Her Kind of Trouble (3 page)

I
could have
looked away, if I'd wanted to. But, pulse accelerating, I did not want to.

The size of the figurine, perhaps six inches, in no way matched the scope of its subject. But from the headdress, I recognized her—or should I say,
Her
—all the same.
Isis
. Goddess of Ten Thousand Names. Oldest of the Old. Sitting there amid relics from her ancient, half-forgotten world, nursing the tiny god Horus on her lap.

This Grailkeeper business would be so much easier if she spoke to me, even in my head—if she flat out said
Maggi, this is your next assignment
. It didn't work that way, of course. So far, a sore throat in the presence of danger was as tangible as the magic of the goddess got. Except…

Something vibrated against my fingertips. I nearly dropped my purse before remembering my cell phone, tucked inside it. I drew it out, saw an international exchange on its display.

I thumbed the On button. "Hello, Rhys," I said softly, and not just out of politeness for the other museum patrons. The moment felt almost… holy. "Tell me you know where the Isis Grail is and I'll believe in magic."

"I do not know for certain," came the lilting Welsh voice of my friend, an archeology student at the Sorbonne who was interning with an expedition to
Egypt
. "But someone seems to think I do."

My sense of unease returned—and only partly because I'd just seen Lex, across the room, conversing with his cousin Phil.

"Why do you say that?" I deliberately turned my attention back to the statuette.
I trust him, I trust him, I trust him
.

The tiny blue
Isis
wore a crooked smile, as if to say, "Gotcha."

"I say it," said Rhys, "because somebody tried to kill me today."

Chapter 2

When we reached JFK, Lex turned the car into an open space at the far reaches of the Central Terminal Area lot and shifted into Park. August sunlight bounced off a stretch of windshields and rearview mirrors between us and the terminals. His engine idled almost imperceptibly, to keep the cool air blowing.

He unfastened his seat belt and turned to me.

Here it comes, I thought. Until this moment, Lex's only reaction to my announcement that I was flying to
Egypt
had been three words: "I'll drive you."

I expected a protest.

I didn't expect him to take my left hand in his.

"Mag," he said.
And he slid a gold band onto my ring finger
! "Wear this?"

Gold band. On the finger reserved for engagement and
wedding rings
.

And I'd thought concern for Rhys and last-minute flight plans had been stressful? This sent the day's pressure into heart-pumping overdrive.

Damn, I thought, staring at the ring. And we were just starting to get along again. Except for the panic attack at the thought of kissing him, that is. Still, I'd already refused to marry Lex Stuart, several times, even
before
this business about chances and secret societies had come up.

The timing hadn't exactly improved.

"It's company policy," Lex explained with his usual composure, drawing his thumb across the band. "Women wearing wedding rings invite less harassment in Arab countries than women who are recognizably single."

"Policy," I repeated numbly—and the world shifted back into place again.
Policy
. The ring meant nothing. Then the rest of his statement caught up with me, and I regained my full voice to challenge it. "
Invite
harassment?"

"
Attract
less harassment, then. Point being—"

"Point being you think I need the illusion of a man to protect me." I started to tug the ring off.

He closed his hand around mine, stopping me. "I didn't say that. God help any Egyptians who try to harass you."

Appeased, I waited for him to explain himself.

"I just wish you weren't going," he said softly.

Which, as far as ways for him to explain himself went, sucked. "Well that's not your call to make."

"Did you hear me asking?"

Actually, no, I hadn't.

Lex opened his hand enough to look at mine, at the ring that now loosely circled the top knuckle of my finger. "You're the one who complains that we don't talk enough."

I couldn't help it—I laughed. I had to get rid of nervous energy somehow. "I complain that you've taken a vow of secrecy to an organization that's tried to kill me. And you. More than once. That's not the same as whining that you don't tell me often enough that you love me."

He said, "I love you."

I sank back into the leather seat and closed my eyes, still anchored by his hand holding mine. My reaction to that really shouldn't have been to think,
Crap
, should it?

I mean, this was Lex—my first date, first love, first time. My first, second, and third heartbreak.

