Heather Graham (10 page)

“Jim Crosby is my father, he is missing, and I am trying to contact Sheriff in hopes of finding him.”

To Alex’s shock and consternation, the Bedouin suddenly started to laugh. She watched with amazement as the man wandered to the nearest divan and sat, still laughing. And then, as she stared at him, certain now that it was he and not she who was crazy, he lifted a hand to his mustache.

The hair peeled away with a little tug, as did the beard with his next motion, and then a portion of the thick brows. She saw that the man’s flesh was really light bronze and not a deeper, darker color.

“D’Alesio!” It was a hiss of surprise, and the most savage fury Alex had ever experienced in her life. Spontaneously her muscles bunched and contracted. She leaped like a shot at him, with only one thought in mind—that of shredding him to ribbons.

T
HE HURTLING IMPETUS OF
her charge caught him off guard and off balance. Together they seemed to soar through the air and crash to the ground in a tangled heap.

He had never experienced anything quite like her fury; she was like a small tornado. Psychiatrists often said that the insane could be inhumanly strong; at that moment he was convinced she had to be at least half insane. He didn’t want to hurt her—but neither did he feel like having his eyes gouged out.

“Now, listen,” he muttered impatiently, seeking to secure a grasp on her flailing wrists, “I know you must be angry, but how the hell do you think I felt, having a woman standing in my bathroom?”

Apparently insanity had closed her eardrums.

“I know you’re mad”—he ducked to avoid a nicely placed blow from her fist—“but you can’t carry on like this—”

“You scurvy bastard!” she shrieked. “I have never seen more contemptible behavior in my life. You uncivilized, uncouth son of a—”

“Stop right there!” he exploded, giving up all effort to parry her hostility without fighting back. He shifted his weight quickly, sprawling atop her and catching her wrists in a grip of vengeance. “Stop it, ‘Doctor’—or you
will
find yourself on an auction block! This is an Arab, Muslim country where women are wives, concubines or slaves! They do not yell and shriek at men, and I will not have my position here made untenable by your temper!”

He had her wrists, and once they were secured, she couldn’t possibly move them. But neither did she intend to shut up. “This may not be the United States, but you, Mr. D’Alesio, are an American, and I promise you I will find a way to have you brought up on charges—”

Dan dragged her wrists together to secure them with one hand so that he could press the other across her mouth.

“Press charges at a later date, will you? I’m serious. I know you’re angry. But I didn’t do what I did merely to hurt or embarrass you. You had a lesson to learn. You went trekking right over land that belonged to Hamdi. If he had gotten to you, Dr. Randall, you could have spent the rest of your life singing ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ and he wouldn’t have given a damn. Don’t you realize the foolish risks you were—ouch! You little bitch!”

Apparently she didn’t understand. She had bitten him.

“I could kill you!” she hissed. “I could honest to God kill—”

She couldn’t finish the sentence because he clamped his hand over her mouth again. “Fine!” he whispered back harshly. “You could kill me. But I have no intention of letting you do so, and you bite me again like a child and I’ll treat you like one and let you have exactly what you deserve—a good paddling.”

At the moment Alex didn’t care what he threatened. She was so infuriated she had no thought for possible repercussions. But she was also powerless to do or say anything. His left hand was a solid clamp on her wrists, and his right hand was equally effective over her mouth. He had arched and tightened his fingers so that she couldn’t bite again. She couldn’t even kick him, not with his solidly muscled weight on top of her. So she lay there, seething. Eventually he would have to release her.

Except that eventually could be a long, long time, and he seemed perfectly content to stare at her and wait. She hadn’t the patience for the game. Her temper soared again, and she tried to tell him just how despicable he was. All that came out was muffled gibberish, and she succeeded only in affording him further amusement.

“Listen to me,
Dr.
Randall!” he finally broke in. “Perhaps you have a right to be mad. But think about your own actions! What right did you have to break in on me. I at least gave you time to get out of the bathtub! And you were so damned sure you knew all about the desert! Well, you don’t know all about the desert—not here, anyway, Doctor! There is a hell of a lot worse that could have happened to you.”

