Caught

by Kristin Hardy

  Harry glowered. “You do your job, Fletcher, and I’ll do mine.”

  “I got a better idea. You do the patrolling and I’ll watch the game. I been through those upper floors and the parking lot until I’m seeing things.”

  “Don’t be such a crybaby. All you got is two floors. You don’t gotta do the top and you don’t gotta do the basement, am I right? That’s because of this little screen here and this little screen here that watch all the doors and the elevator. That’s me, huh? Me doing all the work so you can put your feet up.”

  Fletcher glowered at him. “You’re a regular prince, Harry. You are. Now you got any more Pringles or don’t ya?”

  JULIA PACED AROUND THE LAB. “Okay, we’ve tried the phones, we’ve tried the computer, we’ve tried the doors. Nothing doing. Any other ideas?”

  Alex glanced up from rolling up his sleeves. “We could yell some more.” He folded up the tie he’d removed and set it aside.

  “Not helpful. Come on, we’re intelligent, resourceful people. We’ve got all the tools we could possibly use.”

  “Hey, I already told you one guaranteed way out. We just need to put a flame up by one of the sprinklers. It’ll start the alarms.”

  “And the sprinklers. Water everywhere. You want to take responsibility for destroying a twelfth-dynasty sarcophagus, an eighteenth-dynasty mummy and an early-period bas-relief? Because I sure don’t.”

  “You don’t know, Felix might like it. Bet he hasn’t had a shower in a couple thousand years.”

  “Can you please be serious?”

  “Not willingly.” And then he slapped himself on the forehead. “Duh.” Hopping to his feet, he crossed to the workbench.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for a hammer and screwdriver. This is so obvious I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. The hinges are on our side, right? All we have to do is knock out the hinge pins and we can pull the door out backward.” He shoved a pair of pliers in his back pocket.

  “What are you, nuts? You’ll wreck the hinges.”

  “I’m not going to wreck the hinges. And so what if I do scratch them up a little?”

  “They’re antiques. The bolt on this door is about two inches long. You try to pull it out and you’re going to mess up the jamb, at the very least, if not the door and the lock.”

  He gave her a mulish look. “Look, do you want out or not?”

  “I don’t want out that badly. My job is to preserve things, not to wreck them. If the place was on fire, yeah. In this case, no way.”

  “And she says she wants out.” Alex gazed up at the ceiling, as though he might find patience there. And then he froze. “Oh, wait,” he said slowly. “We are so out of here.”

  “Not the door,” she warned him.

  “Not the door.”

  “So, what, have you figured out a way to walk through walls?”

  “Don’t have to,” he said. “We’re going over them.”

  “YOU’RE OUT OF YOUR MIND,” Julia said as she balanced on the corner of one of the sturdy wooden tables in her stocking feet.

  “I know exactly what I’m doing. An acoustical ceiling is a bunch of tiles suspended in a metal grid that hangs from the subflooring of the level above on wires. You push up the tiles, there’s open space. You can climb over the wall from here to the corridor.”

  “Alex, there’s a wall there. We’re not going to be able to crawl over.”

  “First, only one of us needs to crawl over. Second, this is a side hallway, not a main corridor. It’s highly unlikely it’s a load-bearing wall. In that case, there’s a good chance there are only studs above the door, no lath and plaster. They’d only have built as high as the ceiling.”

  “You are aware that they didn’t have acoustical ceilings back in the 1870s, right? The original ceiling’s probably up there somewhere.”

  “I doubt it.” He moved next to the table. “Why go to the trouble of putting in a second ceiling in a workshop? It’s not like it needs to look pretty. It’d cost money, take time, close down the lab.”

  “Then why did they put it in, genius?”

  He shrugged. “There was probably a burst pipe at some point and they had to replace the ceiling. What’s easier, encasing the pipes in more plaster or putting up a nice acoustic ceiling that will let you at ’em any time you have trouble in the future? Why do you think there are acoustical ceilings in the halls down here?”

