What were the chances of finding her in such a twisted city, with all its alleyways going nowhere and canals slipping between centuries-old buildings? With Carnival just kicking off, Ronin Magnus couldn’t have chosen a worse time to visit Venice.

He didn’t know if he’d find Isabella, but he knew he had to try. If for no other reason than to get her out of his mind.

Ronin stepped off the train with hundreds of other tourists eager to experience Venice, some for the first time and all for the annual celebration of Lent. Like them, a current of excitement and anticipation coursed through his veins at seeing the City of Love. But this wasn’t his first time in Venice.

Two years ago, during his last real vacation, he’d roamed the streets and canals of Venice and met a woman. Two years had passed since he’d seen her. In those two years, he had neither seen nor heard from her. But she existed in every waking and sleeping dream.

Enough was enough.

Ronin had come to debunk the love part of the Venice equation.

His mission? Find the woman who haunted his dreams and fantasies and prove to himself the haunting attraction was all just a dream he’d blown out of proportion.

Then maybe he could get on with his life, enjoy other women and forget about her.

With purpose in his step, he headed for Piazza San Marco with its little sidewalk café. It was there he’d had his first real date with Isabella and his last. There, they’d kissed and said their goodbyes. So there, he’d begin his search.

He had nothing but her first name to go on. She’d been secretive about where she lived and what her last name was. They’d met at a masquerade ball in a palatial mansion, one of the oldest in the city, owned by a multi-millionaire with worldwide business interests, based out of Italy. Once a year, the tycoon opened his Venetian mansion to the city, inviting any and all who cared to attend during Carnival.

That fateful day two years ago, Ronin had come with one of his SEAL buddies, hoping to meet women. He’d been skeptical about the masquerade part, opting for a simple pirate’s costume.

She’d dressed as a female version of a masked highwayman or bandit, complete with a sword in a scabbard slung at her waist. Her jet-black hair spread out about her shoulders, hanging in waves down her back to her waist. She’d stood at the top of a sweeping staircase, her feet spread apart, hands on her hips, and her chin tilted upward, as if in challenge.

All the lovely ladies wearing colorful ball gowns suitable for the 1800’s seemed to fade into the background as Isabella walked down the stairs, every step confident, her swaying movements, catlike in grace, and sexy beyond anything Ronin had ever imagined.

He’d stood transfixed, unable to tear his gaze from her. As if carried in a dream, Ronin moved, intercepting her at the base of the stairs.

She’d paused before reaching the bottom and stared down her nose, speaking in musical, if haughty, Italian.

When he shook his head, she switched to Spanish then French.

Ronin shook his head and watched as her brows above the mask wrinkled. Then she smiled, her blood-red lips curving upward. “English.”

“How did you guess?”

Isabella snorted softly. “It was the blank look in your eyes and the moronic expression on your face.” Despite her insult, her voice was melodic, husky and sexy as hell.

It tugged Ronin low in the groin, sending heat waves throughout his body. “Nice. Your grasp of English is excellent. I barely hear the Italian accent.”

She shrugged. “I had an American tutor. My father insisted I learn American English.” She frowned and waved her hand. “Please step aside. If I must be here, the least I can do is dance.”

Ronin held out his hand. “Dance with me.” The words came out more as a command than as a question.

“And why should I dance with you?” she’d asked.

“Because I asked?”

“No, you did not ask. You demanded.”

“Would a pirate ask a damsel to dance?” He fisted his hands on his hips and blocked her path.

She stared hard with eyes such a pale blue they could have been glacial ice. “Would a bandit capitulate without a fight?”

“Perhaps, if she were the least bit attracted to the pirate.”

“Rest assured, I’m not the least bit attracted to you or any other pirate in the room.”

Ronin winced. “You wound me.” He was far too attracted to her, for his own good and her rejection was like a gauntlet thrown in his face. He wasn’t giving up yet. “Ah, fair maiden,” Ronin lifted a single finger, “you are not attracted because you have yet to dance with a pirate.”

“I’ve danced with enough clowns to be permanently crippled. Why should I dance with you, a complete stranger?”

“Because you crave danger and the thrill of the unknown. And because you think I’m cute.” He graced her with a wink and a sexy smile. “So, what do you say? Dance or stand here all night. Either way, I’m getting to know this beautiful bandit.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know I am beautiful? A mask can hide a great deal.”

