Chuckling, he held the now-complete codex up like a trophy or the Olympic torch.
Electricity sizzled through Veronica, making her feel more alive, more joyous, than she’d ever felt in her life. Simon seemed almost giddy and she was sure that didn’t happen often.
Sheer joy washed over Simon’s face, and he handed her the codex with a flourish. Even though she felt able to fly, she wrapped her fingers around the artifact and weighed it with her palm. The completed piece was lighter than she imagined. Thin with the ages.
Yet heavy with history.
Her hands shook. She set the codex on the small table. “Do you feel it?” she whispered. Her voice shook as hard as her hands, but she didn’t care if Simon noticed. He was an archaeologist. He understood the sheer joy and energy that ran through her veins. Something a layman could talk about but never truly understand. “The energy of a thousand hands touching its pages. The history of a thousand years.”
“I feel it,” Simon whispered back.
She recognized the masculine, sensual tone in his voice and knew he wasn’t talking about the codex. Slowly, she raised her head.
Reserved, he watched her, their eyes locked while the energy between them changed. Transformed from the thrill of escape to the desire that came with success.
She realized she wanted to kiss him. Just once.
Bad idea. She reminded herself. Very bad idea.
But even as she thought the words, her legs drew her closer to him, closing the distance between them.
The voice of reason whispered to Veronica that the heat rushing through her was fleeting. Sexual desire brought on by adrenaline.
Her legs brought her another step closer to Simon. A hand’s width apart, his breath blew over her skin.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispered even as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I know,” he replied, and his mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding.
He tasted like wine. Like adrenaline. Rising on her toes, she pressed herself against him. Hip to hip. Chest to chest. Let one knee lift to wrap itself around his hips and pull him closer.
Simon dragged his hands from her shoulders, down her arms, and stopped at her waist. Kissing a path to her neck, he slid his hands under her top, and traced her spine with his strong fingers, giving her goose bumps and making her shudder.
She turned her head to catch her breath and remind herself that this was her partner, for God’s sake, and probably not even a trustworthy one, but instead, she found herself biting his neck. The tang of sweat drove her further and she pushed him toward the bed, the ache between her legs growing with each pulse of her heart.
“Veronica.” He groaned her name. “We shouldn’t do this.” But his hands slid from her waist to her buttocks, cupping them as he lifted her and spun her so the bed was to her back.
She silently agreed but couldn’t bring herself to care. “Shut up.”
He kissed her again, his tongue tasting, probing. Tangling with hers. He kissed as if her mouth and being were the entire focus of his world.
He left her mouth and began working his way down her throat with an overwhelming combination of strength and gentleness. She tried to turn him back to the bed but he resisted, fought her. “I’m on top,” he growled.
“You wish,” she replied. Sex wasn’t usually a competitive sport for her, but with Simon, it seemed to be the natural path. Retreating, she circled around to his back. He didn’t turn to face her, but waited, his hands at his side. Every muscle in his back taut.
Inhaling his scent, Veronica ran her hands up his back and then around to his chest, stroking until his nipples hardened under her fingertips.
“Nice try, but you won’t win,” Simon said, his voice husky.
“I already have,” Veronica retorted.
Rumbling low in his throat, Simon whirled around and lifted her up in one smooth move until she had no choice but to wrap her legs around him. She felt his erection pressed against her and dragged herself along its length.
“No,” Simon moaned. “Not yet.” Striding to the bed, he laid her down. His right hand flattened on her stomach while his left played with her hair. As he nuzzled her, Veronica closed her eyes, lost in the sensation of his touch. He reached between her thighs, stroking her through her leggings and the shiver of orgasm started. Her breath loud in her ears, she rocked her hips forward and against his palm. “God, Simon. Please.”
She was almost there, the cascade of sensation rippling though her.
Bbrrriiing.
“Son of a bitch!” Simon roared, knocking the phone off the hook and to the floor.
A tinny voice floated up from the receiver. Veronica. Veronica. Are you there? Are you okay?
Joseph. Her orgasm came to a screeching halt and died. “Son of a bitch,” she said through clenched teeth.
Simon stilled. And she knew the “moment” was over for both of them. Rolling over, she picked up the phone from the floor. “Hey, Joseph.”
“Veronica. I was worried. I tried to call earlier but there was no answer.”
She glanced at Simon. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He looked pissed, and from his unflagging erection—frustrated as well.
“Veronica?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. I was getting ready to go to bed—” isn’t that an understatement “—and knocked the phone off the receiver.”
“How did it go?” Joseph asked, his tone curious.
“Good. We got what we came for.”
He hesitated, and she heard the clinking of a spoon in a cup. “Good. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to, uh, acquire it.”
“It wasn’t a problem,” she assured him, anxious to be off the phone, her own frustration making her edgy and snappish. “But I don’t want to say too much on the phone.” And I need a cold shower. “I’ll get some information to Rebecca tomorrow and then we should know more.”
“Excellent idea. I’m just glad there weren’t any mishaps.” He chuckled. “I only wish I could have gone with you.”
Frustration ebbed at the truthful comment cloaked in casual jest, and Veronica cradled the phone with both hands. “Yeah. Me, too.”
