The next two hours flashed past as Morgan prepared notes for the meeting, and considered answers to some of the curly questions she was expecting from Riley, and by eleven she was as ready as she could be for the meeting. That didn’t stop the adrenaline rush when Gus rang just after the hour to ask her to join them in his office.
Morgan quickly dabbed a little more concealer beneath her eyes, grabbed her files and her notebook and walked straight into Gus’s office without knocking. Gus smiled at her as she entered, and indicated her presence to the tall man standing with his back to the door. Riley turned to face Morgan and shock waves resonated through her body as her gray eyes met his amber ones, framed by glasses.
"Ms McClellan?" He seemed as shaken as Morgan and hesitated for a moment. "Do I know you, perhaps?"
The faltering smile on Riley’s handsome face was replaced with a frown as he reached a to shake her hand, taking his glasses off to look at her intently. Morgan barely touched her fingers to his, but instantly an electrical pulse of connection seemed to arc between them. She did know him, but from where she had no idea. Withdrawing her hand quickly, she smiled up at him with as much serenity as she could muster.
"I’m not sure, Mr. Riley. Perhaps I just have one of those faces. But I’m very happy to meet the man responsible for bringing Cernunnos’s torque to us, if that is indeed what it is. Either way, I’ve heard it’s a magnificent piece." No point beating about the bush, Morgan thought. Whether or not the discovery of the torque indicated that the god had been a real person was something that needed to be discussed.
Riley’s amber eyes studied her from a height of just under six feet. "I can’t agree that yours is ‘one of those faces’. You have a memorable face, Ms McClellan. Please, call me Hunter."
His eyes seemed to devour her, taking in every one of her features and recording it indelibly on his memory. Morgan knew she was reasonably attractive--her pale-skinned, black-haired looks were striking enough and her morning runs kept her 5’4" frame in reasonable shape, although she sometimes thought she was a little top-heavy--but Riley was looking at her as though he’d never seen a woman before.
Morgan blushed and looked away, glad when Gus finally intervened with a cough and motioned Riley to a seat.
"May I say again how thrilled we are, Hunter, to have the torque as the focal point of the exhibition?"
Morgan cringed as Gus’s congratulation quickly turned obsequious. She tuned him out as he babbled on about how he hoped it was the start of a long association between the archaeologist and the museum, her eyes straying to the man who sat next to her. From where she sat, she could study him out of the corner of her eye while still appearing to be looking at Gus, and it was well worth the effort.
To her admittedly inexpert eye, Hunter looked like one of the rare men who had no idea of his own appeal. Dark brown hair flopped untidily over his brow and his well-won tweed jacket and cord jeans gave him a rumpled, academic appearance, but his warm, brown eyes, broad shoulders and low voice were seriously sexy. A very enigmatic package, she decided.
With a start, Morgan realized the two men were looking at her, Gus with bushy eyebrows raised as though expecting an answer to a question.
God! What the hell had they been talking about?
Morgan tried in vain to stop a pink tide of embarrassment from rising in her face as she desperately searched her mind for a sufficiently vague response that wouldn’t reveal her as a complete fool.
"I believe Ms McClellan is prepared to stick her neck out and speculate that the lord of the night hunt may well have his origins in fact."
Out of Gus’s line of sight, Hunter winked at Morgan. She could have kissed him for putting her on the right track, but she settled for a shy smile of thanks.
"Thank you, Hunter." Morgan moved seamlessly into the argument she had prepared this morning after re-reading her notes. "I certainly do feel it would be a wasted opportunity to ignore some of the more sensational implications of your find." She held up a hand to Gus, who opened his mouth to interject. It was high time some of the living fossils in the museum got a shake-up.
"Gus, I know your thoughts on this, but we need to adopt a position that history isn’t about dusty old relics that sit in equally dusty glass cases. We have to breathe life into history, and the suggestion that this incredible part human-part beast deity was once a flesh and blood man … well, people will love the story.
