Chapter 10

The British Museum

Several years earlier

Okay, this is…helpful, even if it makes my job harder." Landon smiled at Colette. "Who told you about this lock, and the key?"

"I don't want to get anyone into trouble." She looked around. "Actually, we shouldn't be in here." Colette grabbed Landon's arm and dragged him to the door. "We shouldn't be in this section of the museum at all."

Landon let her push him out, and when she nervously fumbled the key, he took it from her and locked the door. She went to tuck the key back under the rug, but he pulled out an evidence bag and put the key in it, before tucking it into his pocket.

"Evidence?" Her voice rose in panic. "Evidence of what? Am I going to jail? Or worse, am I losing my internship?" Colette grabbed him by the lapels and tried to shake him. "You better not get me fired."

He took her hands and gently pried them loose from his jacket. Once again there was a little tingle when they touched. "Colette, the key shouldn't be there. I'm going to talk to the museum director about this."

"Oh my god, I'm getting fired. Why did I show you this?" Her eyes were wide and luminescent behind her glasses.

Guilt bit at him. "You told me because you had information you thought the police needed."

Colette opened her mouth, closed it, then started walking away, her shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around her middle.

He felt like an ass.

Landon followed her, his longer legs eating up the meters. He was able to catch her at the security door, putting his hand on it before she could exit back into the public areas of the museum.

Colette spun to face him, her back pressed against the door, his hand braced near her shoulder.

"Colette, you just gave me probably the best lead I've gotten yet."

She ducked her head and wouldn't look at him.

"I really appreciate it."

She nodded once, still not looking up.

Fuck it.

Landon shifted his hand so it was above her head and leaned in, their bodies not quite touching. He notched two fingers under her chin and raised her face. Their gazes met, held, and there was a sharp intelligence and awareness in her eyes that seemed at odds with her distress and fumbling.

"I'll have to put your name in my notes, but the museum director won't see those. I won't tell them how I found out that a room I'm pretty sure was labeled as general storage is actually an unsecured photography work space containing artifacts."

Colette nodded, and the movement caused her lip to brush against his thumb.

They both froze at the contact. Then, slowly, Colette opened her mouth just enough he caught a glimpse of white teeth and a pink tongue.

He wanted to ask her to dinner. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't do it. He'd allowed himself to be inappropriate and unprofessional several times already. He was stressed to the breaking point, because this was the biggest case of his career, and it was damn-near unsolvable. Combine that with his failure to make it to the club, meant he'd had no emotional or physical outlet recently.

He could explain, maybe even justify, his actions…at least to himself. But objectively speaking, he shouldn't be doing this.

Still, Landon liked to think that he would have maintained professionalism despite the stress, if there hadn't been this spark of chemistry between them. Those first touches had forged a bond that solidified and thickened as they went on what had felt like a fun adventure, but was actually a grim discovery that was about to make his job harder.

He slid his thumb to the corner of her mouth and leaned in, wanting to feel her breath on his skin, and have her feel his in turn. Then he'd pull back. Any second now.

"Would you have dinner with me?" Colette whispered.

Landon grinned. "You asked."

She groaned. "I'm so sorry, Detective, I don't know?—"

"Landon."

"What?"

"Landon. Call me Landon. And I'm glad you asked. I wanted to ask you, but can't."

"Because I'm a suspect?" Her eyes were wide.

"Technically, yes, everyone is."

"Everyone who works at the museum?"

"At this point, everyone in London is a suspect."

Colette's lips curved, and she looked confident and sexy in that moment. He wanted to kiss her.

"Tonight. Seven." He didn't want to wait.

"There's a nice restaurant in the hotel on Little Russell Street."

"I'll see you there." Landon slid his thumb along her cheek, just to see how she'd react to being touched.

She swallowed hard as he dropped his hand from her face, then let his other hand slide down the door to the knob.

He stepped back, and she shifted to the side so he could open the door. Together they exited. Once back in the public part of the museum, Landon paused, gathering himself. He needed to prepare himself to confront the museum director about lying, because one way or anything, the director had lied. Either the man didn't know what was happening in his own museum, or he'd deliberately lied to cover up things he knew were, at the very least, poor security practices.

Landon looked over at Colette. There was an odd expression on her face. Probably worry about getting in trouble for talking to him.

He'd protect her. The museum director didn't have the right to know his sources, especially since right now the man was at the top of the suspect list.

"I'll see you tonight," he said in a low voice.

"Tonight."

* * *

Landon's gaze skimmed over the gorgeous woman in the red dress standing in the entrance to the restaurant, but didn't linger. Not that she wasn't stunning and worth looking at—but she wasn't the one he was waiting for.

