TANDING AT THE window of Mitchell’s apartment in Rome’s Piazza Navona, Julie Mathison Benedict gazed down at Bernini’s spectacular Fountain of Four Rivers. It was evening, and the fountain was bathed in light, the little cafés lining the piazza were serving dinner, and lovers and tourists were strolling by in a steady stream. In the living room behind her, her husband was seated in a seventeenth-century baroque armchair going over his notes on the day’s filming of his new picture. They’d been there two weeks, filming on location, and they were finished in Rome, but Zack wanted to stay a few extra days to shoot some extra exterior footage.

“I’m going to miss this place,” Julie said, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m even going to miss Giovanni.”

Zack looked up and grinned. “Really? When did you decide he wasn’t a thug masquerading as a chauffeur?”

“Yesterday,” Julie admitted, “when he practically threw me into the car and ran after a thief who’d stolen an old lady’s purse.”

Zack looked up sharply. “When were you going to tell me about that?”

“Right about now,” she admitted serenely, “when we’re ready to leave Rome and you won’t worry that it might happen again. Did you realize Giovanni has known Mitchell since he was a little boy, when he lived in Italy?”

“I didn’t even know Giovanni could speak more than a few words of English,” Zack began, but the telephone rang and he paused to answer it.

When he hung up a few minutes later, he had an odd, thoughtful expression on his face.

“What’s up?” Julie asked.

“That was Mitchell. Evidently, he’s met someone in the islands, and he has to leave her there and go back to Chicago. He asked me to call Prescott and arrange for her to go aboard and cruise the islands while he’s gone.”

Julie studied his amused expression. “What’s the part you haven’t told me?”

“The best part. Mitchell intends to fly back and forth every day to join her on board.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very serious. And so, I think, is he.”

Zack sobered and added, “The reason he has to go back to Chicago is because they’ve discovered his brother’s body.” He glanced at his watch and reached for the telephone to call Prescott. “It’s one-thirty in St. Maarten,” he said, “and Mitchell said he’d be bringing her aboard at five.”

“Do we have a name?” Julie teased.

“Kate Donovan.”