by Meg Ripley
Now she was about to walk right back to him? She could always back out and leave him standing in the hotel lobby until he realized she wasn’t coming, but she wasn’t going to do that. As confused as she was by what she saw in him and what he’d made her feel, she was also curious what it was that was so different about this man.
And there was only one way to find out.
She left her hotel room and arrived in the front lobby at exactly five minutes to seven. Despite the people and traffic milling about, it only took her two seconds to spot Noah. It bothered her that it wasn’t only her eyes that had found him without difficulty; she’d felt him, the dark and alluring aura that clung to him standing out even more than his almost six-foot, four-inch frame. He was dressed in the same impeccable style as he’d been in at the variety show, leaning casually against what she was certain was the most expensive car she’d ever seen.
He found her then, picking her out of the crowd as easily as she’d spotted him. And two minutes later, they were speeding away from the hotel, though she couldn’t help thinking the whole time that this was a bad idea. A horrible idea, in fact, because nothing had ever felt so right.
“It seems we’ve missed the party,” she observed dryly, wondering what he was up to after he’d parked in the empty lot of the Las Vegas Natural History Museum. It wasn’t unusual for a museum to close so early in the evening, but it did make her wonder why they were walking toward the empty building. Thanks to her research the other night, she knew that Noah was supposed to be hosting a charity dinner at his hotel this evening. That was the ‘dinner date’ she’d been anticipating.
“Not at all. We’re right on time.”
At that precise moment, the door to the museum opened wide and a uniformed man stepped out, holding the door for them. Peering inside, there were no more people inside the museum than there were outside of it. So, it didn’t appear that the event had been moved to the museum.
“Aren’t you expected somewhere else this evening?” She eyed him dubiously, waiting for an explanation.
“I told you I wanted to get to know you, Claire, and that would hardly be possible if there were throngs of people milling about. And since I have no doubt every man around would be salivating over you, I’d likely spend the whole evening vying for your attention.”
He really was a smooth talker. She could easily see why the man had a different woman on his arm every night. Even without the money and public persona, she imagined he wouldn’t have any difficulty in that department. Which then begged the question, why was he so interested in her? He’d been persistent this afternoon, as if she was his last hope for snagging a date to the big event, but she knew that wasn’t true. He could have had his pick of hundreds of women without having to lift a finger.
“Why am I here, Noah?” There was no point in beating around the bush, and she wasn’t the kind of woman to do it even if there was. Enough of her life was shrouded in secrets that she preferred to keep as little in the dark as possible.
“You’re an intriguing and attractive woman,” he replied matter-of-factly, no differently than if she’d asked him the time or the weather.
“But you could have had any number of intriguing and attractive women. Why would you have gone to the effort when I obviously wasn’t making it easy on you?”
“Because I have a feeling there isn’t a woman in all the world quite like you, Claire Thomas.” He smiled then, a boyish grin that almost made her forget that the plan was to get out of there as quickly as possible.
“So, tell me about yourself,” he said as he offered her his arm and drew her with him into the museum’s lobby.
She took it hesitantly, now not entirely certain the thin fabric between them would be enough to keep from feeling what she had when he’d touched her earlier, but it was. She wrapped her hand around his arm and felt a tingle of awareness ripple through her body, making a small part of her wish for things that couldn’t be. At least she was certain it was only her own response she was feeling.
“There isn’t really much to tell, I’m afraid,” she started into the cover story she’d regurgitated hundreds of times. “I was raised by my great-uncle, an archaeologist, and I followed in his footsteps.”
“And from what I understand, you’re well on your way to exceeding his fame in the profession already.”
“That’s very kind of you to say.” But what he’d said made her pause, knowing it was true and reminding her that she’d allowed herself to continue in the field for far too long already. It had been a difficult balance; her accomplishments had opened the doors to professional courtesies that had helped her in her search, but they had also put a definitive time limit on how long she could make use of them. Before too much longer, she would have to disappear again, and she wouldn’t have the ability to start over in the same field because of her reputation.
The stark, cold truth was she was running out of time.
“But there’s more to you, certainly,” he goaded as he brought them to a stop in front of an Egyptian sarcophagus.
This piece was authentic, she could tell by the worn state of the carvings in the stone. Next to it, the Golden Shrine, which she knew was a recreation but it was beautiful nonetheless, inlaid with gold and decorated with Isis’s tyet-knot amulets and hieroglyphs of Osiris. She fought back the rush of emotion that brought tears to her eyes. She’d spent a good many years excavating and examining alongside her uncle, but the Egyptians were his favorite.
“There really isn’t much to tell,” she insisted, ignoring the lump in her throat and forcing her mind back to Noah’s question. She felt the prickle of apprehension that tickled the back of her neck whenever someone tried to pry beyond her professional façade. “I happen to be one of those odd people who enjoys my work, and it occupies a great deal of my time.”
He eyed her suspiciously, and though he looked about ready to pry further, he seemed to abandon it at the last moment. “So, tell me about your work then.”
