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And what a strange coincidence it all was.
Jared shook his head, setting the phone back on the desk as he stood to pace. He’d learned long ago there weren’t any coincidences.
So the real question was, who was playing who?
* * *
Rowan stared out the window of the external elevator as she was whisked the twenty stories up for Gallagher International’s main offices. The London skyline spread out before her and she saw the Gherkin in the distance, the large, egg-shaped building that had become a fixture in the city’s skyline a decade before.
The elevator came to a smooth stop and she stepped out onto plush carpeting. She had to give Finn credit, the selection of office space in London’s most recent architectural accomplishment, the Shard, gave a sense of quiet flash and competent business acumen. And she was thrilled to make her first visit to the impressive building.
Her brother Liam had BASE jumped it while it was under construction and she’d been jealous at the time. Now after actually visiting—and considering the size and shape of the building—she decided she’d leave the truly idiotic yearnings for adventure fully to her oldest sibling.
Finn waved at her from a glass-enclosed office. She watched him work his way from the office, down a short hallway before moving into the reception area to greet her. The wide-open space—the windows on the far side of the building were visible through the glass of Finn’s office—was impressive.
And lent a curious air of trust at the truly open design.
She watched him move, the vague sense she’d felt in the conference room a few days before taking better shape in her mind.
He was an attractive man—powerfully so—and an impressive one, too. His shoulders filled out the Savile Row suit to perfection and she could see the slim taper of his waist where the jacket hung open before he closed it with a dapper twist of a button.
His chiseled jaw, thick sandy brown hair and ready smile gave the vague sense of an impish child even as the fine lines of the suit suggested he wasn’t someone to be toyed with. When she also considered the clear signs of intelligence that sparked in his voice with every comment, Rowan could only admit Finn Gallagher was one impressive package.
She’d have to be stupid not to feel some sense of attraction to the man.
And she was very rarely stupid.
That long-ago night on Bethany Warrington’s roof flew through her mind but she ignored it in favor of focusing on the warm hazel eyes that drew her attention first.
“Rowan. Thank you for coming.”
His large hands enveloped hers before he leaned forward into the customary European kiss on both cheeks. The lightest slide of his beard—the day’s growth just beginning to show—met her lips and she couldn’t deny the rush of attraction that slid down her spine at the masculine scent that surrounded her. A touch of cedar over the fresh scent of the outdoors.
Delicious.
Just like the man himself.
She allowed herself the briefest moment to enjoy the contact by making a full turn around the lobby. “Impressive office space. I wasn’t even aware the building was fully occupied yet.”
“We got in early. I knew what I wanted in terms of space and it’s been everything I’ve hoped it would be.”
She didn’t miss the flash of pride that lit his eyes and couldn’t argue with the sentiment. There was something thrilling about seeing the results of your efforts and hard work.
That thrill had been the most unexpected joy after she’d come back to the land of the living. The transformation had taken time—and a lot of work with a therapist to understand her inner urges to steal—but she’d made a commitment to her grandfather and she wasn’t going to change it.
And she was proud to know she’d come out the other side.
“What’s that smile for?”
She glanced around the office once more before smoothly sharing her more casual thoughts from the elevator ride. “I was just thinking of my brother. I’m pretty sure he BASE jumped here.”
“We both did.”
“You jumped off the building?”
“Yep.”
“Together?”
“No. Despite knowing his reputation, I’ve never met your brother.”
“Why would you do something like that?”
He shrugged but she saw that spark of pride flare up once more. “Because it was here.”
“I suppose that’s as good an answer as any.”
They both lingered for a moment, awareness filling the small space between them. Rowan had changed for the visit, her peasant blouse and jeans traded for a plum-colored power suit that would rival anything in Kensington’s closet, and she was suddenly aware of the tight stricture of her skirt as she fought to keep her breath even.
The moment lingered a few seconds longer before the rich tones of his voice broke the silence. “I’m happy to take you on a tour or we can head on down to the labs.”
