ONE
Bernardino Rivadavia Natural Sciences Museum
Buenos Aires
Argentina
The exhibit closed yesterday." The raised voice, precise, female and annoyed, came from the shadows at the far end of the long, narrow exhibit hall. Out of sight, packing straw rustled. "It's no longer open to the public.”
Phineas Gallagher paused just inside the door to the Mystical Treasures From the Sea exhibit, surprised to find someone else there when he'd been told he'd have the place to himself for an hour. Finn wanted to see the artifacts before they were crated and disappeared to God only knew where like the other two similar exhibits.
He wasn't in the mood to chat with a stranger, nor share the moment. He was on a fact-finding mission, on his way from point A to point C. His pilot had the jet's engines figuratively idling on the tarmac, and a car and his driver waited for him outside the building to whisk him back to the airfield.
“I’m not the public,” he said shortly, striding across the flotsam and jetsam of loose straw and packing materials littering the marble floor. Stacks of wooden packing crates, some open, some already sealed, were piled haphazardly nearby. Black fabric covered the walls, and freestanding, evenly spaced display cases, most of them dark, ran in two parallel lines from one end of the room to the door where he stood.
Finn paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Interior lights from half a dozen cases fell across the white floor like zebra stripes. The rest of the place was atmospherically in shadow.
"Unless you work for the museum, which you don't," the woman said crossly, "You're not allowed in here while they're packing up the exhibit." Her high heels struck the hard surface of the floor as she shifted in the shadows, and now Finn was able to see the pale oval of her face illuminated by her white shirt. He doubted a museum collections manager would be wearing high heels during de-installation of an exhibit, and she'd said 'they'
"Unless you work here," he said, intrigued enough to advance, "which you don't, neither should you." She didn't deny it. So what was she doing back there messing with the crates of packed artifacts if she wasn't employed by the museum?
"Head's up. Not only is security a yell away, I'm armed, and not afraid to shoot you if you come any closer, or attempt to steal any of the artifacts."
Her husky voice was American. Tourist? Expat? "I'm not here to steal the artifacts, Annie Oakley." Amused by her threat, Finn narrowed the gap farther with a few more steps. The thought crossed his mind that this could be a setup. Anyone who knew him knew how much he liked a challenge. And the woman's husky voice, and the way she kept herself hidden in the shadows was a tempting lure.
Still, all he had to do was raise his voice, and his bodyguards, waiting outside, would be inside the room in seconds. Not that he couldn't take down a woman by himself if the need arose. But it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she was merely the bait, and had other people hidden back there with her. "Just want a quick look. I'll be out of your hair in less than half an hour."
"Why?"
"Why will I get out of your hair?"
She made a derisive noise. "Why did you break in to see this exhibit? Qin Shi Huang's Terracotta Army exhibit is open in the next hall. You should go. It's fascinating."
He'd seen them in situ. "Not interested. I'm curious about these particular artifacts. There are other concurring Treasures From the Sea touring shows that also closed this week. One at the Muséum National d'Histoire Naturelle in Paris, the other, at the Ditsong National Museum in Jo'burg. I want to see how this one compares. Have you seen either of the others?" Who was she, and what, if anything, was her dogged interest in the Mystical Treasures From the Sea?
"In Paris and Johannesburg? Of course not."
"Read about them?"
"I'm not going for a Ph.D. in Maritime Archeology. I just freaking walked in off the street an hour ago."
"And you're rummaging through packing crates? You don't think someone would find that odd?"
"It's none of someone's business."
Intriguing. "Aren't you curious as to who amassed all these artifacts? Don't you find the lack of specific detail in the descriptions odd?" He sure as hell did.
"There's plenty of description for each one of them."
"Only a couple of things missing," Finn said dryly. "The name of the ship on which each was found, and the actual location of the wreck."
"There's enough pertinent info here for me," she told him. "I wanted to see them for the last time before they were packed up forever."
"There's a sizable fortune tied up in these touring exhibits. Maybe the artifacts are finally being sold."
