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that their eyes were level again. “Whoever bashed in the back of his head killed him. You get over that, Miranda, because it’s not going to help.”
    “He was only in there tonight because of me. If I hadn’t asked him, he’d have been at home, or out on a date, or sitting in some trattoria drinking wine with friends.”
    She pressed her fisted hands to her mouth, the eyes over them swimming with horror. “He’s dead because I asked him to help me, because I didn’t trust you and because my reputation is so important, so vital, I had to have it done my way.” She shook her head. “I’m never going to get over that.”
    However miserable her eyes, her color was back and her voice was stronger. Guilt could energize as well as paralyze. “Okay, then use it. Dry your hair while I order some food. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
    She dried her hair, and slipped into white cotton pajamas, then wrapped the robe over them. She would eat, she told herself, because she would be ill if she didn’t. She needed to be well, strong, and clearheaded if she was going to avenge Giovanni.
    Avenge? she thought with a shudder. She’d never believed in vengeance. Now it seemed perfectly sane, perfectly logical. The term “an eye for an eye” circled grimly in her head. Whoever killed Giovanni had used her as a weapon as cold-bloodedly as they’d used the bronze.
    Whatever it took, however long it took, she would see that they paid for it.
    When she came out of the bedroom, she saw that Ryan had ordered the waiter to set up the meal on the terrace. The rain had stopped and the air was fresh. The table sat cheerfully under the bright green-and-white-striped awning and candles flickered over the linen cloth.

    She supposed it was designed to make her feel better. Because she was grateful to him, she did her best to pretend it did.
    “This looks very nice.” She managed what passed for a smile. “What are we eating?”
    “Minestrone to start, then a couple of Florentine steaks. It’ll help. Sit and eat.”
    She took a chair, even picked up her spoon and sampled the soup. It stuck like paste in her throat, but she forced herself to swallow. And he was right, the heat of it thawed some of the ice in her belly.
    “I need to apologize to you.”
    “Okay. I never turn down an apology from a woman.”
    “I broke my word to you.” She lifted her gaze, locked on his. “I never meant to keep it. I told myself a promise to a man like you didn’t have to be kept. That was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”
    The simplicity, the quiet tone, touched his heart. He’d have preferred it otherwise. “We’re going at this at cross-purposes. That’s the way it is. Still, we’ve got a mutual goal. We want to find the original bronzes. And now someone’s upped the stakes. It may be smarter for you to back off, let this go. Proving you were right isn’t worth your life.”
    “It cost me a friend.” She pressed her lips together, then made herself spoon up more soup. “I won’t back off, Ryan. I couldn’t live with myself if I did. I don’t have many friends. I’m sure that’s my fault. I don’t relate well to people.”
    “You’re being too hard on yourself. You relate fine when you let your guard down. Like you did with my family.”
    “I didn’t let my guard down. They just didn’t pay any attention to it. I envy you what you have with them.” Her voice trembled a little, so she shook her head and forced down more soup. “The unconditional love, the sheer delight all of you have with each other. You can’t buy that kind of gift.” She smiled a little. “And you can’t steal it.”
    “You can make it. It just takes the wanting to.”

    “Someone has to want the gift you’re making.” She sighed and decided to risk a sip of wine. “If my parents and I had a better relationship, you and I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. It really goes back to that. Dysfunction doesn’t always show itself in raised voices and fists. Sometimes it can be insidiously polite.”
    “Have you ever told them how you feel?”
    “Not the way I imagine you mean.” She looked past him, over the city where the lights gleamed and the moon was beginning to ride the clearing sky. “I’m not sure I knew how I felt until recently. And it doesn’t matter now. Finding who did this to Giovanni matters.”
    He let it rest, and since he’d decided it was his turn to deal with practicalities, he removed the covers from the