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
