She rose to her feet and waved a vague hand over the floor. “I was looking for—you know.”
“We’re in the right place,” he said without elaboration. Under a long, tall narrow table holding an exquisite bust of Queen Something or other, Thorne had already spotted the place on the carpet where the tassel had been removed.
He was no expert, but he’d bet his next paycheck that the bust, along with the rest of the beautifully curated items in the room, was the real deal, and that Isis was correct. Everything should be in the museum.
“Come, sit down and drink some tea; it’ll cool you off.” Thorne never trusted that he wasn’t being bugged or recorded. He gave her a meaningful look, and she navigated the furniture without further comment.
He felt his phone vibrate once. The research people in London were fast and top-notch. He scanned the closely spaced text, then deleted the information, returning the phone to his front pocket. They had found no connection between Magee and Dr. Khalifa Najid. No meetings were recorded, no clandestine midnight encounters witnessed.
And yet Thorne had the tassel from this very carpet in his pocket.
Isis poured the hot, strong tea. “Milk or lemon?” When he indicated his choice, she added milk and tonged a couple of cubes of sugar into his cup before handing it over to him. The fragrance of her skin, an erotic combination of cinnamon and perspiration, made his mouth water and his pulse kick. Her face and throat had a damp sheen and looked as silky and soft as dewy rose petals. Thorne found he didn’t have to have eyes on her to be turned on. Just the humid, spicy, Isis-scented perfume of her turned his dick to stone.
He sipped the tea he didn’t want.
Picking up her own filled cup she sat down gingerly on the white sofa nearby, cradling her saucer in both hands, her orange T-shirt loud and cheerful in the muted décor.
Ignoring the tantalizing smell of her, turning a blind eye to the way the light stroked her skin with a pearly sheen, Thorne asked, “What business would the professor have with the Minister of Irrigation and Water Resources, do you suppose?”
“Water resources?” Her eyes widened in surprise before she shrugged and pushed her glasses up her nose. A line of perspiration outlined the leather strap between her breasts, and her hair, absorbing the humidity, had doubled in volume. She looked damp, rumpled, and sexy as hell. “I can’t think of a thing. Unless he was a sponsor, or had some kind of issue with the dig. My father tended to stay away from anyone official whenever possible.” Her tone was dry.
“Mr. Thorne. How may I be of service?”
Thorne had heard the sibilant footsteps and was aware the man stood just outside the door. Thorne waited until their host came fully into the room before he placed his cup on a nearby table and rose to his feet.
Even if he didn’t recognize Najid from the small photograph he’d just seen on his iPhone, he’d have known this man was not only wealthy, but incredibly powerful just by his bearing, which was very similar to that of the Earl. His charcoal suit was Savile Row, his highly polished dress shoes Tanino Crisci, his watch Chopard. His black beard was neatly trimmed and his dark eyes too black to read.
“Thank you for meeting with us at such short notice, Minister,” Thorne said easily, his limp intentionally more pronounced as he walked forward, hand extended to greet their host.
Najid’s handshake was firm and quick. “Unfortunately, I do not have the luxury of much time to converse. I must return to my office for a meeting. How may I be of service?”
Thorne extended his arm to include Isis in the conversation. Najid had not so much as flickered an eyelash in her direction. She might as well be invisible. “This is Isis Magee, Professor Magee’s daughter. She’s tracing her father’s footsteps in his search for Cleopatra’s tomb and thought you might be able to assist her with any information you may have.”
“I have heard of Professor Magee, of course. But there has been no discovery of Queen Cleopatra’s tomb by him or anyone else, to my knowledge.”
“Was the discovery of the tomb something you discussed with my father when he visited you in the spring?” Isis asked tightly. Thorne curled his fingers around her shoulder in warning.