This time he just laughed.
“What?” she demanded again.
“That’s you, drágám. So proper. So prissy. That’s the Natalie who made me ache to tumble her to the bed or a sofa and kiss the disapproval from those luscious lips. I hurt for an hour after I left you in New York.”
Her jaw dropped. She couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. Some distant corner of her mind warned that she would lose, and lose badly, if she engaged Dominic St. Sebastian in an exchange of sexual repartee.
Yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Forcing a provocative smile, she leaned her elbows on the table and dropped her voice to the same husky murmur Dom had employed in Dr. Kovacs’s reception area.
“Ah, but we can fix that, yes?”
His blank astonishment shot her ego up another notch. For the first time since she’d come awake and found herself eye to eye with a grinning canine, Natalie was able to shelve her worry and confusion.
The arrival of a waiter with their lunch allowed her to revel in the sensation awhile longer. Only after she’d forked down several bites of leafy greens and crunchy cucumber did she return to their original topic.
“You still haven’t explained how inheriting the title associated with a long-defunct duchy put you on the rolls of the unemployed.”
He swept the café with a casual glance. So casual she didn’t realize he was making sure no one was close enough to overhear until he delivered another jaw-dropper.
“I’m an undercover agent, Natalie. Or I was until all this Grand Duke business hit.”
“Like…?” She tried to get her head around it. “Like James Bond or something?”
“Closer to something. After my face got splashed across the tabloids, my boss encouraged me to take a nice, long vacation.”
“So that explains the drawer!”
He leaned back in his chair. Slowly. Too slowly. Although the September sun warmed the cozy space under the awning and the exhaust from the cabs clogging the boulevard shimmered on the afternoon air, Natalie had the eerie sensation that the temperature around their table had dropped at least ten degrees.
“What drawer?”
“The locked one in your wardrobe. You store all your 007-type gadgets in there, don’t you? Poison pens and jet-propelled socks and laser-guided minimissiles?”
He didn’t answer for several moments. When he did, her brief euphoria at being in control evaporated.
“This isn’t about me, Nat. You’re the one with the empty spaces that need filling. Let’s finish our coffee, yes? Then we’ll swing by police headquarters. With any luck, they will have found the answers to at least some of your questions.”
* * *
Dom called before they left the café to make sure Officer Gradjnic, his partner or their supervisor would be available to speak with them. Natalie didn’t say a word during the short drive. Budapest traffic was nerve-racking enough to tie anyone in knots. The possibility that the police might lift a corner of the curtain blanketing her mind only added to her twist of nerves.
The National Police Department occupied a multistory, glass-and-steel high-rise on the Pest side of the Danube. Command and control of nationwide operations filled the upper stories. The Budapest PD claimed the first two floors. Officer Gradjnic’s precinct was crammed into a corner of the second floor.
Natalie remembered Gradjnic from yesterday. More or less. Enough to smile when he asked how she was feeling, anyway, and thank him for their help yesterday.
“So, Ms. Clark. Do you remember how you ended up in the Danube?”
“No.”
“But you might, yes?”
“The doctor we consulted this morning said that was possible.” She swiped her tongue over suddenly dry lips. “What have you discovered?”
“A little.”
Computers sat on every desk in the office but Officer Gradjnic tugged out his leather notepad, licked his finger and flipped through the pages.
“We’ve verified that you flew from Paris to Vienna last week,” he reported. “We’ve also learned that you rented a vehicle from the Europcar agency in Vienna three days ago. We had the car rental company retrieve the GPS data from the vehicle and discovered you crossed into Hungary at Pradzéc.”
“Where’s Pradzéc?”
“It’s a small village at the foot of the Alps, straddling the border between Austria and Hungary.”
Her glance shot to Dom. They’d been talking about the border area less than an hour ago. He didn’t so much as flick an eyelid but she knew he’d made the connection, just as she had.
“According to the GPS records, you spent several hours in that area, then returned to Vienna. The next day you crossed into Hungary again and stopped in Gyür. The vehicle is still there, Ms. Clark, parked at a tour dock on the Danube. We called the tour office and verified that a woman matching your description purchased a ticket for a day cruise to Budapest. Do you recall buying that ticket, Ms. Clark?”