The Count's Christmas Baby. Rebecca Winters

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      He shook his head. “No. There’s only one.”

      “You mean you?”

      “That’s right.”

      “Perhaps instead of Genova, you meant Geneva in Switzerland, Signorina,” the chief inserted. “Many Americans become confused by the two similar spellings.”

      She frowned. “Possibly I misunderstood. Mr. Degenoli’s in shipping.”

      “So are others on Lake Geneva.”

      “But he’s Italian.”

      “Thousands of Italians live in Switzerland.”

      “Yes. I know.” Maybe because of the differences in pronunciation, she’d gotten the name of the city wrong. How odd. All this time … “Thank you for the suggestion.” She looked at Mr. Degenoli. “I’m so sorry you’ve made this trip to the police station for nothing. I’ve put both of you out. Please forgive me.”

      “Perhaps if you gave me a clearer description of him?”

      “Well, he’d probably be in his sixties. I’m not sure. I feel terrible about this. Thank you for coming here on such short notice.” She glanced at Chief Coretti. “Please excuse me for taking up your time. You’ve been very kind. I’ll leave now so you can get on with your work.”

      At her comment, he squinted at her. “You sounded desperate when you came to me, Signorina. Therefore I will leave you to get better acquainted with this gentleman you’ve inconvenienced, and the two of you can discuss … business.”

      Business? “What on earth do you mean?”

      “Surely you’re not that naive?” the chief replied.

      Upset by the distasteful insinuation, she felt heat rush to her cheeks. “You’ve evidently questioned my motives, but whatever you’re thinking, you’d be wrong—” she blurted. At this point she felt oddly reluctant to be left alone with the intimidating stranger studying her with relentless scrutiny. “I haven’t found the person I’m looking for, so there’s no point in this going any further. I truly am sorry to have caused either of you any inconvenience.”

      Chief Coretti gave her a nasty smile. “What is going on, Signorina? You said it was a matter of life and death.”

      “It is.” She hated the tremor in her voice.

      He threw up his hands. “So explain!”

      “I know I’ve been secretive, but I’m trying to make this inquiry as discreetly as possible to protect all concerned. When my other searches failed yesterday, I came to you for answers and hoped nobody would get hurt in the process. But the fact remains I’m looking for an older gentleman. I suppose he could even be in his early seventies.”

      Time seemed suspended as Mr. Degenoli swallowed her up with those jet-black eyes of his. “Signor Coretti—if you’d be so kind as to leave us alone for a moment.”

      “Of course.”

      After he left, the room grew silent as a tomb except for the thudding of her heart. It wouldn’t surprise her if the stranger could hear it.

      His lips twisted unpleasantly before he moved closer. “You’ve been secretive long enough. I’d like to see your passport.” Sami had the strongest conviction he was curious about her, too. At this point she knew she’d heard his voice before. But where? When she’d come to Europe a year ago, she hadn’t visited Italy.

      While she rummaged in her purse, her mind was searching to remember. He stood there waiting, larger than life with an air of authority much more commanding than any police chief’s. She handed the passport to him. After he read the information, he gave it back.

      “I’ve never heard of you.” His eyes glittered with barely suppressed anger. “The Alberto Degenoli I believe you’re looking for is no longer alive, but I think you already knew that. How well did you know him?” he demanded.

      Ah. Now she understood the police chief’s earlier remark about “business.” Both men assumed she’d been involved with the man she was looking for. Sami lifted her head. “I didn’t know him at all. In fact I never met him, but I’d h-hoped to,” she stammered. Sadness overwhelmed her to realize she’d come to Italy for nothing.

      “What did this man mean to you?”

      Wouldn’t he just love to know, but he’d be so wrong! She took a fortifying breath. “Since he’s dead … nothing.”

      “How did you hear of him?”

      Sami had heard of him through his son, but he was dead, too. If this man was the only living Degenoli in Genoa, then what the chief of police had said was probably true. She should fly to Geneva to start her search there before flying home.

      “It no longer matters.” She tried to swallow, but the sudden swelling in her throat made it difficult. “Forgive me for bothering you.” She spun around and made a quick exit.

      As she flew down the hall to the entrance of the police station, she suddenly realized what had been bothering her. The man she’d just left had the same kind of voice as her baby’s deceased father. That’s why it had sounded so familiar and disturbing … except for one thing.

      This man didn’t have that tender, caring quality in his voice. His tone and manner had been borderline accusatory. Her body gave a shudder before she stepped into the first taxi in the line-up in front of the building.

      Ric had caught only a glimpse of tear-filled green eyes before she dashed from Coretti’s office. Could there be two American women in existence who sounded that identical? He supposed the coincidence was possible, since he’d never seen this woman in his life.

      For months he’d looked for the woman he’d been trapped in the snow with, hoping she would come looking for him, but by summer he’d decided she must have died in that avalanche.

      He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the way this woman’s husky voice had trembled. Much as he hated to admit it, a part of him had felt her emotion was genuine. The classic features of her pale blond beauty, so different from his own countrywomen, already bothered him in ways he was reluctant to admit.

      But great as her acting had been, Ric was convinced Signorina Argyle had lied to him, or at least hadn’t told him the whole truth. Whatever her secret, he was determined to find it out.

      Running on pure adrenaline at this point, he buzzed Carlo, his head of security, and told him to follow the twenty-six-year-old blonde American woman leaving the police station. When she reached her destination, he wanted to know exactly where she went from there, so he could arrange a private meeting.

      Now hadn’t been the time to stop her. The conversation he intended to have with her needed to be someplace where they could be strictly alone with no chance of anyone else walking in on them.

      With his visit to the chief’s office accomplished, he went out to the СКАЧАТЬ