“Beauty doesn’t have to be physical. Perhaps I find beauty in your attitude and the way you owned the room when you stood on the landing above. You exude the strength of an Amazon warrior.”

Again, she snorted. “Some men find strong women intimidating and unattractive.”

“Those men are fools.”

She tilted her head. “Again, why should I dance with you?”

“So I won’t get a pain in my neck staring up at you on the stairs?” He offered his hand. and lowered his voice. “Go on. Take a chance.”

She hesitated for a very long moment. “I could ask one of the guards at the door to escort you out of the ballroom.”

“But then you’d never know what you’d missed. I could be the best dancer you’ve ever had the pleasure of dancing with.”

“Or the worst.” Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed.

He nodded. “Or the worst.”

With a sigh, she laid her hand in his and descended those last two steps. She wasn’t short, but the top of her head only came up to his shoulder.

A perfect fit. He lifted her hand to press a kiss to the back of her knuckles.

“You are a bold man, taking liberties.”

“I’ll take more than that, if you let me.” With her hand in his, he spun her out and back into the crook of one arm, and then dipped her low. “Are you ready for an adventure?”

She stared up at him. “Yes. But don’t get carried away. I have a sword, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

He laughed out loud and, before he could think better of it, he crushed his lips to hers in a brief, heat-infused kiss. Then he brought her back to her feet and waltzed her around the ballroom until the music changed into a sensuous slow dance.

“What is your name, fair bandit?” he asked, pulling her closer.

She rested her cheek against his chest. “Isabella,” she whispered.

He leaned back and stared into her ice-blue eyes. “I would have pegged you for a Dianne or Katherine, not such a sweet name as Isabella.”

She shrugged. “I am sorry to disappoint.”

“No, you’re not a disappointment. An enigma.” By that time, they were close to the entrance to the ballroom and the building.

She looked up. “Want to get out of here?” Behind the mask, her eyes danced with mischief and excitement.

“As long as you’re coming with me,” he’d answered.

“Then on my count, we make a run for the door.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Why don’t we just walk out?”

“We’re fugitives—a pirate and a bandit. The authorities would have us hanging from the yardarm. Are you with me?” She slipped her hand into his.

He chuckled. “On your count.”

She glanced left and right. “Three, two, one…go!” Her hand tightened in his, and she ran for the door, slipping behind a large potted plant to avoid detection from the sentry standing guard.

Once outside, she didn’t stop running until she’d led him through several narrow alleys to an arched portico, dead-ending onto a canal.

“Are you sure you didn’t pick a pocket or steal some rich woman’s jewels?” he asked, coming to a stop in time to keep from falling into the murky water.

“I’m sure. What need have I of jewels? The stars in the sky are all the diamonds a woman could ever want.”

Ronin had stood at the edge of the canal and pulled her into his arms. “You truly are a mystery. A beautiful woman at a masquerade ball, who doesn’t care for fancy dresses or jewelry.” He shook his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Where have you been all my life?”

Her burst of laughter echoed off the arched portico. “Is that the best line you could come up with, English?”

“You steal the words from my mind. All I can do is speak from my heart.” He bent to nibble the soft skin beneath her earlobe. “Where do we go from here, my sweet bandit?”

She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I’ll show you.” Leaning up on her toes, she brushed his lips with hers. Then she stepped away from him and jumped over the ledge.

Ronin’s heart leaped into his throat until she popped her head over the ledge.

“Are you coming or not?” She held the line for a black lacquer gondola, the interior lined in deep red paint.

He hesitated. “You really are a thief?”

Her smile spread across her face. “It’s not stealing if you bring it back. I’m only borrowing it for a little while.” With a furtive glance, she waved him forward. “Come on.”

“Geez, how am I going to explain to my commander why I’m in jail in Italy?”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’ll take all of the blame. Now, are you coming, or am I going on a romantic boat ride alone?” Her raised eyebrows issued the challenge.

His libido accepted. How could a red-blooded military man walk away from a beautiful woman and the promise of romance on the canals of Venice? Not this Navy SEAL.

Ronin jumped down to the launch and stepped into the boat. It rocked gently. Familiar with keeping his balance in watercraft, he steadied the rocking before he held out his hand to Isabella.

She tossed in the line and laid her fingers in his. When she stepped into the boat, her foot must have caught on the edge. She pitched forward and crashed into him.

For a moment, he thought they’d both end up in the murky water of the canal, but he leaned to one side, taking her with him and landing on the bottom of the boat.