But damn it, my plane was leaving soon, and I still had an international security check to get through. "Lex… "

"I love you, and I hate that you're leaving. This is the
Middle East
you're talking about, Mag."

When I opened my eyes, there that ring sat, peeking loosely through our fingers, undecided. "
Egypt
isn't the same as the Gaza Strip."

"It's not the same as
Cleveland
, either," insisted Lex. "Less than a decade ago more
than fifty tourists
were massacred in the
Valley of the Kings
."

"I'm not going to the
Valley of the Kings
, I'm going to
Alexandria
. It's the other direction."

Lex stared at me, unswayed.

I fisted my hand in his, ring and all. "I'll be fine."

"Like you were the last time you went after a chalice that certain people didn't want found?"

"Certain people don't know I'm going this time." Or… Old suspicions settled in my chest. "
Do they
?"

Lex took his hand back and released the parking brake in an angry movement. "You've really got this not trusting me business down, haven't you?"

Again—
crap
. I reached awkwardly across my lap to reengage the brake, since my left hand was still fisted to keep from losing the ring. "Hey. I wasn't saying you told them. Did you hear me saying that?"

Then again, if they learned about my quest some other way, I wasn't sure he could have told
me
, either.

When Lex turned back to me, his expression was impassive—and his eyes desperate. "We really don't communicate well, do we?"

I might not be able to tell him that it would all work out, not with any certainty, but I could at least reach for him, cradle my palm across his clean-shaven cheek. If words couldn't ease his uncertainty, maybe simple touch would.

As if I'd drawn him, Lex leaned nearer, braced his forehead lightly against mine. "I can't lose you again."

Which on some levels was so tender, so vulnerable, that I felt half-ready to ditch everything, just to taste his lips, just to ease some of the uncertainty from this man's deep, golden eyes. When I looked at him I saw too much—a boy dying of leukemia, a teenager grieving his dead mother, a man determined to keep promises he should never have had to make…

But on some levels, intentional or not, his words were manipulative as hell.

"You first," I whispered, turning my head to rest it on his shoulder. Lex really had great shoulders, solid and strong, even without the crisply tailored suits. He would make a really great leader of warriors.

"Me first, what?"

"You promise to stop doing dangerous things, taking transatlantic flights to unsafe places—"

"
Mag
." The sardonic note he put into my name told me we were done with the puppy-dog eyes for now.

"…move to the suburbs, ditch the sports car… "

He sighed and leaned his weight into me, hard enough to nudge me fully back into my own seat.

"Then maybe," I finished, silently laughing at his scowl as I straightened, "
maybe
we'll talk a deal."

The scowl didn't falter. "I know you can handle yourself, but I'm just not hardwired to leave it at that. Maybe it goes back to cavemen killing saber-toothed tigers that threatened the camp, but there's something in men that makes us want—need—to protect our women."

Our
women? Instead of jumping into that frying pan, I chose the proverbial fire. "A lot has changed since then. For one thing, those cavemen probably worshipped a goddess."

"In the good old days before testosterone screwed up the world, right?" Sarcasm clearly intended.

"I never said testosterone didn't have its uses." And whoa—I sure didn't mean that to sound quite as seductive as it did. I saw it immediately in the way his expression stilled, his eyes darkened to a whiskey color, his breath caught. He glanced quickly toward the tiny clock display over the rearview mirror.

Worse—I did, too.

The heat that washed through me had nothing to do with summer in the city, and everything to do with my body's dissatisfaction at having gone so long without his kisses. Maybe my heart
was
wary. But the rest of me…

"I've gotta go," I murmured, turning the air conditioner dial to full blue.

To his credit, Lex managed in three long, deep breaths to regain his mask of disinterest. He released the parking brake and shifted into Drive. "Yes. Security gets more complicated every day."

"I'll call you when I have a hotel room."

"Please do." But before he pulled out of the space, he turned his head to look at me full-on again. "And wear the ring, Maggi. Let me do that much for you."

And really, what could it hurt? '"Wear the ring,'
please
," I prompted softly.

"Please," he repeated, and the edge of his mouth quirked before he eased onto the gas. "With sugar on top."