"There's a strange rumor around," Jeff was saying.
She focused her attention on him. "What kind of rumor?"
"Have you ever heard of Daniel Cooper? He's an insurance investigator, very bright."
"No. What about him?"
"Be careful. He's dangerous. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."
"Don't worry."
"But I have been, Tracy."
She laughed. "About me? Why?"
He put a hand over hers and said lightly, "You're very special. Life is more interesting with you around, my love."
He's so damned convincing; Tracy thought. If I didn't know better, I'd believe him.
"Let's order," Tracy said. "I'm starved."
In the days that followed, Jeff and Tracy explored Madrid. They were never alone. Two of Commandant Ramiro's men followed them everywhere, accompanied by the strange American. Ramiro had given permission for Cooper to be a part of the surveillance team simply to keep the man out of his hair. The American was loco, convinced that the Whitney woman was somehow going to steal some great treasure from under the noses of the police. iQue ridнculo!
Tracy and Jeff dined at Madrid's classic restaurants - Horcher, the Prнncipe de Viana, and Casa Botнn - but Jeff also knew the places undiscovered by tourists: Casa Paco and La Chuletta and El Lacуn, where he and Tracy dined on delicious native stews like cocido madrileсo and olla podrida, and then visited a small bar where they had delicious tapas.
Wherever they went, Daniel Cooper and the two detectives were never far behind.
Watching them from a careful distance, Daniel Cooper was puzzled by Jeff Stevens's role in the drama that was being played out. Who was he? Tracy's next victim? Or were they plotting something together?
Cooper talked to Commandant Ramiro. "What information do you have on Jeff Stevens?" Cooper asked.
"Nada. He has no criminal record and is registered as a tourist. I think he is just a companion the lady picked up."
Cooper's instincts told him differently. But it was not Jeff Stevens he was after. Tracy, he thought. I want you, Tracy.
When Tracy and Jeff returned to the Ritz at the end of a late evening, Jeff escorted Tracy to her door. "Why don't I come in for a nightcap?" he suggested.
Tracy was almost tempted. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Think of me as your sister, Jeff."
"What's your position on incest?"
But she had closed the door.
A few minutes later he telephoned her from his room. "How would you like to spend tomorrow with me in Segovia? It's a fascinating old city just a few hours outside of Madrid."
"It sounds wonderful. Thanks for a lovely evening," Tracy. said. "Good night, Jeff."
She lay awake a long time, her mind filled with thoughts she had no right to be thinking. It had been so long since she had been emotionally involved with a man. Charles had hurt her badly, and she had no wish to be hurt again. Jeff Stevens was an amusing companion, but she knew she must never allow him to become any more than that. It would be easy to fall in love with him. And foolish.
Ruinous.
Fun.
Tracy had difficulty falling asleep.
The trip to Segovia was perfect. Jeff had rented a small car, and they drove out of the city into the beautiful wine country of Spain. An unmarked Seat trailed behind them during the entire day, but it was not an ordinary car.
The Seat is the only automobile manufactured in Spain, and it is the official car of the Spanish police. The regular model has only 100 horsepower, but the ones sold to the Policнa Nacional and the Guardia Civil are souped up to 150 horsepower, so there was no danger that Tracy Whitney and Jeff Stevens would elude Daniel Cooper and the two detectives.
Tracy and Jeff arrived at Segovia in time for lunch and dined at a charming restaurant in the main square under the shadow of the two-thousand-year-old aqueduct built by the Romans. After lunch they wandered around the medieval city and visited the old Cathedral of Santa Maria and the Renaissance town hall, and then drove up to the Alcбzar, the old Roman fortress perched on a rocky spur high over the city. The view was breathtaking.
"I'll bet if we stayed here long enough, we'd see Don Quixote and Sancho Panza riding along the plains below," Jeff said.
She studied him. "You enjoy tilting at windmills, don't you?"
"Depends on the shape of the windmill," he said softly. He moved closer to her.
Tracy stepped away from the edge of the cliff. "Tell me more about Segovia."
And the spell was broken.
Jeff was an enthusiastic guide, knowledgeable about history, archaeology, and architecture, and Tracy had to keep reminding herself that he was also a con artist. It was the most pleasant day Tracy could remember.
One of the Spanish detectives, Josй Pereira, grumbled to Cooper, "The only thing they're stealing is our time. They're just two people in love, can't you see that? Are you sure she's planning something?"
"I'm sure," Cooper snarled. He was puzzled by his own reactions. All he wanted was to catch Tracy Whitney, to punish her, as she deserved. She was just another criminal, an assignment. Yet, every time Tracy's companion took her arm, Cooper found himself stung with fury.
When Tracy and Jeff arrived back in Madrid, Jeff said, "If you're not too exhausted, I know a special place for dinner."
"Lovely." Tracy did not want the day to end. I'll give myself this day, this one day to be like other women.
Madrileсos dine late, and few restaurants open for dinner before 9:00 P.M. Jeff made a reservation for 10:00 at the Zalacaнn, an elegant restaurant where the food was superb and perfectly served. Tracy ordered no dessert, but the captain brought a delicate flaky pastry that was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. She sat back in her chair, sated and happy.