The focus on business helped and Rowan clung to that like a lifeline. Her anticipation for the office visit had grown over the past few days as she’d read several reports he’d sent in advance. His facilities were state-of-the-art, some of the equipment so new she’d only read about it. “I’m sure the labs will frame up the majority of my questions. Why don’t we start there?”
He extended a hand toward the hallway he’d come through. “Let’s take the stairs. They’re next to the windows, so you can at least get a view of Tower Bridge and the Tower of London before we go down to the lab.”
“Nothing like a midday view of one of the city’s most notorious spots for executions.” She’d meant it as a joke more than anything else—a moment to break the tension that gripped both of them—but his reaction caught her up short.
Those compelling hazel eyes widened momentarily in surprise before narrowing in thought as they strolled toward the bank of windows. “That’s funny. I usually have a completely different reaction when I look at it.”
“You don’t think of beheaded queens and kidnapped princes?”
He stopped and turned toward her as they stepped up to the outer glass window to look out at the city below. “I realize they’re a part of the Tower’s rich and storied history, but I can’t honestly say that’s the first thing that comes to mind.”
“What does come to mind then?”
The distinct notes of passion and the slightest touch of avarice—like a man viewing his lover’s body for the first time—lit up the depths of his eyes, turning them a rich moss-green. “The Crown Jewels, of course.”
Chapter 4
Finn searched for any hint of awareness in Rowan’s vivid blue eyes, but there were none. All he saw reflected back was that same bright curiosity that had captured him from the first.
There was a vibrancy about her, the energy humming under her skin strangely intoxicating. He’d met few people in his life who seemed as if they burned for their next adventure, excitement for life thrumming in their veins. It practically pulsed off Rowan Steele like a live wire sparking in the rain.
“What makes you think of the Crown Jewels first?” Her voice broke his reverie and Finn pulled himself back to their conversation. “Doesn’t the history intrigue you?”
“Absolutely. Political executions, state secrets and kidnapped royalty are fascinating and all deeply important during the point in time in which they happened. But all of them take a backseat to the Crown Jewels.”
“How so?”
How did he explain it?
While he led a life of material wealth, he’d never considered himself ruled by it. He was as comfortable with a backpack and a pair of sturdy boots as he traipsed through the jungle as he was in his expansive London flat, several floors up from the office. He likely smelled better when he stayed home, he thought with a rueful smile, but he enjoyed both equally. “Those jewels represent something far more lasting than the people who wear them.”
“Yes, but political intrigue and the lives of rulers live on in our history books.”
“Of course, but people still come and go, no matter how famous, how royal or politically savvy. They’re footnotes in history books, memories written down and told. But those jewels remain forever.”
“Is that why you love antiquities? The link to the past?”
“And to the future.” Finn gestured toward the door to the lab. “Come on, I’ll show you what we’ve got.”
He leaned forward into the retinal scanner that sat next to the lab door, then pressed his palm to a small pad. The lock snicked softly, the red light sitting above it flashing to green. “After you.”
“Impressive security.”
“Necessary security.”
“No doubt.” She walked ahead of him and he couldn’t keep his gaze from skimming over her thin frame. The suit she wore fit her perfectly, and it was easy to see the lithe strength underneath the plum-colored silk. Her skirt fell to a tasteful length above her knee—a shame it wasn’t shorter, Finn couldn’t help thinking—before exposing spectacular calves that flowed into four-inch heels.
The entire package screamed competent businesswoman, but he also knew her reputation. That same backpack-carrying, boot-clad vision he kept of himself was an apt description for Rowan from all accounts. The reports of her exploits for the past decade indicated the woman was as comfortable in pearls and an evening gown as she was in a tank top, shorts and hiking boots.
And she switched effortlessly between both sides of her life.
A sharp intake of breath pulled his attention off her body as she swung around to look at him. “This is yours?”
“Yes.”
She danced backward on her heels, the excitement he’d sensed before amping up as she practically ran to the long steel counters that lined the perimeter of the room. “You can do carbon dating here?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have an electron microscope?”
