Roger talked about his love for the desert—and his happiness over the fact that they were home. There was no place like New York. He loved being home, he said; he loved his job.
Ned didn’t stay more than an hour, since he was going back to the hospital to be with his wife.
No one else seemed to want to break up their get-together, but it was growing late. The fine Irish band playing that night announced their last number.
The evening inevitably came to an end.
“So who sees to it that our lovely companions get home okay?” Joe asked, rising and indicating Belinda and Harley.
“No need to worry about me,” Harley assured them. “Seriously. The tall, dark, handsome and deadly-looking guy at the bar is my cousin.”
“Oh, Craig’s here! I didn’t realize. He should’ve joined us,” Belinda said.
“Maybe he didn’t want this to look like an inquisition,” Jensen said, staring at Micah.
“Maybe,” Micah said casually. The two men were almost the same height, both about six-three. Micah was smiling, not about to get into it—and not about to back down.
“If you’re tired, I can take you to your place,” Jensen told Harley.
“I’m fine, really,” she said. “My cousin, remember? Craig is my cousin.”
“Yeah, he is,” Jensen said. For a moment, his eyes fell on her, and she thought he might be feeling something like jealousy over her preference for Craig’s company rather than his. But although they’d teased and flirted, they’d never dated; they’d never been more than friends. She liked that he was protective. However, he didn’t have any grounds to be jealous. At least not of Craig...
“Fine. Belinda?” Jensen said.
She laughed. “I’m a native New Yorker. I’ve been taking the latest subway most of my life. But sure.”
“Your fiancé is a man serving his nation, Belinda. It’s my privilege to see you safely home. And,” he added, “I’m damned good with the subways myself.”
“Okay, thanks. Come on. I’ll make tea when we get to my place—so you can get yourself safely home after that!” Belinda left with Jensen’s arm around her.
Harley realized that, as the others trailed out, she was still standing near the exit with Micah.
“Strange,” he muttered.
“What is?”
“He’s the one person who can’t be guilty.”
“Who? You mean Jensen?”
Micah turned to look at her, studying her eyes thoughtfully, his own pensive. “Yes. He was with you in the desert. The two of you saw Henry alive together, and then you left together, and when you came back, Henry was dead.”
“Yes. Why do you find Jensen suspicious?”
“Something about him.”
“They teach you that at the academy?” Harley asked.
“Actually, yes. But never mind.” He took her elbow. She was startled by the way she reacted to his simple touch.
“Shall we join Craig?” he asked.
They did. Craig stood politely to offer Harley his bar stool, but almost on cue, the cuddling couple who’d been taking up the seats next to him rose, hand in hand, seeing nothing but each other. They began to wander from the bar and toward the exit. Craig gestured at the three stools conveniently left for them and they all sat down.
Micah went over the conversations at the bar and Harley knew that Jensen had been right; Micah really had been grilling all of them.
If Craig had joined them, it wouldn’t have been a get-together.
It would’ve been an inquisition, just as he’d said.
Kieran came from the back office, sliding in comfortably with her back to Craig’s chest, leaning against him on his bar stool.
“Make any headway?” she asked.
“Ah, yes, Special Agent Fox has had a gut feeling,” Harley replied.
“I don’t trust the guy,” Micah said mildly. “Jensen.”
“Hmm,” Kieran murmured.
“The psychologist’s deep, dark ‘hmm’!” Craig said. “There must be a Freudian meaning there!”
“No, I don’t think there’s a rational explanation for a gut feeling.” Kieran shook her head. “But perhaps if there’s dislike involved...”
“Don’t dislike the guy. He seems okay. But I sense that he’s not quite trustworthy,” Micah said.
“Ah.” Harley shrugged. “I have a hard time seeing Jensen as a criminal. And in our group, Joe’s the one who tends to go off on tangents, not that it means he’s guilty of anything. But he’s easily distracted.”
“By the beautiful Egyptian girl,” Micah said. “Satima Mahmoud.”
“Yes, and she’s still in Egypt, so I doubt she had anything to do with last night,” Harley said.
“You know for sure that she’s still in Egypt?” Micah asked.
“I, um...”
Harley was forced to pause. “No. Of course I don’t know for sure that she’s in Egypt. I assume she is. It’s where she lives and works.”
“Worth checking on,” Micah said. He was, however, aiming the remark at Craig, who nodded in agreement.
“I think I need to go home.” Harley stood up, yawning.
“I’ve got a car today. We’ll get you home,” Craig said. “Kieran? You ready?”
“You guys go ahead. I promised Declan some help figuring out an invoice.”
“No, it’s okay! I go home alone all the time,” Harley said. “You—”
“Micah, you take the car,” Craig interrupted. “Pick me up in the morning. I’ll wait here with Kieran. Declan can drop us off or we’ll grab an Uber.”
