He felt the heat catch with her, felt her shiver under his touch. And then he wasn’t in control anymore because suddenly her mouth was avid and greedy against his. With a noise of impatience, she twisted against him to press herself closer, running her fingers up through his hair. And her scent was all around him, her taste permeating him, the way she’d come to permeate his thoughts; his days, his hours divided into time spent with Julia and time spent thinking about Julia.
All he had to do was slide her out of the silk and lace that she wore and he could have her naked. All he had to do was touch her in the ways he knew she couldn’t resist and she’d be his, and the need that was pounding in his veins would be assuaged.
But he couldn’t.
“Julia,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“Stop. Put on your jacket.” Gently he pulled away and draped her jacket over her shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling that his belly was filled with sharp rocks. “I think we should stop, okay?”
At first she just blinked at him, half-dazed, and then a deep flush spread over her face. “What kind of game are you playing, Spencer?”
“I’m not playing one.”
“Oh, yeah? You could have fooled me.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“No? You act like you can’t keep your hands off me, you make a pass, and then suddenly you’re putting on the brakes, when I’m saying yes?” Her words vibrated with fury.
“You’re not saying yes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That wasn’t yes, that was, I don’t know, hormones, the moment, call it whatever you want to.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I came onto you, you went with it. And it was sexy as hell. But if we go for it, you’ll be sorry after. You’ll be ticked at yourself and ticked at me and then you’ll feel crummy and I’ll feel like a creep, and neither of us deserves that. That’s not what this is about. That’s never what this has been about, and whatever it’s missing, feeling good after sex hasn’t been it. So let’s call a break.”
He saw the incredulous look on her face and let out a long breath. “I want you. You know that, and if you have any doubts just look at me and you’ll see how much.” He gave a rueful glance downward. “But not this way. You change your mind and decide you want this to happen, that’s different. You come to me, then I’m there in a heartbeat. But not like this. Okay?”
Julia gazed at him a long moment. He felt ridiculously tense, fighting the urge to hold his breath. Finally, she nodded, almost to herself.
And then she shrugged the jacket aside and climbed onto the table. “Fine. Then get over here and boost me up.”
7
Friday, 8:45 p.m.
“JUST ONE MORE INCH and I’d have made it,” Julia grumbled, pacing restlessly around the lab.
“You needed at least two, maybe more.”
The wooden table had been moved back into place. She was dressed again, though her hose remained tossed to one side. “I was so close,” she groaned.
“You weren’t. Hey, how’s your leg?”
Not nearly as bumped as her pride, but it was hard to stay angry at Alex. “It’s fine. Thanks for finding the first-aid kit.”
“I didn’t even see that flange when I boosted you up. I’m sorry. I wish it had been me.”
It really bothered him, she realized. Not only that he hadn’t been able to save the day, but also that she’d gotten hurt trying. “The doctors say the scar will hardly show, dearest,” she said in her best Thirties-melodrama voice. “I’ll simply add a few ruffles to my costume and it’ll be fine. I never had much of a career in shot put anyway.”
“No, darling, don’t say that,” he pleaded, clasping her hands with his. “We’ll…we’ll get you to that Swiss clinic. A few weeks there and you’ll be right as rain.”
Julia eyed him. “Swiss clinic, huh?” she asked in a normal voice.
“They’re very good, those Swiss.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Anyway, we gave it our best shot. That’s something, at least.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m still working on my best shot.” Alex crouched before the door, staring into the keyhole.
“I think you’re wasting your time,” she said over his shoulder.
He shrugged and worked the wire, trying to reach the tumblers. “What else do I have to do? Besides, I’m feeling frisky after getting into Paul’s office.” He glanced over his shoulder at Julia. “Of course, if you’re feeling frisky, too, I can think of some other options.”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t start with that. You were the one who turned me down.”
“I turned down your response to my pass,” he corrected. “Now, if you want to make a pass on your own recognizance, that’s something else entirely.”
“No, thanks. I’m feeling of sound mind and body at present.”
“I’ll vouch for the body part. Hey, ow,” he complained as a whiteboard eraser bounced off him. “That was a compliment. Now let me concentrate. I’m trying to pick a lock here.”
He’d never been able to resist a puzzle, whether it was a lock or a woman whose mouth said one thing while her eyes and body said another. That was Julia, one minute, cool as a cucumber and pushing him away, the next, she’d be pulling him closer. He enjoyed flustering her, enjoyed knowing that no matter how much she didn’t want to want him, she still did.
It wasn’t enough, though. After six months, he wanted more. He wanted more of that quick wit and acerbic tongue. He wanted to know more about her complicated mind. He wanted to get into her head and into her life. Unfortunately he’d come to that particular realization at just the time she was trying to walk away.
Slowly, he stopped working fruitlessly to reach the hidden tumblers of the lock. The thief, he realized, had done him a favor. Julia couldn’t walk away now, not this time. They were locked in. Together. He had hours, maybe even days, to work on her. Time enough to talk, for a change. Time enough to get to know each other.
Time to win her back.
