The London Deception (6 page)

“Spot-on again.”

“And keeping tabs also ensures you have a place on the digs, whether Monroe wants you there or not.”

“Now you’re just showing off.” The cocky grin was back, along with that distinct layer of respect in his gaze. “Well, then. Are you ready to go have some fun?”

“At this event?”

“Of course.”

She paused a moment, pleased when Finn’s gaze darkened with that tantalizing attraction that hummed subtly between them. “There’s a phrase in America. It’s called poking the bear in his den.”

“You’re suggesting Monroe’s the bear in this delightful Mark Twain-esque colloquialism?”

“Yep.”

Finn extended his arm and Rowan took it, his hard strength more than evident through the sleeve of his suit jacket. She fought the urge to cling to those delectable muscles, instead nodding in the direction of Baxter Monroe. “Allow me to lead the way.”

* * *

Finn gave himself the momentary gift of simply drinking her in, before he moved them deftly through the ballroom. The woman cut an incredible figure, the black dress clinging to each and every curve she possessed. If her plum suit from earlier had twisted him in knots, the black cocktail dress had him engulfed in flames.

She was stunning. Her pert features—already maximized by the short cap of hair that covered her head—stood out without the need for much fuss. Her makeup was minimal, the natural flush of her cheeks a sign of her vitality. The gamine cut of her hair had a secondary benefit—her neck and shoulders were fully exposed. The slender curve of her neck drew his gaze and he imagined pressing a line of kisses there, flicking his tongue lightly against her skin with the sole purpose of making her shiver.

The image gripped him as he placed his near-empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. Finn laid his hand over hers, pleased by the light jolt that rattled through his body at the contact. The shudder of her arm where it threaded through his only reinforced she was as affected as he was.

He took pleasure from the thought, surprised when a quick flash of memory rose up swift and strong. The same woman, clad all in black, pressing her lips to his.

He wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to see if the lush memory he’d kept all these years was nearly as satisfying as he remembered. Wanted to know if there was a way to replicate something that sweet and innocent, yet carnal and almost desperate with need.

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it.” Baxter’s voice broke the moment, and thoughts of kissing Rowan Steele vanished at the very clear evidence they were both “on.” The hand that had reflexively tightened on his arm with attraction tightened once more, this time in a subtle anger that practically vibrated from her.

He disengaged their linked arms, shifting his hand to the small of her back, and pulled her a fraction of an inch closer, whether in protection or possession, Finn didn’t know. “Baxter.”

Monroe turned to face Rowan. “And Miss Steele? I understand you’ll be joining us in the Valley of the Queens. I’m delighted.”

“Likewise.”

“When did you arrive in town?”

The forced conversation spun out and Finn was amused to watch how elegantly Rowan played her mark. She kept up the polite facade, never breaking eye contact or the subtle hints of flirtation until she went in for the kill. “I understand the site’s discovery was something of a surprise.”

Baxter’s laugh did nothing to hide the stiff lines of his face. “Hardly. What would give you that idea?”

“Just some things I’ve heard.”

“That’s hard to imagine. The museum was doing routine restoration in Nefertari’s burial chamber. We’ve always had reason to believe there was something else there and the time was ripe to explore. It’s as simple as that.”

“Fascinating.” Rowan shook her head, her voice still layered in polite platitudes. If Finn didn’t see her vivid blue, predatory gaze with his own eyes, he’d likely not have believed the small, genteel woman was capable of what came next.

“Yes, it is.”

“And here I thought this incredible discovery was all because you got your panties in a twist and tossed a small, pointed archaeology trowel across a priceless burial chamber.”

“Of all...” the man sputtered, the pale skin of his neck growing red.

“You then forced one of your lackeys to go pick it up before anyone could possibly snap a photo of the tossed object. Isn’t that right, Baxter?”

“Gossip and innuendo.”

“Yes, well, in my experience, nearly all gossip and innuendo has a grain or two of truth in it.”

The red flooding Baxter’s face shifted as his rolling gaze locked on to Rowan’s. “If that’s true, then surely you’re well aware of the rumors that follow you, Miss Steele.”

Finn fought the immediate and urgent need to get in between the two of them as Rowan leaned into Baxter’s personal space. “Then you
are
familiar with my reputation. I’m delighted to hear it. I expect you’ll be on your best behavior when we go to Egypt, then.”

“I’m interested in preserving the site and whatever we recover from the chamber.”

“As am I.”

“Then we’re obviously on the same page.”

“See that we stay there.”