"They will identify with a man much more than some mystical figure, especially if he was a warrior who, through his amazing feats of courage and skill, earned himself a place among the legendary figures of Celtic culture. People will be breaking down the doors to see the exhibition."
Gus choked on his glass of water. "Oh, the enthusiasm of youth." He looked at Hunter as though sharing a private joke about the impetuosity of young women in particular. "Morgan, I do appreciate your point, and we certainly want to do whatever we can to encourage the general public to visit the exhibition, even those who are not usually patrons of ours.
"However, I am concerned that the museum may be rather exposed should we stick our neck out too far on the matter of the origins of the find. It’s still very much a matter of debate, you know. There’s nothing that proves conclusively that Cernunnos was a historical figure.
"The last thing I--or the board need--is well-known historians claiming that we’ve taken liberties, or worse misinterpreted, the facts. Could be disastrous for the museum’s credibility."
Morgan knew she needed to tread with care. It was a matter that was very open to debate, and with discovery of the torque so recent, debate was ferocious as to whether Cernunnos was rooted in reality.
"My suggestion would be present both sides of the case." She spoke softly but confidently, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Show why the discovery of the torque has fired up so much excitement--but stop short of confirming any real-life links. Leave it as a mystery still to be solved."
Hunter nodded. "Good idea. People love a mystery." He looked at Gus. "I’m more than happy with Morgan’s approach, Gus. The torque must have belonged to someone, presumably a high-ranking warrior. The Celts were famous for their warrior mentality, rushing fearlessly into battle. There could well have been a celebrated warrior who, over time, became worshipped as a god.
"It’s a mystery that maybe future generations will solve. Every kid at the exhibition will dream that he or she might be the one to solve it."
Gus stood up, and shook Hunter’s hand. "Well, as you’re happy with Morgan’s approach, I’ll leave you in her capable hands. She can show you the plans for the exhibition and answer any questions you have."
Morgan closed the door to Gus’s office behind them, and breathed a sigh of relief. She looked wryly up at Hunter. He smiled in sympathy, understanding her battle to make history passionate and exciting.
"I hope you’ll be gentle with me, Morgan, now that Gus has placed me in your hands." He was standing so close she could smell the fresh, citrus scent of his cologne.
Morgan blushed again. She sure as hell wouldn’t mind getting her mitts on the nice, sexy Hunter Riley, and if she did she wouldn’t be at all gentle. But getting romantic with someone who was so closely connected with the museum was a recipe for conflict and wouldn’t help her get her job done. She sighed. Life could be so cruel.
"I’m always gentle with our benefactors, especially one who goes out of his way to be so helpful." Morgan felt she had to get them back on a more professional footing. "Seriously, thank you for your support. I feel very strongly about this exhibition and particularly about the Celtic component, which is my particular area of interest, but I’m aware that I do sometimes get carried away so if you feel the need to disagree with me I’ll try to keep an open mind." She indicated her office. "Would you like to see the plans?"
"Love to."
"Sorry about the mess." She shifted a pile of magazines from the visitor’s chair and praised heaven that Andrea had gone out to lunch. Had her assistant been
there, she would doubtless have flirted outrageously with the handsome archaeologist.
Morgan pulled out the diagrams showing where each of the key exhibits would be placed, and unrolled them on her desk. The exhibition was focused on Celtic legends and myths, but touched on links with other major cultures outside the key Celtic strongholds of Ireland, Scotland, Wales and France.
From time to time, Hunter nodded and asked questions as Morgan explained how each of the exhibits contributed to the program, and how they would be presented to the public.
Morgan raised her head from the plans to look at Hunter, a question forming on her lips. At the same time he lifted his amber eyes to look at her and her question was never uttered. Their gazes caught and held, their breathing paused and deepened, and Morgan felt as though she was falling into a void, the office spinning wildly around her.
For as much as a minute there was silence, except for their breathing and the hum of Morgan’s computer. Finally Hunter moved. Lifting his hand, he smoothed a loose strand of silky black hair where it had come adrift from the knot at Morgan’s nape.
