Mad About You

of his shoe down on hers did she force herself to relax and look away from the girl—who couldn't have been more than sixteen.
    "Unfortunately, no picture," James replied, taking a sip of the coffee and not looking directly at her. "It's a three-page letter on yellow parchment, the dimensions of each sheet about five by seven inches. Written in German, the letter is unsigned, but reputed to have been authored by King George III to a paramour."
    "When did it disappear?"
    "Friday night, just after midnight, from a gallery called Jellico's. Estimated worth on the market, twenty thousand dollars."
    "And where can you be reached?"
    "Flagiron Hotel, under the name Donovan—James Donovan."
    At the sound of him announcing his name, a shiver raised the hair on Kat's arms.
    "There," the girl said in a louder voice, giving the table a final swipe. "So sorry for the inconvenience, sir."
    "Thank you," he said, inclining his dark head in a curt nod. He remained silent as she walked away and calmly opened the wax paper bag to withdraw a dry, speckled cookie. "Would you like a biscuit for your coffee?" he asked Kat, as if nothing had transpired.
    "Um, yes," she said, reaching into the bag and taking the other one. She studied his impassive face as he broke the cookie in two and took a crumbly bite.
    "This is your life, isn't it?" she asked, hearing the wonder in her own voice.
    A tiny frown crimped the area between his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
    "Secret phone calls, informants, guns, investigations—you know, high drama."
    "You make it sound glamorous," he said with a small laugh.
    "Isn't it?"
    He chewed another bite of cookie before answering. "It isn't boring, but it's far from glamorous, I assure you."
    "But the travel, the danger—"
    "Is exhausting," he said, punctuated by an abbreviated nod. "I'm rather glad to be rid of it full-time."
    "So from now on, you can pick and choose your assignments?"
    He nodded, his smile satisfied. "In fact, I took this job primarily to learn a bit about the fine arts industry. I have a job offer at the Webster museum in London to look into some improprieties, but I had little better than a layman's understanding." He took a sip of the coffee, then another. "Mr. Muldoon was kind enough to give me a crash course during our lengthy flight, and you have added to my knowledge as well." He gave her hand a friendly pat, as if she were a helpful pet instead of the woman with whom he'd most recently shared his body.
    "So you're going to take the London museum job?" she asked, her heart contracting at the thought of him returning to England.
    "If I ever get to leave this place," he said, revealing one dimple in a dry half-grin. He bent his head to check his phone, then frowned.
    "Is that Tenner?" she asked, finishing her coffee. She felt a crushing urgency to solve the case and release James from his inconvenient obligation.
    "No, I was just checking to see if I'd missed his call," he said. "And I wonder what's taking so bloody long."
    "According to Denise, Gloria doesn't live far from here, so we can get there in no time. Let's take a walk."
    He shrugged, exhibiting typical male disinterest in window-shopping. "Sure."
    But Kat wasn't interested in shopping either—she simply wanted to escape the intimate setting of the bakery where they were forced to converse over a tiny table. She didn't like this push-pull feel radiating between them; it was too awkward and too draining.
    She set off in the direction of the trolley car, walking slowly to hide the turmoil inside her head. They strolled by several T-shirt shops, a butcher shop that featured some pretty unappetizing fare hanging in the window, and a few furniture stores. Outside one of the more upscale boutiques, Kat stopped by a rack of men's fine silk ties and fingered through them, thinking of Valmer. He'd already told her he wouldn't accept money for her representation, but she wanted to give him some small token of her thankfulness.
    "I'm going to buy this for Val," she said, selecting a teal-colored tie with tiny yellow shadow boxes.

    *****

    "Nice," James agreed, walking his fingers through several on the rack. Kat was very thoughtful person, he decided, thinking he probably should select a gift for his sister while he had the time. He followed Kat inside, pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. She definitely had chosen one of the nicer shops—marble floors, twinkling chandeliers. An impressive array of clothing,