“Off-site. While this building offers many wonderful advantages, it’s too high to realistically ground the equipment. We house the microscope off-site with another lab we have about twenty kilometers outside the city.”
“Wow.” That single word, full of reverence, had his body tightening in anticipation.
Had he ever seen a woman that excited about a piece of technology? Moreover, had he ever felt like a conquering hero simply because he owned one?
Fascinated, he watched as she worked her way down the rows, her smile broad and her questions pointed as she stopped to talk to a few of his researchers before she returned to his side.
“I realize you’re considered foremost in your field, but even you can’t possibly have enough work to keep the lab busy? There aren’t enough dig sites to keep a facility this size active.”
He led her toward another set of doors, her attention shifting toward him as they walked. “We take on work from museums, auction houses, educational facilities. It’s been a key piece of my business strategy, to provide a top-notch facility so they can outsource their lab needs.”
“Smart.”
“And highly lucrative. The investment in equipment has paid dividends several times over.”
Finn gestured toward a waiting elevator. “You ready to go up? I’d like to go over my plans for the trip.”
“You mean the trip where we may or may not steal several ancient artifacts?”
A vivid light twinkled in the depths of her blue gaze and Finn fought the urge to move toward her. “That’d be the one.”
“Perfect. I’ve got a few ideas of my own on that, starting with a way around that toady Baxter Monroe.”
He gestured her back off the elevator and toward his office. “You don’t like the intrepid leader of our dig? We will be working under him for the next few weeks.”
The light snort would have been clue enough, but it was the vitriol that dripped from Rowan’s words that had him taking real notice. “He couldn’t dig his way to anything but more dirt if it weren’t for all that family money he throws around. He’s useless, and I don’t speak that harshly about many people.”
“What has he done to get your back up?”
“He nearly destroyed a series of relics in Iran a few years ago. He claimed his experience in Egypt made him a natural for any work in the Middle East and handled several ancient Persian relics like a two-year-old on a sugar bender. The man is a menace and for the life of me I can’t understand why the museum keeps him on staff.”
Finn couldn’t hold back the smile as he opened his office door, standing back so she could walk in first. “So that means you have no interest in attending his launch party this evening?”
Rowan turned on her heel, the move as smooth as her near-pirouette in the lab. “Launch party?”
“He holds one before every major project starts.”
“You party with the man?”
“Hardly. I have about as much respect for him as you do, perhaps less since I was called in by the prime minister to mediate that little Iranian situation he created. But I’m a firm believer in that old adage.”
Her eyebrows arched over those fierce blue eyes, that sharp gaze sexy as hell. “Let me guess. ‘Keep your friends close’?”
Finn nodded, an image of Baxter Monroe firmly in his mind’s eye. “‘And your enemies closer.’”
* * *
Rowan glanced around her well-appointed hotel suite as the bellman made quick work of her bags. She had to give Finn Gallagher credit, the man did know how to impress. Her suite at the Savoy was subtly appointed, yet it spoke of wealth and influence. It was also eminently practical, since Monroe was holding his launch party here at the hotel.
She’d had the requisite twinges of guilt at not informing her grandparents she’d be in town, but had tamped down on them at the evidence Finn expected her time on the job to include evening events.
She tipped the bellman and ushered him out before turning her attention toward the evening’s events. The concept of a launch party stuck in her stomach like a ball of lead, but she willed it aside. The event had no bearing on the serious work that should be taking place in the Valley of the Queens, but it would do what Finn had suggested.
Allow her to size up her enemy.
The fact the event was a social one and on Baxter Monroe’s turf was a small side benefit, guaranteed to make him relaxed and approachable. The very daring neckline of the gown she’d brought with her was another plus and she knew she had another weapon in her arsenal.
The phone buzzed from the depths of her oversize purse and Rowan dug it out, pleased she caught it in time before the caller went to voice mail. “Hey, big sis. You checking up on me?”
“Of course.” Kensington’s tone was sharp and matter-of-fact. Rowan couldn’t keep the smile from blooming on her face as she imagined her sister seated behind her ruthlessly organized desk. “I wanted to see how your meeting went with Gallagher.”
