holiday gathering with friends and colleagues from the university. Landau had been younger then, with thick, dark hair and a smooth, youthful face, but the eyes were the same—deep chocolate brown with a hint of mystery. And he hadn’t been alone that night. He’d been with…a woman. A dark-haired siren with an accent. European, on some kind of…exchange.
Lisa’s brow creased as she sorted through her mental files. She’d been invited that night because she’d worked with Doug on several projects, not because she’d been his lover. No one associated with the university had known about their relationship. He’d made perfectly clear it wasn’t to get out. And like the desperate and naïve girl she’d been, she’d gone along with it because she’d been blinded by love. A love he’d never once returned, not even after he’d learned she was pregnant. Not even when he’d reluctantly agreed to marry her.
Someday. Down the road. After he found his treasure.
A wave of sickness rolled through her stomach, leaving behind a hollow ache she didn’t expect after all these years. She pressed a hand against her abdomen and felt the loss as strongly as on the day it had happened.
Tears threatened to fall, tears she hadn’t shed in almost fifteen years. She drew in a sharp breath, blew it out slowly and willed her mind away from the memories.
She wouldn’t let it wreck her. Never again.
She waited while Landau chatted with the group around him. Snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, she sipped and pretended to be interested in a nearby conversation, all the while keeping an eye on their host. When his small group broke up and he started toward the rest of the crowd, she stepped forward.
A smile curled his lips when he caught sight of her, his eyes taking a long sweep of her gown. She bit back the victory smile teasing her mouth. The dress had done its job, on more than one front.
She held out her free hand. “I was hoping I’d get the chance to say hello. You’re a wanted man.”
Landau brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently. “I’m glad you did, Ms.…”
“Maxwell. Dr. Maxwell.”
Recognition flickered in his mocha irises. “Not Dr. Lisa Maxwell, the archaeologist?”
Bingo.
She smiled her sweetest grin. “That’s me.”
His smile widened. “Well, now I’m the one who’s glad he got the chance to say hello. I didn’t realize you’d be here, Dr. Maxwell.”
“I have a confession to make.” She leaned in close. “I wasn’t exactly invited, but when I heard of the event, I had my assistant contact the gallery and arrange for an invite. I’m something of a Greek-history buff.”
“Really? I never would have guessed that.” Male admiration flashed in his eyes. “I’m certainly glad you did. I read your recent article in Archaeological Digest about your success in the South Pacific last year. The artifacts you recovered from the wreckage of the Matador were quite amazing.”
The man was thorough, and well connected. She had a strong hunch he knew of every major find on the planet. “Yes, it was a remarkable dig to be involved with.”
“Tell me, the part about it raining when you brought up the Mayan replica of Chac, the god of rain—was that true?”
She nodded. “Very. The day it was lifted the skies opened, and we were caught in a torrential downpour.” She saw the flash of interest in his eyes. “A coincidence, really. Afternoon storms are somewhat common there. But it did make for an interesting story for the article.”
“I’ll say. I was riveted, reading of your adventures.”
“I wouldn’t call them adventures. Just part of my job.”
“Hmm.” He stepped close enough so she could smell his spicy aftershave. His licentious gaze flicked over her face and lingered on her eyes. She didn’t miss the flash of curiosity. “Have we met before? I rarely forget a face.”
She drew in a short breath as a memory flashed, one of Doug and Landau arguing in his study. The night of the party…just months before Doug had left on his search. And just months before his plane crashed. She knew she couldn’t mention Doug’s name without setting Landau on guard and prompting questions she had no intention of answering. “I’ve been asked that before. I must have one of those faces.”
A wicked grin curled his lips. “Unforgettable.”
He stepped closer, wrapped his hand around her upper arm and turned her toward the crowd. “I would very much like you to meet some friends of mine. And later,” he