Free Gift of Gold by Jayne Ann Krentz Page A

was as cool as the rest of her. “Vincent College. About five years ago. You gave an undergraduate history lecture on Renaissance warfare techniques and equipment. You used slides of several Renaissance paintings to illustrate your points. I was taking some art-history classes there at the time and I dropped into the hall to hear what you had to say. I had heard about you.”
    Jonas hesitated a beat before answering. His stomach tightened as if someone had just put a sixteenth century blade in his hand and told him he might have to use it. This was the last thing he needed right now. How much did this strange woman know about him? he wondered. How much had she heard, and why was she here tonight? Something felt very wrong. Dangerously wrong.
    “You have an excellent memory, Ms. Evanger.”
    The gilded blond head nodded once in satisfaction. “I thought you looked familiar. When Verity mentioned your background in Renaissance history I began to put it all together.” Her gray eyes pinned him. “How on earth did you wind up here? You were making quite a name for yourself in academic and museum circles, as I recall.”
    Before Jonas could find a way to deflect the pointed question, Verity interrupted. Her gaze was on Jonas’s face. “What sort of name was he making for himself, Caitlin?”
    “At the time I took the classes at Vincent, Mr. Quarrel was well known on campus. In addition to his growing list of publications, he had recently exposed a fraudulent necklace that was supposed to have dated from the sixteenth century. It had actually been made in 1955. He saved a well-known museum a fortune. Apparently there had been other such instances in which he exposed similar frauds. Your Mr. Quarrel was gaining a reputation for being able to authenticate museum-quality artifacts. Your specialty was armor and weapons, though, as I recall, not jewelry. Isn’t that right, Mr. Quarrel?”
    Jonas watched Verity as he answered. “Times change, Ms. Evanger. My specialty today is dishwashing. Mind if I finish clearing the table?”
    “Oh, don’t worry about the dishes, Jonas,” Verity said quickly. “Why don’t you sit down and join us? Caitlin has been telling us all sorts of juicy gossip about the art world. It’s fascinating.”
    “It’s late. I’d rather finish up, if you don’t mind. I wouldn’t want to give you any reason to complain about the quality of my work. I need this job.” He scooped up plates and silverware and went back to the kitchen. No doubt about it, he didn’t like that cold fish of an artist. He liked her excellent memory even less.
    Jonas was willing to bet that he wouldn’t like Caitlin Evanger’s art, either.
    Jonas allowed his memory to shift back to the end of his career at Vincent College. Images of himself dressed as a Renaissance nobleman, a sword in his hand, flashed through his mind. So did the image of a man lying on the floor at his feet. Blood stained the pristine white lab coat the wounded man was wearing. It also stained the tip of the sword Jonas was holding.
    With grim effort Jonas shoved the pictures out of his head. He had learned to live with the old nightmare. Most of the time he could keep it buried in his mind. But Caitlin Evanger had brought it to the surface again. The sense of wrongness he felt about the woman increased.
    Twenty minutes later, when the little group in the dining room finally broke up for the evening, Jonas knew he was in trouble. Verity was more than a little annoyed with him.
    That didn’t bother Jonas. He was spoiling for a fight, himself. Everyone smiled politely as good-nights were said, but the moment the door closed behind the Griswalds and Caitlin Evanger, Verity turned on Jonas. Hands on her hips, she confronted him as he lounged in the kitchen doorway, wiping his fingers on a dish towel.
    “I hope you’re satisfied with yourself, Jonas,” she began without preamble. “Are you always that rude to people like Caitlin Evanger, or did you