“The man can do his own carbon dating. I practically had an orgasm in his lab just thinking about it.”
“Don’t you think you should save that until you know him a bit better?”
Rowan did laugh at her sister’s dry tone before she outlined all that she’d learned while visiting Gallagher International. “So tonight’s a party with the museum crew.”
“I won’t even ask your feelings on that. You may be three thousand miles away, but your voice drips with loathing and a scathing disdain I can only admire.”
“It’s an archaeological dig, for Pete’s sake, not a party. The fact Monroe’s even throwing one is further proof of what a world-class jerk he is.”
“Yes, but you will mingle and be charming.”
Rowan fought the urge to grit her teeth. “Am I anything but?”
“Did you bring a dress?”
“Yes, I brought a dress.”
“Because I told you to.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Wait! Rowan, please.” When she hesitated, Kensington pushed on. “Be careful tonight. Something’s felt a little off about this from the first.”
“You don’t trust Finn?”
“We don’t know him to trust him. But I do know I don’t trust the situation.”
“I hardly think I’m in much danger attending a party at the Savoy.”
“Just stay sharp.”
The urge to tease her sister or tell her to quit the melodramatic directives was high, but something held Rowan back. Whether it was a sixth sense or something else, she didn’t know, but the light brush of nerves along her spine had agreement rising up in her tone. “I will.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too, Ken-zoo.” The tease was nearly as old as she was, a funny back-and-forth she had had with her sister since they were small. Another wave of nerves layered over the first as they disconnected the call, and Rowan fought to shake it off.
There was nothing to be worried about. Nothing at all.
* * *
Rowan was still trying to convince herself of that an hour later as she wended her way through the lobby of the Savoy toward a small gathering room chosen for the party. While Kensington had the sisterly ability to mix smug satisfaction with older-sibling order giving, Rowan had to admit the snug black cocktail dress she now wore in place of her plum suit was an inspired last-minute packing choice.
A packing choice she’d have overlooked had it not been for her sister, she admitted to herself as she came to a stop inside the entryway.
The same lush accommodations she’d experienced upstairs were even more impressive here. Various servers circulated through the room, their trays full of champagne or canapés. The crowd stood in elegant conversation circles, evidenced by the muted hum of voices that rose up around her as she moved farther into the room.
“Ms. Steele,” a low voice whispered in her ear, a split second after she’d felt the sheer heft of his body sidle up against hers. “You look beautiful this evening.”
“Thank you.” The words nearly stuck in her throat as she caught full sight of Finn Gallagher in a crisp black suit. Broad shoulders filled up her gaze as she turned to face him and once again she was struck by the incredible vision he made.
He had nearly flawless features; the only criticism she could even muster up was that they were almost too sharp—too harsh—to be handsome. Yet even as she thought it, her conscience fought her, reminding her it was that very trait that screamed masculine perfection.
She could picture him in the jungle just as easily as she saw him in the designer suit that covered his impressive form. Regardless of the situation—rugged or refined—both telegraphed the exact same thing. Finn Gallagher would be a formidable opponent.
A man who inevitably got what he came for.
And why did the suddenly delicious thought flutter through her mind that she would love to be the object of that intense focus?
She’d been raised around strong men. Both her father and her grandfather were formidable in their own right, and her brothers, Liam and Campbell, had followed family tradition. While each of her brothers had their own individual style, both epitomized the strong, self-assured male.
Having been brought up that way, she respected men who knew how to go after what they wanted. She respected them even more if they admired that trait in her.
One look into Finn Gallagher’s deep hazel eyes and she saw flashes of that respect layered under the distinct notes of male appreciation and attraction, and it drew her in.
“I know he’s not your favorite person, but Baxter did order the best champagne.” Finn held a full flute of the pale liquid toward her. “It’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”
“True.” She accepted the glass, bemused when Finn lifted his flute in toast. “Now you’re going to force me to celebrate Monroe’s generosity, too?”