“Well, I specialize in ethnoarchaeology and cognitive archaeology…”
“And those are?” he asked with a wry smile.
“Basically, I study the material remains, and the ideologies and belief systems of previous civilizations.”
“Interesting. So, you want to know not just how people lived, but why they lived that way.”
“Exactly.” She was pleased he understood that. It took most people a lot longer to piece together what she did. She smiled up at him, but immediately regretted it. His eyes, filled with a smoldering heat that was even more captivating than the emerald color of his irises, heated every inch of her body from the inside, out, and made her forget about everything but the man in front of her.
This was foolish, stupid…and pointless. She couldn’t give in to what her body so desperately wanted. She just couldn’t. But damn it, she couldn’t bring herself to walk away either.
“It’s your turn,” she said, needing to focus on something other than the fire that was threatening to consume her. “Tell me all about Noah Hunter.”
“Actually, Claire, you told me about your job, not about you, but I think that probably told me more than you expected, so I’ll reciprocate.”
“Did it now?” She hoped not.
“Yes, actually. I know that you thought very highly of your uncle; he was probably the most positive influence in your life, which made it only natural for you to follow in his footsteps. But I bet his subspecialty differed from yours. You’re like him, yes, but you’re also your own person, and found you could express that in the area you chose to pursue. But I would also guess that you take a great deal of pride in what you do.”
Well, most of what he said was true enough, and since he hadn’t touched upon anything that might send off warning signals, she smiled, nodding in appreciation of his analysis.
“Alright, now you were going to reciprocate, weren’t you?”
And he did as they passed by the next exhibit, though she felt like he was
choosing his words carefully, not revealing any more of himself than he wished for her to know.
He was the great-grandson of a man who had done well for himself in the California Gold Rush. His grandfather and his father had both invested that wealth wisely, and he’d done a decent job of building onto their successes, though she rather guessed he was being modest in his own contribution. Still, he sounded…unsatisfied, if she had to put a word to it. There was no pride in his tone, nor any enthusiasm over the Hunter empire.
“You aren’t pleased with your accomplishments?”
They’d wandered into a private dining room and he’d been in the middle of pulling a chair out for her, but he froze, as if the question was demanding every ounce of his concentration.
“Pleased, yes. With any sense of accomplishment, no,” he admitted as he resumed what he’d been doing.
He sat down across from her then, and she stared at him, this time focusing on the aura that surrounded him, trying to use it to make sense of the man who lived in the lap of luxury and yet wasn’t content.
His phone rang right then and he pulled it out from a pocket inside his jacket. “Make yourself comfortable, Claire, and I’ll be right back,” he said after glancing at the caller’s information. Then he leaned in, catching her unprepared by pressing his full lips against hers.
He was fire and ice, darkness and light. No, not light exactly, but something more buoyant than the heavy cloyingness of darkness. His kiss made every nerve ending in her body come alive with a yearning unlike anything she’d ever known. It didn’t create the vivid confusion in her head that made physical contact unpleasant, if not impossible. And yet it shook her in a way that terrified her. It terrified her because the last thing she wanted to do was run from it; she wanted more of it.
She’d been so busy covering up the exposed flesh of her body when she’d dressed for the evening that it hadn’t even crossed her mind he would kiss her. Long gloves extended three quarters of the way up her arms, and though the dress was sleeveless, leaving her shoulders exposed, she’d wrapped a silk shawl around them. But her lips were completely defenseless.
He released her after no more than a second or two, pulling back as if he’d been scorched by their fire, too, and he was gone through the room’s door seconds later. Claire continued to sit there for several minutes afterwards, desperately trying to block out what she’d just experienced.
If she was smart, she’d get up and leave, and never look back. Whatever it was about Noah Hunter that made him different also made him dangerous; she didn’t have room for danger in her life.
It was only the appearance of something much darker that drew her from her inner chaos. She turned to find the source and found him easily: a man with an aura so black it sent a shiver of fear down her spine.
He stood there for a moment and she did her best to hide what she was feeling, plastering a look of what she hoped was indifference on her face. He stared back at her, unmoving, as if he were a predator contemplating its prey. And then he started toward her and she tried not to slink back in her chair, though the moment she felt the cold press of wood against her back, she knew she’d failed.
He stopped no more than three feet from her and she rose from her chair. She wasn’t certain her legs would support her, but the gross disparity in their height seemed to put her at a disadvantage. The urge to run was overwhelming, but she stood her ground.
“Good evening,” she spoke first, not waiting for him to take the upper hand in the conversation.
He introduced himself as Damon Cross, though the name meant nothing to her. Should it have?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cross. I’m Claire Thomas. Surely, Noah will be back in just a moment, but I really must excuse myself.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” he said in a tone that was pleasant but still didn’t sit well with her. He proffered his hand at the same time with a bold gleam in his eyes, as if he was daring her to take it.
