by Lexi Blake
But first he had to deal with the Lachlan Bates situation. He opened the folder and picked up the small scanner from his desk. His personal files were more important than anything else. The scanner immediately sent the file to his tablet, and then he would lock up the original at his town house.
Lachlan Bates wasn’t a man, but a code. He had a shipment going out next month. Lachlan Bates was the carefully selected code for a new buyer. The amount of the donation was code for the type of arms, number of each type, and country of delivery. In this case, the buyer was very interested in Thomas’s large shipment of P90s and several other high-priced items.
It was perfect. It meant his next shipment would be full. It meant he would be bringing in about ten million.
Taking over Thomas Molina’s life had brought him a nice stash of cash, but turning his charity into an arms retailer was going to bring him what he truly craved. Power.
He would have the power, and he would have the woman he wanted, too.
Avery was sweet, perfectly innocent.
It was up to him to see just how much he could corrupt her. He looked forward to the job.
But first he had to deal with the problem of Eli Nelson. Fuck but he wished the former CIA agent hadn’t gotten exposed. The man was quickly becoming a pain in his ass.
And Thomas didn’t like pains in his ass.
Chapter Three
The next day, Avery stared at the mummy in his glass case, but her mind kept flitting to other things. She thought about her dinner the night before. Adam and Jake were such a cute couple. She hated to admit it, but she’d enjoyed hearing American accents again. Adam had made a heavenly dinner, and she’d briefly forgotten how lonely she was. She was trying not to think about it today.
The Egypt Gallery held many wonders, some as lovely as the Greek and Roman rooms, but the mummies were definitely interesting in a less aesthetically pleasing way. She was standing in a room with a person who had lived centuries before. Millennia. A deep connection to a distant past. She was being fanciful, but it was her day off. She could let her mind do that wandering thing it so often did and not be worried she would screw up a big deal like the one with Lachlan Bates that Thomas had taken off her plate. It had been odd. He usually didn’t like to take care of things himself. He had told her on many occasions that he’d hired her so he didn’t have to talk to people.
But she was relieved he was taking more of an interest in their donors. Maybe it meant he would be more sociable. And it wasn’t like he never talked to donors. He’d pulled three files from Monica’s desk this year, all over a million dollars.
She let it go. She wasn’t going to think about work today. She was going to spend the afternoon staring at mummies.
She really wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Not that she’d ever actually been in Kansas. She was from New York, but it seemed an appropriate thing to say. Think. Unless she’d actually said it out loud. Avery glanced around, but no one was looking at her like she was a crazy person. Her impulse control issues were much better hidden in big cities. No one noticed the girl who talked to herself when there were so many actually real crazy people walking around. Just earlier in the day she’d had a conversation with a man on the Tube who believed he was Henry the Eighth and wanted his Tower back.
Yes, she should go see the Tower of London. Definitely.
Mummies. She forced herself to concentrate. She felt a smile cross her lips. It was so much nicer when her rambling thoughts were about mummies and historical sites than bedpans and whether or not her legs would ever work again. Or where her baby was now that she wasn’t in her arms.
“It can’t be all that bad. I don’t think he minds being stuck in here.”
Avery started, a deep voice pulling her from the edge of a very dark thought. She turned on her heels and, as any sudden movement was likely to do, her weak leg buckled underneath her. She started the long trip to the ground, except this time she was headed straight for the ancient, probably priceless, mummy. God, she was going to set off all kinds of alarms and get kicked out of the museum and maybe out of England, and then she would have to find a new job and who would want a woman who’d been arrested for molesting mummified corpses?
And just like that, she stopped. Two big arms wrapped around her, lifting her away from the oncoming chaos. “You okay?”
Without even thinking about it, her arms drifted up and around his neck, fingertips brushing warm, deliciously firm skin. The dark-haired man she’d seen before, the one she’d fantasized about last night, held her in his arms. Curly, midnight-black hair and emeralds for eyes. He was dressed for sin in a black motorcycle jacket and a T-shirt that molded to his very well-defined chest. Did he have to buy them one size too small? Did he have to walk around like a big old gorgeous man cupcake when she’d been on a diet for so long?
“Lost the power of speech? Well, that guy’s ugly mug would do that to me, too.”
She’d thought for sure he was British. She’d fantasized about a lyrical accent coming out of his mouth, but no, his voice was pure Midwestern American. And she should say something since the man was still standing there holding her like she was his virgin bride or something. Virgin. She wasn’t. Unless it grew back after too many years of vaginal disuse. God, say something, Avery. “I’m so sorry.”
His lips curled up in a flirty little smile. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was the single most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Even if that smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think I’m the one who should apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you. It just seemed like it was time that I should talk to you. I’ve been following you around for days. We seem to have the same tastes in museums.”
