by Oliver, Tess
“Please, Professor—”
“Thomas,” he corrected.
“Thomas, please don’t feel that you need to divulge any secrets or important information to me. To be honest, I was more concerned about their anger toward each other than the topics of their conversation.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry if they behaved like children in front of you. Dalton and Ethan are very close, but as I’m sure you’ve noticed, they could not be more different.”
I smiled. “Yes, I have noticed that.”
“Let’s go to the desk. I had planned to show this to you anyhow because I know how intriguing you find Egyptian artifacts.” He lowered the box to the desk with the care that someone might place down a bottle of nitro glycerin.
He sat down and I pulled up a chair across from him. “Four years ago,” he began, “the university had sent a group of grad students and me on an expedition in Alexandria. We had a great time, and while we didn’t find anything too noteworthy, we learned a lot and it was an experience all of us would never forget. One day several of us wandered into an open market to buy some fruit and bread for lunch. An odd little man poked his head around the corner of a building and motioned me over. Against my better judgment, I followed the man to a dark alley. Once out of sight of others, the man reached into his coat, and I was certain I was about to be robbed.” Professor North smiled. “Frankly, it would have served me right. But he wasn’t a thief. Instead, he produced a gold arm band. He placed it on my palm.” He lightly fingered the top of the black box as if it contained his most prized possession. While there was a definite air of excitement about him as he told his story, the man across from me reminded me much more of the thoughtful, intelligent professor I’d grown to love. And his enthusiasm as he spoke about the expedition was contagious. “There was little light in the alley but the weight and feel of the jewelry made me fairly certain that it was gold, or at least gold-plated. The man was extremely agitated the whole time we spoke, and he glanced around constantly to be sure we were alone. He wanted a hundred American dollars for the piece, and I considered the offer for only a moment before paying the man. I figured that even gold-plated, it was worth three times that amount. I stuck the arm band in my pocket and thought little about it again.” My curiosity and anticipation increased with each passing moment, and the professor sensed it. “I guess you can tell that there was far more to my hundred dollar market find.”
“Considering you pulled it from a highly camouflaged safe in your office wall, I can only assume it.”
“Of course, that does make it rather obvious. Well, back to the story. Naturally, when we got back to the hotel the grad students had a good laugh over their professor getting duped out of a hundred dollars for a fake gold arm band. To avoid further ridicule, I left it in my coat pocket and pushed it from my thoughts. Then one evening the students had gone out, but I’d stayed behind with a headache. I remembered I’d left a bottle of aspirin in my coat pocket and as I went to retrieve it, the arm band fell to the floor. It was the first time I’d truly seen it in the light, and an unexplained chill went through me as I stared down at it. I picked it up and carried it over to the lamp over the table to study it.” He opened the lid of the box. I held my breath as he lifted out a thin gold arm band that would have been worn high up on the arm. It glistened as he held it up to the office light. “That was when I noticed a small row of hieroglyphics carved on the inside of the band.” He handed me the treasure and my fingers trembled slightly as I took hold of it. He pulled a magnifying glass from his desk drawer. “See if you recognize the symbols.”
I squinted through the magnifying glass. The etchings were worn and faint, as if the gold band had been worn a great deal and the skin of the owner had rubbed them off. “I see a lion and a lasso, two vultures and—” I stopped and stared wide-eyed at Professor North. His grin widened and he nodded almost imperceptibly.
I turned the band around on my fingers. It nearly pulsed with life, the life of a long lost pharaoh. “But it can’t be. Cleopatra is still such a mystery.”
“Of course, that is what I told myself over and over again. The next day I raced back to the market place to look for the man, but he had vanished. I had a thousand questions for him, but no one in the market place knew of him. I took the arm band back to the states and sent it to a laboratory for tests. The results were quite conclusive and equally stunning. It had been crafted around 40 B.C. placing it in existence during Cleopatra’s reign.”
“I can hardly believe I’m holding it. Will you loan it to a museum?” I pulled my gaze reluctantly from the band of gold on my palm.
Professor North’s expression darkened. “Unfortunately, it is not that easy. The university insisted that since the piece was discovered during a university funded expedition that it belongs to the school. They did, however, offer to pay back the hundred dollars,” he said cynically. “I hired lawyers and the entire case went to court. As you can imagine, it has been quite difficult keeping the entire affair secret.” He leaned back and disappointment rolled off of him in waves. “I lost. The university was backed by some of the best lawyers in the country. I must turn it over to them the first of the new year.”
“But you purchased it on your own. Does the university then have claim to every souvenir, post card and morsel of food you paid for on the trip?”
His cheek creased. “I suppose they do. However, they are only interested in this arm band.”
I was reluctant to part with it, but I placed it back inside the box. “I’m truly sorry, Thomas. It must be very hard on you. But at least they can give you the credit of finding it.”
My attempt at pointing out the positive did little to lighten his mood. “I really didn’t discover it. I’m afraid my end of the story is all rather unromantic and hardly worthy of praise from my peers.”
