I forgive my humans. They’ve been worried about me, and as I know from experience, it’s tough to relax and have fun when you’re worried about someone you love.
The truth is, a midnight curfew sounds sort of good. I’m worn out. All I really have left to do is to make sure Amelia Corbet arrives in Alexandria safely, and that Mauve meets her and tells her that Beth is safe and happily on her way to wedded bliss in the desert.
Beth wanted to wait for Amelia to arrive. She wanted her “sister” to be with her for the wedding. But the Moon of Con was only six days off, and she had to hustle to get to the lost city for the ceremony during the full moon. It was important to Omar, a tradition of his people for many centuries. So now it’s up to Mauve to convince Amelia that all is well with Beth and that her “sister” had chosen wisely in marrying a desert sheik.
I would have adored seeing this mystical marriage ceremony, but someone had to come back to the city and tie up the loose ends. Besides, as I’ve mentioned, I have a small responsibility not to worry my humanoids more than is absolutely necessary. Beth and Omar are fine. It’s time for me to put a little effort into Peter and Eleanor.
I can’t help but wonder, though, if Beth will continue with her research. She’s a talented archeologist and anthropologist, and her theory about the great Con was right on target.
She came to Egypt to prove that Con was one of the most powerful females in history, and she did that. The question is, will she publish her research and risk exposing Omar’s protected heritage, or will she keep the secret?
I guess time will tell. For now, though, I see a big Pan-Am bird circling the airport and heading for a landing strip. Amelia should be on this flight. So where is Mauve? I don’t see a sign of the redhead. Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice would say. Mauve struck me as someone who would do what she said she’d do. She said she’d meet Amelia, explain the situation and make sure Amelia didn’t spend a moment worrying. I suppose I’ll have to figure out a way to detain Ms. Corbet until Mauve gets here.
The passengers are disembarking. Beth said Amelia is her exact opposite. Tall, blond vivacious and tough as nails. And there she is! Wow! She looks as if she walked right off a Paris runway. And I can just hear Nancy Sinatra in the background singing, “These boots are made for walking.” Amelia Corbet acts as though she could walk over General Patton. Beth wasn’t exaggerating when she said the woman she grew up with and considers her adopted sister is nothing like herself. Let me swagger on over and check out this babe up close.
AMELIA WAS TIRED, gritty, annoyed and sick with worry as she exited the plane and stepped into a gate area of the Alexandria airport. The hot Egyptian summer air smacked into her hard. She hated heat. She hated the sun. She hated the fear that made her stomach feel as if someone had punched her.
Beth wasn’t the kind of person to send cryptic messages or play games. Her adopted sister was in real trouble.
Amelia pulled her suitcase behind her. Long ago she’d learned to pack light and never check a bag. Customs was going to take long enough—she had no intention of wasting precious time in baggage claim. She had to find her sister and make certain Beth was okay, and then she had to get on to Paris.
The public relations/advertising firm where she was a senior vice president had just won the coveted French account of Momante, producer of the world’s most sensual perfume. Amelia was personally handling the entire campaign. It was a plum of an assignment, and she’d scrapped hard to get it. Once Beth was safe, Amelia’d be on her way to a country that understood the finer things in life, such as perfume, chocolate, champagne and men who knew how to make a woman feel like a woman.
After her latest breakup—she’d known better than to let things with the GQ model get serious—she needed a man who was more intrigued by his woman’s appearance than by his own. She chuckled softly to herself at the irony of her situation. Roberto, with his dark Latino charm and eyes that could summon a look of passion on cue, had been as much fun as an egomaniac could be. But it had ended badly, and Amelia had made a solemn vow not to let another man close to her heart.
Amelia’s hand went to the necklace at her throat, her slender fingers catching the gold scarab. It had arrived by special courier only moments before she got in the cab to head to the airport. The urgent arrival of this package, so soon after the package full of strange photographs Beth had sent her, had increased Amelia’s fear for her sister. The note from Beth had asked her to wear the necklace prominently so that Amelia could be identified.
Identified by whom? First there was the packet from Beth with the disk, the photos and the word Merlin—their private childhood code for danger. Then she’d got another urgent message from Mauve Parker saying Beth was in danger.
And where, exactly, was Beth?
Stuffed in Amelia’s suitcase were the strange photographs of what looked like some ancient and indecipherable language. It was a combination of scratches and pictures that gave Amelia a headache every time she studied it. She didn’t have to strain her imagination to see Beth poring over the pictures, delight evident.
Beth had always been the one who preferred math equations, puzzles, measuring things and making them fit. Beth was the detail person, the perfectionist. Amelia was all action and no introspection.
And that was just the way she liked her life. Fast, busy and exciting.
She scanned the airport, halting so abruptly that a man walking behind her actually stumbled into her. She felt a sharp sting in the back of her neck as she regained her balance.
“I’m sorry,” Amelia said, her hand still fingering the pendant she wore on her neck. The man’s eyes locked on the medallion and then slid up her face. Her neck was burning.
“No need to apologize,” he said in only slightly accented English. He brushed past her and was gone.
Amelia searched the airport, her blue gaze moving from one unfamiliar face to another. Everyone was bustling about as if they knew exactly where they were going. And there were cats everywhere! She frowned as she realized that cats were lounging on chairs, sleeping in the sun that shafted in through the windows, and trotting along the concourses. The felines had taken over the airport, and no one seemed to notice.
A large black cat began to rub on her leg. Amelia sidestepped. “Shoo!” she said. She didn’t particularly like cats. They were arrogant and demanding. Nothing like her J.J., the Jack Russell and whippet mix that she’d rescued from the pound.
She started to walk forward, still a little puzzled as to why someone wasn’t waiting for her. To her surprise, the cat snagged her black leather boots with a sharp claw.
“Hey!” she said, trying to shake free. When he wouldn’t retract his claws, she looked around for help. Not a single person would even look in her direction.
“Release me,” she said to the cat, aware that he was staring right into her eyes as if he had something to tell her.
“Ms. Corbet?”
The voice was low, dark and compelling. Amelia forgot the cat as she turned to confront the man who’d spoken to her.
“Yes, I’m Amelia Corbet. And you are?” She put out her hand. A wave of dizziness came out of nowhere and smacked into her. The hand she’d extended pressed against the handsome stranger’s chest as she tried to block her fall. Her body was suddenly completely out of control. She tried to speak, but her throat had grown sluggish and thick. Her tongue couldn’t
