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it? Her imagination swirled with images of Sam. A smile crept over her lips. And then she knew: It was the feeling a girl got when she was about to go meet her boyfriend, when she didn’t know what was going to happen. When the possibilities were literally limitless, when she felt a tingling in certain parts of her body . . .
    Her eyes fell on the stone chess tables as she cruised past them.
That’s where I met him,
she thought. He’d sat down—right there, right at this very spot—to play a game of pickup chess. It had been one of those defining moments that change everything. She’d hated him from afar, but only because he was so gorgeous. And then she’d discovered he was an amazing chess player. Brilliant. But they had never finished the game. Rain started to pour from the sky, and Sam had disappeared—
    A faint scrap of conversation tore into her thoughts.
    Her head jerked up.
Russian.
    Standing by the miniature Arc de Triomphe on the north side of the park was a young couple huddled together, studying an unwieldy map. For a briefmoment Gaia’s heart squeezed. Every time she heard the language, she pictured her mother’s face. Her mother had taught Gaia her native tongue from the time she was a baby. And Gaia had clung to it, treasuring it as the only real link between her and the woman who had brought her into this world.
    The couple glanced up at Gaia as she approached and offered a tentative smile.
    Oh, brother.
Gaia sighed, thrusting the thoughts of her mother from her mind. She knew the type: young travelers from abroad, determined to see each and every New York City landmark no matter how low the temperature dropped. The drill was always the same, too. They would probably ask her how to get to ten different places, then start off in the exact opposite direction of where Gaia had suggested.
    â€œHello?” the woman called out, waving.
    Now that Gaia was close, she could see that the couple probably wasn’t much older than twenty-two. They were scruffy, alternative types, the kind of kids who knew nothing of the States but probably loved watching American MTV.
    â€œPlease—you help us, tell us where we go?” the man asked Gaia, gesturing toward the map.
    Gaia nodded.
“Zdrastvooytye,”
she said: Russian for “hello.”
    The couple’s jaws dropped. They exchanged a shocked glance.
    Gaia smiled.
Bet you didn’t think I could do that, huh?
“Where do you want to go?” she asked, continuing in Russian. It was nice to know her accent was still flawless.
    â€œThe Empire State Building,” the woman answered.
    â€œIt’s easy,” Gaia stated. “Go east to Christopher Street. Take the number-one train to Thirty-fourth Street. . . .” Her voice trailed off as she noticed that both of their expressions were still totally baffled. Obviously they had no idea what she was talking about. She might as well have still been speaking in English.
    â€œSee where I’m pointing?” Gaia asked, turning toward Fourth Street.
    The woman hovered at Gaia’s side, craning her neck to look down the street.
How has this couple managed to get along without running into someone who happens to speak Russian?
Gaia wondered impatiently. Talk about clueless. At this rate she would be late to meet Sam. “Walk toward those benches—”
    There was a tugging at her arm. It was hard. Aggressive.
    What the hell?
    An alarm went off in Gaia’s brain. She turned quickly. The Russian guy’s hand was gripping the strap of Gaia’s messenger bag, and his feet were poised to run. Unbelievable! So the helpless tourist couple apparently weren’t quite so helpless. Assholes. Angersurged through her veins, along with the electric fizzle she always felt before combat. Her hand instantly clamped down on the guy’s forearm.
    â€œBig mistake, jerk,” Gaia muttered in Russian.
    She took a step back with her right