"Maybe."
"Maybe they were stolen."
"Maybe."
"Without provenance, it'll be tough for this mysterious benefactor to get top dollar."
Finn enjoyed a challenging puzzle, and the identity of the shadowy patron who'd sponsored the lavish exhibits of centuries-old artifacts from various shipwrecks was a puzzle he was determined to unravel. At the moment, however, he was sparring with an enigmatic woman whose throaty voice conjured up candlelight, rumpled sheets and vigorous, sweaty sex.
Finn attributed his tolerance of the game to his feelings of restlessness for the past few months. He frequently felt as though he was hurtling at a breakneck speed toward an unknown destination without knowing where or what the fuck that destination was. This interaction was a momentary respite.
"There's a mysterious benefactor?"
Finn frowned, half annoyed, half amused by the exchange. Straw flew from the shadows like a snow flurry. What the hell was she doing back there? "Of all three exhibits."
"If you say so. Clearly, money wasn't the motivation for sharing these artifacts with the public."
There were still a few relics in the lit cases. Finn paused to glance at a jeweled gold chalice, a heavily embossed, six-inch gilded silver flask, and a silver-hilted ceremonial dagger. Five minutes ago, the pieces would've elicited interest, but now it was her siren's voice that drew him.
She muttered, "Ow. Shit."
He smiled. "Are you packing or unpacking?"
"Neither."
He paused at a case to look at a suite of gold and emerald jewelry as she muttered another curse and wood struck wood as though she'd slammed the lid on a box. For all he knew she was back there pilfering the artifacts herself. He didn't give a shit what she was doing. Just wished she was doing it somewhere else. "I don't suppose you can come back in fifteen minutes?"
"I was here first."
"Can't argue that. Need help back there?"
"No thanks. Get your looking done, then check out the soldiers next door. They were buried with new, and fully functional military equipment. Go take a look at the crossbows, swords, lances, halberds- "
"Subtle." It had been a long time since anyone had tried to get rid of him.
"It's an excellent exhibit."
"Hmm."
The next display case was dark, but the one across from it was lit, and Finn strolled over to see what it held. A two-thousand-year-old pickle jar and a bunch of Carthaginian bronze coins. Not that interesting. He considered offering her money to get out and leave him alone. But since what he'd seen so far proved his point that the artifacts here were similar to what he'd seen in the other two, and didn't answer his questions of who the sponsor was, he didn't bother. This side trip was proving to be a waste of time.
Most of his hands-on business ventures seemed to have reached a simmering point simultaneously. He was heavily invested in the upcoming salvage with the Cutters. Four brothers who'd made names for themselves by salvaging, and selling, invaluable artifacts they'd fished from the seas. Much like the artifacts displayed here at the museum. He was confident his money was in good hands.
The anticipation of the upcoming salvage, the new corporate acquisition he was finalizing, coupled with the top-secret rocket launch in a few months, should be plenty enough to keep him entertained. Yet something was missing.
Driven, he'd spent the better part of his life trying to fill a void he couldn't name. Maybe his subconscious needed a vacation from all the intellectual, brainiac work. He'd been climbing two-thousand feet to the summit of Siula Grande, in Peru for the last couple of weeks. Long enough for his ship, Blackstar, to sail from South Africa to South America to rendezvous with the Cutter’s dive ships off the coast of Patagonia.
Finn lived onboard and ran his multinational company from the three-hundred and fifty-foot gigayacht. The Blackstar Group was the umbrella held over four hundred companies, in more than thirty countries. The Group showcased Finn's diverse interests. From new forms of energy, to a game reserve, to his passion: space travel.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking at this embossed sword." Trying to figure out who you are, and what the hell you're doing back there.
"Why are you so interested in these particular artifacts?"
He was halfway down the length of the hall, but she had yet to emerge. “Curiosity.” Now he was curious about her. "The artifacts are rare, of significant historical value and priceless," he said easily, as he attempted to get more than a shadowy glimpse of her face. "Someone possesses enough relics to support three traveling exhibits circling the globe at the same time. Aren't you curious about the mystery backer? Clearly, the artifacts interest you, too." A thought occurred, "You're not the benefactor, are you?" he asked, as more straw flew.
