Page 56 of Dangerous Devotion

Had AJ managed to plant any of those bugs?

She kept her eyes from wandering back to the chain sculpture and offered Simpson a smile. “I can’t wait to hear more about your beautiful home.”

As AJ passed by the side table, she saw him run his hand along the edge of the fine-grained dark wood before grabbing his untouched martini and following them to the dining room.

They finished the appetizer and were halfway through the main course before May’s nerves finally settled enough to ask about the art.

Lifting her crystal water goblet, she eyed Simpson. “My father never mentioned you were such a collector of art.”

He gave her a sharp look. Then he set aside his own water. “Ah, but I’ve forgotten—you have a degree in art history.”

She felt AJ’s stare on the side of her face but didn’t react. It wasn’t something the SEAL would know, but they were supposed to be married. He would know her whole life story.

She nodded toward the wall behind their host. “That watercolor is magnificent. Where did you ever find it?”

He leaned back in his chair, eyeing May. “One of the spoils of war.”

“Oh?”

He smiled. “I do a lot of traveling in the military. I’ve been stationed in Europe off and on for many years. You pick things up in junk stores.”

She nodded at him as if she knew exactly what he was talking about. But she didn’t. She couldn’t see how the hell this man was ever able to amass such a collection of art and sculpture. Even if they were knockoffs, the sum just didn’t make sense with his salary.

“Do you have more art around your home? If so, I’d love to see.”

He agreed to give them a tour, and they all pushed back from the table. She glanced down at their plates. “Can I help you clear this away?”

Simpson waved a hand. “No need to trouble yourself. My housekeeper will be around to take care of it.”

Housekeepers and art and fine Italian tile floors. Where was he getting all this money?

During the short tour of the kitchen where Simpson showed off his marble countertop, her senses crackled.

She became hyperaware of every move AJ made. When he ran a hand across the counter. When he stroked a finger along the intricate dentil molding of an alcove where yet another sculpture stood in the soft ring of some mood lighting.

“May?” Simpson’s voice broke into her thoughts.

She turned to him. “Yes?”

“You’ve been quiet. Everything all right?”

“Yes.” She pressed her fingertips into her temple. “Just a little headache.”

AJ’s hand was suddenly planted on her spine, his touch solid and comforting in her moment of need.

“You’ve had a long day, sweetheart. Maybe we should head back to the hotel?”

She nodded and reached out to embrace her family’s old friend, Shaw Simpson, in farewell. When she drew away, she felt more than a little off-balance, sure of only one thing.

This man was not the person she thought she knew.

TWELVE

The minute they walked through the door of the hotel room, May made a beeline to her bag. She hauled out the computer and dropped into a seat at the small table, fingers flying over the attached keyboard almost before the door clicked shut.

Henner eyed her. “You’re not wasting any time.”

She pulled up a search engine and began typing furiously. Databases and websites popped up in different tabs.

---