He’d noticed her, too? That was odd. She typically blended into the background, when she wasn’t falling down. She was well aware she wasn’t a great beauty. She wasn’t horrific, but she fell into a bland attractiveness that usually required a forceful personality to go along with it in order to be truly pretty. She wasn’t exactly aggressive. She was more a “watch from a distance and dream” kind of girl.
There was no distance between them now. None at all. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, the hardness of his form. How long had it been since she’d been held? Touched? Nothing for years that didn’t include a therapist massaging muscles to keep them from atrophying. Her mother-in-law hadn’t touched her once since she’d discovered what Avery had done. No more motherly hugs. Even the few friends she’d had back home had treated her like she was fragile. No touching allowed or someone would break Avery. Gorgeous Green Eyes didn’t seem to think she would break. His arms were tight around her body, cradling her to his chest.
“Can I put you down? Do you think you can stand?”
She felt herself flush. She was making a complete idiot of herself. He’d only reached out because she’d fallen. Again. Would she ever again feel like she had control over her body? “Yes. I’m fine. I’m so sorry for the whole nearly killing a mummy thing.”
He set her on her feet, holding her until he seemed sure she was steady. He smiled down at her, definite amusement in his eyes. They seemed so much warmer now than a moment before. “I think he’s already dead, sweetheart. Now on the other hand, you nearly gave the security guy a heart attack.”
She gasped and looked around. Sure enough, there was the museum employee in his suit coat with his walkie-talkie at his side. His face was slightly flushed, but he’d taken his place again.
“Think nothing of it, ma’am. Women faint dead away at the sight all the time.” The security guard winked her way.
Avery gave him a smile. “Well, maybe Egypt is too much for my constitution. I think I’ll just go have some lunch and fortify myself against the sight.” It was really time to retreat. Deep breath. Confident smile. She turned back to the hottie. That’s what all the girls back in the New York offices called someone who looked like Green Eyes. Hotties. They were right. She could really use a fan. “Thank you so much for the save.
“Not a problem.” He seemed to be waiting on something.
It was an awkward moment, but then much of her life was made up of them. “Good-bye.”
She turned carefully and hoped she could make a graceful exit.
“So what sounds good? I think there’s a fish and chips place across the street.” Hottie kept pace, not that it was hard for him. He was so much taller. He probably took one stride to her two slightly awkward ones.
She stopped. He was doing the flirting thing. Why? He was obviously out of her league. She wasn’t good at stuff like this. He was far more gorgeous than Simon, and she couldn’t figure out why he was pursuing her beyond the obvious career implications. This guy didn’t even know her name. She decided to try to be polite. Maybe he just felt sorry for her. “Thank you for the offer. I really can make my way. Thanks so much for the save.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, not moving at all. He simply stood in front of the stairs, blocking her way. “You don’t like fish and chips? You do know you’re in England, right?”
“Yes, I know I’m in England.” Flustered. He was making her flustered. “I like fish and chips just fine.”
He smiled broadly. “Excellent. I could use a pint. I need some fortification before we get back to the mummies, too. Seriously, these are some ugly dudes. Why would anyone want their body to last this long? I want to immediately be cremated.”
“It was part of their religion. They needed a body if they were to go to the afterlife. I’m pretty sure they didn’t imagine they would end up in a museum thousands of miles away with tourists ogling them.” She started to make an argument about tolerance for other religions, but that was really beside the point. “I didn’t ask you to go to lunch with me.”
He nodded, leaning out of the way so others could come into the hall, but still blocking her advance. “Yes, you forgot to. I admit it was a little rude, but I’ve decided to believe that you were just a little distracted after your near miss with old Tut back there.”
“That wasn’t King Tut.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m not enormously big on Egyptian history. So we’ve decided that you’re a little distractible and it totally affects your social skills, but luckily I’m a very focused guy and I can be polite enough for both of us. I can teach you how the polite world works.” He held out a big hand. “Lee Donnelly. I work in construction back in the States. I just finished a huge renovation job back in Dallas and gave myself two months off to come visit some friends here in London. This is the part where you shake my hand and tell me your name and what you do.”
“Avery Charles.” He’d kind of put her in a corner. There was nothing to do except take his hand. She quickly found her own hand completely wrapped in his. Warmth flooded her system. He had strong hands, callused and rough from work, but so nice to touch. Lee. She liked that name. It was solid and masculine and simple. “I’m the personal assistant to a man who runs a charity fund.”
He nodded at her like she was a slow learner who had finally caught on. “See, that wasn’t so hard. And do you live here in London?”
She kind of wanted to run away, but she had the sudden sense that he would follow, and he would be so much faster. She was caught. Trapped. So why shouldn’t she enjoy the afternoon with the most beautiful man she’d ever met? There wasn’t any harm in it. She spent so much time alone that it would be nice to have a meal with a handsome stranger, and he was obviously at loose ends. He probably felt as out of place as she did and was just looking for some company. Despite the fact that the employees of United One Fund were friendly, no one asked her to have lunch with them. They had their own cliques and friendships, and it would be that way everywhere she and Thomas went.