  “All right, maybe you have a point,” she said reluctantly.

  “Maybe. That’s why we’re going to take a look. If there’s any room between the acoustical tile and the subflooring for the floor above, we should be able to cross over from this side to the corridor side and get out.”

  She crossed her arms and stared down at him. “So if ‘we’ are going to be able to do that, then why am I the one who’s got to sit on your shoulders and check it out?”

  “Because I don’t think you want me on your shoulders.” His teeth gleamed. “Anyway, it’s the only way to get enough height. Those rolling toolboxes aren’t strong enough to take my weight and I’m not going to split a gut hauling one of those big wooden tables over here until I know this’ll work. Relax. All you have to do is take a little horsey ride over to the door, lift up the acoustic tile, peek and you’ll be done.”

  Peek and you’ll be done. Perfect. Someone was going to get a peek. Someone was going to get an eyeful. She couldn’t have pulled trousers out of the closet that morning, oh no. And, of course, the museum didn’t believe in casual Fridays. Unfortunately, her suit came with a snug miniskirt that didn’t exactly lend itself to riding on a man’s shoulders.

  Julia sighed and put her hands on her thighs, ignoring Alex’s puzzled look. With a little shimmy she began to slide the claret silk up her hips, revealing the lace at the top of her stockings and the silky triangle of black fabric above.

  He pursed his lips as he looked up at her. “Let me guess, you’ve really always yearned to be an exotic dancer.”

  “Cut the wisecracks,” she replied, face flaming. “Turn around, will you?”

  “Okay,” he said, but his eyes darkened, she saw it before he turned to back up to the table. “Mount up, cowgirl.”

  Steadying herself on his shoulders, Julia slung one leg over one of his shoulders. Almost automatically he curved his hand around her stockinged calf. Heat bloomed up her leg. God, she was pathetic, like Pavlov’s dog. She saw him getting turned on and suddenly she was the one getting aroused. This was the man she wanted out of her life, she reminded herself.

  She hesitated.

  “What’s the holdup?”

  “I don’t have anything to hold on to to get on.”

  Alex shifted to turn sideways to the table and she yelped.

  “Relax, okay? I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He slipped his free arm behind the leg she stood on and edged closer to the table, raising his arm up like one of the Egyptian figures on the bas-relief. “Now, press on my hand and just kind of slide your leg onto my shoulder.”

  His grip was solid, reassuring. It took a couple of tries, but finally she was perched on his shoulders, the ceiling now maybe four or five inches away. And the floor a long way down, she realized, wobbling a little.

  “How are you doing up there?”

  “I know what it feels like to be a basketball player.”

  He chuckled and tightened his grip on her legs, which helped in the stability department but did nothing for her state of mind. She tried to ignore the feel of his palms pressed against her calves, his hair brushing against the sensitive skin of her thighs.

  And the fact that his neck was pressed firmly between her legs. Only a thin layer of fabric separated the heat of his skin and her most sensitive places. She shifted and felt a sudden, surprising little twinge of arousal at the motion.

  Oh no, not this. It was a joke. She was in the most undignified position she’d ever been in, skirt up around her waist, sitting on his
shoulders like some groupie at a rock concert. She was mortified, annoyed, embarrassed, uncomfortable.

  And yes, turned on.

  Ridiculous, Julia thought impatiently. She had a job to do.

  She didn’t need to get done.

  She wasn’t going to let herself be led around by her hormones, even if she knew the divine things he could do with that clever mouth of his. Her eyes narrowed. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

  “Who, me?” Alex’s voice was guileless as he started walking the dozen feet to the door. “I’m just trying to get you out so that you can get to your weekend plans, even if they don’t include me. I’m hurt that you’d suspect my motives.” He kissed the inside of her thigh.

