Chapter 10
Ten
Eve tidied the point-of-sale display for what felt like the millionth time and sighed. Straightening the decks of postcards that sat beside the till was not straightening out her own life. Lucien Knight was occupying far too much of her brain space for someone she’d only met once. Well, twice, if you counted the coffee incident, and she was trying to forget about that.
She sighed again and looked out onto the concourse.
The usual mix of well-to-do elderly coach parties mingled with wide-eyed tourists who marveled at the stone effigies of Ramses II that Rupert had brought up from the vaults for ‘an airing’. Tuesday was one of the quieter days.
Eve sucked air through squeaking lips and scratched at her neck.
She’d come back from Christies on a bit of a high and rushed the Blades of Sargon straight to Rupert’s office, but he had had nothing else for her to do. Rather a disappointment. It had meant returning to the gift shop and her banishment to the stockroom.
It had all seemed so hopeful.
Now days had passed, and she felt like Cinderella waiting for someone to notice that her shoe was missing. Lucien Knight. Christ. The actual bloody Dr Lucien Knight. If she’d known quite how sexy he was when she’d been studying for her degree, she might have read a few more of his books, might even have sought him out at a book signing. Or two.
She scanned the concourse again. He’d have to come back sometime. She chewed at her lip and craned her neck to look around a gaggle of foreign students. Then she saw something to make her heart jump. Was that a sharp black suit? Could that be a flop of wavy hair? Holy shit, was that actually him making his way through the crowd?
Her heart skittered in her chest. It really looked like him, head down and in a hurry. She sidestepped for a better view, and he caught her staring, looking up at her through those thick dark lashes just long enough for her to see the sparkle to his eye. Heat rose at her neck and a stirring swept through her body somewhere altogether lower.
Lucien was ridiculously good looking, but it wasn’t just that. There was something unsettling about him. Something, as yet, undefinable. He was heading for the shop.
Holy crap, he’s coming in!
Eve flapped about behind the counter, trying to find something to look casually busy with, and ended up with a paper bag in her hand. She examined it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
He’s in the shop. He’s in the shop!
She knew it without looking up, could feel him crossing the floor toward her, even though she was determinedly not looking at him. Then he was standing in front of her, and it was like an aura of heat and sexual magnetism pulsed out from his body and straight into her underwear. It was all she could do not to giggle like a five-year-old.
“Good morning, Eve.”
God, even his voice was delicious. The deep timbre of the Mediterranean rolled from his tongue and licked at her ears. She looked up and feigned surprise. “Dr Knight. I didn’t see you there.”
Pathetic. Can you not think of anything better than that?
His eyebrows raised with a mixture of incredulity and amusement. “I could have sworn I caught your eye a moment ago,” he said.
Shit.
“Oh, er, perhaps, I mean, I was distracted.”
“Thinking about important things? The business of the gift shop, perhaps?” He leaned one hand on the counter. It was such a small move, but the increase in proximity washed over Eve with quite unreasonable strength. She was definitely breaking out in a sweat.
“Oh yes. It’s so busy. I’m so busy.” She fiddled with the bag.
“That’s a shame because I was going to ask if I could buy you that coffee.”
“You were?” Her voice was unnaturally high. She cleared her throat. “I mean, that’s, er, well, you still could.” She looked at him and shrugged hopelessly. Playing it cool really wasn’t her forte.
“Should I clear it with your manager?”
Eve shrugged again and Lucien looked around for Gilbert, found him and made off across the shop to talk to him. She was pretty sure that Gilbert would not go along with the idea of her naffing off for a coffee, but to her great surprise, Lucien got him laughing jovially almost immediately. Gilbert even gave her a thumbs up from across the store. It was like Lucien had magical powers. She smiled to herself. He certainly seemed to have some kind of power over her.
He returned with a swagger, hands in his pockets, and a grin on his face. “It seems the business can run without you for half an hour.”
“Excellent.” She fought the urge to punch the air.
Lucien stuck out an elbow and turned for the door. It was an unmistakable invitation to link arms and make off into the sunset. Well, onto the concourse. Maybe they’d do the sunset another day.