"I feel I know you," he whispered.
"Yes." The word was no more than a breath on Morgan’s lips.
"How?"
Morgan shook her head. "I don’t know, but I feel --"
The office door rattled and Morgan instantly tore her gaze from Hunter’s as Andrea breezed through the office to her workstation. She looked at them, her pink lipsticked mouth open in surprise, her highlighted blonde hair windswept.
"Oops, sorry. I didn’t know … I can make myself scarce if you’re in a meeting. Would you like a coffee?"
"Uh, no thanks," Hunter murmured, straightening. "I have to get going, need to … uh, Ms. McClellan, I will need to approve the final captions and credits for the display. Perhaps you would get in touch with my office to discuss the timing?" He put a card on Morgan’s desk.
Morgan’s mind felt foggy. She couldn’t think of a thing to say and watched speechlessly as Hunter left the office.
Andrea looked at her and raised her eyebrows. "Well," she said. "I did interrupt something, didn’t I?"
Morgan composed her face into an expressionless mask as she met her assistant’s inquisitive gaze. "Not really. Just going over the plans for exhibiting the torque."
"Sure. Anything you say." Andrea smiled at her disbelievingly and Morgan sighed, not surprised.
Andrea had definitely interrupted something, but just what that something was, Morgan had absolutely no idea.
CHAPTER TWO
"So what do you think of our Mr. Riley?"
Gus straightened his bow tie in the mirror, his eyes on Morgan as he prepared for the latest in a round of board meetings. They were being held almost weekly at the moment as the board sweated on progress of the most significant, high-profile and expensive exhibition it had ever mounted. The anxiety that pervaded the museum was almost palpable in the air around the executive offices on the second floor, and for the past few days Morgan swore she could feel her nerves twanging whenever she arrived at work.
"What?" she said, startled, her eyes meeting Gus’s in the mirror.
"Impressive fellow, don’t you think? I hadn’t appreciated he was quite so young."
"He’s nearly forty," Morgan replied through stiff lips, wishing he hadn’t raised the subject. She was finding it hard enough as it was not to think about the disturbing Hunter Riley. "Not that young." She had been a fervent admirer of Hunter Riley from afar since she had read a profile of him in one of the Sunday supplements years before. Since meeting him, she’d reread all the information she had on him. Three times. And stared endlessly at shadowed, grainy photographs. Not that Gus needed to know that.
"Young in terms of what he’s achieved, I mean. Ted Farrell has one of the biggest reps in the field, but he was in his fifties before he scored that Roman find. And most of that was pottery. Riley seems to have a sixth sense for precious metal--always more glamorous!"
"Probably has a massive ego, as a result," murmured Morgan, though nothing she’d read or seen with her own eyes had suggested that. She was just being cautious, which was difficult when her heart beat so loudly every time his name was mentioned she thought it could probably be heard on Mars.
"Apparently not." Gus straightened his glasses and turned to face her. "Everyone says he’s a hell of a nice guy. Prefers the hands-on stuff to publishing, which might not help his academic gravitas. But his media profile is something different. Doesn’t hurt to have a reputation as a modern-day India Jones, and the dashing looks to match. Not that he seems to hunt magazine covers the way some do."
Gus wasn’t particularly au fait with popular culture so Morgan didn’t correct his mistake, she simply smiled and hugged the information to herself. A nice guy. Hopefully sexy nice rather than boring nice. No, he definitely wasn’t boring, that she could tell with her own eyes and ears.
"Took rather a liking to you, Morgan." Gus glanced at her before picking up his briefing papers from the desk. "Not surprising that a fellow like him has an eye for the girls. Can’t hurt in the museum’s quest to get that torque as a permanent exhibit."
Morgan stared at him agape. Had her play-by-the-book boss all but instructed her to flirt with Hunter Riley for the museum’s advantage?
"I hope you didn’t mean that the way it sounds, Gus." Her voice sounded stiff, and she tried to smile to lessen the brusqueness of her words.