Which meant that working on the lock was not in his best interest. With an elaborate sigh, Alex rose. “I guess you’re right. Doesn’t look like I’m going to get anywhere with this.” He heard a rumbling noise and flicked a quick glance at Julia. “What was that?” She didn’t answer, but he saw her cheeks tint. “Was that you?” he asked.
As though in response, her stomach growled again.
Alex raised an eyebrow. “I guess it’s past your dinnertime.”
“That’s okay. Security’s supposed to be here any minute to let us out, isn’t that what you said?”
He glanced at his watch. “Eight-thirty. Appears they’re running a little late.” Casually, he strolled over to one of the workstations and opened a drawer. Notebooks, pens, erasers.
“What are you doing?”
“Just depending on human nature.” He searched the open drawer and moved onto the next. Gloves and goggles, some kind of fancy measuring tool.
“Those are people’s work areas,” Julia said over his shoulder.
“So they are.” Giving up on the drawers, he tried opening up the storage unit that hung over the work counter. “Pay dirt,” he crowed.
“What did you find?” Julia demanded.
He showed her the candy bar he’d unearthed. “Dinner. Or at least part of it. It seems to me I was supposed to feed you tonight, although I was thinking more Nobu than Snickers.”
“At this point, I’ll take what I can get,” Julia told him. “You know they’re not supposed to have anything in here.” But she began searching drawers just the same.
Alex laughed. “We already saw how far ‘supposed to’ goes down here.”
“Good point.” She pulled open another drawer and stopped. “Whoa. I guess someone works late in the lab a lot.” She moved back to let Alex peer over her shoulder at a collection of granola bars, cheese crackers and chocolate drops. When he moved to touch, though, she raised her hand. “Not y
et. We should check everywhere first. Find out how much food we’ve got so that we know whether to ration.”
There were times he downright adored her. “You’re cute when you get all serious.” Alex leaned in to smack her on the lips while her hands were full.
Julia dropped a granola bar. “I’m just being practical,” she said, fumbling for it on the floor and bumping her head as she rose.
“I don’t know, starvation could stand us in good stead. We get thin enough, we can get out by just slipping under the door.” His gaze skimmed her curves. “Of course, you female types have certain, uh, anatomical disadvantages there.”
She gave him her countess look again, and he grinned, and moved on with his search. “How about the refrigerator?”
“Unlikely. That’s for chemicals. They know better than to keep food there. At least, they ought to.”
“Since when has that stopped anyone?” he asked, walking over to it.
On the front stuck a magnet proclaiming Conservators Do It So It doesn’t Show. Inside was a confusion of brown glass bottles and jugs, clear jars sealed in plastic bags. “So what’s all this?” Alex gestured at the mix. “I thought they mostly used paint and glue and stuff for restoration.”
“We’ve got quite a bag of tricks these days,” Julia said. “That’s thioglycolic acid.” She pointed at a brown glass bottle. “Good for removing iron stains. And methylcellulose, which is a consolidant.”
“Of course it is.”
Her lips twitched. “You use it to coat pieces you’re going to take a mold of so the silicone doesn’t stick and wreck the original.”
“But then you’ve got the problem of methyl whatchamacallit on the original.”
“Oh, that comes off with solvent.”
“And the solvent comes off with…?”
“Your head.” But there was a smile of her lips when she said it, which was progress. “Let’s see, what else do we have here…Film, obviously, and funiori, which is another consolidant. Japanese. Oh, and isinglass. That’s a binder for treating polychrome sculpture. Medieval stuff, mostly, and gilded pieces. I haven’t a clue what it’s doing here. Paul must be trying something new.”
“Paul must be trying something new with this, too,” Alex interrupted, reaching past her to pull out a can of Coke. “What do you think, polychrome sculpture, or stone?” He held it up.
“My stomach,” she told him, and took the can.
THEY SAT ON THE WORKBENCH, legs dangling, booty piled at their sides, like kids the day after Halloween.
Alex held up a packet of beef jerky, turning it over in his hands. “You know, this looks an awful lot like old Felix there.” He gestured with his chin to the mummy on the far table.
“That’s revolting.”
“Well, you’ve got to admit, Felix looks sort of dark and stringy, too.” He ripped open the package and pulled out a piece to dangle before her. “Mmm, want some?”
She gave him a pained look. “I’ll stick with the candy bars and crackers, thanks.”
“Your loss,” he said. Taking a bite, he chewed. And chewed and chewed and chewed…Five minutes later, give or take, he swallowed with a gulp. “Okay, maybe I’ll pass on the Felix jerky,” he muttered. “It’s probably cursed anyway.” He set the package aside. “What else do we have here?”
“I’ll trade you a granola bar for a Twix,” Julia offered.
Alex eyed her. “You think I’m going to give up chocolate and caramel for packaged cardboard? My jaws are already tired as it is.”
“It’s healthier,” she wheedled.
He shook his head. “You’ve got to work on your pitch, sweetheart. First rule of sales, figure out what I want and show me how the deal gives it to me.”
“Okay, I’ll give you a big, crunchy, tasty granola bar and two luscious Kisses for a measly little Twix.”
