Consumed by Fire (Fire 1)

“No, of course not. Evangeline will do.”

He smiled at her, and he watched her melt a little bit. He’d perfected that smile, that look, and it worked on everyone, male and female. “In that case, Evangeline, will you have dinner with me tonight?”

She’d just been beginning to relax, but those words made her tense up once more. Why? “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.

“Why not? We both have to eat, and there are only two decent restaurants in town. We’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of ending up at the same place. Why don’t we just plan to eat together?”

“What about the woman who was with you?”

She’d been observant. She’d only seen Claudia for a minute, but he had no doubt she’d be able to describe her perfectly. She was a detail-oriented academic. A liability, Claudia would say.

Not if he could help it.

“Claudia is a business associate, nothing more. She already has plans for dinner, and I don’t.” He smiled at her, and her eyes widened at the force of his full frontal assault. No woman could withstand him when he was being charming. An insecure professor from the States would be child’s play.

“No,” she said. “It’s not a good idea.”

Bishop stared at her, momentarily silenced. He could get past this, call in a few favors once they got back to town. It would be easy enough to find out where she was, bump into her. He knew women well enough to know she was reluctantly attracted to him. But why the reluctance? He glanced at her hands. No wedding ring, no engagement ring, so it couldn’t be that.

“Are you involved with someone and think it would be cheating? I promise, I’m only talking about dinner.”

She hesitated, and he homed in on the weakness. “Come on, Evangeline. I hate to eat alone, and it’s been so long since I’ve talked to another American.”

She was no longer clutching the seat now that he was driving more sedately, but her fingers were playing nervously with the cord on her knapsack. For a moment he let his imagination go. She could be something far from what she appeared—Corsini usually traveled with a bodyguard as well as a chauffeur. Maybe she had a gun in that harmless-looking bag.

No, if she was a bodyguard then she was a piss-poor one, and she hadn’t even checked to see if her employer was sleeping or dead. She would have shot him and taken the car, or at least she would have tried. He was becoming as paranoid as Claudia.

“Okay,” she said finally. “It’s just that I usually work in the evenings. Transcribe my notes, that sort of thing.”

“I won’t keep you out too late, I promise you,” he said. They were approaching town. “Where are you staying?” She’d already given that away, but he had to appear oblivious.

“Villa Ragarra.”

“Perfect. So am I.”

“Oh.” She didn’t sound particularly happy about it. He couldn’t dismiss her as harmless until he figured out her reluctance. He had no illusions—he could seduce a mother abbess if he put his mind to it, and Ms. Evangeline Morrissey was acting as skittish as a virgin. Which she wasn’t—he was pretty sure of that much, though he suspected she hadn’t had a great deal of experience. Made his job a whole lot easier—he wouldn’t have to put himself out to show her a good time.

So he simply smiled at her, knowing the smile never reached his eyes, knowing that no one ever noticed that it didn’t. “Very convenient,” he murmured. “When you get bored with me you can just walk away.”

As if she’d get bored with him, Evangeline thought. That was exactly the problem—he was too mesmerizing. His smile never reached those unreadable eyes—for all his abundant charm, there was something else, something dark, coiled and waiting behind that flattering gaze, and if she had half the brains her brilliant parents had bequeathed her, she would run far and fast.

But . . . there was no reason he should be a danger to her, not unless she made the mistake of thinking all that charm meant something. There was no reason she couldn’t enjoy a meal with someone, no reason she couldn’t even go to bed with him if she wanted. She prided herself on being a healthy, normal young woman, despite . . . everything . . . and she and Lester had broken up nine months ago. That was a long dry period, but not unusual for her. She was usually too focused on her research and her career to worry about dating. If someone appeared, fine. If someone didn’t, more time to concentrate on work.

James Bishop had appeared, and he seemed to be interested in her. Unless his simple words had been the truth—that he’d just been longing to speak to another American. Because she found him incredibly attractive didn’t mean the feeling was mutual. She suspected he was that flirtatious and charming with every single female he met, old and young.

He pulled up in front of Villa Ragarra, an expensive little hotel that Evangeline could ill afford, but where she’d stayed every year she’d come to Italy. It was her one indulgence, and she knew Silvio, the concierge and half-owner, would look after her.

“Shall we eat here?” James Bishop said, looking at her. “Say, nine o’clock? Or would you like to eat earlier?”

“Nine’s perfect,” she said, gathering her knapsack and opening the door. “I’ll see you then.” She didn’t care if it looked as if she were running away. She was. He was overpowering, particularly in the confines of that boring Fiat, which wasn’t boring after all. In an open room his effect on her might not be so potent.

She disappeared into the cool darkness of the hotel before he could say anything, breathing a sigh of relief. She had no idea what time it was—sometime after five, she suspected, but that gave her plenty of time to make up her mind, to come up with an excuse if need be. That, or put things in perspective and enjoy a meal with a handsome man. Surely there was nothing so risk

y in that?

But she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling it was exactly that. Risky, dangerous, and the smartest thing she could do would be to run away. She could do it, too. There was a late-night bus to the next town, where she could sleep in the youth hostel. He’d never find her there.

What the hell was wrong with her? She’d been reading too many thrillers. He was simply a handsome man who was bored, and she was available, at least for conversation. She needed a nice hot shower and a rest and everything would fall into place.