His body cushioning her fall, she lay sprawled across him.

“I am so sorry.” Isabella pushed against his chest, rising to straddle his hips. She yanked the mask from her face and stared down at him, her brow puckered, blue eyes narrowed in concern. “Are you all right?”

Moonlight shone down from above, bathing her face in a soft blue glow.

The fall and subsequent landing had nothing to do with his inability to catch his breath.

Isabella stole his breath away.

“Talk to me, English. Tell me you’re okay.” She lay back down and pressed her ear to his chest. “Are you breathing?” she asked. “Your heart still beats. Why won’t you answer me? What have I done to you?”

“Sweetheart,” Ronin started, then cleared his throat and tried again. “You’re doing crazy things to me.” He cupped her cheeks in his palms and raised her face so he could look into her eyes. “And if you don’t get up soon, you’ll know exactly what effect you’re having on me.”

Her eyebrows rose up her forehead, and she swept her tongue across her lips. “Oh.” As she shifted, her cheeks flushed darker. “I can’t seem to…” Isabella rocked on his hips, struggling to get her feet beneath her.

Her movements exacerbated his desire. His groin tightened, and he hardened beneath her.

Ronin gripped her arms. “Be still, woman,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry.” She continued to shift her bottom against his crotch. “I can’t get my feet…”

“And I can’t take much more of this.” He dragged her down and claimed her mouth in a deep, mind-blowing kiss. With his tongue, he traced the seam of her lips until she parted them, letting him inside.

Their tongues thrust and caressed in a primal dance.

When his lungs were starved, and he had no choice but to come up for air, he lifted her off his body and sat her on the bench. As much as he wanted her, he wouldn’t make love to her in the bottom of a boat.

Her eyelids drooped, and she held onto his arms to steady herself. Finally, she let go and touched a hand to her lips. “I am sorry for my clumsiness. I am sure I have not impressed you with my grace.”

“I don’t think you could be any more perfect.” He rose to his feet and looked around. “I don’t suppose there are oars?”

Isabella laughed, the sound musical and light. “The boat masters use a pole to maneuver the waterways.”

Ronin frowned. “If I’m poling, how romantic will that be? And don’t ask me to sing. Whatever might be starting between us will quickly end.”

She smiled. “Just pole. I’ll let you know where to turn.”

“Not the fastest getaway vehicle,” he muttered. “We’d better hope we aren’t chased by the water police, driving their jet boats.” He located the long black pole moored to hooks affixed to the side of the boat, raised the point up in the air and dug the end into the water until the tip touched bottom. The gondola moved forward.

“Slow where the waterways cross,” she warned him.

As he familiarized himself with the movements needed to propel the small craft through the canals, Ronin relaxed.

In the distance, perhaps on another watery street, the deep rich sound of a man singing echoed off the centuries-old buildings.

Soon, Isabella hummed in tune with the song. Then she whispered the words, her Italian soft and achingly beautiful.

Her words and her song flowed like the boat, past docks, doors and alleyways, filling the darkness with a haunting melody. She fit directions in English between the lilting Italian. When the song came to an end, she said, “Stop at the next pier.”

So caught up in her melody, Ronin almost missed her instruction. He dug the pole into the silt at the bottom of the canal and brought the little boat to a halt a couple feet past the dock. In seconds, he backed up and brought the gondola alongside the pier. While he once again stowed the pole on the hooks along the side of the boat, Isabella tied the line on the mooring of the pier.

Ronin lifted her out of the boat onto the wooden dock then leaped up beside her and looked at the shadowed building in front of them. “What is this place?”

She shrugged. “I think it’s an old apothecary. But this isn’t the place I wanted to take you. Let’s go before anyone sees us.” Slipping her hand into his, she turned toward an alley.

He held her back, digging in his heels. “Who are you afraid will see us?”

She didn’t look him straight in the eye. Instead, she stared at the alley, as if willing Ronin to blindly follow, no questions asked. “Why the police, of course. You don’t want to get caught with a stolen boat, do you?”

Ronin chuckled. “Now, she worries about getting caught with stolen goods.” He started toward the alley, his hand curling tightly around hers. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” she called over her shoulder.

“Probably taking me to her pimp to have me stripped of all my money and credit cards,” he muttered.

“I heard that. I don’t need your money or credit cards. Now, be quiet and hurry.”