What could it hurt to make a friend? He was probably just looking for someone to buy him lunch. It might be nice to have someone to talk to.
“I’m from New York,” she replied, allowing her shoulders to come down from around her ears. Now that she’d made the choice to get to know him, she found herself eager to ask him a few questions. “Are you from Dallas?”
“Not originally, though I’ve spent the last several years there. Wow. It’s getting late. Time flies when you’re having fun.” He moved out of the doorway, his hand moving in a graceful gesture. “Let’s go grab some grub as they would say in my neck of the woods. I’m starving.”
She followed him out of the museum, hoping all the while she wasn’t making a mistake.
* * * *
Liam followed her to the door of her building.
“Thanks for escorting me home.” She flushed beautifully in the early evening light. People rushed up and down Bishopsgate Street, but she seemed to have a core calm inside her that made her stand out from the frantic London pace.
He was surprised at just how protective he’d gotten in the last five hours. Avery moved with caution when she was thinking about it, her every step well thought out and intended to keep her on balance. But when she stopped thinking, there was a sweet grace to her steps, a sway to those curvy hips that had him entranced.
She was utterly unlike any woman he’d ever met. Smart. Sweet. Kind.
Was it all an act? He rather thought not so the question was just how she’d gotten involved with a man who was in business with Eli Nelson.
“What happened to your leg? It’s your right leg, isn’t it?” He’d waited all through lunch and the hours they’d spent at the museum for her to bring it up. Most people enjoyed talking about their past pain, holding it up as some sort of excuse for all things in their lives. Not Avery. She hadn’t mentioned it once. All he’d gotten out of her the whole time they had walked through the museum was that she’d been born in New York. She didn’t have siblings, and her parents had died when she was young.
No mention of her crappy childhood. No mention of everything she’d lost.
She flushed, biting that bottom lip of hers. Fuck, he liked her lips. If she’d put a gloss on them, it had come off hours ago. The pretty pink color was all her own and the bottom lip was pouty and plush. When she ran her tongue over it, his cock hardened in response. “I was in an accident. A car accident. It kind of affected my legs. I’m still a little weak on the right side, hence all the near misses. I’m not usually so clumsy. I try to keep my pratfalls to once a day.”
But she’d been distracted. He’d made a careful study of her over the last week. She was right. She usually wasn’t so clumsy. She usually made her way with careful resolve, but she’d been animatedly talking all afternoon as though having a companion to tour with was a special treat for her.
She was lonely. He could use that.
The trouble was, he was starting to think he was lonely, too. He’d enjoyed the afternoon with her far too much. His previous years’ worth of dates had consisted of picking up some willing young thing and topping her for a while before he fucked her and sent her on her way with cab fare.
He hadn’t spent a lazy afternoon with any woman just looking at art or weird dog statues. And yet he’d found himself staring at the big marble dog someone in ancient Greece had carved thousands of years ago and listening to Avery’s chatter about the clean lines and perfect construction, and all he had been able to think about was the fact that maybe he was as stuck as that dog. Maybe he was carved from marble, unmoving, unchanging, and had been ever since that day he’d lost his brother.
It was stupid, but five hours with the woman and he’d relaxed more than he had in years.
But he had a job to do. “I’ve had a few accidents in my time. Working construction can be hell on a man. Sometime I’ll tell you about the hole in my back. Man versus nail gun. Nail gun won.”
He fully intended to tell her that fabrication once he got her horizontal. There was no way to miss the bullet wound he’d taken during his SAS years, but the nail gun was a convenient lie.
Her eyes widened. “That sounds horrible.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, I got a body covered in scars, but then who doesn’t? If you don’t have a few scars, you haven’t really lived.”
She blushed again, her whole face turning red. If he had to bet, he would say she couldn’t lie to save her life. “I know how that goes. Thank you so much for the nice day. It was good to have someone to talk to.”
She was right back to where they’d been before lunch. Wary. Cautious. For a few hours she’d been open and smiling. At one point, she’d even held his hand as a wave of people came off the Tube at Holborn. They’d been standing by the tracks, chatting about all the places she wanted to see and the things she wanted to do while she was in London, and the Tube doors had opened, busy Londoners rushing past. They’d almost been separated. Her hand had come out, seeking his, a nervous look in her eyes as though the crowd frightened her.
He’d been taken over by the oddest emotion. He’d pulled her close as the crush engulfed them, his left hand covering the back of her head and pulling her into his chest.
And now she was dismissing him without so much as another date? That wasn’t going to happen. “The day isn’t over yet.”
She frowned. “What do you want from me?”
He hadn’t expected that. He’d expected a coy invitation to come inside or a little angling for another date. “I like you.”
“You don’t really know me, and I’m not blind. There are far prettier women just walking down this street. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I can’t figure out what you want. If you would please tell me, I’ll see if I can give it to you.”
He stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out her game. “What are you talking about?”
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