Heather Graham (22 page)

The servant left her at the finely carved door to the office. Alex thanked him, then paused a second with her hand on the brass knob.

She was in her own clothing this evening, but something had led her to follow custom to a degree. She wore a floor-length dress with long, flowing sleeves and a high Chinese collar. Her hair was free, and feminine vanity had compelled her to shampoo it thoroughly with a scented lotion left her in the bathroom. She had enjoyed the whirlpool with its warm scented oil too, and at the moment she knew she looked her best. Her hair was very light over the blue silk of the gown, and she had dispensed with any makeup, feeling certain that the desert sun had colored her cheeks naturally.

Why, she wondered fleetingly, had she taken such great pains? Because of D’Alesio, and because, she admitted, of her own ego. In a matter of days they had become intensely involved. But as intense as the days had been—and as intense as they might become—there had to be a future, and a day of reckoning. Dan had often been the subject of a number of columns in the pages of various newspapers and magazines, always linked with a different and beautiful woman. And he was, she was certain, as electrically attractive to other women as he was to her. He was too vibrant, too vital, too ruggedly
male
not to be!

And she did still love Wayne, didn’t she? When this strange Arabian world was in the past, she would come back to earth and know that her life must go on. She would, she was sure, find Wayne in Egypt. And she would explain merely that it had been absolutely necessary to rely upon Dan D’Alesio. If there was anything to explain … well, she simply wouldn’t explain. She was a little ashamed of herself for wanting the intimacy she had bargained for, but she was also—when she was not busy chastising herself—a little defiant. Wayne had been sleeping God knew where; she owed herself an outside affair. Kelly had been right about one thing—Wayne had been the only man she had ever known. Wasn’t it only just that she too should discover something else of the sexual world?

Just? If she loved Wayne, why was she worried about justice? It was a childish emotion. But it was there. Because she wanted D’Alesio. Because his dark eyes gave her shivers, because his laugh could make her feel as if she had been warmed by a fire. Because he could irritate beyond reason, but ride across the desert on a black stallion when the going got rough.

“Alex? Are you all right?”

She had stood outside the door for so long that it had suddenly swung open. Ali was staring at her with soulful Arabian eyes full of concern.

“I’m, ah, fine,” she murmured, smiling weakly and sailing on into the room as if she hadn’t been standing as still and blank-eyed as a statue at the door.

Dan, staring out at the garden from a long, slatted window as she had been, turned to her as she entered the room. He smiled as he saw her, his hands clasped idly behind his back. She was such an enigma, such a fascinating woman of contradictions. He remembered unwrapping her from her blanket cocoon and being certain that she was going to give him holy hell. But she had been dignified and subdued, apologizing sweetly for having put them all in danger. She had simply been so terrified, bound in a tent that belonged to Haman. Her shudder had been very eloquent. He had longed to take her into his arms and assure her that he would protect her forever.

But it hadn’t been the right time or the right place, and she might easily have thought him a bit crazy. But it had been nice to ride back together; she had sat before him on the magnificent black Arabian stallion, and her back had pressed comfortably against his chest for the entire journey. He had never felt such vast tenderness for a woman—any woman.

Upon their return he had taken a single glance at her delicate features and seen the purple smudges beneath her eyes. “Do you know what you’re going to do?” he had demanded.

“Well, I’m not taking another bath!” she had declared emphatically.

“No.” Dan had laughed. “You’re going to bed. But maybe you should take a bath. You do have the slight aroma of sheep about you!”

She had been indignant to hear that she had been worth only fifteen camels because of her age, but she had laughed when Dan had assured her he could have demanded a score of stallions if she’d only been a young virgin.

“Sorry,” she had informed him with a quirk of humor. “I’m afraid I was very normally married.”

And then she sobered and asked him about their deal. He had wanted to tell her that he would never do anything to hurt her.

His smile deepened as he watched her now. When he had crawled in beside her last night; he had noticed that she had taken another bath and that she smelled deliciously of jasmine.

“Sit down, Alex,” he told her softly as Ali led her into the room. She did so, curling her feet beneath her as she gracefully sank to one of the lush pillows on the floor.