Landon leaned to the side, trying to see out into the small hotel lobby. It was only six minutes past seven, so she was hardly late. It's just that he'd been here since six-thirty, having come straight from the museum, and with each passing moment the anticipation built to the point he had to actively work to keep his foot from jiggling.

The woman in the red dress was blocking his view of the door. It only got worse when she started walking towards him, her hips rolling with each step.

He flicked his gaze away from her, but there was something…

Landon looked back, brow furrowed.

The woman wore impossibly high black heels with a pointy toe and a little bow at the heel. Her legs were cream pale, her calf muscles lightly defined.

The hem of the red dress swished around her knees as she walked. It was form fitting from the hips up, the neckline a deep V that showed off the inner curves of her breasts. A diamond choker hugged her neck, and her dark hair was loose in perfect waves in a style that made him think of old Hollywood movies.

She stopped by his table, holding a small black clutch nervously in both hands. It was the way she held her purse that made him blink and say, "Colette?"

"Hi, Landon."

The nervous way she held her purse was the most recognizable thing about her, as it mimicked the way she'd held the precious list she'd created for him.

Everything else about her was different.

Landon shot to his feet, nearly tipping over his chair. He caught it, clearing his throat as he turned to face her.

She was grinning, and it lit up her face.

"You…wow. You look incredible."

"Thank you."

Landon quickly moved to the other side of the table, pulling out her chair. He hoped he wasn't being obvious as he studied her, stunned by how different she looked.

It wasn't just that the formfitting dress revealed her figure to be different than what he'd imagined—though her ass looked even better in the dress than it had in the pants. Her face looked different, more of a heart shape than it had been earlier in the day, and without her glasses her eyes looked bigger.

They'd been thick-looking glasses, so that fact that she looked different without them wasn't a surprise. As for the different face shape, she was probably wearing makeup. What was it called…contour?

But it wasn't just physical—the woman who walked across the restaurant seemed more confident and mature than the person he'd met.

He took his seat, studying her face. She smiled, but it started to fade the longer he stared at her.

Shit, he was an ass.

He scrubbed his hand over his own face. "Sorry, long day."

"Did…did you tell the director about the room? And the key?" Her anxious expression was more familiar than that smile had been.

"I did. But I didn't mention you."

"Thank you. I really don't want to lose my internship."

"Are you hoping to get hired at the museum, after?"

"I was, before, but I'm a little…disillusioned." She frowned down at the drink menu she was holding. "I have been for a while."

"I used to love the museum as a kid," he said softly. "I thought it was the most impressive place on earth. This peek behind the curtain hurts."

"I know exactly what you mean. For them to not even know eight hundred items went missing…"

It was actually five hundred, not eight, but he didn't correct her. He was sure that gossip among the museum employees was rampant, and the few facts that he'd allowed out were being exaggerated and distorted.

They ordered drinks—a champagne cocktail for her, a gin and tonic for him, and a cheese board to share.

They talked about museums, steering away from the theft and their disappointment in the British Museum, to instead talk about their favorite museums and interesting exhibits they'd seen. She was articulate, knowledgeable, and well traveled. He could imagine her as a professor of some kind.

A sexy professor.

He wondered if she had her glasses in her purse, and what she'd look like wearing those and nothing else.

The conversation lulled as they ate cheese with fancy jam and cured meats, but it was a comfortable silence.

At one point, she put her hands on her lap, head bowed slightly.

"You okay?" he asked.

She looked up. "I know I probably shouldn't ask you this, but do you think the thief is someone who works at the museum?"

Yes, he did think that.

Her brow was creased with worry. "Is it someone I know?"

"I can't discuss details about the case, or suspects."

She nodded once.

"Did someone say something that made you think they might be involved?" He tried to keep his tone light.

"No. I was just thinking about it and trying to figure it out." She looked up, wincing in a self-deprecating way. "I probably read too many mysteries."

He would never ask her to spy on her co-workers, but he did say, "If you hear anything, will you let me know?"

"Of course!"

"Don't go asking questions," he warned.

"How did you know I was planning to do that?" Her disgruntled tone was ridiculously cute.

He laughed softly, and she slumped in exaggerated disappointment. The motion pulled his attention to the deep V of her dress, and the lovely inner curves of her breasts.

When he looked up, she was watching him, and an understanding passed between them, the mood shifting from teasing to electric.

Colette rested her fingertips against the base of her throat, then let them trail down her chest to trace the edge of the fabric.

Landon's cock went rock hard in his pants.

"If you want to make it through dinner, you'll stop that."

Her eyes widened slightly at his low, growling command, and he cursed, telling himself to calm down and rein it in.

"And what if…" Her gaze touched his face, his shoulders, his hand where it rested on the tabletop. "What if I don't want to make it through dinner?"