A moment later, she said goodbye and hung up the phone. Still sitting on the bed, she edged toward Simon.
He raked a hand through his mussed hair, but once again, his eyes were unreadable. “All okay in the States?”
“Yeah,” she replied, both disappointed and angry at the interruption, but knowing it was for the best. The silence stretched between them, and finally, she rose. What she was feeling was the adrenaline and nothing more.
It would be best if they both forgot it ever happened.
Standing, she started collecting the few research books she’d brought. Kisses happened, she told herself, dropping the stack on the small table. They hadn’t slept together, so there wasn’t any harm. Not really.
Simon sat up and the bed creaked. Swinging his legs to the floor, he stood and watched her with unreadable eyes. “Leave the books. Get some rest.”
“No,” Veronica replied. She’d sleep when she was dead. Besides, her body was still pumped up and there was no way she could close her eyes. Not yet. “You’re welcome to get some if you want.”
“I’m going to take a shower.”
“Fine.” She waved him off, but not before a flicker of emotion rippled across his features. Disappointment? Irritation? Whatever it was, it was fleeting, and then the shutters went up.
He didn’t say another word as he retrieved a pair of boxers from the drawer, pulled his shirt off and headed to the oversize bathroom.
Veronica watched him walk away, muscles on his back flexing. Her fingertips rested on her lips. He slammed the door behind him, and she laid her head in her hands with a groan. Celibacy for the duration of their expedition would be more difficult than she thought. Much more difficult. A part of her still wanted to strip Simon naked and have her way with him.
This wasn’t like
her. It was like Rebecca. Even Alyssa. Everyone else she knew.
But not her.
She set the codex on the bedspread. She took off her still-damp leggings and sweaty tank top, then put on clean panties and a T-shirt, and slid between the sheets. Propping herself against the headboard with her pillows, she took a moment to collect herself. Simon was her partner. That was all. Anything more was…irresponsible.
And any more reflection was whining.
With a yawn, she propped her legs up so she could rest the codex on them. She’d have to get a hard plastic container for the book. Granted, it was velum, not parchment, but it could still be damaged.
Picking it up, she ran her hands over the worn cover, admiring its ageless beauty. Wild, uninhibited sex would have been great, but this—she hugged the codex to her chest for a brief moment—in many ways, this was so much better.
Veronica woke up with Simon’s arm draped over her waist.
Why was he in bed with her was her immediate, foggy thought.
She picked up the clock on the nightstand with her free hand. It read 6:00 a.m. She should get up. Rise and act indignant. Get coffee. Work on translating the codex. Be productive. In that order. It would be the smart thing to do.
Instead, she set the clock back down and snuggled into Simon. Perhaps it was weak-willed, but it had been a long time since she’d woken up with a man in her bed.
He sighed in his sleep and pulled her closer into the curve of his body.
When she opened her eyes again, it was after nine, the bed was empty, and his side was made. Had she dreamed of Simon being in bed with her? Or was it real? She rolled over with a groan.
Dressed and sitting at a small table, her partner was already working. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose. Coffee. Nectar of the gods. A kick-start for her body.
She stretched, arms overhead as she worked the morning kinks from her body. “When did you order room service?” She watched him closely, wondering if there would be any repercussions from last night’s terminated tryst.
Simon glanced up. “Just a little bit ago. There’re pastries, as well.”
Veronica licked her lips at the thought. Caffeine and processed sugar? Perfect. And if he could forget the incident and pretend it never happened, so could she.
Rising, Veronica sat down in the opposite chair, poured her coffee into a delicate china cup and began reading Simon’s notes before the caffeine took effect.
She’d made almost no headway last night—barely glancing at the codex before her body came down from the adrenaline rush. The last thing she remembered was resting her eyes. “How much have you translated?”
“The first page of the half you recovered, and that’s a rough translation. I suspect I’m a lot slower than you are. As you said, the Mediterranean cultures are your thing, not mine. If we were translating French, I’d be your guy.” He sipped his coffee. “How far did you get when you were in the Vatican before?”
“Not far enough. I had it for two days before they took it away.” When she’d had access to the second half of the codex so many years ago, she’d been obsessed with making a flawless translation, which was the right thing to do. It was the way she’d been trained.
Now, knowing about the Midas Stone, she wished she’d focused on the potentially more useful information, like the Eye of Artemis. She peeked at Simon to see where he was in his translation. He turned the page and methodically began translating the new text. “Do yourself a favor, skip this bit.” She picked up a croissant and used it like a laser-pointer. “Just keep turning pages. You’ll know when to stop.”
“You have your methodology. I have mine,” he said, still reading. “I like to get a sense of what the author was trying to say at the moment they were writing the text. I think it has bearing on the translation.”
Ouch. “Trust me. It’ll be worth changing your methodology for one moment.”
With a sigh of resignation, he flipped the delicate pages over and stopped at a picture of a Greek trireme. He hesitated. “Here’s something about the ‘stone from the gods’ and a priestess who saves it from the men who would use it to further their own glory.” He squinted. “Apparently, she’s its eternal guardian.”
