Jessica sank down to her chair and hit the button on her phone. The voice of the receptionist, a sweet older woman named Rebecca, filled the air. “There’s a Mr. Smith to see you, with Smith Systems. He says he has a possible donation to the museum.”
Jessica frowned. Usually people didn’t drop by to make a donation. Feeling a tad giddy with stress, she asked, “Did you tell him we aren’t Goodwill?” Her assistant, Michael Wright, would be proud of her for actually cracking a joke. His favorite word to describe her was uptight.
Rebecca didn’t say anything. Apparently, she didn’t get the intended humor. Jessica sighed. Maybe she wasn’t meant to tell jokes.
A male voice murmured something in the background, and for some reason, Jessica felt an odd shiver race down her spine. That was weird. She heard the voice again and felt all warm inside. God. She was losing it. She’d barely heard the guy’s voice and she was wondering what he looked like. That was what she got for living a darn-near celibate life these days. Since her father had taken office, she seemed to draw men with agendas, and it had gotten old. Despite her recent man boycott, this stranger had her imagination all fired up. Was he as sexy as he sounded?
Rebecca whispered into the phone, pulling Jessica from her reverie. “I’m pretty sure you’ll want to see Mr. Smith.”
Jessica almost laughed. If Rebecca knew where Jessica’s mind had been, she would laugh, too, this time for sure. But curiosity over how this visitor looked wasn’t enough to justify seeing him in the middle of a busy day. The chance that a walk-in was worth her time was slim.
“I’m completely buried with the party organization. Hold on and let me look at my calendar. Can he schedule next week? Better yet, can I call him?”
The man’s voice again. Another chill down her spine. Then Rebecca. “He says he has an appointment.”
A light went on in her head. Her boss, Greg Ward, had mentioned this days ago—some referral from one of their directors—and promised her more detail that he’d never given to her.
Truth be told, the breast-cancer charity event she was coordinating was a few days away, and she’d forgotten to follow up, busy with the planning. The event had been a condition of her father donating the journal to the museum. She hoped the insurance people would allow the journal to be shown that night.
Debating, Jessica pondered bowing out of the meeting. If she turned this guy away and he was important, Greg Ward could hang her with the board. He’d taken her job when she’d departed over her mother’s death. Now, he resented her return, even though she now reported to him, and did everything within his reach to undermine her.
She sighed, resigned to taking the meeting. “Tell Mr. Smith I’ll be right down.”
Jessica pushed to her feet. Time to meet the man behind the sexy voice.
But first, she detoured to her boss’s office, hoping to get a file on her visitor. A stop that proved fruitless, as Greg’s assistant had nothing to give her. Since Greg had yet to arrive at work, Jessica was forced to wing her meeting, feeling completely unprepared. She hated being unprepared.
The elevator dinged to signal Jessica’s arrival on the lobby level of the museum exactly ten minutes after the announcement of her visitor. She knew this because of her recent obsession with her Cartier watch, or rather with a memory of the way it had been given to her. The watch, her thirtieth birthday gift from her father, had been delivered by courier. He’d been upset over her return to the museum and mourning her mother, but his actions had still hurt.
All her sad thoughts slipped away as she exited the elevator. The sound of a deep, sultry laugh fluttered along her nerve endings, igniting a silent charge. It was the man she’d heard over the intercom. Her visitor.
Standing a few feet away, she sized him up, taking in the appeal that went beyond his voice.
Tall and dark, he was striking, even from a distance. Chin-length brown hair, streaked with auburn, framed a square jaw and high cheekbones. His clothes were well fitted and clung to a body meant to tease and please a woman. Tailored black slacks emphasized his long, muscular legs. Broad shoulders tapered to a thin waist and, no doubt, a rippling set of abdominals.
Not only was he the first man she’d reacted to in a heck of a long time, he was also quite possibly the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on.