"If I were, I'd be lying on a beach somewhere with hot and cold running waiters bringing me umbrella drinks as I work on my tan," she said, sounding amused. "We're both too late. As you see, pretty much all the pieces have already been dismantled and packed."
"Are you going to hide back there until I leave then?" He'd already walked halfway to where she hid in the shadows, and she'd made no move to show herself.
"You're Irish."
Not only did she have a good ear, she was damn good at not answering questions. "East Coast?" Boston?
"Not specifically," she responded, unhelpfully. "And I'm not hiding. I'm back here looking."
Move into the light so I can see you.
Whatever she said after that was muffled by the blood thrumming through his veins as she emerged from the darkness.
Finn's heart stopped. Time slowed.
Bloody hell. A shock of awareness surged from his head to his toes. Then settled in between. His heart resumed beating. Harder. Faster. She stole the breath from his lungs. She was stunning. Striking. Almost otherworldly. Tall and slender, she wore jeans too tight to conceal a weapon, and an open-necked white shirt. Pulling off white cotton gloves, she strolled from shadow into light sliding a smartphone into the back pocket of her jeans. Had she been back there taking pictures, or calling the cops? One thing he knew for damn sure- she'd been handling the packed artifacts.
But whatever the hell she'd been doing two minutes ago was immaterial, as Finn's breath snagged in his lungs. The glossy spill of her hair, falling well past her shoulders, was orange flame, mixed with the red fire found deep inside an active volcano. He wanted to feel the silky glide of her long hair over his throat, over his thighs.
The mind was a cybernetic system, it needed a targeted goal. He'd just found that goal. As his heartbeat accelerated, his vision tunneled, until all he saw was her. Only her.
Lust at first sight. He didn't realize he'd closed the distance between them until he was engulfed in the heady fragrance of her skin and hair. Casablanca lilies. As cool a color as her hair looked hot. He wanted to drown in the scent of her.
Her profile was delicate, straight nose, slender neck- and all that hair. Hair made to be tangled in a man's fists.
Hyperawareness. Instant attraction magnified to the nth degree. Finn's muscles tensed as his blood pressure rose. His balls tightened. All his senses heightened. He had the mad urge to scoop her up and carry her to his lair like a horny fucking caveman. He wanted to peel her out of her clothes. Wanted to fill his hands with her breasts, wanted her to wrap his naked body in all that gorgeous, flaming hair.
Intoxicated by the scent, it took all his self-control to keep his hands off her. With her incredible hair waving down her back, she looked as sensual, as exotic as a mermaid.
"History is fascina--Hey!" Startled, she turned to look at him as, unable to check the compulsion, Finn ran his hand down the length of her hair from crown to the small of her back. The strands felt thick, heavy, silky and cool to the touch.
She stiffened. But the sudden flush, and bloom of goosebumps on her throat and the V of exposed chest, showed she wasn't unaffected. "What the hell do you think you're do ..." her voice trailed off.
Allowing his fucking impulses to run amok was what he was doing. This was not the behavior of a perfect stranger, nor the behavior of a man in his right mind. He'd been attracted to women many times, but not like this. Nothing like this. Seeing her had turned him on, but touching her ratcheted up a primal need. He felt crazed, reckless, and horny as hell.
Their eyes locked. Braced for recognition, he held a disappointed breath. If she knew who he was, it was game over.
She wet her lips as if to moisten a mouth suddenly gone dry. "You’re awfully freaking handsy for a total stranger.” Her voice had turned huskier, lower, more aware.
A tilt of her head and their mouths could touch.
Ah, Jesus, she smelled so good he almost groaned out loud. Pheromones. It was as if the very essence of her had bonded to his DNA. Unprecedented. "You feel it, too." How could she not be experiencing the same mind-blowing attraction that he felt?