Could he know? Certainly not; she’d never even met the man before. How could he know anything about her, never mind her most guarded secret?
She forced her arm outward and clasped his hand, grateful for the fabric between them and yet wondering if she should push past her fear. If there was any chance at all he could be a threat, shouldn’t she know all she could about him?
Just as she was about to slip the glove off her hand, Noah appeared, almost wedging his body between Claire and the stranger. She should object to the high-handed way he was interfering, but she wasn’t going to say a word.
“It’s good to see you again, Damon. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” Noah asked with an edge in his voice that was unmistakeable.
“I wasn’t aware I needed an excuse to stop by, Noah, but since you asked, I was just hoping to find out what happened to you tonight. As I’m sure you can imagine, there are an awful lot of disappointed people right now. The host fails to show up to his own event?”
“I had other plans. Now, if you’ll excuse us…” Noah motioned to the door.
“Yes, I can see that. Good evening, Miss.” He nodded politely in her direction and then left, leaving her wondering who exactly he was and what he was to Noah.
Before she could pose any one of the questions buzzing in her head, a man appeared through the door where Mr. Cross had just left, pushing a cart laden with trays of food that would have smelled delicious if her stomach hadn’t been in knots at the moment. Still, she bit her tongue until the man had arranged the various trays on the table and left.
“So, what was your most amazing find?” Noah asked her with seeming nonchalance as if nothing had interrupted their prior conversation. He poured two glasses of wine and handed her one.
It wouldn’t have worked to distract her except she didn’t even need to think about her answer, which probably explained why it came to her despite the tumult going on in her head. She’d been part of the discovery and research on a multitude of amazing finds, but the most recent find was the most incredible.
“A shrine, actually, from a European society that dates back to the Iron Age. It was special because it was so unique—unique in its location, at least. We’ve found similar shrines in places like Hakone and Nara, Japan, but never in Europe.”
“What made this shrine different than other ones in Europe?”
“It was a shrine to dragons.” She smiled, remembering the day six months prior she’d been able to confirm definitively what they’d found. It was unlike anything that had ever been discovered in Europe before.
So wrapped up in the memory, it took her a moment to recognize the minuscule changes in Noah. His shoulders seemed to tense, and his eyes appeared to be intensely focused on some spot on the wall behind her head. And then it was gone. His hands were relaxed on the table like they’d been before and his eyes were locked on hers with the same heat in them that had been doing crazy things to her insides all evening.
“That’s strange, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes, very strange,” she replied, wondering if perhaps she’d imagined the tension in him. “It has certainly sparked a great deal of interest in the field archaeology community. I think there will be at least four or five new expeditions this year, trying to determine whether there were other societies nearby who might have worshipped the same beings.”
No, she hadn’t imagined it. The tension had spiked briefly, but it had been there, lurking beneath the surface all evening. His hands weren’t relaxed; they were carefully placed to appear that way. She could see the tautness in the muscles of his forearms and the rigid set of his jaw.
She’d tried to ignore it because she knew what it was. He wasn’t tense…he was restrained, holding himself back. And with a shiver of equal amounts excitement and fear, she knew what it was he wanted.
He wanted her.
She needed to leave, to escape before he realized just how badly she wanted him, too. This couldn’t happen. It could never happen. And she’d been foo
lish to agree to this evening knowing she would end up right here, with no choice but to run away from what she so desperately wanted.
She moved to stand, ready to make a quick excuse and leave. But she’d barely gotten to her feet and he was right there in front of her. Then there was no longer any space between them. He’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, his body so warm she could feel his heat through the fabric of their clothes.
In the next breath, his lips descended on hers and his hands settled on her hips to pull her even closer. The steely length of him pressed against her abdomen, making her gasp and inadvertently parting her lips, which gave his tongue the entrance it sought. As he delved inside, two fires blazed through her body, not just hers, but his as well, with an intensity that made her legs shake.
This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. It never happened like this. Physical contact had always been painful for Claire, not pleasurable. It filled her head with confusion and contradiction. It didn’t drive her higher and make her yearn for more.
She wrapped her arms around his neck to keep herself up, but the movement rubbed her body against him and he groaned low in his throat. The sound sent a violent shockwave of arousal straight to her core. She could actually see it—the desire he was feeling for her—and right or wrong, knowing what she was doing to him drove her crazy.
She needed to touch him. She didn’t dare take off her gloves, but she couldn’t resist grazing over the flexing muscles of his shoulders and back as his grip on her tightened.
“Claire, no.” His voice was a strangled whisper a hair’s breadth from her lips. He’d released her hips and had her wrists in his hand. “God, this is a bad idea,” he spoke her own thoughts aloud, but he didn’t release her.
Whatever he fought to keep in check threatened to spill out, to overwhelm him. She knew it. She could feel it. If she was smart, she’d yank her hands away and take off running, just like she’d planned, but she didn’t. She stared back at him, listening to the heavy sound of his breathing and watching fire dance in his eyes.