deal of not discussing it with him, she couldn’t ask. Wrap it up, Burton.
    â€œGood, well then I appreciate your assistance, Mr. Bromley. And I’ll look for the information when I get back.” She rose, and he did as well, shaking her offered hand.
    His hand was warm, and large. It engulfed hers, but not in a bad way, necessarily. He didn’t squeeze too hard, try to overwhelm her, or anything. He just pressed her hand, and released it. Slowly.
    â€œI’ll show you out,” he said.
    As they walked, he let his left hand rest at the small of her back, just for a moment to direct her down the hallway to the door. Nothing overly familiar, nothing she could slap him back for, but it was a seductive touch nevertheless. Just like the caress to her cheek, it was personal. Private.
    Sensual.
    All without being overt. She was ready to hop out of her skin by the time they got back to her car.
    â€œI’ll look forward to meeting with you again, when Dav can be with us and we can discuss the entire matter,” he said, holding her door open for her. “We want to cooperate in every way.”
    â€œThank you, Mr. Bromley, and please thank Mr. Gianikopolis for me as well.”
    He looked up, and froze. This time the smile was all business, and she felt the withdrawal like a slap. “Excuse me, a moment,” he murmured, easing around the open driver’s side door to speak to a man who’d come up behind her vehicle. The conversation was brief, but in another language, maybe Greek. The younger man looked uncomfortable, then nodded and turned on his heel and disappeared.
    â€œMy apologies, Agent. Please call me if I can answer any questions in the meantime. This is the office number here that reaches me directly.” He indicated one of the numbers printed on the card. It was all business now. The hint of warmth in his eyes was all that remained of the earlier flirtation.
    â€œThanks.” She took the card, pocketed it, and slipped into the car. She drove away, but when she looked in the rearview mirror he was still standing there, watching her until she was out of sight.

Chapter Three
    The package was waiting for her at the front desk as she came in: a copy of the list he’d given her; two eight-by-ten photos of the new paintings on the list, one a landscape, one a woman draped in a sheet looking sated and satisfied; and a copy of the appraisals and documentation on both paintings.
    Circled in red at the bottom of the list were the decorator’s name, address, and telephone numbers, including personal and professional e-mails and cell numbers. Ana grinned.
    â€œSo, Mr. Bromley, tell me how you really feel about this woman, eh?” She had to hand it to him; it was a good twist of the screws to have Ana call her from the Agency without any prior warning. People tended to get really wigged out when they got a call from the CIA.
    Ana had no sooner dumped her loaded briefcase on her desk when her phone rang.
    â€œNow what?” She fished it out and nearly groaned. Jen again.
    â€œOh. My. God. You are not going to believe this,” Jen said by way of greeting. “Jack just called me, and he’s taking me to the coolest place this Friday. We’re going to an opening at the Prometheus