But it wasn’t merely his looks that washed over her in a tidal wave of awareness. Nor his air of utter confidence. It was the mixture of danger and daring she found all too appealing.
As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned in her direction, taking a casual stance, resting his elbow on the horseshoe-shaped desk. She started walking toward him, conscious of the attention he placed upon her.
Despite his cool exterior, there was nothing casual about the way his hot stare swept her body, taking in her fitted crème-colored skirt and matching blouse with such absorption she’d have sworn he saw right through them. Her limbs heated with the touch of his eyes. Even more so when their gazes locked. A sizzle darted through the air and mutual attraction flowered into instant, shared awareness.
She stopped at the desk, trying to muster up a smile as cool and professional as her image demanded. Not at all how she felt at the moment. “Hi,” she said, offering her hand. “I’m Jessica Montgomery.”
Straightening to his full height, he towered over her five feet five inches. Jessica guessed him to be at least six foot three.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Montgomery,” he said, his voice rich and deep, with just enough of a Hispanic accent to be sexy.
His hand closed around hers and heat skittered up her arm. Good gosh, what was wrong with her? Men did not get to her this way. “Nice to meet you, Mr….” Her words trailed off. What had Rebecca said his name was?
“Desmond Smith,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes, as if he knew what she’d been thinking and found it amusing. “I love watching people’s faces when they hear my last name. They always look confused. In case you’re wondering—and I know you are—I’m adopted.”
With his dark-chocolate eyes and milk-chocolate skin, she did expect something more exotic. Her cheeks warmed. “Smith’s a good, strong family name rich with history,” she countered, realizing he still held her hand, and snatching it back, suddenly self-conscious of Rebecca’s watchful gaze.
He smiled. “It is. A fine history, too. Right now though, I’d like to talk about Texas history.”
Perking up at that, Jessica asked, “I understand you have a donation to discuss?”
A hint of a smile on his face said he was amused. The scar above his full top lip simply said sexy. “Possible donation,” he corrected, retrieving a slim silver case from his pocket and offering her a business card.
Jessica accepted it and read, “Smith Systems.” Her gaze lifted, her eyes narrowing on him. She didn’t miss the connection between his name and the company name. “Forgive me for not being more prepared, but what exactly does Smith Systems do?”
“Oil is the company’s main bread and butter,” he commented. “I run the philanthropy division focused on Native American and Mexican history. In short, we fund expeditions to find lost history. Recently, we’ve been privileged with some big finds, though I admit one particular item is exciting to me.”
“Really?” she asked, with genuine interest. New finds were exciting to her, too. They didn’t have a Native American collection at all, and their Mexican-history wing was pathetic, especially for a Texas museum. Maybe a sit-down meeting would be worth her time. “What would that be?”
“The Treaty of Council Springs.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “Do you know it?”
This was a test. If she didn’t know the history that he held close to his heart, the museum wouldn’t be getting that treaty for display. Fortunately, it was a test she could pass.
“Signed in 1846 with a Comanche chief, it placed the Native Americans under United States protection,” she said, silently thankful she’d been reading up on Native American history. One book picked up by cha
nce had led to several more. Unbelievable how good the timing now appeared.
He smiled, seeming pleased with her knowledge, his demeanor playful and light. “Do you know his name?”
“Yes,” she said, finding herself smiling back at him. “Buffalo Hump.”
“Buffalo Hump?” Rebecca said. The receptionist inserted herself into the conversation for the first time since Jessica’s arrival, though she’d clearly been listening in. “What kind of name is that?”
Jessica and her visitor laughed, their gazes catching at the similar response, her stomach fluttering with the connection. Yet, it felt comfortable. Charged with attraction, yes, but still amazingly comfortable. Not something she usually felt with a stranger.
“Buffalo Hump was a mighty warrior and a brave leader,” her visitor told Rebecca.
“A vicious one, too,” Jessica added. “But then so were his enemies.”