"Right now, I'm feeling. . ." She shrugged. "A little overwhelmed, to put it mildly. It's as if I just gulped a cup of Death Wish coffee, and I'm dangerously over-caffeinated."
Yeah. I know the feeling. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
In her mesmerizing sea-glass colored eyes, he saw the confidence of a woman who recognized, and was comfortable with, admiration from a man. A woman who enjoyed a light flirtation.
There was fuck-all light about this flirtation. He wanted her. She couldn't possibly mistake his intent. His visceral response to her was so powerful, he imagined he lit up in the fucking dark.
"It's an. . . intriguing thing." Her direct appraisal said seduction wasn't a fait accompli. Still, it was impossible to miss the pulse throbbing at the base of her throat, or the small shiver that moved through her as her gaze rested on his face. Lowered to his mouth, then captured his eyes again. After a moment a slow, delicious tilt appeared at the corner of her mouth.
Good. She wasn't backing away. Better - she didn’t rip her hair from his hands. Best - he thought he detected a challenge in her gaze. As in - exactly how far are you going with this?
All the way. All the fucking way.
Working his thumb over a silky strand, he searched her expression. "It feels cool, I almost expected it to singe my fingers. I've never seen hair this color. MC1R, a gene mutation, causes red hair and affects only about one percent of the world’s population. This is a shining example." Probably dyed, but still, mesmerizing.
Unable to stop touching he let the strands sift through his fingers. Static electricity made the filaments cling to his hand as if they couldn't bear to let go either.
"It's just hair." Her sassy smile carried the force of a sucker punch. Her hair was an O classification star color. The hottest, brightest, fastest burning star out there. The stuff of Finn's new fantasies. "Awesome hair, but just hair."
Finn smiled back. "Not just hair, it’s spectacular. Otherworldly." His pulse raced. He noticed the small, dark freckle on her clavicle, bared by the open collar of her crisp white shirt, and the way her long, dark lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. "Never has the phrase 'crowning glory' been more apt.”
Water-clear eyes danced with amusement. "God's reward for my fortitude in resisting so many of His deadly sins over the years."
"How many?" he asked, voice thick.
"Ten minutes ago, I was at fifty-fifty."
Inhaling the heady fragrance of lily, he held it greedily deep in his lungs, exhaled, then drew in the scent again. Desire, detailed, and immediate flooded his body. He needed to strip her naked, and fuck her right there, against the glass case holding a golden challis encircled with emeralds that paled in comparison to her eyes. He wanted to watch them haze as she came apart in his arms. "Have dinner with me."
Pushing up the cuff of her shirt she glanced at her bare wrist, then smiled up at him. "Don't you mean lunch?"
His breath snagged. She was so damned beautiful she made him forget civilized behavior. There was no need to ask if she felt the same gravitational pull. Her pulse pounded at the base of her throat, and her pupils were dilated. Even more telling, her nipples peaked the thin cotton of her shirt.
"Dinner." He splayed his hand on her hip, felt her muscles tense, then relax, felt the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her jeans. "Tonight."
Holding his gaze, she acknowledged his blatantly dominant declaration, by not stepping away from his light hold. Instead, she gave him a challenging look. A look that said- I can walk the fuck away anytime I want, and leave you holding your painfully erect dick in your hand. She was in the driver's seat, and the fire under all that jade coolness in her eyes said she damn-well knew it.
"Are you married?"
"No. You?"
"No." She tilted her head, giving him an assessing look. "Are you loyal, brave, and trustworthy?"
Finn held up two fingers. "As a Boy Scout."
"Oh, I sincerely doubt you were ever a Boy Scout." She scanned his face, mouth soft and inviting. "I think you were the rebel. You hated the uniform and thought the rules were made to be broken. Are you always prepared?"
Very intuitive. "Always."
"To keep yourself physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight?" she teased. "I have a brother, I know my Boy Scout lingo." She sobered for a moment. "You're not a serial killer are you?"
He shook his head. "Sailor. You aren't a siren luring me to the rocks, are you?"