She slid her arm through his and actual electricity crackled between them.
She was expecting a stroll to the coffee cart outside, but instead Lucien steered her in the other direction, toward the restaurant.
Barbara, who always worked ‘meet and greet’ , didn't give either of them a second glance as Lucien swept a path through busy tables to one at the back which was unoccupied and set up with champagne in an ice bucket and a pair of slim flutes. They sat down and Eve looked about, confused. “Er, sorry, have I missed something? Because this really doesn’t look like coffee.”
“I’ve always thought that champagne was better suited to celebrations.” Lucien pulled the bottle from the ice bucket and tore off the foil.
“Are we celebrating, then?”
“Oh, yes.” He filled Eve’s glass and then poured some for himself. “I have secured my first external exhibit, The Tablet of Ashur .” He lifted his glass and held it out, waiting for Eve to do the same. Eve picked up her flute and chinked it against his. “ The Tablet of Ashur ,” she said, “Whatever that is.”
“Ah yes, I was forgetting. Egypt is your first love. I wonder if I might tempt you into the ways of Mesopotamia?”
“If you buy me champagne every time you find something from there, I suspect you might.” She grinned at him, and the increasingly familiar twinkle in his eye returned.
“Mmm.” He looked down at her thoughtfully and then slid around into the seat next to hers. Their knees touched under the table and Eve felt the electric thrill of contact. “The Tablet of Ashur is the first known reference to the Assyrian Codex of Dreams .”
“Is that right?” Eve took a sip from her glass and kept her eyes on him. It was flirty, she knew it, but what was this whole setup for?
“The ancient Mesopotamians took their dreams seriously. The Assyrian king, Ashurbanipal, dreamed of a terrible natural disaster - rain storms that lasted thirty days and thirty nights and destroyed his lands. He sent messages to the highest in his court warning them of the wrath of their god, Ashur, and advising that sacrifices must be made to appease him. The Tablet of Ashur is the only known surviving bearer of that message. It is an artefact of great significance and central to the theme of our exhibition.”
Eve noted the our . She nodded at him with slightly wider eyes.
“We’re on a tight schedule. I would like to open in four weeks.”
Eve nearly choked on her champagne. “Four weeks?”
He nodded. “There is a rather special event I want to coincide with. The Transit of Venus . I’ve arranged for you to be transferred to my team full time. Rupert was keen for me to have help from existing staff, and we seemed to get on well.” He smiled wolfishly, clearly knowing that he’d acted presumptuously.
Something was making her giddy and if it was the champagne, it was the fastest acting alcohol she’d ever experienced. She put down her glass. “Maybe I should stick to coffee.”
Lucien tipped his head to one side. “Actually, I have another favor to ask. Another piece I want for the exhibition is coming into the country next week, with its owner, a Russian oligarch by the name of Konstantin Petrovsky. He is a little ostentatious. ”
Lucien wrinkled his nose in a way that made Eve think he found him distasteful, “He wants to play host at a charity ball where he’s bought a table. I was going to attend alone, but a companion would make it all much more comfortable. Someone with knowledge of the era, such as yourself, would be immensely useful.” He briefly examined his fingernails then looked up to her through those luscious lashes. “Would you be free to accompany me?”
Eve almost laughed out loud.
Going to a ball with Lucien Knight? Now let me think…
“I could probably clear my diary,” she said, pretty much straight-faced, “as it’s for the exhibition.”
His face fell into a smile. “That’s very dedicated of you, thank you.”
“No problem.”
Lucien took another sip from his drink. “Your expenses will be covered, of course. It’s a function at the Dorchester, so I expect you’ll need something suitable. I’ll tell Philip you’ve graciously agreed to assist me, and he’ll make sure you get what you need.”
Eve blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“Isn’t it a universal truth that a woman can open the very fullest of closets and discover that she has nothing to wear?”
Eve laughed. He was saving her blushes. Sitting there in a faded museum polo shirt, it couldn’t have been clearer that she didn’t own a ball gown.
“Quite true,” she said and tried not to grin like a maniac.