“A name like that would make anyone want to fight,” Rebecca commented dryly, but before she could go on, her reception panel buzzed and she had to answer a call.
That left Jessica and the sexy visitor one-on-one. “I apologize, Mr. Smith,” she said. “I shouldn’t have kept you standing here this long. How about I buy you a cup of coffee? There’s a café on the second floor.”
“On one condition,” he said, his voice laced with flirtation, his eyes filled with mischief.
She tilted her head to study him, not sure what she expected him to say, but more than a little eager to know. “Which is?”
“That you call me Des,” he said, his voice holding an intimate quality. As if he’d offered her more than his name.
“Okay, Des,” she said, her chest tight with an odd sensation she didn’t remember ever feeling before. Something about this man really got to her. “But only if you call me Jessica.”
“Jessica it is,” he said. “Let’s go have that cup of coffee and talk about how we might make a little history, you and I.”
His words were innocent enough, but the look in his eyes said he was talking about more than the treaty. Jessica decided she was okay with that, too. After all, he was only in town a few days. That meant he was dangerously attractive but still safe.
Mr. Smith—Des—represented a distraction that fit her every need.
Chapter 3
So far so good on his cover story, Des thought as they arrived in the museum café and ordered drinks, chatting flirtatiously. The party would facilitate a cover to extract the journal. That meant getting inside and prepared well in advance. The knowledge he learned from Jessica would help ensure they had all bases covered.
Max had expertly crafted his cover. Des had been provided with every imaginable resource to prepare in advance for this meeting. That was except for the surname fiasco, which had forced Des to come up with the stupid last-name joke to avoid suspicion and make his cover work. Aside from that, Des was almost impressed with Max at this point. He was most certainly impressed with Jessica.
They claimed a table in the café and sat across from one another. Des watched as Jessica adjusted her skirt, trying to keep his eyes from skimming those sexy, long legs beneath sheer hose. She sipped her mocha. Her skin was lovely, pale. Her face heart-shaped, angelic. Lips full, kissable. “Hmmm. They make a darn good cup of java.”
He’d ordered the same, sharing in her confessed chocolate addiction. Sampling his coffee, he gave a thumbs-up. “Not bad for a museum coffee shop.”
They laughed and shared small talk, but there was nothing small about how this woman affected him. For the first time since becoming a Knight, he was completely blown away by a female.
He wanted to share a lot more than coffee with this woman, had wanted to since he’d started scouting the museum a few days before. Since the moment he’d set eyes on her.
“How many museums have you talked to about your collection?” she asked.
He used his drink to offer a delayed response but the truth was he was mesmerized by her eyes. Light blue. A blue more tantalizing, more compelling than any he’d seen before. So light they were almost translucent.
“You’re the first on a list of five I have immediate interest in,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Up to this point, our museum has been more natural history. Unlike most Texas museums, we certainly aren’t known for our local history collection. What made us draw your attention?”
Sharp-witted woman. He liked it. She was quick to feel him out, to get to the point. “One of your board members and I have a mutual acquaintance. Apparently, this board member, Mr. Waymon, has recently married into the Native American culture.”
She nodded. “I know Ralph Waymon well, actually, and his new wife seems quite nice.”
“I’m told his bride may have an interest in growing the museum’s collection toward all things Texas. Of course Mexican culture is directly related to Native American culture, and my collection would offer both.” He gave her a sly smile. “Frankly, I’m being a bit selfish. I want my collection to shine. With your limited collections in these areas, I feel it gives mine a chance to stand out.”
A slow smile slid onto her ruby-colored lips. He wanted to kiss that painted-on color off. “Ralph had mentioned her interest to me, though just in passing so far. We hadn’t talked in detail. This sounds like an exciting match-up.”
“I think it might be,” he said, working toward his primary goal. “Any chance we could take a tour? I’d like to get a feel for what you have on display.”
Someone cleared his throat. Then a male voice said, “Jessica.”
