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before turning her full attention to Max Longotti. “Venus Messina.”
    The old man, with a thick head of brilliant white hair and piercing gray eyes, met her unflinching stare. “Messina. I see. How old are you, Ms. Messina?”
    “That’s a nice way to start a conversation with a woman,” she tossed off, still annoyed at being manipulated. “You gonna ask me my bra size next?”
    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Leo wince, then draw his brow into a frown. He’d warned her to be discreet.
    Not a good start. Especially since if it weren’t for her really keen sense of hearing, she would have been caught making out with the hired help three minutes ago.
    “I’m not so old that I can’t make a fair guess at that,” the old gentleman said, his tone droll and amused.
    Venus chuckled. Score one for Grandpa.
    Beside Leo, Troy watched silently. He leaned casually against the balcony railing, arms crossed in front of his chest, absorbing every word they said. The bright sunlight cast bits of gold on his dark brown hair, and she was again struck by the sheer handsomeness of the man. Amazing to look at, and hands down the best kisser she’d ever known. Her lips and tongue still tingled.
    As if he read her thoughts, he met her eye and smiled slightly. We have a secret, don’t we? his smile seemed to say.
    She wondered what he must think of this whole thing. It seemed like science fiction even to her.
    “Now,” Max Longotti continued softly, “will you please tell me exactly when you were born, young lady?”
    She rattled off her birth date, hating to admit being almost thirty in front of Troy. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. Before that unreal kiss, she’d decided he was off-limits. And after it, well, he’d still be off-limits…after she got at least one more kiss from the man…or two…or…
    Max nodded. “And you say your father was actually my son?”
    “I didn’t say jack,” she retorted, dragging her attention away from the hottie with the intense look on his face. “Since I never laid eyes on my father, he coulda been Jimmy Hoffa for all I know.” She gestured toward Leo. “But your nephew here seems to think it’s possible.”
    Leo’s subsequent frown would have scared small children.
    “Maybe I should excuse myself,” Troy finally said. “This appears to be a family matter.”
    “Yes,” Leo began.
    “No,” Max Longotti insisted. “An outsider’s viewpoint might be useful here.” He turned back to Venus. “I know what my nephew thinks. I want to know what you think, Ms. Messina.”
    Sensing her answer was very important to the man, who suddenly appeared a little less strong and sure than he had at first, she admitted, “I suppose it’s possible . Stranger things have happened. I mean, who’d have ever thought fat-free potato chips would actually not taste like cardboard?”
    She saw Troy’s lips curve slightly.
    “But you personally don’t think it’s true. You don’t believe my nephew’s claims,” the old man prodded.
    Leo touched his uncle’s arm. “Max, the evidence…”
    Max ignored him. “What happened to your mother?”
    “She died when I was eight.”
    “Then who raised you?”
    “I was lucky enough to be placed in a really good foster home. My foster mother raised me until I left home at eighteen.”
    “Your mother had no family?”
    Venus shrugged. “None who wanted me .”
    She didn’t glance at Troy, not wanting to see a look of pity on his face. She’d never pitied herself, and she’d damn sure never wanted it from anybody else. Especially not a man with whom she was in serious lust.
    “So, judging by your birth date, it is very likely you were conceived during the weeks my son spent in New York. If he was, indeed, your father, your parents’ relationship would have to have been a very…brief one.”
    She tensed, waiting for him to make one crack about her mother’s morals. Venus might not know much about her biological father, but