Baxter avoided any pretense of a polite departure as he turned on his heel and crossed the room toward the bar. From the widening eyes of the bartender, Finn could only assume the drink request was given in a harsh bark.

With a sly smile he couldn’t have held back if he tried, Finn turned his gaze toward Rowan. “I can’t say I understand your motives but I do like your style.”

“I told you I didn’t like him.”

“There’s subtle disdain and then there’s barely veiled hatred.”

“I prefer to think of it as a preemptive strike.” Rowan’s smile was broad as she gestured toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

Finn was rarely taken off guard, so the obvious invitation in her words caught him up short. “Where do you want go?”

“Have you ever been to the British Museum after hours?”

He had, in fact, been there on more than one occasion, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. “Now, what would a nice girl like you be wanting in a place like that?”

“I can think of a few things.”

He could think of several himself, but again, Finn thought it wise to avoid that topic. “The museum opens tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m. sharp. I can have a car arranged to pick you up, deliver you and wait for you as long as you’d like.”

“What happened to that adventurous spirit, Finn?” Rowan moved in, the light scent of her wrapping around his senses as the heat of her body assailed him through his suit. “You know, the one that had you making those idiotic jumps off your office building?”

“There were far fewer cameras recording that idiocy.”

“We can get around those.”

“And the guards with guns?”

She waved a hand. “Easy.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” Finn held out a hand, barely suppressing the urge to wrap her in his arms. “Lead the way.”

Chapter 5

T
he party played out just as Jared Wright had expected it would. Several hundred stuffy intellectuals standing around eating canapés, talking about the world and doing very little living in it. He stood at the fringes and couldn’t fully hold back the sneer at how they all sipped their wine and put on pompous airs, their conversations swirling as if the fate of the world hung on their overeducated heads.

If they only knew.

His gaze shifted to Baxter Monroe. The man had one job to do, and from the miserable look on his face after he stalked away from Finn Gallagher and Rowan Steele, he had slacked off on the job. Damn it.

He’d spent years getting Monroe right where he wanted him, along with several top brass at the museum. Jared knew his deep pockets were a perfect match for certain...
appetites,
and he’d invested wisely. But none of it did him any damn good if his point man fouled up the job in Egypt.

Shifting his gaze from Baxter Monroe, he watched the couple slip from the small ballroom. It was curious to see them back together after all this time. Did it mean anything?

His contacts had indicated the two were working together, but their body language suggested something more intimate. Suggested they were a pair.

Although he’d disregarded the notion years before that they had worked the Warringtons’ as a pair—and all intel gathered after the debacle with the Victoria bracelet suggested they hadn’t—he couldn’t deny something seemed to simmer between the couple.

Interesting.

He slipped his phone from his pocket and issued instructions to one of his men waiting, even now, in his car.

Guests departing now. FOLLOW THEM.

“Wright.”

John Bauer’s bright and clueless smile greeted Jared as he looked up from his phone. “Good to see you, John.”

“Didn’t expect to see you here. I called your office earlier this week. Thought you were out of the country.”

“My meetings wrapped early and I jumped at the chance to spend a few days at home.”

John’s gaze drifted around the room as he snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. As soon as the man was out of earshot, John moved a fraction closer. “I dropped the suggestions to Gallagher like you asked me to.”

“Did you, now? How were they received?”

“With laughter, just as you thought. Seems as if your friend would prefer his extracurricular activities didn’t receive any notice. Brushed off the Indiana Jones reference with a sly smile and a glib line.”

Jared took a sip of his own champagne. “Understandable.”

“My firm is looking forward to the upcoming sale of whatever is recovered from the Valley of the Queens. Auctions full of Egyptian artifacts draw special attention.”

Jared nodded, the not-so-subtle reference to the man’s upcoming take in exchange for his assistance more than clear. “I can trust you to handle the next phase of things here in London?”

“Of course.”

“I look forward to the auction. I’m sure it will be the highlight of your schedule next summer.”

* * *

Rowan watched Finn from the corner of her eye and wondered at his reticence to accompany her on their late-night adventure. Despite the stupidity of suggesting they break into the British Museum, the taunt had seemed like a strong tactic to suss him out.

For reasons she couldn’t fully define, something about the man seemed familiar.

Too familiar.

Which was only further proof her lingering fascination with the young boy who’d fallen during the Warrington job had taken on near-mythic importance in her mind.

Rowan did her level best to brush off the strange thoughts, unwilling to dwell too closely on indiscretions best left in the past and instead pulled a small laminated card from her purse.