Jessica turned as Des fixed his gaze over her head. A man stood in the doorway, tall and broad, his blond hair and clothes conservative. His expression tense.
“Can I see you a minute?” The man framed his words as a request but it came out as an order.
Jessica turned to Des. “That’s my boss, Greg Ward. You’ll want to meet him at some point. Can you excuse me a moment?”
“Of course,” Des said.
He watched her go to her boss. Watched them talking. The man’s expression was harsh, his brows furrowed. His exterior seemed all business, but Des sensed something beyond that. Something sinister. Was he under the control of the Beasts? He’d have access to the journal.
This could be trouble.
Not just for the Knights either. For Jessica. The thought of her being in danger stiffened his spine. Protectiveness surged within. He didn’t know why. He only knew he had to keep her close. To ensure her safety.
A sudden wave of emotion swept over him. Jessica. Impossible as it seemed, he was sure he was feeling her emotions. It was as if she was funneling them through him. And she was upset. He couldn’t see her face clearly, but her body language backed up his instincts, her arms crossed defensively in front of her body.
He had to force himself to stay in the chair rather than go to her side. His entire reaction to Jessica was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Even lying to her about why he was here was twisting his gut in knots. Which was nuts. This was necessary. This was about good conquering evil. It wasn’t as if he could say, “I’m a demon hunter. Now give me the journal.”
Jessica started back toward him, her hand raking through her long silky hair. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked. Wondered what it would feel like against his skin. Wondered what it smelled like.
She slid into her chair, forcing a fake smile. “Where were we?”
“Don’t do that,” he said.
“Do what?” she asked, confusion darting across her heart-shaped face.
“Pretend nothing is wrong. You’re upset. Admit it.”
She drew a deep breath and let it out. “It’s that obvious?” she asked, looking disappointed in herself. “I thought I was fairly good at putting on a happy face.”
“Not with me.” He wanted to make her smile, this time for real, and resorted to old faithful—jokes. “Want me to go kick his ass for you?”
She rewarded him with a slow smile that turn
ed to a laugh. “That would be nice, but no. If you go to jail, I’ll never see that collection of yours.”
“Are you sure?” Des asked, realizing he wasn’t completely joking. If he found out that man had done anything to hurt Jessica, he’d make him sorry he had. “I will if you want.”
Jessica took a sip of her coffee. “No, but thank you. I don’t think a man has ever offered to ‘kick someone’s ass’ for me before.”
Interesting. Why not? A woman such as Jessica deserved to have a man who’d do anything for her. He studied her a moment, noting the way her teeth worried that sexy bottom lip of hers.
His gaze slid to her slender fingers as she wrapped them around the mug, and he wondered what it would feel like to have them touch him. What it would be like to touch her. They were the only ones in the tiny café, and he swore he could almost hear her heart beating. The sweet scent of honeysuckle floated in the air, warming him with her presence. Deep inside, he felt his Beast stir, hungry to find out if she tasted as good as she smelled.
“Did I get you in trouble?” he asked, trying to nudge her to tell him what Greg had wanted. Any hint that might tell him if her boss was working with the Beasts.
“Oh, no,” she said quickly, waving off the idea. “Greg’s just stressed about the charity event coming up this weekend.” She held up a finger. “Which reminds me. Did you get an invitation? I’d love for you to come. You can tour the museum during the party. There will be lots of great food and entertainment.”
“I received an invitation,” he said. “Will you be there?”
“I’ll be there.” Her voice said it wouldn’t be a pleasure for her.
“Then I’ll be there, too.”
“Good.” Her eyes twinkled with sincerity. With interest beyond him joining the guest list.
“I do have a problem, though. My flight leaves early the next morning. I’d prefer to do the tour now so I can go ahead and put my thoughts together on the donation.”
Her teeth went back to her bottom lip, and he knew she wanted to say no. “I need to take care of a few rather urgent matters,” she said. “Maybe later this afternoon?”
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