“Vibrating with what, ‘Take me to bed’?”
“No. Vibrating with…I don’t know, confidence. You were putting yourself out there, all of you. Before that, you’d always seemed very reserved and severe. I mean, I noticed you were gorgeous.” He reached out to stroke her cheek. “It’s kind of hard not to. But I’d never have made a move on you. You were too…”
“Boring?” she supplied bleakly.
He dismissed it with a snort. “No. Focused, maybe. Like there would be a pop quiz at the end of the evening. Like I hadn’t done enough to earn the time of day from you. And when you showed up at the gala that night, that was all gone. I looked at you and you were just there, in the moment.”
“It was the first time you’d ever approached me outside of work.”
“I couldn’t have stayed away if I’d tried.” He caught her hand.
And she didn’t pull away but slipped closer to him. “We were a good pair that way. Both reckless. You were the perfect playmate, the person I could do anything I’d dreamed of with.”
“So what happened?”
She sighed and looked at the ceiling. “It was a phase, Alex. I realized that when I was jumping out of the plane last weekend.”
“Fine time to have an epiphany.”
“Hey, can I pick ’em? Anyway, I figured enough with being crazy, living without thinking. I figured it was time to get my life together. And I thought that meant you, too.”
“And what do you think now?” he asked, searching her face.
“I don’t know.” She let out a long breath. “I know things are different, you’re right about that. And I don’t know if walking away is the right thing anymore.”
He was almost afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid any reaction would disturb her, frighten her back from the place she now was.
“I think things through, Alex,” she said gently. “That’s the way I’ve always been. Except for the last six months. That’s all been about doing what felt good at the time.”
“Does it have to be one or the other? Can’t you do both?”
“I don’t know. It scares me. Maybe that’s why I think through a decision and then stick with it. Then again, I stuck with Edward for a long time after I should have, just because I thought I should.”
Reaching out, Alex put his hands on her shoulders and turned her gently toward him. “Give it a chance, Julia, that’s all I’m asking,” he said, fighting to keep his voice casual. “I think we’ve had something special here this weekend. Let’s just take it for a test spin in the outside world and see where it takes us.”
She didn’t have to say anything; he saw the words he’d hoped for in her eyes. And when he slid off the table, she followed him and flowed into his arms.
In six months, they’d had sex in every conceivable position and place, flouting more than a few laws and rules of propriety. They’d had sex inside and they’d had sex outside, in beds, in cars, against walls, on balconies. In public and in private.
But they’d never made love. When he took her in his arms now, it was with a tenderness he’d never found in himself before. Gentle touch led to gentle touch. He used all the ways he’d learned her body in order to pleasure her. And in a sort of dreamy bliss, she went with it, and pleasured him, too.
For the first time that weekend, they came together naked. For the first time ever, they came together with no barrier between them, with complete trust. And when he laid her down on the pallet and slid into her, it was the next best thing to prayer that he’d ever experienced.
And when he slipped over the edge, he knew he’d slipped into love.
AND SHE DREAMEDof the desert, the wind in her hair, the hot night air….
And love.
It flowed through her like a gift. Her heart exploded with the feeling, as though there weren’t enough room for it in her breast. In her hands she held the White Star and she watched the golden light flow from her and into it until it began to pulse and glow and vibrate. All there was of her, all there was of her beloved, of the two of them together, locked into the amulet.
Her and Alex.
A feeling that would last for always and forever.
21
Monday, May 8, 3:00 a.m.
ALEX LAY AWAKE, staring into the darkness. Sleep, which hadn’t been exactly easy the whole weekend, remained elusive. He could hear Julia’s even breathing, feel the warmth of her body against his. She had managed to drift off; for him, it was proving impossible.
He forgot about trying and instead concentrated on the softness of her in his arms, the silky feel of her hair. They’d dressed again after making love; when they woke, it would be Monday, after all, and the conservators would be coming in to free them.
Including Paul Wingate.
It was too soon. As sick as he was of being cooped up, Alex didn’t want it to end. This was their time, his and Julia’s. He couldn’t help feeling uneasy at the prospect of the outside world invading it. He couldn’t entirely suppress a superstitious fear that everything would change.
It wouldn’t, he reminded himself. This had been a long time coming and it was solidly here. Twenty-four hours, he promised himself, in twenty-four hours, they’d be in this same position, in his bed or hers, and he’d be holding her against him, naked and silky-smooth, and drifting off to sleep to wake together and do it again.
But for now, sleep stubbornly refused to come.
Lying on concrete could have been a factor, of course. Being stiff in over ninety percent of his body could have been another. He shifted slightly. The way he was lying was somehow uncomfortable. Julia was cradled against him, head pillowed on his chest. And the more he tried to lie still and not disturb her, the more his body clamored to move.
Holding his breath, he shifted again, this time actually finding a position that worked. Julia muttered and rolled over to drape one arm across him. That would do it. Now he’d be able to drift off. He closed his eyes.
Seconds ticked into minutes, minutes marched toward the hour. And slowly, insistently, discomfort built again.