I reached over and took hold of his hand. “You sat in that hotel room with a group of grad students knowledgeable in the world of antiquities and yet none of them saw its worth. You’re the one who realized there was something special about it. Anyone else might have sold it in an online auction for a few hundred dollars and never given it another thought. It’s quite obvious the street vendor had no idea what he had. If not for your expertise, this priceless piece of history would likely have been lost forever.”
He smiled weakly and squeezed my hand. “Thank you, August.” He fell silent and an emotion I could not decipher fell across his face, almost as if some sudden thought had upset him even more than the notion of giving up his treasure. Then, he seemingly shook it off. “Well, I’m quite tired. I think I’ll turn in.” He closed the box and returned it to the secret opening in the book case.
It had been a long day, and this last event had given me more than enough to think about. “That sounds like the perfect plan.”
Chapter 10
Music on the computer, an oversized mug of hot cocoa and complete quiet in the house had made for a productive morning. Ethan had joined me for all of an hour before making excuses for his departure. I spent the morning pretending that I wasn’t giving any thought to where Dalton was which was silly since in pretending not to think about him I had to think about him.
I held a small bag with a shard of pottery that now seemed ridiculously insignificant compared to the gold arm band I’d held the night before. I placed the piece on the desk and entered the numbers and abbreviations into the appropriate fields. The job was getting rather boring, but it still had to better than sitting with the Beauchamps on a river cruise.
There was a tap on the open door, and I turned around expecting to see Professor North. It was Dalton. He was wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and a smile that would leave a lasting impression long after he walked away. “Dad and Ethan are gone, and I’m bored. I was thinking we should do something to entertain ourselves.”
I leaned back and lifted a brow at him. “Exa
ctly what did you have in mind?”
“Well, it’s not exactly what I had in mind. That scenario requires a blindfold and a can of whipped cream and far more time than we’ve got.” He waved his hand as if dismissing a vision. “I was thinking gingerbread.”
“Gingerbread?”
His long dark lashes gave him a boyish quality that made him that much more heartbreaking. The guy had been blessed with every attribute that could make even level-headed women like me utterly defenseless. “You said you’d wanted to bake.”
“True. I was picturing myself cutting cookies with my mom, but I guess you’ll do.”
“Are you sure because we could still try the blindfold idea?”
“No, gingerbread will be fine.” I stood and leaned my head from side to side to stretch my neck. “I must have been tensing up my shoulders.”
He stepped into the office. Sometimes, when he only had a few feet to walk, it was easy to forget his painstaking gait. He stopped directly in front of me and motioned for me to turn around.
I looked at him questioningly.
“No blindfolds I promise . . . for now. I was going to rub the stiffness out of your shoulders. You’re no good to me if you can’t roll out dough.”
Reluctantly, I turned around.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you don’t trust me, Sugarplum.”
“Not a bit,” I said over my shoulder.
His long, strong fingers pressed down as he massaged my shoulders. “You were right. You must have been tensing your shoulders. They’re like rocks.”
My eyes shut as his fingers worked along my tight muscles. I had no right to enjoy his touch so much, but heat radiated through every inch of me. His rough fingertips pressed tenderly into the bare skin of my neck, and his calloused thumb stroked along the back of it.
“Holy crap, you are good at this,” I sighed. Slowly, my entire body relaxed, and I felt like rag doll beneath his touch.
Then his mouth pressed against my ear. I startled and jumped away from his hands.
A devilish smile crossed his face. “Most of my customers like it when I finish with that. He motioned toward the door with his head. “Let’s go bake.”
***
The overwhelming scent of cloves and cinnamon filled the kitchen. A cloud of flour floated up from the mixing bowl, and Dalton cleared the air with his hand. “I don’t remember this flour hurricane when I made these with my mom.”
“You’re turning the mixer on too fast.”
He leaned over the bowl and turned down the speed. “I guess that makes sense.”
“I think we have to let the dough chill before we can roll it out.” I leaned back against the counter and watched him as he worked a spatula clumsily around the side of the bowl. “Somehow, I never pictured you as the domestic type,” I said.
“Yeah, well you learn to be pretty self-sufficient in the army.” He looked up. There was a streak of flour running across his forehead. I pointed to my head to let him know, and he wiped his fingers across and left more flour.
I laughed and stepped toward him. His eyes did not leave my face as I reached up and wiped the flour from his skin. The space between us was suddenly thick with heat, and I quickly stepped back. “How the hell do you do that?”
He blinked innocently. “Do what?”
I pointed to my face. “This.” My cheeks were warm with a blush. “You fluster me with just your— your aura.”
His laugh bounced off the kitchen tile. “My aura?”
“Yes, your aura. I step toward you with the innocent, perfectly logical intention of wiping flour off your face, and instantly, I feel like—”
“Like ripping off your clothes? It’s a gift.”
“And then you’re so damn cocky about it too.”
“Another gift.” He turned back to the mixer and looked inside. “I think this is ready.” He removed the bowl and stuck it in the freezer. “What should we do while we’re waiting for it to chill?” There was nothing suggestive in his tone, and yet my mind had gone straight to the proverbial ‘gutter’.
“We could talk,” I suggested quickly.
