Author's Note: The painter mentioned in this story is one of my own invention. His name, Jacque de Tous Commerces is the closest French translation for Jack of All Trades that I could come up with that sounded like a real name. There is an actual word in French that means a jack of all trades, but it didn't sound right hence my more literal word by word translation of the name. Anyone who speaks this beautiful language properly, please forgive my abuse of it. Reviews are always appreciated. Also when the website is launched in the next couple of weeks, you will be able to actually view the Commerces painting which I created to accompany the story.

Chapter 1

This was without a doubt one of the worst weeks of her life, Samantha decided. It had started off horribly and seemed destined to end just as badly. At the start of the week, a tabloid newspaper ran a front page article about the deaths of Tom and Coop with the headline 'FBI's Black Widow.' As if that hadn't been bad enough, Angel had her set up for two blind dates, both of whom stood her up after reading the headline. All Sam wanted tonight was to soak in a bubble bath and binge on some chocolate. Instead, she was dressed to the nines at a museum gala, with the Bailey, John, and Angel.

The gala wouldn't have been too bad, but John had over indulged, hit on her and was having a rather vocal row with Angel. Sam had tried to get Bailey to intervene, but Bailey had shrugged it off and was imbibing heavily at the bar himself. Tomorrow when Bailey and John were nursing their hangovers, Angel would undoubtedly blame Sam for John's roving eye. There were times when Sam wondered why she was friends with these people and tonight was one of them.

It was very warm in the museum, the gathering was quite large as the elite and the social climbers jockeyed to view the rare Newquay art collection. Miriam Newquay, wife of the late Senator Andrew Jackson Newquay had lent the family's impressive art collection to the museum to raise money for charity. The Newquay family was purported to have one of the largest private art collections in the world. With connections to several of the royal families of Europe and wealth that would turn a Medici green with envy, the Newquay gala was supposed to be the social highlight of the year. The oppressiveness of the heat getting to her, Samantha made her way to a verandah along the side of the museum to get a breath of fresh air.

Samantha wasn't the only person having a bad evening. Albert Jackson Newquay, known as Jack to friends and the Jack of All Trades to the VCTF, was furious. He hated the hypocrisy of society and found social mendacity a bitter pill to swallow. His mother was having a grand time, she was in her element. Jack was annoyed that he'd let her bully him into lending his Jacque de Tous Commerces to the museum. The Commerces painting was one of his most prized possessions. An 18th century masterpiece of a woman who could have been Samantha's ancestor, surrounded by lush red roses. The colors were so vivid, you could almost smell the roses and feel the velvety softness of the petals.

Standing in the darkness, Jack leaned carelessly against the elegant white balustrade railing and lit a cigarette. Staring up at the black satin sky as he inhaled, he reached for his champagne glass he had balanced beside him. Exhaling a wisp of smoke into the air, he tossed the contents of the glass down his throat in disdain. He wished it was something stronger, God knew he needed something to get through tonight's charade. He thought of the flask of whiskey in his jacket, but decided to hold off. A loud sigh escaped his lips.

"Bad night?" an achingly familiar feminine voice asked.

Jack turned around slowly. Seeing his Samantha, a smile curled around his lips as he answered, "I remain optimistic."

Samantha walked closer and studied the handsome stranger. Whispers of custom tailoring and wealth emanated from his tuxedo. His eyes appeared nearly black in the dim light and his mouth had a cruel sensuality about it. Unlike his counterparts inside the museum, this man had power that had nothing to do with wealth. Authority and control radiated from his sinewy body and an almost preternatural intelligence gleamed in his eyes. He would have been menacing had it not been for the tiniest trace of vulnerability in the velvet depths of his eyes. Normally, Sam would have walked away from a man like this, but the frustrations of the week made her feel reckless. Hell she was the 'FBI Black Widow.'

"May I?" Samantha inquired flirtatiously reaching for the lit cigarette in his hand.

He looked a little surprised and then nodded. "Please do."

What the hell was Samantha up to? Jack had been shocked and pleased when he saw her. But this was a side of Samantha he'd never seen before. It was surprising, yet far from disagreeable he decided as he watched her lips close sensually around the cigarette. Years ago she'd quit smoking for Tom and now tonight she was smoking for Jack, albeit unknowingly. After exhaling, she took another puff and then held the cigarette to his mouth. He took the offering between his lips, relishing the taste of her lingering on the paper. He took a silver flask from his jacket and offered it to her as he tossed the last ember of the cigarette over the railing.

Opening the flask, Sam took a sip and let the whiskey burn down her throat. "Jack?"

For a moment he panicked, then realized she was referring to the alcohol. "Yeah."

Taking another sip before returning it, Samantha thanked him. "I appreciate it, after the week I've had I needed that Mr.-"

As he returned his flask to his jacket, Jack hesitated and quipped, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"Romeo and Juliet? Well I guess we are on a balcony of sorts," she laughed.

Boldly, Jack pulled her in his arms and continued his Shakespearean bent. "Call me but love and I'll be newly baptized. Henceforth I will never be Romeo."

Slight concern crossed her mind but was rapidly pushed aside as she embraced the moment's enchantment. "And if you aren't Romeo, who shall you be?"

Considering for a moment, Jack moved his mouth close to hers, his lips a heartbeat from hers. "I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself."

Knowing this was a once in a life time opportunity, Jack pressed his lips against Samantha's. At first his kiss was tentative and soft, then deepened with sensual abandon. Sam opened her mouth against his, encouraging him to continue his lascivious plunder. Self recrimination for her shameless behavior flitted in her mind and was rapidly banished by Jack's skilled tongue. Flickers of desire began to course through her, when he lifted his mouth from hers, she found herself pulling his mouth back to hers and drawing him closer.

Without knowing his name, her voice of it's own volition issued an invitation Samantha had never uttered in her life. "Would you like to go somewhere? I'll have to say goodnight to some people, but-"

Jack pressed his lips against hers, his arousal teasing promisingly against her thigh as he panted, "God. Yes."

For several moments the continued to kiss. Their hands growing more bold in their explorations. Both were breathless and trembling as they finally forced themselves apart.

"I think we'd better make our good-byes before I forget myself and have my way with you right here and now," Jack said, lifting her hand and kissing it reverently.

"You're right, my friends have a way of showing up at the damnedest times," Samantha agreed. She felt light headed and her knees were practically jelly.

"Shall we," Jack suggested gently, gallantly offering her his arm. Jack forced himself to maintain his composure and to put his social mask on before entering the museum. Tonight could be the answer to his prayers...