“Good evening, Miss Steele.” The guard who stood at the museum’s entrance nodded his head, waving them both through. “Mr. Gallagher.”

“So this is what you meant?” Finn waved his own card, identical to hers, before he shoved his back into his wallet.

“You’ve got one, too.”

“Of course.”

“They don’t give these out to just anybody.”

“Well, then.” Finn leaned in and squeezed her shoulders, the sensation shooting a small line of sparks down her spine. “It’s a good thing we’re not anybody.”

Rowan shook her head but couldn’t hold back the smile. “And here I thought you were up for a small game of breaking and entering.”

“But it’s so much easier to simply have special access.”

Rowan knew he was right, but couldn’t stop the kernel of disappointment that her ploy to figure out if he was the young man from her past had backfired. No matter how many ways she tried to look at it, she couldn’t shake the fact that Finn Gallagher pushed her buttons and made her remember things best forgotten.

Because try as she might to ignore it, something about him made her think he
might
be the boy she’d left at the bottom of the Warringtons’ back patio all those years ago.

Of course, it wasn’t exactly something you asked a person.
Oh ho, there. So I was wondering if you ever tried to rob a Knightsbridge townhome.

To borrow a phrase her grandfather was rather fond of, not bloody likely.

“What was so urgent we needed to come here tonight?”

Rowan moved at a steady clip through the Great Court, her heels tapping lightly on the marble floor. Darkness flooded the sky above them, visible through the glass panels in the roof. “Room 4 is one of the most popular areas of the museum.”

Finn nodded, his understanding immediate. “And you’d like a private viewing?”

“Let’s just say I love my fellow man in principle, but when I can jump the line, I’m all too willing.”

She felt the light caress on her shoulder as they came to a stop in front of the Egyptian Sculpture Gallery. Although the museum boasted several popular rooms housing Egyptian antiquities, this one was by far the most favored—and most visited—due to the fact it housed the Rosetta stone.

“You shouldn’t need to wait.” He traced her collarbone with the tip of one finger and Rowan could have sworn her stomach had just dropped out of the center of her body.

Attraction washed through her system in hard, chopping waves of need, and her legs trembled as they stood at the entrance to Room 4. Their gazes locked as he dropped his hand from her shoulder, and Rowan couldn’t hold back the rush of disappointment at the loss of contact.

With what she hoped was a casual move, she took a step closer. “It’s always more fun to have something unique and special all to yourself.”

His gaze darkened, the hazel flashing over to a deep golden-brown. Once more, his hand returned to her shoulder, this time settling at the base of her neck. With gentle movements, he leaned in, his lips whisper soft against her ear. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Another wave of delicious shivers racked her system, and even as her body leaned toward his, more than willing to enjoy the moment, her mind screamed at her in protest.

What had possibly possessed her to go down this path? They were business associates, working on a high-profile—and potentially dangerous—job. She needed to keep her wits about her, and instead she was letting her hormones do the talking.

“Let’s get to it, then.”

Humor had the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled, but he gave no other reaction as he stepped back. “Lead the way.”

Rowan walked past the Rosetta stone, stopping briefly to look at one of the world’s most famous artifacts. The words on the stone registered in her mind as she read the decree from King Ptolemy V.
“In the reign of the young one...”

“Can you read it?” Finn’s question pulled Rowan from her perusal.

“Yes.”

“All three languages?”

The briefest flush of embarrassment had heat creeping into her cheeks. “I’m not great at Demotic, but yes, I can read all three.”

“That’s incredible.”

“You don’t read hieroglyphics?”

Finn shook his head, the regret clear in his voice. “I’ve never learned. I’m incredibly impressed you can.”

The genuine appreciation in his gaze lit her up, and the warmth of embarrassment changed into something else.

Excitement.

While she didn’t lack for male attention, her agile mind and constant travel didn’t lend itself to many long-term relationships. And she’d discovered all too early that few men wanted to sit across a dinner table discussing Egyptian relics, ancient Persian dig sites or Mayan ruins.

And no one she’d ever met had ever quite lived up to the young man in the mask who’d kept her safe on the worst night of her life.

“Is this why we’re here?”

“No.” Rowan shook her head, pulling herself from the distracted thoughts. Comparing Finn to old dates—or to a young man from a long-ago night—ran the risk of putting too much emphasis on the personal aspects of this trip and not nearly enough focus on why they were together. The find in Nefertari’s tomb was under threat of theft and they needed to be prepared to defend it.

That was the reason she was here, and she’d do well to remember their trip required her full focus. “The bust of Ramesses II is at the end of the room.”