She started raving again, as best she could with a clamped mouth.

Dan sighed patiently, deciding to try another tack. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were Jim’s daughter in your first letter? Don’t you realize it was because of your father that I didn’t want to be bothered? I was too worried about Jim to consider anything else.”

Alex finally quieted. He sounded sincere. He was worried about her father. And wasn’t that what all this was about? She still wanted to kill him—he had thoroughly enjoyed every minute of taunting her. But he was right; she simply wasn’t going to be able to do anything to him at the moment. He would be wise, however, to watch his back when she was in the vicinity.

“Besides which,” he added quietly, “if you want to meet Ali, you had better calm down. He isn’t especially fond of American women. He married one right after college, and she took him for enough to feed a whole tribe for a decade.”

Alex remained still, staring into the dark eyes that held hers in their searing gaze. Slowly, very slowly, he removed his hand from her mouth. When she remained quiet, merely gasping slightly to gulp more air, he rolled his weight off her, sitting cross-legged beside her as he continued to watch her warily. Feeling as if she had just been through an electric blender, Alex pulled herself to a sitting position, watching him every bit as warily as he watched her.

It was he who spoke first. “Alex … Alexis?”

She shook her head. “Think, D’Alesio,” she said disdainfully. “My father is an Egyptologist. Alexandria.”

“Then why don’t you sign your damn letters ‘Alexandria’? And why do you go by the name Randall?”

Alex broke the hold of his eyes and sighed as she gingerly rubbed her wrists. “Randall is my married name. It never occurred to me that you could possibly be so rude as to ignore an urgent letter!”

“I didn’t ignore it!” Dan snapped.

Alex shrugged.

“Where the hell is
Mr.
Randall?”

“I—I’m divorced,” Alex muttered. “And there isn’t a Mr. Randall anywhere—there’s another Dr. Randall. I—I’ve never used my father’s name because we’re in the same field.”

“You are an Egyptologist?”

“Of course!” Alex said with irritation.

“Just checking. You don’t look like one.”

“Oh, really?” she murmured coolly. “I never realized Egyptologists ‘looked’ like anything.”

He stood, ignoring her caustic remark. With a small grimace he tore the “hook”—expertly applied putty—from his nose. He rubbed his face ruefully, and Alex saw how easily the dark makeup rubbed off.

How could I have fallen for it? she asked herself incredulously. She had the immediate, bitter answer to her own question. Because D’Alesio was good—as good at disguise as he was at journalism. She hated to grant him either fact, but it was always best to acknowledge the strengths of one’s enemy.

As she silently watched him, he picked up a clean towel and dipped it into a porcelain washbasin near the bed and studiously scrubbed his face. Still idly holding the towel, he wandered back to her and sat on the carpet, pouring himself another cup of the aromatic coffee. He stared at her again as he sipped his coffee, his face once more familiar. He shook his head slightly as if in disbelief. “Jim’s daughter.” His brows knit in bafflement. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six,” Alex said, anticipating his raised-brow reaction. “I know—my father is only forty-four.” She shrugged. “I was the result of a high school romance. My parents married before my father even began in Egyptology.” She hesitated a moment, then shrugged again. “My mother walked out on my father and me when I was just a few months old. Jim managed to keep me and take care of me while studying and working at the same time. Needless to say, Mr. D’Alesio, I adore my father. I would battle you—or every sheikh and emir in a thousand deserts—if it would lead me to him.”

D’Alesio lowered his lashes and sipped his coffee. He should have known she was his daughter. Crosby had hair that same soft gold color. But his features were angular, and hers were so delicate.

“Your father told you to get hold of Ali?”

“Yes.”

“How? When?”

Alex bit her lip for a second, considering telling him to go to hell—
she
would talk to Sheriff. But he seemed honestly concerned, and no matter what her feelings toward him were, if he could offer any help, she would accept it.

“I got a letter from him on the fifth. He said, exactly, ‘if anything goes wrong, get hold of Sheriff. A few things are making me a little nervous.’”

Dan was silent for several seconds, his fingers idly tapping the rug as he mused over her words. “Sounds like he knew something was up somewhere.”

