Her Kind of Trouble (15 page)
His strong fingers closing around mine felt so necessary, on so many levels, that I experienced a chill of foreboding.
Not danger. My throat didn't hurt.
But I couldn't help wondering how much more than three feet still lay between us, after all.
And how bad a thing that was.
Dinner was… wow.
The Corniche, where Lex had found this restaurant, is the main seafront boulevard in
Alexandria
, a long crescent following the harbor. We were led onto a tiled balcony that held only four tables, draped in intricately embroidered cloths, diners given privacy by potted palm trees. Discreet fans assisted the sea breeze in cutting the oppressive heat. The pierced stone railing, all arabesques and Persian arches, was the only thing that separated us from a breathtaking view of the harbor, the medieval fort beyond it, and the
Mediterranean Sea
beyond that. Lights glanced off black waves. Stars glinted in the night sky. Exotic music on lutes and drums drifted over us from a higher balcony.
This place had to cost a fortune, even considering the exchange rate.
"Let me guess," I said, as Lex held my chair for me. "You're buying, right?"
"It's the least I can do after barging out here against your express wishes." He expertly pushed my chair back under me as I sat, then seated himself across the table with equal grace.
I knew full well that I was being manipulated—but that was the problem with dating someone as wealthy as Lex. Sometimes, when you've had a day or two as frustrating as mine had been, the temptation was just too great.
I capitulated with a condition. "As long as you know you aren't staying. Here in
Egypt
, I mean."
"You can't think I'm going home without—" Lex stopped when our waiter, turbaned and obsequious, handed us ornate menus. The man also placed on the table tall glasses of water and bowls of some kind of delicacies—I recognized olives and figs. Not together, of course.
"Sure you are," I insisted. "You have business in
"Nothing you'd be interested in."
"Which means, nothing you're able to tell me." And the only thing he'd taken a vow of secrecy about was his involvement with the Comitatus. That and a nondisclosure agreement he'd signed for work about a year back, but chances leaned toward the former. "Fair enough. But don't let me keep you from it."
"Luckily, we live in a world with telephones and the Internet and I have, er,
associates
worldwide. I can accomplish a great deal while I'm here in
Egypt
."
"But I can't," I confessed.
Lex tipped the menu down far enough to frown over it.
"Accomplish a lot with you in
Egypt
," I clarified. "I'm working with Rhys Pritchard, which could be awkward with you lurking around and thinking you're going to take me out to dinner every night." In fact, I'd insisted we invite Rhys along, which Lex had accepted with only a modicum of resistance. But when I checked at the front desk, my friend wasn't in. I'd left a note for him, so at least he'd know I made it back safely from
Cairo
.
"Why should it be uncomfortable?" Lex asked now, either disingenuous or uncharacteristically naive. I couldn't tell, since he'd raised the menu again. "I have nothing against Rhys."
"And I certainly don't need you questioning my every move while I decide what to do about you-know-who's daughter." I'd given him the Cliffs Notes version on the way over, and he'd all but begged me not to get involved. I couldn't argue with his logic—but this was about a truth that went beyond logic.
"And," I reminded him, "I'm here to find a certain cup that your cousin and at least half of your, er,
associates
would gladly destroy."
"Phil said he was past that," said Lex. "And my associates may yet be persuaded to reexamine the issue."
"Hope all you want, Mr. Optimism. I'd rather not take the chance of your cousin keeping tabs on me through you. Not that you would—"
The waiter picked that unfortunate moment to ask if we'd made a decision. We both went with the house specials, Lex positively glowering, and resumed our discussion as soon as the man left.
"I'm not my cousin," Lex insisted, low and intense. "Nor am I his spy."
"I didn't say you were. But you work together, so he can find you. From there it's not that hard to find me. If he learns I'm in
Alexandria
, he's sure to guess why."
Lex said nothing.
"I wouldn't walk into the middle of a business deal of yours and think I wouldn't be in the way. Why are you?"
He didn't like it, that was obvious. But there was a reason I'd fallen in love with him, the last few times that had happened, back before things got this complicated.
Surprisingly, it had less to do with how incredibly sexy he looked on this candlelit balcony than it did with him not being a fool. Or an asshole.
"I'll fall back to
Cairo
," he offered finally.
Oh, for mercy's sake. "Why not just go home?"
"Because it took me too long to get here. What if you get hurt, or in trouble? I'll hang back as long as you don't need me, Mag, but I won't go so far that I can't get back if you do. You can't make me. I've talked to this—this person who has your phone," he edited, following my example of avoiding Hani's name in public. "He's dangerous, and he's angry at you. Justifiably, in his mind. The only thing protecting you so far is his crazy idea that you've got magical powers."
Here we were, back to witchcraft and magic.
The waiter brought a strange but not unpleasant soup.
"What kind of powers?" I asked, frustrated. "Did he mention any of them to you, while you were chatting him up?"
"Flying," offered Lex. "Disappearing. Breathing underwater. You're a busy lady."
My stomach twisted, and not from the smell of the soup. "Oh, no. Crap, Lex. He's Comitatus."
Lex's eyes widened when I said the word out loud. "Of course he isn't. I'd know if he is."
"Would you?"