His heartbeat quickened as he watched her. Last night he had lain awake in agony, held in check by his own whirling emotions. He didn’t think he could bear another night without touching her, yet he knew he couldn’t force her to keep their bargain. Still, he believed she felt the same sexual current that he did. Despite her independence and quick temper and wit, he was certain that she was as compelled as he. Watching her now, he couldn’t help but believe that she had dressed to please him. Her hair appeared as gold silk against the gown, which was concealing and yet suggestive. Her head was lowered, but he could see the quick rise and fall of her breasts and he had to fight back a primitive urge to trounce Ali out of the room and attack her then and there, baring those full ripe breasts to his view and touch.

“We’re going to tell you all that we know and what we think should be done now,” he said aloud, walking across the room and sitting on another plush pillow that had been drawn near hers on the rug.

Ali joined them and sat on the third pillow. “Wait until our meal has been served,” he cautioned.

Dan nodded. They were quiet until a turbaned man and a veiled woman had brought in a tray with rice, aromatic lamb shish kebabs and a light-looking salad of several kinds of lettuce.

Dan could barely smell the food. She was scented again with sensual bath oils that also carried subtly through the air that natural feminine scent that was hers alone, unique, fascinating, compelling, hypnotic, stirring … Capable of driving him right up a wall.

They were alone. Ali fixed the plates, and Dan began talking. “We know that your father left the country. Zaid was able to tell us from where he had hired his plane, and we found the pilot. He entered Egypt at Luxor. From there we—we don’t know. But we also learned from Zaid that your father knew someone was following him. Before he made his phone call—before he wrote his letter.”

“And,” Ali said quietly, swallowing a piece of his lamb before continuing, “I believe I know why your father was determined that you find me through Dan.”

Alex had been having a difficult time fighting the spell of the man so close beside her. She had barely tasted her food, and only the fact that they spoke of her father kept her senses from total abandon.

“Why?” she asked, suddenly springing full swing into logic.

“Because of the puzzle pieces. I think your father intended you to go ahead with the expedition.”

“But I—I don’t know where the tomb is! Jim didn’t tell me what he had discovered, only that he was convinced he knew where it had to be through his research. And it still might not have been that easy for him to find it. The desert has changed in three thousand years. There could be mountains of sand—”

“Alex,” Dan interrupted quietly, “obviously your father did know something. Something that someone else considered priceless. Enough to perhaps send your father into hiding.”

He had left out the obvious. Enough to kill for.

Alex was glad that he had. As long as she could believe Jim was only in hiding or perhaps being held prisoner somewhere, she was okay. She couldn’t imagine any other possibility. A shudder rippled through her, and she turned to Dan.

“I still don’t understand.”

“Listen, Alex,” Dan said tensely, “Jim made a point of calling you—at a time when it was next to impossible to make a call—to tell you that you had the puzzle pieces. He also forewarned you that in the event of trouble, you were to get to Ali—through me.

Neither of us had even known of your existence until you arrived. But he knew us; he knew Ali would support the endeavor, he knew that I would see it through with you. It doesn’t make me particularly happy, but I think it’s obvious Jim intended you to take over his expedition.”

Alex frowned. “Why does it make you unhappy?”

Dan hesitated a moment, scowling darkly. “Because a woman is trouble.”

“I am not trouble—”

“Two sheikhdoms almost went to war over you,” he reminded her bluntly.

“But it’s not my fault Haman is a sick old lecherous man—”

“Hey! Hey!” Ali interrupted. With a wry smile he added, “No squabbling, children. Take advice from a man who has managed to find peace with four wives. The past is best left alone. Alex, blond beauty can make you a very dangerous lady. Dan, we have made our decisions, and the past is the past. We must go forward from here.”

“Yeah,” Dan said dryly. But he spoke to Alex matter-of-factly again. “Okay, you don’t know where the tomb is. But you do have the puzzle pieces. Think you can find what Jim was after?”

“I suppose it’s possible,” she said slowly, and then excitement rose in her voice. “If anyone can think like Jim, it has to be me.”

“Precisely!” Ali agreed.