Finally, he gave up, disentangling himself slowly from Julia and rolling away. Sleep just wasn’t going to happen. There was no point in trying to force it. There was no point in waking her. He rose.
Alex just stood, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness as he decided where to go. The book repository? He’d satisfied his appetite for ancient sources for the moment. Then again, there was no sense in trying to fool himself. He knew where he wanted to go. He knew what he really wanted to do.
He wanted to look in Paul Wingate’s office.
No wonder he hadn’t been able to sleep.
They’d turned off the computer and put everything back in order. The drawer was off-limits—he’d promised Julia he wouldn’t touch it, even though his fingers itched to get at the lock. All he was going to do was sit in there for a while and read maybe. And if he looked around a little while he was in there, just to see if anything jumped out at him, that wasn’t a crime, was it?
He doubted Julia would see it that way.
The light seeping in from the corridor was faint, but Alex could see well enough to creep toward Paul’s office. Reality was, it would drive Julia nuts if she knew he was looking around again, even if he didn’t touch a thing. But it was going to drive him nuts if he didn’t.
He felt the void of the doorway ahead of him and stepped cautiously, moving his feet only an inch or two at a time, careful not to brush against anything. Finally, he was inside. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, he closed the door and reached for the switch, squinting in the sudden wash of light.
The office was no less chaotic, but somehow he felt almost at home when he sat down in Paul’s chair. After all, he’d spent enough time there in the past few days. Leaning back, he tried to look at the room through Paul’s eyes. Jumbles of books, stacks of paper, tools. Baggies of excavation dirt. The laptop.
Alex reached out thoughtfully and fingered the airline tick
et that leaned between the sample blocks and the box of gloves. Reims again? he wondered. He’d forgotten to ask Julia where the conference was this year. The prospect that she would be gone within a day or two gave him an unexpected twinge. She’d be back within a week, he reminded himself. Only a lovesick putz would think about following her.
Then again, it had been a while since he’d been to Europe.
Thoughtfully, he picked up the envelope and pulled out the itinerary and receipt. Not Reims, this time. Heidelberg. Departing 5-08-06, arriving 5-09-06, at least Wingate was. And Julia was leaving the next day. Maybe there was a way to arrange some time after, though.
050906. Alex frowned. Where had he seen that combination of numbers? 050906. Each number, spaced by zeros, the nine mirroring the six, the five mirroring…What? He studied the pattern of numbers. 050906. And blinked.
The spam. Not payment negotiations.
Delivery dates.
Paul was leaving that evening to bring the forgery to the Sphinx.
His first thought was to tell Julia, but she was asleep outside in the lab. Anyway, he knew what she would say. Be patient. Wait, talk with security, do it through official channels.
And she’d be absolutely right.
He pulled a scalpel out of Paul’s coffee mug of tools and took a closer look at the drawer. He hadn’t been kidding with Julia when he’d said he’d specialized in lock picking. As a kid fascinated with detective mysteries, he’d made it his business one summer to learn how locks worked—as many different kinds as he could—and then, of course, to pick them. The lock on the drawer wouldn’t take much.
But he’d promised Julia.
Alex drummed his fingers on the desk. To live up to the best within you. He laid down the scalpel with a sigh. He’d made an agreement and he’d keep to it. He owed her that. He owed it to himself.
Instead, to distract himself, he opened the storage box that held the statue, unable to resist taking one more look. He could see why Wingate had chosen it. And why it had been snapped up so quickly. It was a compelling figure, foreign, mysterious. To look at it was to feel a breath of the past.
No wonder he’d forged it.
On impulse, Alex pulled out a pair of gloves and put them on. Then he pulled the statue from its padding.
The stone was surprisingly heavy, solid and smooth. Alluring to touch. There was something vaguely disquieting about the eyes. The artist had done exceptional work, bringing the jackals’ face to life, investing it with a cool, assessing gaze that must have sent a shiver down the spine of the true believers back when.
Someone had sat in his workshop, smoothing the heavy stone with file and rasp, working at it until it pleased the eye, pleased the hand. It had sat in someone’s home or in a temple. The staring eyes, the narrow muzzle were a reminder of what waited.
And now it was here in his hands. And would be here in the museum, hopefully, long after he was dust.
Horsewhipped. Paul Wingate should have been horsewhipped for damaging a work like this in order to execute his crime, no matter how small the chip. No matter how small the chip, the statue was changed forever, he thought, turning it idly over in his hands. No matter how small the chip, it was missing something.
And then he froze.
It wasn’t missing something, he realized. It wasn’t missing anything. The surfaces were perfectly smooth, even the bottom. Wingate hadn’t taken the sample from this figure. He hadn’t done any testing on it.
Alex was holding the forgery.
Which meant that Wingate was taking the original.
Adrenaline flooded through him. This was big. Huge. If forgeries could damage the museum’s reputation, how much worse was it to lose artifacts from the collection? How much more damaging to know that objects from the inventory—items on display even—could now be fakes?