“I’d prefer to think of this as a toast to our partnership.”
Rowan lifted her glass. “May it bear the most ancient of fruits.”
She didn’t miss the subtle lift of his eyebrows over the rim of his glass, but other than that, Finn didn’t cop to any other response. She took a sip of her champagne, the bubbles light and crisp on her tongue. “Damn, but he did choose the good stuff.”
“How else do you suppose he’s going to impress a room full of his top patrons?”
“Is that how you got in on the dig?”
“I don’t need to wine and dine slimy toadies like Baxter Monroe to sell my services.” He hesitated for a moment before flashing a quick, wolfish grin. “I do, however, spend considerable time wooing his bosses.”
“No one argues with the moneyman.” Rowan thought about her afternoon visit to Gallagher International. “Or the man with the fancy research lab.”
“Spot-on you are.”
“I think I’m beginning to get a picture.” Rowan took another sip of her champagne as she glanced around the room. “You ensure the top museum brass have an unlimited supply of what they need, namely money and access to research services, and in exchange, it allows you to keep tabs on Monroe and his activities.”
“Spot-on again.”
“And keeping tabs also ensures you have a place on the digs, whether Monroe wants you there or not.”
“Now you’re just showing off.” The cocky grin was back, along with that distinct layer of respect in his gaze. “Well, then. Are you ready to go have some fun?”
“At this event?”
“Of course.”
She paused a moment, pleased when Finn’s gaze darkened with that tantalizing attraction that hummed subtly between them. “There’s a phrase in America. It’s called poking the bear in his den.”
“You’re suggesting Monroe’s the bear in this delightful Mark Twain-esque colloquialism?”
“Yep.”
Finn extended his arm and Rowan took it, his hard strength more than evident through the sleeve of his suit jacket. She fought the urge to cling to those delectable muscles, instead nodding in the direction of Baxter Monroe. “Allow me to lead the way.”
* * *
Finn gave himself the momentary gift of simply drinking her in, before he moved them deftly through the ballroom. The woman cut an incredible figure, the black dress clinging to each and every curve she possessed. If her plum suit from earlier had twisted him in knots, the black cocktail dress had him engulfed in flames.
She was stunning. Her pert features—already maximized by the short cap of hair that covered her head—stood out without the need for much fuss. Her makeup was minimal, the natural flush of her cheeks a sign of her vitality. The gamine cut of her hair had a secondary benefit—her neck and shoulders were fully exposed. The slender curve of her neck drew his gaze and he imagined pressing a line of kisses there, flicking his tongue lightly against her skin with the sole purpose of making her shiver.
The image gripped him as he placed his near-empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. Finn laid his hand over hers, pleased by the light jolt that rattled through his body at the contact. The shudder of her arm where it threaded through his only reinforced she was as affected as he was.
He took pleasure from the thought, surprised when a quick flash of memory rose up swift and strong. The same woman, clad all in black, pressing her lips to his.
He wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to see if the lush memory he’d kept all these years was nearly as satisfying as he remembered. Wanted to know if there was a way to replicate something that sweet and innocent, yet carnal and almost desperate with need.
“I wasn’t sure you’d make it.” Baxter’s voice broke the moment, and thoughts of kissing Rowan Steele vanished at the very clear evidence they were both “on.” The hand that had reflexively tightened on his arm with attraction tightened once more, this time in a subtle anger that practically vibrated from her.
He disengaged their linked arms, shifting his hand to the small of her back, and pulled her a fraction of an inch closer, whether in protection or possession, Finn didn’t know. “Baxter.”
Monroe turned to face Rowan. “And Miss Steele? I understand you’ll be joining us in the Valley of the Queens. I’m delighted.”
“Likewise.”
“When did you arrive in town?”
The forced conversation spun out and Finn was amused to watch how elegantly Rowan played her mark. She kept up the polite facade, never breaking eye contact or the subtle hints of flirtation until she went in for the kill. “I understand the site’s discovery was something of a surprise.”