"I am starting to realize that," she said. It still hurt so much. "My instinct is to pursue him. My instinct is to never give up."

Bragg sounded alarmed. "That will certainly backfire, too. Until now, Hart has been the one on the hunt. Trust me-you will wind up even more hurt if you reduce yourself to chasing him."

"I know that," she said. "I really do. God, he is such a difficult man!"

Bragg didn't say a word, but she knew he was thinking "I told you so."

"I thought he was coming around." She felt ill, thinking about how their lovemaking had ended. "But Hart has not changed his mind at all. We are, apparently, done. Apparently, he can live without me. And if he can, then I have been making a series of very wrong assumptions." But even as she spoke, she recalled his passionate outburst.

I will always be your friend.... I will always be on your side.... You need only ask....

I want to give you the world on a silver platter.... As your friend, I will do just that....

Have I just destroyed our friendship?

Bragg was silent. She glanced at him. "The one thing I am sure of is that my friendship means the world to him."

He finally said, "You are an angel and a saint, Francesca. You never turn your back on those in need. Of course Hart needs you. You are the only person in the city-and perhaps the country-who thinks highly of him. You are the only one who sees any good in him. I have even heard you call him noble. Of course he will wish to keep you as a friend."

"Hart is good, Bragg, and he has his noble moments."

"You still defend him?" He was incredulous.

She stared. If she didn't defend Calder Hart, who would? "He is actually being noble. He is back to his old tune-that he is not good enough for me-so by jilting me, he is doing me a vast favor."

"Yes, he is being noble in this single act, and that amazes me-so if it is any consolation, he clearly cares for you. Otherwise he'd barrel on into this marriage, enjoy your favors and then cast you aside when it suited him."

She stared, stricken. Bragg had just verbalized her most secret fear. She had always wondered if, even after they were man and wife, he would one day tire of her and go to another woman.

"He has admitted that he cares for me," she said shakily. "That is not quite the declaration a woman wishes to hear, but I am glad he is capable of making it."

"I do not think Hart capable of loving anyone, not genuinely."

She trembled. "You are wrong."

"Francesca, he can't even live with himself."

She tensed. She knew Hart fought demons in the dark of every day and every night. And that was why he needed her.

Bragg slid his hand over her shoulder. "I hate seeing you like this. Maybe you should start to carefully consider that a man like Hart can only make you unhappy. Life with Hart would be a series of peaks and valleys. I am not sure the lows would be worth it."

She met his searching gaze. "We have been very happy...mostly."

"It has only been a few months, Francesca. Good relationships don't materialize out of thin air. They are built upon firm foundations of mutual interest, shared ambition and compromise. I have never thought that you and Calder had very much in common."

She pulled away. What did they have in common?

"A few weeks ago he ended things with you and your heart was broken. The cycle clearly continues."

She could only, silently, agree. "Why would he even think to marry me if he did not truly love me?"

His eyes widened. "I know you have believed for some time that Hart has fallen in love with you. Why do you doubt that now?"

"I don't know what to think, Rick," she said. "And I wish I did." Was it possible he had been smitten, but those feelings were already fading? If so, wasn't she fortunate to learn that now, before it was too late?

When he had ended their engagement during the investigation into Daisy's murder, he had told her that he loved her too much to drag her down into ruin with him. She had believed him. Their love hadn't been in question. If anything, the bond between them had grown stronger.

Hadn't he mentioned last night that he refused to be her downfall? The difference was, he wasn't declaring his undying love and devotion. He now insisted the engagement had been a mistake.

"You won't give up on him."

She met Bragg's golden gaze. It was searching and serious. The thought had never crossed her mind. "Even if our love affair is over, even if we must become mere friends, I will never give up on him. He has a friend in me for life, whether he truly wishes it or not." She added, "As do you."

Bragg frowned. "He does not deserve you, not in any way," he said, and when she was about to protest, he added, "But I am glad he has you in his corner. No man should be an island."

She froze. Hart was exactly that-a man alone in this vast world-an island in icy oceans. He was the most complicated man she knew and she would never love anyone more. So there was one thing to cling to-her love.

She must stand by Hart no matter what, even if they never reconciled.

"You are right," she said, suddenly feeling so much better. Yes, she was hurt and dismayed-even frightened-but Hart cared. He had said so. Well, she loved him in return. And if he really didn't love her now, he would just have to manage that. There were, it seemed, strings attached to her friendship.

She smiled.

Bragg's brows rose. "You are feeling better?"

"You always make me feel better," she said.

"Dare you flirt with me now?" But he was smiling.

She hesitated. "I probably should not. Thank you. Thank you for listening-and thank you for caring."