“I can grab an Uber, too. I’m really close, just by Grace Church,” Harley said.
“No,” Craig insisted. “Let Micah take you, please. This whole mummy thing is...creepy.”
“I’m not afraid of mummies.”
“You should be. But only of the living ones,” Kieran said. “Living people who are pretending to be mummies. Or having other people dress up like mummies. Anyway, get home safely, okay?”
Arguing would make her appear...argumentative, Harley thought.
“Thanks,” she said simply. She turned away, aware that she was trembling slightly. It was a ride—a ride home. She wasn’t afraid of Micah. She was afraid of herself.
She felt intensely attracted to the man. She’d sat at their table in the bar, wondering how she could be seated between two men with all the right stuff—and feel such an attraction to one and not the other.
She knew nothing at all about Micah Fox, except that he was with the FBI, that he’d worked with Craig and that Craig seemed to like him. And that he’d also been a student of Henry’s.
That was the sum total of her knowledge. Was it enough of a basis for...anything?
Or had she spent the past year drifting, trying to develop an interest in someone, and not managing to find any kind of spark, any reason to pursue a relationship, even just a sexual one?
But if this was sexual, did it matter?
It did! He’d loved Henry, too. He was friends with Craig.
What if she threw herself at him, and he turned her down?
She was afraid her thoughts were making her blush, so she kissed her cousin and Kieran good-night and led the way, with Micah right behind her. She explained that it was ridiculous that he felt he had to drive her; it was maybe a mile away at most.
“Yeah, but it’s late,” Micah said.
She knew that the cars Craig used that belonged to the bureau could be parked just about anywhere. Except that parking wasn’t easy in Lower Manhattan—or pretty much anywhere in Manhattan!
“You can drop me off in front of the building, and thank you again,” Harley told him.
“I don’t think so.” He gave he
r a smile. “Sorry, even if you weren’t Craig’s cousin, it wouldn’t be my style.”
“You’ll never find parking.”
“Yes, I will. The academy also taught us how to summon our individual parking witches,” he said, his tone droll.
She pursed her lips and sighed. “Great. Witches? I thought people had parking fairies.”
“Not in the academy. Witches are scarier. They get rid of the other cars, frighten them off, you know?”
He did have a parking witch—or damned good luck. She was surprised at how close he got to her building.
He walked her there, and stepped inside with her. He saw the security guard and nodded in approval.
And, of course, he could leave her right there. She was obviously safe; her building had keyed entry and security! The push of a button summoned the police in the event of any trouble.
She found herself staring at him, waiting.
“Good building,” he told her.
“Thanks.”
She hesitated. She wanted to kick herself. She was standing here so casually—surely she was standing casually; surely she could speak casually!—but she didn’t want to let him go. Something was alive inside her, something burning, hot, shaking, nervous...something that made her feel as if she was in her teens again. She’d done very little except study and work over the past year, trying to struggle up from the strange void Henry’s death had created.
“Did you want to come up for...tea?” she finally ventured. “Or something stronger? And a view of Grace Church?” she asked. She had to sound like an idiot. “I’m keyed up tonight. I don’t know why. I keep thinking we should all be exhausted...”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Sure, I’d love to come up.”
“Oh! Um, great.” She turned and headed for the elevators, praying that her flushed face wouldn’t betray the way she suddenly longed to forget every propriety, every word, and just fall into his arms.
Preferably naked!
Chapter Five
“This place is incredible!” Micah said, looking around her loft. He glanced at her with a curious frown. “Did I miss something about you? You’re a trust fund baby?”
She laughed. “I happen to have an uncle who isn’t living here right now. He was a snow bird, but these days he’s spending most of his time in Florida. He’s had the place for fifty years, and I’m pretty sure his dad had it before him. They were both in construction, so they did a great job with the space. However, only in NYC, Tokyo, Mexico City and a few other cities around the globe would this be considered a big space. You must’ve tried to rent in New York at some point.”
He nodded, staring out the windows at Grace Church.
“I went to Brown, and then to Columbia University, so I lived here for a while,” he told her. He grinned drily. “I think I lived in a closet.”
“Ah, Columbia,” she murmured. “But you knew Henry at Brown, right?”
“Yep. I knew Henry. I went on to Columbia, where I was a grad student. I didn’t particularly intend to be an Egyptologist, but I was considering anthropology or archeology. And then...”
His voice trailed off. He shrugged and then turned to look at her again. “My senior year as an undergrad, a friend of mine was kidnapped. The FBI tracked down the kidnappers. My friend’s family was rich, and yes, they were going for a ransom. But...well, one of the guys admitted after they were caught that they hadn’t intended to let him live. I guess I kind of fell into a bit of hero worship for the FBI. So, I switched to criminology. I knew I wanted to do what those agents had done.”
“I’m sure you made a great choice. I know how Craig feels. Of course, my whole family worries about him, but we all believe he made a great decision.”
