Protecting the Innocent

“No.” Roman spoke with a cold finality. He didn’t want Neville trotting down this path.

“Well, I certainly hope Peter’s greed hasn’t led to unfortunate circumstances.”

“Like what?” Roman said. “Do you think he was hurt? Murdered?”

“And why would you draw that conclusion?”

“Because I’m one hell of a fatalist.” Roman started across the sand to the stairs, then turned and jogged backward. “Why did it occur to you that Peter might be selling Legate secrets?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Neville sneered. “We have a leak.”

Roman turned away and jogged toward the stairway that climbed the steep cliff. He hoped with all his heart that nothing bad had happened to Peter Bunch. Had he been selling secrets? Doubtful. And he couldn’t possibly be the leak. That honor belonged to Roman alone. He inhaled a deep breath and took the stairs two at a time.

ON HER FOURTH DAY at Legate, Anya had a bad case of the fidgets. While doing her translating work in a library cubicle on the first floor of the mansion, she checked her wristwatch dozens of times, marking the passage of each separate minute.

Today was Friday. Tonight was her dinner with Roman. At two in the afternoon, her part-time work was over, and she strolled back to the cottage with nowhere else to go and nothing else to do. Not tired enough for a nap. Not energetic enough to start a project. As she sorted through the clothing in her closet, deciding what to wear, she felt a rising sense of anticipation. “I haven’t gone anywhere in four days.” As soon as the words left her lips, she frowned. Talking to herself? Not a good sign.

At four-thirty, Charlie burst through the front door. “Mommy, do you know what a polymer is? A whole bunch of molecules. That’s chemistry.”

“Right,” she said.

“We made a really stinky polymer today. Next week, we’re going to build rockets and send stink bombs to Mars.”

She leaned back in the rocking chair in the front room and listened to her son talk. His bubbling conversation gladdened her heart. She was pleased that Charlie wanted to share everything with her. Tomorrow was Saturday, and she’d have him all to herself. “Hey, sweetpea,” she interrupted.

“Jeez, Mom. Don’t call me that.”

“We’re going to Roman’s house for dinner. He’ll be picking us up in about half an hour. You ought to wash up before we go.”

“Okay.”

No sooner had he hiked up the staircase than there was a knock at the door. Roman was early. Already here.

When she opened the door, she stared for a moment. Roman really was gorgeous, much too sexy for his own good. His black hair was slightly mussed. His tawny-brown eyes shone with a warm luster, and his grin hinted at seduction. He wore a pin-striped charcoal suit with no necktie. The collar of his white shirt was open. In his hand he held a simple bouquet of white daisies. “For you.”

“But we’re going to your house,” she said. “I should be the one bringing a gift.”

“Having you there is gift enough,” he said.

She recognized his tone. “That’s your flirting voice. I remember when we were walking with Charlie’s pony and you showed me how you knocked women off their feet.”

“And?”

“Stop it,” she ordered.

“Force of habit,” he said. “When I saw you standing there in that little black dress, looking so beautiful, I forgot this wasn’t a date.”

“I don’t have much of a selection on clothes. Most of my stuff is back in Denver.” Since she hadn’t wanted to leave Charlie here alone, her mother had returned to Denver to arrange for the move. Anya shrugged. “It was either the black dress or jeans.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “You look perfect.”

“Thank you.” She enjoyed his compliments. Being around Roman reminded her that she was still a woman. She took the daisies and held the door wider so he could come inside. “And thank you for the flowers.”

Charlie clattered down the stairs and leaped at Roman. “Helicopter,” he demanded.

“Not indoors.” But Roman lifted him up high. “Touch the ceiling, Charlie.”

“Got it. We’re going to your house.”

“That’s right.” Roman set him down on the floor. “I’ve got something for you.”

He reached into his pocket and produced a rectangular, red lacquered box. “This is a Chinese puzzle box. You have to figure out the puzzle to get it open.”

Anya returned to the front room after putting the daisies in a vase.

“Look, Mom!” Charlie held up the box. “It’s from China.”

“Chinatown,” Roman corrected. “Just across the bay.”

“We’ll have to go there,” Anya said. “As soon as my car gets here from Denver, we can take all kinds of trips.”

“To the moon?” Charlie asked.

“Why not?” She laughed. “The moon and beyond.”

They slipped into coats and went out the door, heading along the path to the parking lot. Anya felt like singing. She wasn’t accustomed to being so sequestered. “It feels like I’m escaping the monastery.”

“Legate has that effect,” Roman said. “That’s why I don’t choose to live here.”

“I can’t imagine you as a monk. You’re not exactly the sackcloth-and-ashes type.”

“Plus I hate the haircut.”

He opened the car door for her, and she slipped inside. A buttery leather interior wrapped around her. There were more dials on the dashboard than in a small aircraft. Nice car! But what else would she expect from Roman? He demanded the best of everything. Tailored clothes. Fine wine. Even his sneakers were custom-made. She could hardly imagine what his bay-front house looked like.

Anya turned to check on Charlie in the back seat. “Buckle up, young man.”

“I’m going to solve this puzzle now,” he informed her.

“Don’t be so sure,” Roman said as he closed his car door and plugged his key into the ignition. “Some people take days to solve a puzzle box.”

“Not me,” Charlie said.

“You think you’re that smart?” Roman teased.

“For sure. Neville says I’m a genius.”

“Neville?” Anya craned her neck to look at her son. “When did you talk to him?”