"I will always care." He flushed and glanced away.

For an instant, she studied him, recalling Hart's insistence that Bragg's marriage was in trouble. "You know, I am so preoccupied with my dramas that I have given no attention to yours."

"I detest drama," he said, but his tone was wry. "Where is Joel?"

"He has gone to Coney Island for the day with the entire Kennedy clan." She caught his arm before he could start for the pavilion. "Is Leigh Anne better?"

A long moment passed as he stared at her. "I wouldn't really know. I have hardly been home all week, Francesca. Police business occupies most of my time," he said before she could protest. "Shall we?"

He did not want to discuss his personal life, even if she had bared her soul to him. Francesca sighed. She so wanted to help. "There's one more thing before we go inside," she said quickly, her mind shooting with gunfire speed back to the case. "Please don't be angry, but I received this on Sunday night." She took the blackmail note from her purse and handed it to Rick.

His gaze widened. And then he was incredulous. "When were you going to tell me? Please do not tell me you went to meet the blackmailer alone."

"I went with Joel. But I had borrowed the money from Hart, and he actually tailed me. In any case, no one showed up." She proceeded to tell him about the rendering of her portrait and the cyclist.

"If you receive another note or instructions to meet, I expect to be the first to know," Bragg said angrily. "Not the last! Francesca, blackmail is a crime. It is police business. And did you really think you would hand over seventy-five thousand dollars and receive your portrait in return?"

"I had certainly hoped to."

He gave her a dark look, took her arm and guided her toward the pavilion. "I am glad Hart followed you. And I am very angry with you."

She winced. "I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid that if you were present, the blackmailer would see you and flee. Not only do you look like a spot, you are very famous now. Your likeness and photograph is in every day's newspaper."

"That is a pitiful excuse. Once again, you overestimated your own capabilities. You are giving me gray hair."

She looked at him as they walked inside the pavilion. That was exactly what Hart often said.

"By the way, I also have news." Bragg paused just inside the front doors. The lobby was pale and spacious, with granite arches and stone floors. "We have found the bordello where Dawn might be working."

"That is wonderful news-I will go speak with her the moment we are through with Mary. And what about Bill Randall?" She regretted not calling Bragg last night. She had been too upset, but if she had spoken to him, Randall might already be in custody.

"I'll have the house put under surveillance. I am thinking we should tail him, Francesca, not arrest him, as we do not have a solid case against him. Instead, we'll see where he leads us-hopefully, it will be to your portrait."

They walked over to the long reception desk, where he checked them in as visitors, and the clerk went to fetch his superior. Bragg smiled at Francesca and she smiled back, glad to be firmly back in the midst of an investigation-and glad that she had reached a decision about Hart.

A tall man came out of the back corridor, wearing a doctor's white overcoat. "Commissioner? I'm Dr. Jones. This is very unexpected."

Bragg shook his hand. "This is Miss Cahill, Doctor. Is some thing wrong?"

"Yes, there is. The patient you wish to see has apparently vanished."

"MR. HART, Mrs. Andrew Cahill is in reception. She doesn't have an appointment," his clerk said.

Hart had been reading a contract that would bring a midsize Danish shipping firm under the control of his global shipping empire. While he had lawyers to do just about everything necessary to execute his many enterprises, he preferred to read every correspondence pertaining to his business affairs, and all legal documents, himself. He often went through the invoices of his various companies. His mind was razor sharp. He'd caught employees stealing, cheating and embezzling a hundred times. He hated disloyalty, but he knew it festered and could not imagine another way of managing his business empire. There was no one he could trust.

It crossed his mind now that it would be pleasant to have an associate whom he could trust.

He thought of Francesca, his heart lurching. It was amazing how hurt and anguish could coexist with so many other emotions. Her image brought instantaneous delight to his heart and a smile to his face, and there was no denying the warmth that stole through him. Yes, he cared deeply. Yes, he loved her. She was the most extraordinary, the most original, the most intriguing person he had ever met. But he had done the right thing. Of that, he had no doubt.

However, he was very, very angry with himself for hurting her. He was a selfish and depraved bastard. But what did she expect, especially when she had tried to play him? It would have been amusing, if the sight of her unadorned left hand hadn't been so shocking.

The urge to overpower her-to make her admit that she wanted and loved him-had been impossible to resist. He was accustomed to using sexual persuasion to gain his ends. He hadn't even thought about using her attraction to him to get her to declare her true feelings.