“Yeah. Sometimes, though, the bitter truth is that you lose, too. Things don’t always work out the way you want them to.”
“You didn’t lose with Henry. You were never in the fight,” Harley said quietly.
He nodded. “Yeah? Thanks. Well, I suppose I should get going.”
“I’m still wide-awake. Um...can I get you something to drink? I was going to make tea. Oh, it’s not decaffeinated. I mean, that’s never made much of a difference to me, but...”
“Caffeine. Sounds good.”
“Okay.”
She turned in her little kitchen area and put the kettle on. He perched on one of the bar stools. Facing her, he also faced the kitchen. Spinning around on any of the stools, you’d still have the great view of Grace Church. She waited for the water to boil, aware that he watched her as she got out mugs and tea bags.
She needed to let him go. And she needed to let go of her interest in him—emotional and physical!
“How’s it going with Officer Friendly?” she asked.
“McGrady?” he asked. “He’s kind of irrelevant. The powers that be have gotten the NYC office put in charge,” he told her. “Henry’s death may not be related to what happened at the opening ceremony, but on the other hand, it might have been. That makes this not just national but international, and luckily the FBI does work out of an office in Cairo. It was my first avenue of investigation last year when I heard about Henry. I wasn’t officially on the case, but I went to Cairo. I knew our guys would be sympathetic. This might be a terrible thing to say, but I think Detective McGrady might’ve been disappointed that he wound up with a live victim. He wanted a murder case.”
“You still have to deal with him, though?”
“Yes, but he’s not really interested now. Rydell’s a good guy, and he keeps apologizing for his partner. We haven’t made any complaints. We’re trying to keep it all copacetic.”
“Where would someone get nicotine for a poisoning like that? I gather the linens were soaked in it and only the fact that they got them off her so fast saved Vivian’s life, right?”
“Right.”
The kettle whistled, and Harley poured the water into two mugs. Their fingers nearly touched as she pushed his toward him, as they both dipped their tea bags in the hot water. She flushed, catching his eyes on her.
She really, really needed to let him go.
That or...
Give in. Spit out the truth that she was incredibly attracted to him. Totally inappropriate under the circumstances, but they were adults, after all. It could just be sex; she could handle that. And they could try to figure out what was going on between them after this case was solved.
“We have people looking into large purchases of nicotine, but—”
“Insecticide,” Harley interrupted, thinking of the most obvious place to buy commercial nicotine.
He sipped his tea and nodded. “I forgot. Research for an investigation agency is what you’ve been doing.”
“Part-time. I’ve been trying to sort out what to do with my career. And this job pays well.” She shrugged. “Only a few of the cases I’ve worked on have actually been criminal. Mostly civil suits. A lot of my time’s been spent monitoring bad behavior. People trying to get a relative to leave money to one person or another, husbands and wives behaving poorly and, very sadly, in one case that did become criminal—stopping a blood relative from preying on a young boy. The job’s been interesting, but I haven’t been sure what I want to do, which way I want to go. But since I met Kieran, I’ve come to like the psychology part. I think I’d like to get into profiling.”
“You certainly have the right degrees.”
“It all looks good on paper. I’d have to see how I do in practice.”
“Want to practice?” he asked her.
“What do you mean?”
He was suddenly very serious. “Think of all the people you know who were involved with the Amenmose expedition and exhibit. Who would have a reason to kill Henry? Was money ever an issue?”
&nb
sp; “Not that I know of—other than the fact that an archeologist’s prestige means more money the next time he or she wants to go out on a project. But I’m sure you’re aware of that.”
Harley realized she was leaning against the counter. He was seated in one of the stools, so that meant she was leaning closer and closer to him. Their fingers, wrapped around their mugs, were only inches away.
It was hardly champagne and strawberries.
It was...
She needed to move back.
“Ye olde process of elimination,” he murmured, apparently unaware of their closeness. “So, who can you eliminate?”
“Everyone!” Harley said.
He shook his head. “That won’t work. You most probably know the killer.”
“Any of the students would benefit from prestige. It would make a radical difference as far as their careers in Egyptology, archeology and anthropology are concerned,” Harley said. “It was impressive to work with a man like Henry, but to take his place would be even more impressive. Still...”
“Process of elimination,” he repeated, then abruptly stood up.
“I have to leave.”
“Oh. Okay. If you have to.”
“Yeah, I do.”
But he was still standing there. He smiled suddenly. “Yeah, I have to go,” he said again.
“You really don’t.”
His smile deepened. “I do.”
“Because I’m Craig’s cousin?”
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “Because you’re you. I don’t know what it is... I guess we can’t define attraction, but... Anyway, I’m being presumptuous, but—”
“No, actually, you’re not,” Harley broke in. She wondered how you could feel someone so completely when you weren’t even touching that person.