She’d always been his weakness.
The one woman who made the hard choices even more difficult.
Whenever he saw her, all of the sacrifices he’d made seemed to make so much less sense.
“Tell me why you’re here and maybe I can help,” he said hastily, because his thoughts were going in too many forbidden directions at once.
“You think I trust you enough to ask for your help?” The look of contempt on her face nearly stopped his heart from beating.
Of course she didn’t trust him. Not after what he’d done to her.
Hellfire, he wouldn’t trust himself if they met on the street. He’d think:That man’s an overly confident jackass. What’s he hiding?
The cover he’d constructed to hide his clandestine activities had become all too believable.
Mercenary fortune hunter. Notorious adventurer-rogue. Drunkard.
The more despicable he acted, the more his celebrity grew. There were those who even wanted him to become the next president of the Society of Antiquities.
And someone as brilliant as Indy had to resort to impersonating a man to attend a meeting.
It was so wrong.
“You’re like a bad case of indigestion, Ravenwood. Always ruining my fun.”
“And you’re a pain in my arse, Indy. You know you could be thrown in prison for... this.” He waved at her costume. “I’d prefer that your slender neck stayed free of a noose.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“Our professional rivalry doesn’t mean I want to see you arrested.”
“Admit it.” Her gaze sharpened. “You enjoy our rivalry.”
He would never admit it, but it was true. He anticipated their next meeting with a nameless emotion halfway between pain and pleasure.
He could no more ignore her then he could cut off his hand. Cut out his heart.
He couldn’t have her for a friend, or a lover, so he took what he could get. If enmity were all he could have of her, he’d battle to the bitter end.
She was the most brilliant, complicated, vexing, and gorgeous woman in the world.
He craved her as a drunkard craved wine. As a stray cur craved a bone.
He rationed out his glimpses of her. Kept count of them in a journal. He even had a code name for her, as though she were another secret agent.
Minervaattended my lecture on Roman mythology at the Museum today. I was saying how they borrowed an entire pantheon from the Greeks and she interrupted and pointed out that the Romans had Janus, the god of beginnings and endings, the god with two faces. When she spoke about two faces she gave me the most cutting look. The lady is a weapon.
“I’d better go back to the meeting and you’d better leave,” he said in a rush, to stem his thoughts. His mind had taken another wrong turn.Refocus. Regain control.
“You go back to the meeting,” she said. “Let me stay a few minutes and I promise I’ll leave quietly.”
“Can’t do that. I’m sworn to protect these premises.”
She heaved a sigh. “You had to choose this particular time to return to London. Where have you been these past months?”
“Greece. It’s lovely there this time of year.”
“Typical Ravenwood. Lounging on the beach while your agents negotiate for stolen antiquities.”