Veronica’s right foot beat out a quick rhythm. She hadn’t read that bit before, or if she had, she’d since forgotten it without the notes to jog her memory. If they could find out more about this priestess, they might be able to get an idea of where she might have hid the Stone. But first things first. “Keep going.”
Simon flipped the page and his eyes widened. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered.
It was a sketch of the Eye.
Veronica smiled, pleased at his reaction. The expression on Simon’s face was familiar, and in a tiny part of her psyche, she was jealous of his excitement. There was nothing like the first glance.
Holding his breath, Simon touched the sketch with a gloved hand. Taking up an entire page, the Eye of Artemis was an oblong piece of what she presumed was metal, pinched at either end, to give it a stylized eye-shaped appearance. The right corner was tipped up while the left was tipped down. The surrounding edges were etched with what were once symbols, lines and pictures, but they were smudged and scratched. In the center was a round stone with the shading and highlights giving it a dark appearance.
It wasn’t one of the more intricate pieces she’d ever seen, but it didn’t need to be. It was the key to their success. She was sure of it. “What do you think?”
He gave a little jerk, as if being woken from sleep. “I think your methodology, in this case, is worth following.”
Pleased with herself, she bit into the croissant.
“Don’t get cocky,” Simon said, both amusement and excitement in his gaze. “Any brilliant suggestions on how we find it?”
Swallowing, Veronica took another sip of coffee. “Since there’s a sketch, it must have been recovered at some point. My best guess is that, since there’s nothing else known about it, it’s either in a private collection or is being called by a different name. With luck, there’s a picture or description somewhere in a database or on the Internet. Otherwise, Rebecca won’t be able to locate it.”
“Rebecca?” Simon asked.
“Sure. We make a copy of this,” she tapped the sketch with a fingernail. “And fax it to Rebecca. If it’s out there, she’ll find it, It might take her a while since the true name was obviously lost, but she’s the best at what she does. If she can’t locate it, no one can.”
Leaning back, Simon looked at her with curious eyes. “Why didn’t you sketch this for her before and have her look?”
Veronica shrugged her shoulders. “I could remember the basics but not the details. Without those, there are thousands of pieces that could fit this description. As I’m sure you know, the symbol of an eye was very popular in ancient cultures. Window to the soul and all that.”
Plus, after losing Chris and Joseph’s support, she had been too hurt, too angry, to want to try. For a long time, she had wanted nothing more than to forget her disastrous decisions, and that meant giving up on the Eye, too.
Simon didn’t respond but ran a gentle, skilled hand over the vellum. “We should send this to her while we work on translating the rest of the text.” His hand stilled. “What if it’s in a private collection?”
“Doesn’t matter.” She dismissed his doubt with a wave of her hand. “I told you, Rebecca is the best. As long as she knows what she’s looking for, there’s little she can’t find.”
“And if there isn’t anything to find?”
She stilled herself, not even wanting to consider the possibility. “I don’t know.” It was an honest answer but she hated to say so aloud—as if mentioning the mere possibility would jinx their search.
“What if she does find it? Can you trust her enough to not sell us out?” Simon asked, concern shadowing his features. “After all, there’s a lot at stake.”
For a moment, Veronica stiffened, but she reminded herself tha
t under the circumstances, it was a legitimate question. She didn’t question Rebecca’s loyalty, but Simon didn’t know her. When she first hired Rebecca, she employed her for her computer skills and her ability to run an office. But it didn’t take long to find out that her new admin was an even better friend and that she was fiercely loyal to those she cared about. After Brazil, Rebecca had begged Veronica to be allowed to destroy Michael’s bank account. And it had been tempting. “I’d trust her with my life.”
“Okay. Then I will, too,” Simon said, his slight frown disappeared.
“Good.” Veronica glanced at the picture again. For her assistant, finding a digital needle in a digital haystack was like her own private excavation. Rebecca was going to love this.
Veronica checked her e-mail for what seemed like the thousandth time. Still no answer from Rebecca. They’d faxed her a photocopy of the Eye and had been waiting three days for a reply.
She didn’t log off but stood up with a frustrated sigh. Her hands pressed against the small of her back, she leaned backward, cracking her spine.
“Nothing?” Simon asked. He sat at the table still working on the translation. In fact, it was all they’d done since they’d sent Rebecca the picture of the Eye of Artemis.
“Just spam,” Veronica replied. “So unless you need to refinance your house or add two inches to your penis, I think we’re out of luck.”
He chuckled, and she managed to smile back.
She couldn’t believe three days had passed since the morning after nothing happened. At first, she’d been concerned that their encounter that night would damage their working relationship, but the incident turned out to be a nonissue.
As for waking up next to him, she didn’t even broach that subject. A “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy that worked for them.
There were more important issues than sex. They were on a quest, and if they let every little issue get in the way, they’d have nothing but trouble.
Sitting across from Simon, she poked at the spine of one of the research books but didn’t make an effort to open it. What could be taking Rebecca so long? One hand propped up her chin, the other beat out a tuneless rhythm on the book’s cover.
The Midas Trap Page 11