“Sold!” He reached for her and she gave a startled yelp.
“What are you doing?”
“You said two kisses. Lip only or French?”
“Hershey’s,” she said drily and held out her hand. “The Twix, please?”
“I’m tastier than candy,” he pointed out.
“You’re talking about chocolate. It mimics the chemicals released in orgasm, in case you didn’t know.”
Alex looked at her pityingly. “Do you want a mimic or do you want the real thing?”
“Speaking of pitches…”
“I’m not about to give up because I know you’ve got a soft spot for me,” Alex said, handing her the candy bar and unwrapping one of his own. “What I don’t get is why you’re so set on this whole breakup thing. We’ve been having a great time up to now. Why stop?”
“Would you rather be eating granola and chocolate right now or a big, juicy steak?”
“Don’t torture me,” he said mournfully.
“Exactly. Real food. Alex, the last six months have been a blast, but it was dessert. Junk food, not the real thing. And it was fun and it worked at the time, but it’s not enough for me anymore.”
“Good. It’s not enough for me, either.”
“And I’m allergic to peanuts, so I can’t eat them,” she said, reminding herself more than him.
Alex blinked. “Okay, maybe I should stand up and have you hit me with that one again.”
“What I mean is, just because something sounds good doesn’t mean that it’s good for you.”
“Still not following.”
How was it that it was so clear in her head and came out so muddled? “Alex, wanting to have a relationship doesn’t mean we can do it,” she said gently. “I mean, think about it. We don’t have anything in common except sex.”
“How do you know? We’ve never really talked about anything.”
“Exactly my point. I’m not your type and you’re not mine.” Oh, but he’d felt like her type, night after night. She frowned at herself. “You like party girls and that’s not me. I’ve just been in a…phase.” That sounded reasonable, she thought in satisfaction.
“A phase, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Nice phase.”
“And done.” Her voice was firm.
“So what makes you so sure I’m not your type? Maybe I am and you’ve never figured it out because you’re so sexually insatiable that all you wanted me for was my body.” He gave her a wicked look. “I know how you women are, weak vessels of lust.”
“Yeah, right, that would be me.”
“It’s that phase thing.” Alex took a drink of his soda. “Okay, so maybe it has been all sex, no talk. Per your request, I might add. Well, we’ve got time to talk now. Unless you’ve changed your mind about the sex,” he added hopefully.
“You are determined.”
“You’ll break down eventually if we’re trapped here long enough.” He gave her a slow smile that had her pulse thudding. “You won’t be able to resist. But in the meantime, we talk.”
“We don’t have anything to talk about.”
“Sure we do.”
“Like what?”
“Anything. Who’d win in a mud wrestling match, Geraldo or Prince Charles? What you think about the possibility of extraterrestrial life. Where you want to be in five years.”
She studied him. “You really expect me to take this seriously?”
“Why the hell not? Who else do you have to talk to, Felix?”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “My money’s on Geraldo. Prince Charles would get hung up on his dignity thing. He wouldn’t get down and dirty.”
“Ah, but see, there you go, making assumptions. I think old Chuck might just surprise you. There’s no telling what he learned at those English boarding schools.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Rising, she walked over to the sink to wash her hands.
“Cleanliness is next to godliness?”
“It is when you’re handling rare books. I’m going to research the amulet. That’s why I came down here in the first place.”
He gave her
a puzzled look. “Why bother? It’s gone.”
“I want to confirm it’s the real thing.”
“The auction house thought so.”
“And auction houses can be fooled. Anyway, what else have I got to do? Besides that,” she added firmly as he opened his mouth.
He thought about it a second and stuck his hands under the water. “I suppose.”
She watched him. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to be just like you. You’re my idol.”
“Right. Well, I’m going in here.”
“That’s okay. Don’t worry about me,” he called after her. “Me and Felix, we’ll just hang.”
8
Friday, 9:15 p.m.
JULIA SETTLED in at the computer in the book repository and inserted a CD-ROM. So she was locked in; she’d probably be down here doing research late anyway. The thing to do was concentrate on the work. Then she wouldn’t worry about the locked door, about being cut off from the outside world.
Then she wouldn’t worry about Alex.
If only things had worked out as she’d planned. She’d have broken up with him and they’d have gone their separate ways, preferably as quickly as possible. Instead, disaster. Bad enough that she’d wound up blurting it out to him in her office, but then to be locked up together, unable to escape? And he was being great about it, but that really only made it harder.
She knew she wanted it over. It wasn’t a snap decision, it was a conclusion she’d reached after giving it serious thought. After all, with the exception of the previous six months, that was how she did everything. Even her marriage had dragged on long after it should have, precisely because she’d wanted to be sure.
When Julia’s mind was made up, it was made up.
So Alex was being charming—that didn’t erase the reasons she had for wanting to break up with him. She was ready for a real relationship, which meant that Alex, however fun a companion he was, had to go.
The door from the lab opened, and the man in question walked in.
“Bored?” she asked.
“Felix isn’t that hot of a conversationalist. Besides, you’ve heard one tale of the mummy, you’ve heard them all.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I figured I could help.”
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