  And she felt the arousal again, this time stronger. Then something brushed against her hair. She jerked her head away reflexively and turned quickly to look, except that there was a big difference between moving abruptly when she was on the ground and doing it when she was perched six feet up on a man’s shoulders, and suddenly things started to happen way too quickly.

  Starting with her yelp.

  “What the…?” Alex clamped his hands on her legs. Julia would have applauded the impressive little express soft-shoe he used to try to get beneath her except that she was too busy windmilling her arms to get her balance while she was slipping off his shoulders. In a panic, she gave up and just tried for a handhold, except that the only thing around was Alex’s head.

  And finally things were steady.

  “Can we not do that again?” he asked, his voice muffled. Because her palm and fingers were pressed over his mouth and hooked under his chin, she realized.

  With a little cough, Julia released the fingers she’d clamped in his hair. “Sorry. You almost ran me into a sprinkler.”

  “And that was a real interesting way to tell me about it,” he said. “Next time, try just saying ‘Sprinkler ho,’ or something.”

  Julia fought a smirk. “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “Any sprinklers in our path?”

  “No, sir. Full speed ahead.”

  Cautiously, Alex walked to the door, then stopped and stood in front of it. He shifted his head awkwardly to look up. “Okay, can you reach the ceiling tile with some room to spare?”

  “I think so.”

  “There shouldn’t be anything holding the panel in place. You should be able to just push and raise it up. They’re heavier than you’d expect and sometimes they get a little wedged in place, so be prepared to put some muscle behind it.”

  “How do you know so much about this, anyway?”

  “My uncle’s a contractor. I worked summers for him when I was in high school.”

  Julia put her palms on the tile and pressed up. “Okay, got it.”

  “What do you see?”

  “Black, mostly.”

  “Here.” He handed her a flashlight he’d scavenged.

  She aimed the beam into the dark space. “Okay, I see some pipes that look like copper. Water probably, huh?”

  “Probably.”

  “They’re not really in the way, but the subflooring of the level above is really low.”

  “How low?”

  “Really low. Like maybe ten inches, if that.”

  “Enough room to scramble through?”

  She looked down at him and sighed. “You’d never make it through in a million years.”

  “Would you?”

  6

  Friday, 8:00 p.m.

  JULIA STARED at the patch of missing ceiling over the door and the light that shone through from the hallway, then at the waist-high wooden table that now stood before it. “So let me get this straight. We climb up on the table and you’ll boost me up, then I’m supposed to wiggle between the studs and through the gap between the top of the doorjamb and the subflooring above?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Without breaking the metal stuff that holds up the ceiling tile.”

  “That would probably be bad,” Alex agreed.

  “And once I do that, I…what? Swan-dive face-first into the marble floor nine feet below?”

  “That would be one approach, I suppose, but it would be a shame to see that pretty face messed up,” he said. “See how the ceiling tiles are lined up with their short ends along the wall? I think the best move would be to let me boost you up there legs first and help you get balanced on the top edge of the wall. Then when you’re ready, you can move your legs through the hole. I’ll help lower you and then all you have to do is jump down, unlock the door and wait for me to open it.”

  “Julia Covington, human eel,” she said drily.

  “I’m sure you can do it.”

  “Your faith is flattering.”

  “Look at it this way, it’ll help your flexibility.”

  Julia gave him a look under her brows. “I do yoga three times a week. I’m as flexible as I need to be.”

  “You won’t get any argument here,” he said.

  She moved to step up on a chair to climb on the table and then noticed him out of the corner of her eye, watching her with particular attention. She turned. “What?”

  Alex hesitated. “Well, you’re not going to want to hear it.”

  “Hear what?”

  “Well, with that skirt and that jacket, you’re…”

  “I’m what?” She folded her arms.

  “Well, that skirt’s kind of tight.” He looked her up and down. “So’s the jacket. Not that I don’t applaud the look, but…”

  Julia raised her eyebrows.

  “It’s just that you’re going to have a tough time getting through in those clothes,” he said in a rush. “You can’t move in them and your jacket buttons are going to get caught on things. Plus, you’re probably going to wreck the suit.”

