Page 18 of Fire on the Moon

“Yes.”

“We’ll take care of the car for you.” The attendant gestured, “Leave it over there.”

“Where are we?” Francesca whispered as Zane came around to her side of the vehicle.

“The Ritz-Carlton.”

She gave him a shocked look. “Isn’t that expensive?”

“Yeah. It’s the top hotel in Naples.” When they were out of earshot, he added. “I figure this is the last place anyone is going to look for us.”

He got the luggage from the back seat and led her inside where he turned to the left past a round marble-topped table with a huge flower arrangement in the middle. A little farther on was a long marble counter where they waited for one of the clerks to free up.

When an attractive blond motioned them over, Zane stepped to the counter. “We’d like a room for the night,” he said. “On a low floor. My wife doesn’t like heights.

“Certainly. Credit card.”

He handed over a card, and the desk clerk ran it through the machine.

“I’ll get a bellperson to help you with your luggage,” she said.

“I can handle it. Can you give the parking attendant our room number?”

“Certainly, Mr. Montgomery. The elevators are to your right.”

“Thanks.”

Francesca’s head jerked toward him, and he took her hand, squeezing.

She pressed her lips together as they headed down a wood-paneled hallway toward the elevator. When they reached the third floor, he checked the signs, then turned left.

“What does it cost to stay here?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about it. I put it on my expense account.”

“You can do that?”

“In this case, yes.”

As they walked toward the room, he kept thinking—now what? He’d cleverly arranged for them to be alone together in luxury accommodations.

After locking the door behind them, he surveyed the room. It was elegant but decorated in very neutral colors. And there were two double beds, which was good. That made it look less like he’d brought her to . . .

Without finishing the thought, he set down the suitcase and crossed to the window. The room had a balcony, with another below it. Probably he could use that escape route if he had to. Would Francesca be up to climbing down? They had a partial Gulf view, with another set of rooms to their right and others facing them in a farther wing of the hotel.

He shifted his gaze to the blue water, which was separated from the hotel by what appeared to be a swamp crossed by a couple of boardwalks. At the far edge was a wooden building that could have been an old-time seafood restaurant. Probably it looked charming up close.

Behind him Francesca cleared her throat. “You probably think I fall into the arms of every guy . . .”

“Who rescues you from contract killers?”

“Is that what they are?”

He turned to face her. “Well, killers. Maybe mob hit men.”

“You’re trying to defuse the situation between us now that we’re locked up together in a bedroom.”

“Yeah, and trying to be realistic.” She was taking this conversation in a direction that was dangerous. If he could put some physical distance between them, he would, but there was a graver danger in leaving her alone.

---