“And,” Dan added dryly, “as soon as we reach Cairo, we announce that we are replanning the expedition.”

“Which in a way,” Ali said unhappily, “makes you bait, Alex.”

“Bait?”

“If someone was after Jim—”

“It isn’t an
if
,” Dan charged irritably. “Alex, you are going to be in danger. Whoever got hold of your father—or whoever your father ran from—doesn’t want anyone finding that tomb. Or perhaps he—or they—do want it found, but they want to claim the discovery for themselves.” Dan sighed, placing his plate on the tray and gulping down a cup of coffee in one mouthful, dregs and all. “You will be bait, Alex. Announcing that you have all your father’s documentation and heading on into the Valley of the Kings should draw all the riffraff from the rafters. They’ll be after you. But Ali and I have been over it and over it, and I don’t think we have any other choice of action—except to leave your father’s disappearance to the police and hope that within that struggling bureau of red tape they find him. Of course, the U.S. might step in with its own agents—”

“But the CIA are seldom trained in Egyptology!” Ali said.

“Neither would they care as deeply as you do,” Dan said softly. “Or as much as Ali and I.”

“The choice,” Ali said, “is still yours.”

“That’s right,” Dan announced rather coldly. “I don’t like this one bit. But as I’ve said, we can’t come up with anything better. Still, if you have the slightest hesitation …”

Alex placed her plate too upon the silver serving tray. She stood and smiled at them both. “Gentlemen, when do we leave for Cairo?”

Ali and Dan exchanged glances and shrugged. “Tomorrow morning,” Ali told her. “I’ve already wired the curator of the museum to be ready to assist you with whatever you may need.”

“I have one problem,” Alex said. “I was studying photocopies in my notebook of some of the relevant hieroglyphics when Haman’s goons—”

“We have the notebook,” Dan said, and his voice sounded strangely distant and very cold. “Rajman saved it all for you.”

“Oh,” Alex said simply. “Then I guess I’m all set. How long do I have to really solve this puzzle?”

She asked the question of Dan, but he was busy pouring himself more coffee and ignored her.

“I think about a week,” Ali said. “We can’t stall too long. The men your father hired as workers are still waiting in Luxor. We’ll lose all credibility if we don’t move quickly. And I believe that something will happen before we actually have to prove we know what we’re doing.”

“Carter dug for years,” Dan said absently. “We can easily dig for a long time without looking suspicious.”

What was wrong with him? Alex wondered. He had smiled very nicely when she entered, then turned into a growling bear, and now he sounded as if nothing made much difference to him one way or another. She was suddenly anxious to be away from him.

“Well, then,” she said lightly, “if everything is settled, I think I’ll leave you two. I’m still very tired.” Why, she asked herself with irritation, had she said the last so nervously.

Ali and Dan both stood. “Yes,” Ali said, “you have been through much in the last few days.” He stopped to pick up a tiny bell from the tray and ring it lightly. “My wife will take you back to your rooms.”

Ali walked her back to the door. His Abu Dhabi Town wife was just outside the door. Like Shahalla, Zana was a lovely woman, perhaps ten years older than her desert counterpart. Silently she inclined her head toward Ali and then Alex.

Her heart began to beat a little erratically as she bowed back. Had Dan lost interest in her? Had all his threats and promises and deals been nothing but bluff to unnerve her? She suddenly hoped so, because she realized how very afraid of him she was.

“I’ll be right up, Alex,” the man of her thoughts suddenly called out casually. Her heart seemed to skip several beats. He could be so nonchalant. So cool. As if he were saying, “I’ll be up to discuss the weather in just a few minutes. …”

But perhaps things were just that casual for Dan D’Alesio. He had to be accustomed to the fast lane, and Kelly had repeatedly assured Alex that she was archaic.

She was following Ali’s wife through the vast and beautiful corridors to the finely carved door of her suite. And then she was saying good night and smiling and bowing again. And then closing her door, and wondering why there wasn’t a good bolt for it.

Alex walked through the suite to the bedroom and the window with its tiny balcony. The drapes were sheer white and they drifted around her as she lifted her face to welcome the breeze.