Alex waved a hand impatiently in the air. “Obviously. But this must be Sheriff’s oasis. If I could just talk to him—”

“You’re going to talk to Sheriff,” Dan said dryly. “But he isn’t going to be able to help you much. I planned on coming out here as soon as I got back to Cairo after your father didn’t show in the Valley of the Kings. I’ve already talked to Ali, and he doesn’t know anything.”

Alarm rose in Alex’s voice. “But Jim was here—I know he was here. He called me from Abu Dhabi—”

“When!” The sharp edge in his voice irritated Alex, but she merely shot him a hostile glance and then responded. “On the fifth—the night I got his letter.”

“What did he say?”

Alex frowned, forgetting for a moment that she despised D’Alesio. “He—he said that I had the puzzle pieces. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, so I asked him to repeat himself.”

“And?”

“And … nothing. The line went dead.”

Dan set his coffee cup down on the rug and stood. Alex watched as he began to pace the confines of the tent, thinking that in his black robes he reminded her of an extremely tall panther. He was constant energy; terribly alive, terribly vital. From the coal of his eyes to the smooth agility of his muscled limbs, he was vibrant and electric. Still wishing she could kill him—or at least see him hanged by his toes from a tree for the next ten years—she couldn’t fight his compelling attraction. As he moved, her eyes followed him.

He stopped pacing, and Alex felt as if her soul were being impaled when he abruptly turned to stare back into her eyes.

“You know for a fact that he was in Abu Dhabi when he called?”

“Yes. I tried to get him back through the international operator.”

“Do you have any idea what he might have meant by ‘puzzle pieces’?”

Alex hesitated only a second. “Yes. I think he was talking about the dig—the expedition. The letter he had written was all about the way he had discovered historical ‘clues’ that fit. He wasn’t worried about months or years of digging; he was certain he knew exactly where the tomb would be.”

“You don’t know?”

Alex shook her head with a grimace.

“But ‘you have all the puzzle pieces.’”

“I—I suppose. But you have to realize these pieces are all in a haystack. I believe I might be able to find them—”

“Who else knows you have these pieces?”

Alex stared at him with marked annoyance. He asked questions like a drill sergeant.

“Would you answer me, please?” He read her expression, and then sighed. “Alex, I’m as determined as you are to find your father.” She was still sitting on the sand, and he walked to her to offer his hand. She stared at it without touching it for a long time, then accepted his assistance in getting up. “I know you’re angry. I was angry myself when I started this thing. I do not like being surprised in my bathtub. Neither do I like being threatened.”

Alex lifted her chin and smiled sweetly. “I wasn’t threatening you, D’Alesio, I was making promises. You can count on the fact that you’ll never film my father’s work now.”

The hand that held hers tightened until she felt her bones would crack, but the man towering a little bit too close to her smiled.

“Blackmail, Dr. Randall?”

“Fact, D’Alesio.”

“I wouldn’t count on that. But let’s not worry about filming right now, shall we? We have to find your father.”

Alex arched a brow and wished that he weren’t quite so tall and that she weren’t clad in flimsy silks. “If you’re not worrying about your precious film, D’Alesio, what are you worrying about?”

“A man,” he replied coolly. “A friend—a brilliant scientist. But mostly, Dr. Randall, a man. A human being.”

Alex lowered her head and pulled her hand from his grasp. She turned and walked away from him, wondering how it was possible to so despise a person and still admire him. And still feel that he was exceptionally attractive. More than attractive—magnetic. She had never met a man before whom she had wanted so much to touch, simply because of an element of sexuality so strong that it appealed to something that was physical, beyond emotion. She had known desire, but that had been understandable. She had been in love. She certainly wasn’t in love with D’Alesio. And of all the men in the world for her to discover she found irresistible on a primitive level …

In her present state of confusion, it was more than she could handle. She had even felt it when she had thought him a wild desert kidnapper; now, seeing him as he really was, it only grew stronger.

“All right.” His voice snapped out once again like that of a drill master. “What then?”

“What then?”

“What happened then? What did you do? Did you look for Jim? Or did you just sit around in your hotel room waiting to pounce upon me in the bathtub?”