"I simply meant that it makes your job a little easier, that’s all," he blustered.
Makes your job of securing the torque easier, you mean, Morgan thought, but she kept silent except to wish him luck for the board meeting. He gave her a harried smile and brushed past her to hurry to the meeting.
Morgan ate lunch at her desk, reviewing the documents she had prepared for Hunter Riley’s approval. She had stayed late every night for the past week and put in numerous hours at home trying to get them exactly right. She didn’t feel confident about anything right at the moment, and dreaded the thought of him seeing her work. It was crazy, but she felt as though she had poured herself into the captions she’d written for the displays. She hoped they reflected her fascination for the exhibits, for this intriguing slice of history, but it was always so hard to judge someone’s own work.
Gus had just read the material, sniffed and handed the captions back to her with a brief "fine", but Marshall, the curator had been complimentary. Still, she wouldn’t be happy until Hunter had seen and approved them.
She read the captions one final time, decided that no more fussing could possibly improve anything, and before she could change her mind again, she sent an email to Hunter’s assistant Suzie, attaching the captions for Hunter’s approval within the next few days.
Morgan felt better when her computer confirmed that the email had been sent. If nothing else, it meant she could now concentrate on other long overlooked aspects of the exhibition that needed her attention, not to mention reviewing the licensing arrangements for postcards and other items of stationery that were out of stock in the museum’s shop and required reprinting.
When the phone rang, she was absorbed in checking the copyright documentation for the exhibits and works that appeared on the museum’s postcards.
"How’s it going, hon?" The strident voice of her mentor and former boss crackled in Morgan’s ear and she smiled to herself. A former New Yorker, Mary Wilsden was as loud as she was open-hearted. She and the more reserved Morgan had been slow to hit it off but over time had become firm friends, and Mary remained a champion of Morgan’s career, going out of her way to encourage and promote her.
"Oh, you know how it is when an exhibition is coming together," Morgan said lightly, aware that her museum and Mary’s were now competitors. It wouldn’t do to admit progress was slower than everyone had expected. "A daily dose of drama that has me tearing my hair out, but it’s coming together slowly."
"I heard that you got the torque," said Mary. "Hell, everyone’s talking about it.
How did you do it?"
"Well Hunter Riley’s been very supportive throughout," Morgan replied, wishing that his smiling amber eyes didn’t appear in her mind every time his name was mentioned. "I was surprised at how easy it was to secure the torque for the exhibition considering he’s archaeology’s golden boy at the moment and the torque is in such demand. Apparently when the French government decided not to make any claim on it, Hunter was keen for it to be displayed for a while at some place that has a major focus on Celtic history and mythology, like Southern. The timing of the exhibition is perfect."
"So have you met the golden boy yet?"
"Mmm, just a few days ago. Gus and I had a meeting with him."
"Nice isn’t he?" said Mary probingly.
Morgan wrinkled her nose. "Nice enough," she said carelessly. "If you go for his type."
"What’s not to go for?" said Mary, laughing. "C’mon, you’d have heaps in common and he’s a real sweetie."
"Oh, he’s just a bit of a flirt, that’s all," said Morgan vaguely. "Anyway, I didn’t realize you knew him."
"I don’t really. Just made small talk with him a couple of times at various functions. But he seemed nice."
"Why does everyone keep using that word," Morgan muttered, feeling vaguely irritated, though she wasn’t sure why."
"Maybe because he is. Anyway, I wouldn’t have minded jumping his bones." Mary laughed.
"I’m just glad he’s cooperative about the exhibition. I’m not looking for a relationship with the guy." Liar, liar, Morgan’s inner voice screamed until she told it to shut up.
"Hon," sighed Mary. "I know how hard you’ve worked for your career, but you have to get a personal life sometime. Why not Hunter Riley?"
"You sound like Gus," Morgan muttered. "It’s just not a good time, and anyway, I can’t imagine being involved with a celebrity." She made the last sound like a dirty word. "Paparazzi, gossip columns. No way."
Darkest Desire Page 2
