Free Meet Me in Venice by Elizabeth Adler Page A

quietly. “I don’t want to hurry you.”
    She shook her head, sending raindrops flying from her still damp hair. “You’re not hurrying me.” Her lips were a mere breath away from his.
    She closed her eyes as they kissed. Her knees had turned to jelly and she was melting into him, into the scent of him, the feel of his mouth on hers, his body against hers. She had never felt this wondrous emotion before, never known that wanting someone could be like this, where all you wanted to do was give yourself and to take and receive pleasure from your man. The real world was locked out as Bennett picked her up and carried her into the bedroom for what Preshy knew was to be the defining moment of her life.
    AS DAWN BROK E S HE FEEL into an exhausted slumber. She did not hear Bennett get up, shower, put on his clothes and walk into the living room. He stood for a few minutes looking out the window, a frown on his face as he thought how to play this game out.
    He turned and scanned the array of family photographs on the shelves by the fireplace. He picked up one he guessed was the rich aunt who Lily had said would leave Preshy her money, resplendent in scarlet chiffon at the Monte Carlo Red Cross Gala. He studied her face for a few minutes, then his eye was taken by the wedding picture of Grandfather Hennessy and his bride in her traditional Austrian dirndl.
And a jeweled necklace with a single giant pearl
He looked at it for a long time. So Mary-Lou was right about the necklace after all. And Lily really did have it. A glimmer of an idea entered his mind. There might be a way he could achieve both objectives—the heiress and the necklace. He put the photo in his pocket and went back into the bedroom.
    Preshy heard Bennett speak her name. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, looking at her.
    “I have to leave you,” he said. “Not because I want to, believe me I don’t, but I have a flight to catch.”
    “Of course.” She sat up hurriedly, clutching the sheet over her breasts, though why she was being so modest after what had happened between them she didn’t know.
    He took her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to him. “You know I’ll be back,” he said gently.
    She nodded, suddenly numb with fear that he might not be.
    “Preshy,” he said reassuringly. “I mean it. I’ll be back for you.” He leaned in and kissed her gently on the mouth, then he got up and walked to the door. He turned to look at her one last time, sitting up in bed with the sheet still clutched to her, her eyes round and sad. “Soon,” he said. “I promise.”
    And then he was gone. Thousands of miles away, to Shanghai.

SIXTEEN
    CHINA
    L ILY drove the black SUV slowly along the unpaved road, high over a narrow gorge on the Yangtze River. It was past midnight with that dense almost tangible darkness found only in remote country areas, far from the city’s halogen glow, and it was raining hard. The headlights picked up the bitter, barren landscape, like something from an ancient Chinese brush painting, misty gray and dead white with the stark black silhouettes of trees stripped of their leaves by the perpetual raking wind.
    She pushed her hair impatiently from her delicately boned face, peering into the rainy night, searching for her destination.
    Next to her, Mary-Lou adjusted her rimless glasses that reflected the headlights, looking out for a landmark, anything that would tell them they were nearing their rendezvous, but hermind was only half on it. She was worried. She still had not heard from Bennett.
    Both women wore knitted watch caps, jeans and black jackets, thickly padded to keep out the icy wind. And in Mary-Lou’s pocket was hidden a snub-nosed black pistol. A Beretta. Of course Lily did not know about the Beretta, but if there was any trouble Mary-Lou wanted to make sure at least
she
came out alive.
    The road twisted away from the river, up a steep hill, winding between thin stands of trees bending under the