bender. The man is a menace and for the life of me I can’t understand why the museum keeps him on staff.”
Finn couldn’t hold back the smile as he opened his office door, standing back so she could walk in first. “So that means you have no interest in attending his launch party this evening?”
Rowan turned on her heel, the move as smooth as her near-pirouette in the lab. “Launch party?”
“He holds one before every major project starts.”
“You party with the man?”
“Hardly. I have about as much respect for him as you do, perhaps less since I was called in by the prime minister to mediate that little Iranian situation he created. But I’m a firm believer in that old adage.”
Her eyebrows arched over those fierce blue eyes, that sharp gaze sexy as hell. “Let me guess. ‘Keep your friends close’?”
Finn nodded, an image of Baxter Monroe firmly in his mind’s eye. “‘And your enemies closer.’”
* * *
Rowan glanced around her well-appointed hotel suite as the bellman made quick work of her bags. She had to give Finn Gallagher credit, the man did know how to impress. Her suite at the Savoy was subtly appointed, yet it spoke of wealth and influence. It was also eminently practical, since Monroe was holding his launch party here at the hotel.
She’d had the requisite twinges of guilt at not informing her grandparents she’d be in town, but had tamped down on them at the evidence Finn expected her time on the job to include evening events.
She tipped the bellman and ushered him out before turning her attention toward the evening’s events. The concept of a launch party stuck in her stomach like a ball of lead, but she willed it aside. The event had no bearing on the serious work that should be taking place in the Valley of the Queens, but it would do what Finn had suggested.
Allow her to size up her enemy.
The fact the event was a social one and on Baxter Monroe’s turf was a small side benefit, guaranteed to make him relaxed and approachable. The very daring neckline of the gown she’d brought with her was another plus and she knew she had another weapon in her arsenal.
The phone buzzed from the depths of her oversize purse and Rowan dug it out, pleased she caught it in time before the caller went to voice mail. “Hey, big sis. You checking up on me?”
“Of course.” Kensington’s tone was sharp and matter-of-fact. Rowan couldn’t keep the smile from blooming on her face as she imagined her sister seated behind her ruthlessly organized desk. “I wanted to see how your meeting went with Gallagher.”
“The man can do his own carbon dating. I practically had an orgasm in his lab just thinking about it.”
“Don’t you think you should save that until you know him a bit better?”
Rowan did laugh at her sister’s dry tone before she outlined all that she’d learned while visiting Gallagher International. “So tonight’s a party with the museum crew.”
“I won’t even ask your feelings on that. You may be three thousand miles away, but your voice drips with loathing and a scathing disdain I can only admire.”
“It’s an archaeological dig, for Pete’s sake, not a party. The fact Monroe’s even throwing one is further proof of what a world-class jerk he is.”
“Yes, but you will mingle and be charming.”
Rowan fought the urge to grit her teeth. “Am I anything but?”
“Did you bring a dress?”
“Yes, I brought a dress.”
“Because I told you to.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Wait! Rowan, please.” When she hesitated, Kensington pushed on. “Be careful tonight. Something’s felt a little off about this from the first.”
“You don’t trust Finn?”
“We don’t know him to trust him. But I do know I don’t trust the situation.”
“I hardly think I’m in much danger attending a party at the Savoy.”
“Just stay sharp.”
The urge to tease her sister or tell her to quit the melodramatic directives was high, but something held Rowan back. Whether it was a sixth sense or something else, she didn’t know, but the light brush of nerves along her spine had agreement rising up in her tone. “I will.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too, Ken-zoo.” The tease was nearly as old as she was, a funny back-and-forth she had had with her sister since they were small. Another wave of nerves layered over the first as they disconnected the call, and Rowan fought to shake it off.
There was nothing to be worried about. Nothing at all.
* * *
Rowan was still trying to convince herself of that an hour later as she wended her way through the lobby of the Savoy toward a small gathering room chosen for the party. While Kensington had the sisterly ability to mix smug satisfaction with older-sibling order giving, Rowan had to admit the snug black cocktail dress she now wore in place of her plum suit was an inspired last-minute packing choice.
A packing choice she’d have overlooked had it not been for her sister, she admitted to herself as she came to a stop inside the entryway.
The same lush accommodations she’d experienced upstairs were even more impressive here. Various servers circulated through the room, their trays full of champagne or canapés. The crowd stood in elegant conversation circles, evidenced by the muted hum of voices that rose up around her as she moved farther into the room.
“Ms. Steele,” a low voice whispered in her ear, a split second after she’d felt the sheer heft of his body sidle up against hers. “You look beautiful this evening.”
“Thank you.” The words nearly stuck in her throat as she caught full sight of Finn Gallagher in a crisp black suit. Broad shoulders filled up her gaze as she turned to face him and once again she was struck by the incredible vision he made.
He had nearly flawless features; the only criticism she could even muster up was that they were almost too sharp—too harsh—to be handsome. Yet even as she thought it, her conscience fought her, reminding her it was that very trait that screamed masculine perfection.
She could picture him in the jungle just as easily as she saw him in the designer suit that covered his impressive form. Regardless of the situation—rugged or refined—both telegraphed the exact same thing. Finn Gallagher would be a formidable opponent.
A man who inevitably got what he came for.
And why did the suddenly delicious thought flutter through her mind that she would love to be the object of that intense focus?
She’d been raised around strong men. Both her father and her