  “Your point?” she asked.

  He rubbed the side of his nose. “I think you’d, uh, do better out of them.”

  “You have got to be kidding.” Julia gave him a withering stare. “Are you seriously telling me you want me to strip to try to climb through the ceiling—legs first, by the way—and out into the corridor? Where I’ll stand for the fifteen minutes it takes you to shove that monster table out of the way? Oh, hello, Mr. Security Guard, no, nothing’s wrong, I just felt like running around the museum naked at night. No, really, I’m not crazy. I work here.”

  He couldn’t entirely hide his smile. “I’m just saying you’re going to run into trouble if you try going up there wearing what you’re wearing.”

  She snorted. “I see, it’s out of nobility that you’re suggesting it. I’ll change into a lab coat.”

  “Still a lot of loose cloth and buttons to catch on things.”

  “This wouldn’t, by any chance, be a way to get me naked, would it?”

  He caught her to him. “Darlin’,” he growled, “if I want to get you naked, I’ve got better ways of doing it.” He released her just as her brows drew together. “I was joking. Look, I just don’t want you to get hurt. And if you’re not willing to get out of those clothes to try your escape number, then we’re better off if you skip it. Maybe I can try.”

  “There’s no way,” she told him. “It’s going to be a tight fit for me.”

  “Then maybe we should just wait. What’s the worst that happens? So you miss your gig, we cool our heels for a few hours. We’ll survive.”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it again. For a moment, she stood, then she began pacing, making a restless little circle in the center of the lab, looking every so often at the gaps in the ceiling.

  Alex simply waited, trying not to be frustrated at the fact that it was she, and not he, who was going to make the attempt. He was the guy, he was supposed to take the risks. Unfortunately, physical realities were physical realities.

  And so he watched Julia pace.

  Finally she shook her head briskly and walked over. “Nope, not good enough. Let’s go do it.”

  He wasn’t prepared for what she did next. He’d expected her to matter
-of-factly begin taking off her jacket and skirt. Instead she dropped her hands to her midthigh hemline and began sliding the fabric up, raising her foot to prop it on the chair, pushing the skirt up farther until she’d revealed the lacy top of her stocking. And then she began rolling it down.

  There was something about the simple intimacy of the gesture that made his mouth go dry. Mesmerized, he watched her roll the stocking, sliding her hands over her thigh, her calf, tensing her leg. When she pulled the hose off the tip of her toe, he began to hear a faint roaring in his ears. Then she put her foot down and began the process with the other leg, like a woman in her bedroom, undressing for him in a way she never had. Always before, they’d been caught up in the frantic rush of sex, dragging at one another’s clothing, tumbling onto the bed or onto or against whatever surface was nearby.

  Now, he leaned against the door and just watched as she stepped out of her skirt, as her hands dropped to the buttons of her jacket, freeing them one by one.

  He remembered the way they’d slipped through the buttonholes under his fingers earlier. It seemed like an age ago. It felt as if he hadn’t had her in weeks, months. Ever. Somehow, in this utterly incongruous environment, it was as though she was revealing herself to him for the first time. And he felt the desire begin to flow, liquid and hot.

  When she parted the front of the jacket and slipped it off her shoulders, he felt the punch of it all the way to his toes.

  And then she glanced over at him. He saw her breasts rise as she caught a breath.

  Heat arced between them.

  He didn’t think about moving to her; he just did it. He didn’t think about pulling her into his arms, but she was there. And when he crushed his mouth against hers, it was hotter than it had ever been with them.

  He’d always gotten tired of women quickly. A month, maybe two, and the fascination would wither, their hold on him would weaken. Whereas Julia’s only grew stronger. None of the women in his past had matched him wit for wit. None of them had sent arousal drumming in his veins, left him dry-mouthed and desperate with wanting. None of them had made him want the way Julia made him want.