even when he deserved it, when she had withheld what might be relevant information. Now who was the ass?
“Thorne—I—Those men—The accident. The ambush. I think they might be the same men who attacked my father. I’m sorry. I had no idea I’d be bringing you into danger. Not that you weren’t amazing at defending us. But now that you’re in danger I think you should go back to London, or Seattle. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
He raised a dark brow that spoke volumes.
Her cheeks heated. She didn’t want him to go. But she had no right to ask him to stay. He could’ve been killed tonight. She could’ve been killed tonight. She walked farther into the room, but he didn’t follow her, so she went back to where he stood reflected in the mirrored doors of the closet. One Connor Thorne was enough for any woman. Two was overkill.
She stuck her hands in the deep pockets of the robe and forced herself to maintain eye contact. Confessions sucked, especially when she was the one in the wrong. “I think those men might have been after me. You were in the way, which is why you took the brunt of the attack.” Guilt gave her a pain in her midsection as she considered what happened from this point of view. Not random. Deliberate. Her fault.
Isis saw her too-big eyes, huge in in her pale face, reflected beside him. Her wet hair was slicked back off her face and moisture dribbled down her throat, tickling her skin. Thorne said nothing. He towered over her petite frame, and even though he was only a foot or so taller, he was big, broad, and incredibly masculine.
“My father didn’t make up his attack—I think even you have to believe that after tonight.” Not an ounce of empathy was evident on Thorne’s face as she spoke. “I’m not going to let a bunch of thugs scare me off. I’ll hire some bodyguards. Tonight’s events convince me more than ever that my father found Cleo’s tomb—” She sucked a painful breath into her aching chest.
God. What a mess. What a scary, insane mess.
“Someone wants to discredit him. And now I think those men knew I was here to find it—”
“Before you confess to masterminding the entire attack yourself”—he paused and sent her a look verging on kind—“this is Cairo. It’s possible the attackers followed two rich Europeans from the airport with the express intention of robbing us.”
“What thieves would go to that much trouble to attack two tourists? I’m not dripping in diamonds, and you…” She waved her hand at his nice but not too nice black-on-black ensemble. She stumbled over her words and caught herself from calling him gorgeous out loud. “Or, we could be close to uncovering a clue to the whereabouts of the tomb, and those people were sent to stop us,” Isis insisted stubbornly, distracted by the path his eyes were taking as he followed a drop of water that trickled from her hair down her throat.
“Stop us from—what exactly?” He put his hand on the door handle and gave her a politely inquiring look that held a trace of heat. “Arriving at the airport and taking a quick drive through the souk?”
She cinched the belt around her waist and wished she’d ignored her repugnance to re-dress in the bathroom. Even though she was decently covered from throat to ankles, she knew that he knew she was naked underneath.
“My father was well-known here. At one point his reputation was unimpeachable. People know the name Magee. Many people in antiquities know me, or at least my name. Maybe they’ve been watching the airport to see if my father came back. You have to at least entertain the idea that we’re on to something, and those men may have tried to stop us from getting close to the tomb.”
“I’ll add the info to my list.” Thorne’s gaze was fixed on her mouth.
Was he actually listening to her, or just looking? The terry cloth abraded her nipples as she shifted. “You have a list?” He was sex on a stick, Isis thought, annoyed with herself. It was impossible to concentrate on what was important when her body was hyperaware of him all the time. She wished there was an off switch for a few hours so she could think straight. “What kind of list?”
His warm hand slid under her hair and his fingers closed around her nape without him seeming to