Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(66)

He'd gotten accustomed to her full, undivided attention. Now he was the one who was jealous. Of a bunch of old artifacts. How pathetic.

The three of them watched her for a while. Dobbs shot him a sly look. "She's quite something, no?. Such amazing focus. The rest of the world just doesn't even exist for her. It's like a trance."

He gritted his teeth at the smug, proprietary tone of the guy's voice. So happy for himself, just because he had a handle on some part of Erin that Connor did not know. "Impressive," he grunted.

"Mr. Mueller was so looking forward to seeing her in action."

"Poor bastard," Connor said. "Unlucky."

Dobbs's eyes narrowed to pale, pinkish slits. "I gather you've never had the opportunity to watch Ms. Riggs ply her trade."

Connor gave him a toothy grin. "First time for me. Big thrill."

"A remarkable young woman. As you will discover." If you get the chance before a high-class woman like that dumps you back into the gutter where she found you was the screamingly obvious subtext.

"Looking forward to a lifetime of it," Connor said, teeth clenched.

"Indeed." Dobbs sounded amused. "I wish you luck."

"It's fortunate that she can surprise you." Tamara's voice was seductively husky. "Or don't you like surprises, Mr. McCloud?"

"That depends on the surprise," he told her.

"Surprise is the element that keeps passion fresh. Are you capable of surprising her, Mr. McCloud? Have you even attempted it?"

Nigel Dobbs made a shocked noise. "Ms. Julian, if you please! Don't embarrass our guest with inappropriate personal comments!"

Tamara let out a throaty laugh. "Something tells me that Mr. McCloud doesn't embarrass easily."

He looked the taunting bitch straight in her tilted emerald eyes, and noticed two things. The first was that she didn't flinch, which was to her credit, and very unusual. Most people looked away very quickly, when he gave them the death-ray look.

Then they backed away.

The second thing was that her eye color was fake. He would give a great deal to know the original color. Something pale, like blue or gray, or the green wouldn't glow so bright and pure.

Silver fish, flashing by in the azure depths at the blinding speed of thought. Too swift to grasp and hold.

He thought of Erin's shock when he grabbed her in the airport. Of his own, when she jumped out of the bathroom at him buck naked.

Yeah, they knew how to surprise each other. No problems there.

"I don't embarrass easily," he told her. "But the way I surprise my girlfriend is nobody's goddamn business but mine."

Her eyes widened, and then dropped. There was an awkward silence. "I, ah… beg your pardon," she murmured.

"It's OK." He gave her his hard, impenetrable cop smile.

Her lashes fluttered winsomely. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"No offense," he said. "No embarrassment. Just the facts."

She crossed her arms over her impressively stacked bosom, her composure firmly in place again. "Such directness is startling."

"I thought you liked surprises."

Her mouth curved in an appreciative smile. "Touché."

Dobbs cleared his throat aggressively. "Ms. Julian. If you please. Could you entertain Mr. McCloud while Ms. Riggs is occupied here?" Dobbs asked. "Get him an espresso at the bar, or show him the view from the veranda. We don't want him to be bored and restless."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Tamara said warmly. "Ms. Riggs always takes quite some time to conduct her—"

"By all means, Connor," Erin cut in.

They turned, startled. It was her ringing, intergalactic princess voice, the one that always sent a surge of raw heat to his groin. "Go right ahead. I would hate to bore you with Iron Age Celtic grave goods. Let Ms. Julian get you an espresso. It's a perfect opportunity for the two of you to discuss all the places where you might have met."

Erin's agate-brown eyes blazed. She wanted to rip his head off. Even in high-octane work mode, she was tracking him, recording everything he said. Which was a twisted compliment in and of itself.

A stupid grin was spreading all over his face. Everybody was looking at him, waiting for the next line in the vaudeville routine. He planted his ass in a chair and folded his arms over his chest. "I can't imagine anything more fascinating than Iron Age Celtic grave goods, sweetheart," he said. "I'm not missing this show for any money."



* * *





Chapter Twelve





The pieces were breathtaking, every single one of them. The most famous museums in the world would've fought to the death to acquire them, not only for their historical significance, but for their sheer beauty. There was a bronze shield in an exquisite slate of preservation, studded with gems and decorated in the swirling, sensual style that characterized the La Tene period, 500 B.C.E. to 200 C.E.

There was a silver cauldron that had been fished out of a peat bog in Denmark, embossed with hammered picture panels that writhed with ram-headed serpents, dragons, griffins, and Celtic deities. There was a battle helmet that would make the curator at the Huppert weep with envy, with a menacing bronze raven perched on top, complete with flapping mechanical wings. There was a hoard of golden torques, the twisted ropes of gold that were worn around the neck as collars, with richly decorated, gem-studded finials. A dazzling wealth of armbands, brooches, and cloak pins. She could write a book on every single exquisite piece. Her mouth was practically watering.