“Not my first choice but all right. Let’s sit though. My leg is killing me.” His walking stick was leaning against the corner of the kitchen, but he didn’t use it as he maneuvered around the kitchen island and sat at the dining room table with a grunt.
And as quickly as the heat had risen in my face, my throat tightened with the thought of his constant pain. I sat down across from him. He was staring down at his hands.
“Were you in Iraq?” I knew I was treading on fragile territory, but I wanted to know more about him.
He nodded. “I never had the grades for college like Ethan. Just wasn’t an academic. I know it irritated my dad to no end, but you just can’t fit a mold you’re not shaped for.” He still hadn’t looked at me. “The economy sucked and there wasn’t much to do, so my buddy convinced me to enlist.” A sad laugh came up from his throat. “Thought my dad was going to have a stroke. Bryce thought it would be cool, an adventure, a chance to get out of this small, boring town. We got out, all right. Only we had no idea just how fucked up the world was. We’d gone in blindly, like two ignorant fools. Almost as soon as we stepped foot in the desert, I knew at least one of us wasn’t going to make it back.” His voice trailed off. I blinked back tears. “I was always sure it would be me.” He took a deep breath and lifted his gaze to me. The green of his eyes had darkened with the grim memories. “What about you, Auggie?”
“Me? I’m just like you said— a trust fund baby with an obsession over the ancient world. But I’m not as spoiled and shallow as you might imagine. I’ve never fit in the mold either. I hate designer purses, five star hotels and fur coats. I especially hate fur coats. I won’t be investing in Wall Street when I inherit my money. I’ll be investing in the world.”
“Do your parents know about these altruistic plans?”
I shrugged. “We don’t discuss it much. They know I go out of my way not to fit in their world, but they firmly believe that I will change.”
Freed of the agony of the previous topic, his expression had lightened again. “And will you?”
I shook my head. “Not a chance.” I glanced over to his walking stick. “I must ask, who carved that awesome dragon handle on your walking stick?”
“I did.”
My eyes widened. “You made that?”
“Yep. I had a lot of time on my hands when I was recuperating. The doctors had given me one of those old man canes, and so I decided to make the walking stick. I thought the dragon would make it cool.”
“You did such an amazing job.”
He glanced over at his carving, but this compliment passed without a cocky reply. “Do you think the dough is cold enough to roll out?”
“We could give it a try.” I got up and walked to the kitchen. I floured a small clean section of the granite counter and smoothed some flour over the rolling pin before pulling the dough from the freezer. It smelled rich of molasses and sugar, and I couldn’t resist pulling off a ball to taste. Dalton was smiling at me as I melted the piece in my mouth.
I put up my hands. “I confess— I’m a dough eater. It’s not something I’m proud of but there it is. And I’m not terribly picky on which type— I’ll dig a spoon into any of it.”
“I knew you were a wild one the moment I first laid eyes on you— after you nearly ran me down.” His smile grew wider and with some effort he pushed to his feet. His arm and chest muscles rippled with power beneath the tight black t-shirt, but his arm strength hardly compensated for the pain and weakness in his leg. He moved as subtly as he could, as if not wanting to draw attention to his injury, and in seconds he was next to me. The heat of his body swirled around me as I tried hard to focus on my task.
“Please don’t remind me of that horrid morning. I was so scared and you were lying there so still.” The last word stuck in my throat as I relived those awful moments.
He took hold of my wrist and turned me toward him. The walls seemed to vibrate with energy around him. “Sorry, Sugarplum, I hadn’t meant to scare you like that.”
“I’m just glad I didn’t hit you.” My voice had dropped to a near whisper as his nearness pulled the breath from me.
He lifted his hand and rubbed his thumb across my bottom lip. “Flour on the lip, one of the hazards of being a confessed dough taster.” His gaze dropped to my mouth and he leaned down, but I pressed my flour covered hands against his chest, leaving white handprints on the black cotton. He straightened and his expression had gone from confident to disappointment.
“I’m worried I’ll take this too seriously and you won’t take it as anything but flirting.”
A glint of anger flashed in his green eyes. “I’m not as ruthless as that. I like you, Auggie.”
“And I like you, which brings me back to my original hesitation. Ethan warned me—” I knew I’d made a grave mistake the second his brother’s name left my lips.
“Of course, Ethan, always my most fickle ally.” He turned to leave but I grabbed his arm. He shook his head. “It’s obvious you’ve already formed an opinion of me, August, so I’ll just leave you alone.” I hated the coldness in his tone. I had to work hard to convince myself that I’d done the right thing. He took hold of his walking stick. I listened to the uneven steps and the rhythmic tapping of wood on the hallway floor, and a hard knot formed in the pit of my stomach.
Chapter 11
One thing I’d discovered in my short time with the North men was that they were not great at finishing what they started. I knew I’d upset Dalton, but I’d also decided that I was not completely off base with my intuition. I’d just ended a relationship, and the last thing I need was to lose my head over a guy who was the type to sneak off with his shoes in his hand before dawn. I’d finished the gingerbread cookies and took a plateful into the office to munch on while I finished the work left behind by the other brother.