She shook her head. "Can't carry a tune in a bucket, you're safe with me."
"About that dinner--?"
"It's two in the afternoon. What will we do until then?"
"I have about sixty-nine ideas."
Her smile was slow and sensual. "Do you now?"
It was impossible to stop touching her. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, brush kisses over the tender skin of her nape, fill his hands with her breasts. "Here's one. . ." Wrapping his hand in her hair, Finn tugged her close, then bent his head to her lush mouth. Without a nanosecond of hesitation, her velvety smooth lips were instantly responsive and as eager as his as he stroked his tongue slow and deep. Her mouth tasted sweet, she'd been eating chocolate, and the scent of her skin made every muscle in his body tense with ravenous need.
The pleasure of kissing her shot to Finn's head like fine whisky, then raced through his veins in a heated rush to pool at his groin. It wasn't the kiss of strangers, it was carnal, mind-blowing and dick-raisingly intimate.
Rising on her toes to slide her arms around his waist, she slid her fingers under the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. The feel of her smooth, cool hands on his bare skin was electrifying. He felt the hard peak of her nipples against his chest, and his fingers flexed in her hair.
The cavity of her mouth was hot, the slick glide of her tongue as it came out to duel with his, eager. Addictive.
Combing his fingers through her hair at her temples he let the cool fall drape over his arms as they kissed hungrily. They were both breathing hard when Finn broke away.
Sliding her hands free as he stepped back, their eyes locked. He felt as though he'd run a marathon, and her eyes looked glazed as her chest rose and fell.
Reaching into his pocket for his phone, he held up a finger. "Give me a minute."
He turned, then strode back across the hall. Not just for privacy, but because he couldn't trust himself not to strip her and take her on the floor. Or against an exhibit case.
When his assistant answered after one ring, he instructed, "Get me a room in the closest hotel. No. Right now. No, not a suite. Leo Major, regular room. You go ahead, I'll see you on board. Send the plane back for me. I'll contact Kathleen directly when I'm ready to leave. Oh, and – call off security. I don’t want to see them. Give me the name- Great, thanks." Leo Major was one of many aliases he used to avoid the press following him everywhere he went. Today, it would serve a better purpose.
With a jolt of excitement, he hadn't felt on a personal level in a long time, Finn realized he had a unique opportunity to be with a woman who had no idea who he was, or any idea of his net worth.
He stalked across the marble floor like a lion approaching a gazelle. Except she wasn’t prey, nor was she a victim. She'd had ninety seconds when she could've run. Instead, she waited, exactly where he'd left her.
"Shouldn't we exchange names?" she asked, as she slipped her hand into his, they walked towards the door.
Charmed by the innocent gesture, Finn couldn't remember when he’d last held hands with a woman. Unfortunately, his body wasn't getting the 'innocent' message and reacted as if she'd reached out and wrapped her fingers around his dick instead of just threading hers through his.
"You can be whoever you want to be."
They exited the historical building housing the museum into the early afternoon heat and headed down the cement steps to the street. Her hair was even more vibrant in the sun, and her smile shot through his body like an electrical current.
"I like being me."
God, he had it bad. He was transfixed with the way her lips moved as she spoke. By the way the sunlight showed her lightly tanned skin, overlaid with freckles as if she'd been dusted with cinnamon. Discovering the location of each one would be as irresistible a challenge as discovering new stars in the cosmos.
Passersby, male and female turned to give her a second and third look. A mild southerly breeze played with the long strands, transforming it into dancing, living flame. His libido responded with the certainty that once wasn’t going to be enough.
"Be you. But let's maintain the fantasy. Make up an alter ego." He wanted the same freedom to be whoever he wanted to be with her. No expectations, no preconceived ideas. “Let’s freefall for the weekend.”
Laughing, she skipped a step to keep up with him. "Wow, you are optimistic. A whole weekend? You have that much stamina?"