“Of course. The
Younger Memnon
statue. And Nefertari’s husband.”

“Exactly.”

“You think there’s something on the statue?”

“It can’t hurt to take a look. Nefertari was one of several wives, but she was purported to be the woman he loved.”

“The statue’s been studied extensively. Do you really think there’s something there?”

“There are hieroglyphs running down the back of the statue. As I remember, it’s basically the name and title of the king, and there’s a dedication to Amun-Ra. I’m curious if there’s anything else.”

“He was quite the prolific king.” Finn’s large form kept pace with hers as they moved through the large hall. Priceless statues surrounded them and it pained her to pass by them so quickly, but it wasn’t time for a leisurely perusal.

“He fathered eighty-five children.”

His grin was quick, his white teeth flashing in the subdued night-lighting in the room. “That, too. But I meant that he was also politically savvy. He understood the benefit of putting images of himself all over Egypt. Hence the volume of statues that bear his likeness. And he also had one of the longest reigns in Egyptian history. Well over sixty-five years.”

“You know your Egyptology.”

“Right back at ya, Miss Steele.”

“It’s fascinated me since I was little.” They came to a stop at the base of the statue, and as the bust of Ramesses II rose above them, she thought of her youth. Of the hours she’d spent poring over the books and photos in her grandfather’s library and the great joy she found visiting the museum on rainy Sundays, her hand wrapped in his.

Egyptology was a passion they shared, and Alexander Steele could always be counted on for a rousing discussion on ancient antiquities or the interpretation of historic texts. “And I come by it honestly. My grandfather is a rabid hobbyist.”

“I’d wager most archaeologists can trace their fascination to their earliest school days, learning about the pyramids.”

“Everybody loves a good pyramid. Add a mummy or two and it makes it even better.”

Finn tugged on his tie, the move shockingly sexy as he stared up at the immense bust and head of the ancient pharaoh. “Hollywood’s version does tend to focus a bit too heavily on the curse aspects, and decades of books and movies have framed how the public thinks of Egypt. Curses and mummies and ancient viziers bent on destruction.”

Finn’s words faded to a dull roar as Rowan simply drank him in. The tie was gone and his crisp white shirt was open at the collar, exposing his throat. A light chill ran the length of her spine at the strong frame of his jaw and the firm lines of his neck. Goodness, the man was gorgeous.

Brushing off that damnable pull of attraction, Rowan pulled her phone from her purse and opened up the camera icon. She
had
to get her head in the game. Had to
focus.

“You okay?”

She looked up from her phone screen at the concern in his voice. “Of course. Why?”

“You looked upset all of a sudden.”

“No.” She mentally hunted for a topic, settling on something he’d just mentioned. As responses went it was fairly lame, but it kept her from admitting the truth. Somehow telling him she was fantasizing about running her lips over his neck while unbuttoning his shirt wasn’t the best way to kick off their partnership. “I think you’re right about the public’s perception of Egypt. It’s why this gallery is the most popular in the museum. Everyone loves to imagine the Egypt of myth, full of flowery and dramatic overtones.”

“I don’t think the Egyptian tourist board minds much.”

“No, but it does diminish the region’s rich history.”

“That’s why we do what we do.”

Rowan was caught by his comment. “How do you mean?”

“The myths of ancient Egypt might have been what got me into what I’m doing, but it’s the reality of preserving pieces of history that keeps me in the game.”

“That’s rather poetic.”

That grin flashed once again. “It’s also rather lucrative, so I can hardly complain. I’m one of the lucky people who gets to combine what I love with my career. It doesn’t get much better than that.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She took a few steps around the base of the statue until she could look up at the vertical rows of hieroglyphs that ran along the back of the statue and extended her phone toward Finn. “You’re taller. Can you take some photos for me?”

Even with Finn’s added height—nearly a foot on her—the statue was considerably higher than both of them. He took the phone, his large fingers brushing over hers as he took the small device. All her effort to disregard his effect on her fled at the warmth of his touch.

Electricity ran the length of her arm and she couldn’t stop the desperate urge to look at him. Those large shoulders, framed by the tailored cut of his suit jacket, held her attention longer than was necessary. Nor was it professional.

But it was the raw hunger in his gaze that prevented her from looking away. His observation was that of a lover—complete and absolute—and Rowan fought another shiver as that sultry stare came to rest on her lips. Something flashed in his eyes—regret?—before he turned away from her and lifted the phone. “Let me take a few and you can look at them to see if they’re what you need.”