He took another sip of soup, rather than commit himself to even that much information. At least he didn't look happy about it. Secret societies suck.
"Either he's an
associate
of yours," I edited, "or he's spoken to one. That's exactly what I told those men in the airport, the associates who tried to take the Melusine Grail. I told them I could fly out windows, vanish from in front of trains, and go down wells unscathed."
A smile flirted at his mouth. "And they believed you?"
Okay, so
sometimes
he could be an asshole.
"It was all in the delivery." And I'd managed more than one surprising feat in the service of the goddess—probably due to luck and good timing, though, more than any magic. "The point is, he must have heard about me from
associates
of yours."
Lex scowled. "I'll look into that."
"Will you tell me what you find out?"
"Probably not, no." Damned vow of secrecy.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, at a mutually annoyed impasse. Now that I'd made my knee-jerk protest, I considered his offer of a compromise. I was supposed to be an advocate for balance, here. Wouldn't the world be a better place if more people met each other halfway?
"
Cairo
, huh?" I asked.
Lex looked up. Only because I knew him so well could I see the eagerness in his eyes. "I'll stay out of your way, Maggi, I promise.
Cairo
could turn out to be perfect. I've been looking for a place with…for a place."
I could only wonder what he'd stopped himself from saying—a place with pyramids? Probably not. A place with camels?
A place with historical or ritual significance?
Even working without full disclosure, I could completely buy that Lex was the product of generations of important men, of a royal bloodline that traced back through the family of Jesus and King David to the rulers of ancient Sumeria. The irony that some conspiracy theorists think that bloodline is itself the Holy Grail—or
sang real
—just added to the number of coincidences that had begun to infiltrate my life since I accepted the reality of Grailkeepers. I'd known Lex had an air of importance about him long before I knew why.
But I still had trouble imagining him in some kind of ceremonial order. He was too down-to-earth, too dignified, too…
Lex.
"This could be just what I need," he stated, more carefully. "And I'm here because of you. That feels… right."
He held my gaze, looking for something, and asked, "Doesn't it?"
"Sure," I said… but I wasn't sure at all.
Some weeks ago, right before he was attacked, Lex had said something cryptic about needing me. Something about feminine power, about balance. Something important.
I can't do it alone. No man can. No
woman
can. I need you
.
It was one reason we'd started dating again, to present a united front—apparently to other Comitatus members. I'd given him six months to prove it worthwhile. But since then, his plans became just one more of the gazillion things he couldn't talk to me about. Now I had to wonder if his "important business" was somehow involved in his trip to
Egypt
. Was
that
the only reason he wanted me nearby? To do
him
a favor?
For someone who didn't want him trying to take care of me, I sure didn't like the thought that he wasn't.
Then again, it's not like I told him all my Grail-keeper business.
"I can live with you in
Cairo
," I conceded, and was rewarded with an actual smile.
He looked even more attractive, smiling.
Then he had to go and say, "So, tell me about
Isis
."
I stiffened. If he was here to spy on—
"Not about the cup," he insisted, reading me as easily as I can usually read him. "Just… the goddess. Maybe she's something we won't argue about."
So, since it was nothing he couldn't find out on the Internet, why
not
give him the 411 on the Goddess of a Thousand Names?
"
Isis
was a powerful being in her own right," I started. "A goddess of magic and healing. But her most famous legend has to do with her marriage to the god Osiris."
"So a lot of these goddesses are part of a…a sacred couple, are they?"
"I'm not sure how you'd define a lot—" I felt something brush my foot, and stiffened. Then I realized it was Lex's foot. Sans shoe. Hidden by the fullness of the embroidered tablecloth.
When I caught his gaze, his brows lifted in polite inquiry. The brightness in his eyes contradicted his air of casual nonchalance.
Instead of protesting, I continued, "Remember that the French goddess, Melusine, was married to a mere mortal."
But at the moment, I could see the attraction of mortals. Especially mortals whose very presence seemed right.
Necessary
.
"But she was married," he insisted, massaging my foot with his. "Are most—"
He hesitated when I pulled my foot away, tried not to look hurt, then finished, "Most goddesses married?"
But the only reason I'd pulled away was to use the toe of one foot to slide a sandal strap off the other heel. Then, foot bare and all the more sensitive, I touched the ridge of his toes with mine, then ventured up his sock to his instep.
His eyes closed for a moment.
"Athena never marries," I told him, clinging to the sanity of what could have been a class presentation. "Or Artemis. Or… "
His toes caressed under the arch of my bare foot, which arched farther in welcome. The rest of my body was taking notice as well now, a satisfied warmth like from a good glass of wine. But we weren't drinking wine with our dinner, not in a Muslim country.
"Or a lot of them," I finished lamely, grasping at conversation.
"But a lot of them
are married
, r—?"
He broke off as I drew my foot up the crease of his trousers, toward his knee, then back down, then back up.
"Right," I agreed, smiling evilly. "
Isis
. Hera. Persephone. Even Aphrodite… wait." My foot paused, resting on his knee. "Why are you asking this? You aren't leading up to another marriage proposal, are you?"
"A little higher, and I am."
He sighed as I deliberately slid my foot away. It would be much easier to insist on celibacy if I didn't continue this. More fair, too.