Ignoring his waiting car and driver, Finn flagged a passing cab. "I told you sixty-nine reasons. Sixty-eight to go." Taking out his phone he glanced at the text before returning it to his pocket. "Four Seasons," he told the driver, as they got in. "We're in a hurry." He immediately wrapped his arm around her, tugging her close against his side as they pulled away from the curb.
Yes," he told her. "I have that much stamina. A few days might not even make a dent."
Splaying her hand on his chest, she stroked him through the linen of his shirt. "Do you always get your way?"
Finn captured her exploring hand to hold it still. Already on the razor's edge of insanity, her light touch was enough to drive him over the fucking edge. "I hope it'll be your way as well in a few minutes. Second thoughts?"
"I'm a full speed ahead kind of woman. No second thoughts." Resting her head against his upper arm, she slid her arm around his waist, hugging him against the soft pillows of her breasts. The hard point of her nipple against his arm had him stifling a groan.
The traffic was light as it always was at this time of day as they headed to the La Recoleta district. Modern buildings interspersed with hundreds-of-years-old stone structures housed businesses, homes, and hotels on either side of the wide boulevard. Pedestrians clogged the sidewalks, walking in packs, or enjoying the sunshine at outdoor cafes. Buenos Aires was famous for soccer, the tango and its raunchy nightlife. Been there, done that. Even during daylight hours, the city pulsed with a musical beat that put a spring in people's steps even as they performed their mundane daily activities.
The city was an interesting mix of old and new. Finn didn't give a damn. He was fixated on the way the sunlight pouring through the smudged side window illuminated her skin, and set fire to her hair.
She looked up at him for several seconds without speaking, then said softly, "You can call me Persephone."
"Ah, Goddess Queen of the underworld. Excellent choice." He would've thought she'd have chosen Aphrodite considering where they'd met. Either was a mouthful and since he planned to have his mouth full of some part of her for the foreseeable future it didn't matter what she wanted to be called.
"What should I call you?"
"Leo." Low Earth orbit. It would do. He tightened his arm around her as the driver, taking Finn at his word, screeched around a corner at a breakneck speed. Two elderly women shook their fists as the cab careened past them with inches to spare.
"That's not very –fantasy-like."
"It trips more easily off the tongue than Persephone," he teased, brushing a long, fiery strand of hair behind her ear, then lingering to trace the shell with the tip of his finger.
Cheeks flushed, she shivered in response to his touch. "How about shortening it to Peri?"
"I like it." His driver, with his two personal bodyguards, pulled his rental car up discreetly behind their cab. After a glance at the meter, Finn pulled out a wad of pesos and handed it to the driver.
"Keep the change." He suspected he’d just tipped the guy the equivalent of his annual salary. Worth the speedy trip.
Handing her out of the cab, he wrapped an arm around her waist and led her into the hotel. He checked in as Leo Major and was handed a small folder with the room number and the key tucked inside. He glanced at the envelope as he returned to Persephone's side. "Second floor."
She tugged his hand to steer him toward the sweeping staircase off the marble, gilt and palm-filled lobby. "If we don't walk off some of this energy we might kill each other when we get to the room."
“Trust me, darling, walking’s not going to make a dent in this energy.” Finn tucked her more firmly against his side and redirected her to the bank of gilded elevators. "I have to kiss you again. And if I do that on the stairs I might lose my mind completely and forget we're in public." The doors opened silently, and he pulled her inside. For a man known for his control, he was out of his damn mind. The doors hadn't even closed before he started kissing her ravenously.
Their floor chimed. Reluctantly they broke apart. He'd kissed off her lipstick, and her mouth was pink and slightly swollen. Her eyes, more aqua than green now, looked dazed as the doors opened.
About to step out, Finn was surprised when she grabbed him by his shirt front and tugged his head down for another mind-blowing kiss. The door bounced on his back as they blocked it from closing.
Drunk on the smell of her skin, the taste of her, the feel of her slender body in his arms, he was a starving beggar at a feast. "We might not make it to the room," he murmured, mouth too occupied to make the words coherent.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered, "Don't care."