Soon she stopped in front of an old building with brass handles on dark-stained doors and a third-floor balcony with wrought iron railing, overlooking the street.

“Where are we?” he asked.

She smiled and pushed open the door. “Welcome to Hotel Eden.”

Ronin vividly recalled everything from that night. From dancing at the masquerade ball, the gondola and her voice—and making love for the first time in Eden. The following three days passed like a dream. They’d spent the days holed up in Hotel Eden, making love in the sunlight streaming through the window of their room and most of the way through the next night. They didn’t leave the tiny hotel, preferring to have a nearby restaurant deliver their food.

By the time his vacation had come to an end, Ronin was head over heels in love with the beautiful Isabella. He’d even considered leaving the Navy to stay in Italy with her. But when he’d broached the matter of the future, she’d changed the subject, kissed him, or took off another item of clothing. His leave came to an end and he was due to fly back to Virginia the fourth afternoon.

They’d had lunch in the Piazza San Marco at the little bistro café. She’d worn a tie-dyed sundress, a broad-brimmed hat and sunglasses she’d picked up from a street vendor on one of their few outings the day before.

He’d asked her to remove the glasses so he could see her beautiful blue eyes.

She’d refused, claiming she didn’t want him to see her cry.

Now, two years later, he stood in the crowded Piazza San Marco, desperately searching for that broad-brimmed hat, her coal-black hair or her ice-blue eyes.

The café was still where it had been. The name had changed, but the same tables stood outside the little shop, two years older, but the same.

Tourists wandered around the wide-open square, feeding pigeons and coaxing them to land on their arms and hands in exchange for a treat. A jumbo-tron media screen had been erected on one end of the square for the Carnival festivities as it had been two years ago.

On the surface, nothing had changed.

But Ronin had.

He’d been deployed several times. The buddy he’d come with to Venice had been killed during one of the operations, and time had passed.

He’d come to put the ghost of Isabella and their magical time together to rest, once and for all.

First, he had to find her. As he stared at the bistro tables filled with tourists, he searched for a flash of blue eyes or long black hair, hanging over one shoulder.

The number of tables outside the café had increased to at least double what had been there on his last visit. He took his time, running his gaze over every guest of the café, praying luck would be on his side.

As his gaze slipped over every occupant, hope faded. No one even came close to resembling her. The crowd in the square was too thick to allow him to find anyone. Why he’d thought he could just waltz into Venice during Carnival and find one woman… He shook his head.

He’d just about given up and turned to walk away when a movement in the far corner of his eye caught his attention. The jumbo-tron had been turned on, displaying images of the people milling about the piazza.

Ronin looked up in time to see a woman wearing a pale blue Pashmina scarf around her face.

Though her face was hidden for the most part, there was something about the way she held her head, and the way she kept turning, that caught his attention. Her glances darted, as if she was expecting someone to show up, perhaps someone she didn’t want to see.

His pulse pounding, his throat clenching, Ronin glanced at the jumbo-tron and the buildings displayed in the background. Could it be her? Could she really be in the square full of people? The chances were one in a million, but he had to know.

Keeping an eye on the huge display screen, he worked his way through the crowd. There was the jester on stilts and the woman in the flamboyant purple dress. But where was the woman with the pale blue scarf?

A tall man, Ronin could see over most people, most of the time, but this was Carnival. The costumes were outlandish and bigger than life. Hats blocked his view. If not for the large screen with its view from above the crowd, he’d be searching for a needle in a brightly colored haystack.

Finally, he found a woman in a light-colored scarf and pushed his way through the crowd to get to her. Out of breath from excitement more than exertion, he touched her shoulder. “Isabella?”

The woman turned, her face coming into focus.

Ronin’s heart plummeted to his knees.

“Scusami?” The woman had white hair, tucked beneath the blue scarf. Wrinkles lined her face, and her eyes were brown, not blue.

“Excuse me.” He cleared his throat. “My mistake.”

She smiled and waved her hand, encompassing the crowd. “Nessun problema. Buona giornata.”

Ronin stepped back, the excitement of moments before drained from his body and soul. He was crazy to think he’d find her here. With so many people crowding the city, he’d be lucky to find his hotel, much less one woman whose last name he’d never learned. He turned toward one of the piazza’s exits, intent on finding his way to his hotel.

“Ronin?” a familiar voice said behind him.

He spun and stared into the face of the woman who’d haunted him ever since the last time they’d met.