Rising, he strode to the door. He had to tell Julia, middle of the night or no. He grabbed the doorknob—
And heard the faint clank of a key in the corridor outside the lab.
His heart vaulted in his chest. It wasn’t security. There had been no knock, no words, no jingling of their kit. And at nearly four in the morning, it wasn’t just any conservator coming in to work early.
Swiftly, Alex spun back to the desk and grabbed the scalpel. Slipping the latch on the locked drawer took only a single flick of the wrist. A quick search revealed what he sought, the bundle of cloth with the same surprising heaviness as the statue—forgery—that now sat on the desk. And a quick glimpse inside the cloth revealed the statue of Anubis.
Quickly he whirled to escape just as he heard the sound of the main door opening. Just as the lights flickered on.
JULIA SAT BOLT UPRIGHT on the pallet, heart hammering, blinking in the flood of the fluorescent bulbs.
“What the…Julia? What the hell are you doing here?” Paul Wingate stared down at her, black-bearded, with the face of some medieval ascetic and the stripped-down build of an obsessive distance runner. From her position he appeared far taller than his five foot nine.
Alex was gone. The realization flashed through her as she rose groggily to her feet. “We got locked in,” she said, squinting as her eyes adjusted.
“We?” Shock still reverberated in Paul’s voice.
“Alex Spencer from Marketing.” Alex, who’d disappeared. Operating on instinct, she didn’t look around for him. “What time is it?” she asked, instead.
“About four.”
“Four?” She blinked. “What are you doing here at this hour?” And what were you hoping to accomplish unnoticed?
He shrugged. “I leave for Heidelberg this afternoon. I thought I’d come in early, get some work done. Have you been in here all weekend?” he asked, still incredulous, still trying to get his head around it.
She nodded. “I was down here Friday evening to research an amulet a woman brought in for identification. Someone took the amulet while I was…distracted, and locked us in. The phones are dead, so whoever it was must have done something to them, too.” And she saw the tumblers clicking as Paul’s mind processed the possibilities.
He frowned at her. “This all sounds pretty bizarre, Julia.”
“Oh trust me, I know. But it happened.”
“That’s too bad,” he said absently, but his eyes were already turned toward the back of the lab and his office.
“We had to kind of ransack the place for food. I hope you don’t mind, but we used your coffee.”
“What do you mean, you used my coffee? My office was locked.”
“We broke in,” she said, watching him closely.
He spun to her, his brows drawn together. “You broke into my office?” For an instant, the mask slipped to show anger.
And alarm.
“Paul, we were in here for two and a half days. We had to do something.”
“The hell you did,” he said brusquely, already moving single-mindedly toward the back of the lab. “That office was locked for a reason.”
“Really?” Julia asked, studying him. “What was that?”
But he didn’t answer, just walked swiftly around the corner to see his office door open, the light on. Shock stopped him for a moment as he stood at the threshold, eyes riveted on the desk. “What have you—”
“Looking for this?” Alex stepped out of the bathroom beyond, holding the figure of Anubis, partially swathed in its cloth.
Paul’s head snapped around, every line of his body shouting alarm. “What are you doing holding that, you idiot? That belongs in a storage box.”
“Yep, it sure does,” Alex agreed.
He was wearing gloves, Julia saw in bewilderment. Looking past Paul’s shoulder into his office, she saw the storage box lying open, the figure of Anubis inside it. And felt a surge of anger.
“It’s been real interesting, being stuck in this lab for a few days,” Alex was saying. “We wound up with a lot of time on our hands. Gave us a chance to take a poke around a little. Amazing what you can find.”
“Go ahead,” Alex invited. “In fact, we’ll go upstairs with you. I think they’ll be interested to hear what we’ve found. You don’t seem to be, though,” he observed. “Why is that? Why don’t you want to know why we’ve got two of the same statue here?”
Paul tensed. “You obviously brought one in.”
“I think you know that’s not true. And the museum curator’s here to testify to it.”
“You’ve been a part of ransacking my office, Julia?” he demanded, turning to her.
But Paul’s eyes were on the door to the corridor.
“You’ve had a good little system going here, Wingate.” Alex stepped forward. “How many pieces have you cleared out of the museum’s inventory?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paul snapped. “Give that to me.”
“Not a chance,” Alex said. “Besides, what are you worried about? You’ve got another one right there.”
Paul’s eyes flicked toward Alex and then the door. Before Julia could react, he’d grabbed the vertical support of the open lab shelf next to him and given it a hard shove to send it tumbling down in front of Alex. Bottles of chemicals burst; artifacts skidded across the floor.
And Paul spun for the door.
Julia lunged for him as he went by but he shook her off. Behind her, Alex clambered over the shelf but her focus was on Paul. They had to catch him before he escaped. She ran after him, hot on his heels, around the corner, toward the door.
Close, he was almost there.
Paul’s arm flashed to the side and he grabbed at the wheeled table with Felix. He yanked it. And rolled the bulky table right into her path.
Julia cried out. Skidding, she careened into the table, shoving it around in a half circle. The impact sent her sprawling over it and jolted Felix partway off.
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