He hated the fact that she had put his engagement ring in the safe, but his decision remained. They were no longer affianced. There would be no wedding. Now he was managing the facts: the engagement was off. Francesca and he would be friends-forever, if he had any choice, and he usually did. He would, somehow, encourage her to turn to someone else. If she chose his brother, he would find a way to live with it.

He had been out of sorts and he knew damn well why-he was secretly as distressed as she was. But he refused to admit to himself that he was upset-or worse, consider why there was a painful bubble in his chest. He was not good enough for her. She deserved better. He would not be her downfall. He could not live with himself if that happened.

Those four statements had become his mantra.

And should he be tempted to forget the reasons behind his decision to end their relationship, he had only to remind himself of the most recent developments. Not only was he responsible for the existence of the portrait in the first place, it now seemed that his dear brother Bill was the one trying to ruin her! How perfect was that irony?

Why couldn't she see how bad he was for her?

And now Julia was here to lobby on behalf of her daughter. This, he supposed, was just what he needed-for he loved a good challenge. Now he had to charm Francesca's mother without revealing that the wedding was off. For good.

For he meant to keep Julia on his side. She was a formidable force in Francesca's life. He had meant it when he had told Francesca that he intended to be her friend and ally, her champion and defender. She wouldn't become his wife-or his lover-but he intended to remain entirely in Julia's good graces.

"Show Mrs. Cahill in," he said pleasantly. He rolled down his shirtsleeves and put on his suit jacket, retying his tie. A few minutes later Julia strolled into his office, beautifully dressed in a pale blue watered-silk jacket and skirt, diamonds and aquamarines at her throat and ears. No one would ever mistake her for anything less than what she was-one of the city's most powerful and elegant women.

"This is a pleasant surprise," Hart said, coming across the spacious office to greet her. He took both her hands warmly and kissed her cheek.

"I inquired at the house, and I was very surprised to learn that you were at your offices today." Julia was smiling, but her gaze was sharp. "Calder, it is July the first."

Hart slowly smiled. "I can always find business matters to attend to, even on July the first."

"I imagine that you can. But it is simply a shame that you are here today, when you and Francesca were scheduled to be steaming across the ocean to France."

"May I offer you some refreshments?" he asked smoothly.

"Oh, Calder, I hardly need tea. What happened Saturday was a terrible tragedy, and we haven't had a chance to discuss it."

"A tragedy was averted," he said, smiling, "as Francesca escaped her captor. By the way, you may tell Andrew that I will take care of the costs of the failed wedding."

Julia studied him. "I doubt he will let you do so. Francesca is being very closemouthed about what actually happened. And she has the police involved." He didn't react, so she continued, "You don't seem angry with her."

He said truthfully, "I doubt I could ever remain angry with Francesca for very long. I care too much about her."

Julia beamed. "I am so relieved! Most men would be furious-they would call the wedding off."

"I am not most men. I was certainly angry on Saturday, before I learned of the facts. Now I am relieved that no real harm was done, and I look forward to apprehending the perpetrator of the misdeed."

Julia blinked. "I am so very fond of you, truly. You are an exceptional young man."

"Thank you," Hart said, inclining his head.

"So what will we do now about the wedding? Everyone has left town, so we can hardly have an affair till the fall. Andrew is champing at the bit to get out of town, anyway. We are going up to Saratoga Springs tomorrow, but I wanted to talk with you first. Should we plan a fete for September?"

"I am glad that you have come to me, Julia, although I would have happily met you uptown if you had sent word. Why don't you let Francesca and I sort this out? But certainly, you must leave town for the rest of the summer. Saratoga is exceedingly pleasant at this time of year."

"Well, nothing can be arranged at this moment. Connie has lingered in town as well, and I think that is because she is worried about her sister. But clearly, she need not worry, need she?"

"Perhaps if you remind Connie of how deeply I care for Francesca she will cease fretting." He smiled. "Please tell her I am not angry, not at all-I am simply looking out for Francesca's best interests."

"I will do that. But I am loath to leave town with Francesca on this investigation of hers. I know her, and she will not join us until the case is solved. She has involved Rick Bragg, you know."

Hart murmured, "He is an excellent police commissioner."

Julia blinked. "You do not mind? I do not care for them keeping all hours of the night!"

He did not move his smile. "I prefer she investigate with an escort, Julia, whether that be Bragg, myself or my driver, Raoul."

"Well, if you will remain in the city with her, I suppose I could manage that. Francesca needs guidance, Calder. I do not trust her if she is left to her own devices."

"No one needs guidance more," he said, meaning it. "She would climb a telephone pole in the rain to rescue a stray cat."

Julia laughed, taking his hands. "Yes, she would. You know her so well, and clearly you love her deeply. I am so relieved! This was not the audience I expected."