A Dom is Forever (Masters and Mercenaries #3)(14)

She let it go. She wasn’t going to think about work today. She was going to spend the afternoon staring at mummies.

She really wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Not that she’d ever actually been in Kansas. She was from New York, but it seemed an appropriate thing to say. Think. Unless she’d actually said it out loud. Avery glanced around, but no one was looking at her like she was a crazy person. Her impulse control issues were much better hidden in big cities. No one noticed the girl who talked to herself when there were so many actually real crazy people walking around. Just earlier in the day she’d had a conversation with a man on the Tube who believed he was Henry the Eighth and wanted his Tower back.

Yes, she should go see the Tower of London. Definitely.

Mummies. She forced herself to concentrate. She felt a smile cross her lips. It was so much nicer when her rambling thoughts were about mummies and historical sites than bedpans and whether or not her legs would ever work again. Or where her baby was now that she wasn’t in her arms.

“It can’t be all that bad. I don’t think he minds being stuck in here.”

Avery started, a deep voice pulling her from the edge of a very dark thought. She turned on her heels and, as any sudden movement was likely to do, her weak leg buckled underneath her. She started the long trip to the ground, except this time she was headed straight for the ancient, probably priceless, mummy. God, she was going to set off all kinds of alarms and get kicked out of the museum and maybe out of England, and then she would have to find a new job and who would want a woman who’d been arrested for molesting mummified corpses?

And just like that, she stopped. Two big arms wrapped around her, lifting her away from the oncoming chaos. “You okay?”

Without even thinking about it, her arms drifted up and around his neck, fingertips brushing warm, deliciously firm skin. The dark-haired man she’d seen before, the one she’d fantasized about last night, held her in his arms. Curly, midnight-black hair and emeralds for eyes. He was dressed for sin in a black motorcycle jacket and a T-shirt that molded to his very well-defined chest. Did he have to buy them one size too small? Did he have to walk around like a big old gorgeous man cupcake when she’d been on a diet for so long?

“Lost the power of speech? Well, that guy’s ugly mug would do that to me, too.”

She’d thought for sure he was British. She’d fantasized about a lyrical accent coming out of his mouth, but no, his voice was pure Midwestern American. And she should say something since the man was still standing there holding her like she was his virgin bride or something. Virgin. She wasn’t. Unless it grew back after too many years of vaginal disuse. God, say something, Avery. “I’m so sorry.”

His lips curled up in a flirty little smile. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was the single most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Even if that smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think I’m the one who should apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you. It just seemed like it was time that I should talk to you. I’ve been following you around for days. We seem to have the same tastes in museums.”

He’d noticed her, too? That was odd. She typically blended into the background, when she wasn’t falling down. She was well aware she wasn’t a great beauty. She wasn’t horrific, but she fell into a bland attractiveness that usually required a forceful personality to go along with it in order to be truly pretty. She wasn’t exactly aggressive. She was more a “watch from a distance and dream” kind of girl.

There was no distance between them now. None at all. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, the hardness of his form. How long had it been since she’d been held? Touched? Nothing for years that didn’t include a therapist massaging muscles to keep them from atrophying. Her mother-in-law hadn’t touched her once since she’d discovered what Avery had done. No more motherly hugs. Even the few friends she’d had back home had treated her like she was fragile. No touching allowed or someone would break Avery. Gorgeous Green Eyes didn’t seem to think she would break. His arms were tight around her body, cradling her to his chest.

“Can I put you down? Do you think you can stand?”

She felt herself flush. She was making a complete idiot of herself. He’d only reached out because she’d fallen. Again. Would she ever again feel like she had control over her body? “Yes. I’m fine. I’m so sorry for the whole nearly killing a mummy thing.”

He set her on her feet, holding her until he seemed sure she was steady. He smiled down at her, definite amusement in his eyes. They seemed so much warmer now than a moment before. “I think he’s already dead, sweetheart. Now on the other hand, you nearly gave the security guy a heart attack.”

She gasped and looked around. Sure enough, there was the museum employee in his suit coat with his walkie-talkie at his side. His face was slightly flushed, but he’d taken his place again.

“Think nothing of it, ma’am. Women faint dead away at the sight all the time.” The security guard winked her way.

Avery gave him a smile. “Well, maybe Egypt is too much for my constitution. I think I’ll just go have some lunch and fortify myself against the sight.” It was really time to retreat. Deep breath. Confident smile. She turned back to the hottie. That’s what all the girls back in the New York offices called someone who looked like Green Eyes. Hotties. They were right. She could really use a fan. “Thank you so much for the save.”