Page 328 of The Romance Adventure

For that reason and that one alone, I’ve been cold, distant, and keeping a barrier between us for his own good. My sweet, surf-bum-of-a-husband, who loves diving and dancing and can live off fresh fish and alligator pears, doesn’t belong in my world.

If any of my enemies ever found out about my heart, they’d go for it. Well, they’d go for the people I love, which is why, until recently, I avoided relationships.

But I couldn’t say no to the guy who hooked me good. Can’t say I’m willing to let him go. But I should. No, I have to.

As the rain drives down and the black sedan winds along the street lined by trees dripping with Spanish moss and toward the gate to our house, I tell myself to cloak my emotions.

But CJ is so sweet—bringing me my favorite pastries when we were in Cádiz.

I’ve been trained to withstand duress.

He’s incredibly generous, flying to Florence to visit a couple of months ago.

No one stirs my pulse like him with the way he looks at me as if I’m the only person on the planet worth knowing.

I tap in the keycode at the gate. I have to concentrate on my breath in anticipation of him greeting me, hugging me, kissing me...

But his open-air Jeep isn’t in the driveway. He probably parked it in the garage because of the bad weather.

The driver brings my luggage to the covered front entryway.

After thanking him and offering a tip, I turn to the door, expecting it to swing open.

I slow my heartbeat because even now, even after we’re already married, I’m like a girl with a crush, only I’m a woman with a husband...and a secret that I hate keeping from him.

The door doesn’t open. I fish in my bag for the key, preparing myself for a warm welcome.

My key isn’t in my bag. Must be in my luggage. Generally, I’m fastidious about keeping track of things like that, but I’ve been all over Europe these last months, and it’s no surprise that I stashed it somewhere else.

I knock on the door.

No answer.

Hollering, I call, “Hello! I’m home.”

No reply.

Peering through the sidelight window beside the door, there’s no movement. Above the pattering of the rain, I don’t hear any footsteps approaching.

Odd.

I messaged CJ last night, saying I’d be back today. Then again, I told him the same thing last week but got sidetracked by a lead. One that proved to be fruitful.

I also told him I’d be home last month and once or twice before that, too. He hasn’t given up on me, has he?

Weighing this possibility, it would make my life easier...but not better.

My married life is far more amazing than anything that came before it, but at what cost? I’d hate to find out.

Lightning flashes, and I count the seconds before thunder cracks in the sky. It’s close. Too close. I need to get inside. After trying the side door, the garage door, the back door, and the patio of our bedroom, I’m officially locked out.

Likely, the security system is on. To my surprise, the guy who doesn’t even have doors on his Jeep insisted on a top-of-the-line alarm, closed-circuit cameras, and a few gadgets to deter home invasions. He said he watched a Top Gear show on a plane ride once.

If I get in and disable the alarm within seven seconds, the authorities won’t be alerted. And if they are, I can simply explain that I’m the homeowner.

No big deal.

I break into places all the time—most recently the office of one of the world’s top art and antiquity thieves, a criminal masquerading as a member of high society.