“Good morning, Professor,” she said with elation, and then stopped short. Another person stood with his back to her, and directly in front of the professor. A familiar posture smacked her in the face and as he slowly turned, her heart fluttered. When their eyes locked, an electric pulse shot through her body. His piercing baby blues seemed to be able to peer into the deepest part of her soul. The familiarity nagged at Esmé’s memory. Certain she’d seen him before, she just couldn’t place him. She had to stifle a snarl of frustration at not placing him. Usually she had an excellent memory for facts and faces. Ah well, it’ll eventually come to me.
The unknown man’s mouth curled upward and then he extended a hand. She finally proffered hers as his blue eyes traced the contours of her face, as if memorizing every feature. The act raised goose bumps. The charming man took her hand in his formidable mitt, but his gentle grip surprised her. Gentle, but all too brief. She liked his touch.
“Hello, I’m Jake Bomani, and you are?” A tone of self-assurance and an accent spoke to something in the back of her subconscious and left her with the persistent feeling of having met him before.
“Oh, Jake, I’m sorry, this is my research assistant, Esmé McKenna,” Professor Petersen interjected, and then looked at Esmé. “Esmé, why are you here so early?”
As she took a step forward and extended a small tan hand, she answered the professor. “Couldn’t sleep.” She smiled at the tall, delicious man. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bomani.”
Finished with amenities, he turned back to the professor and continued their conversation as if she were no longer in the room. Stepping around him, she backed against the bookcase to listen, never taking her eyes from this Jake Bomani. Who does he think he is? Ignoring me? How rude. But, dang, he’s a fine piece of man.
Jake Bomani may have a nice ass, but he wasn’t on the schedule for this morning. As a matter of fact, who was he? He didn’t even say why he was here and what was so special about his visit? The professor always kept her in the loop with appointments.
Because Bomani had this air of assurance and well-spoken demeanor, hijacking the morning routine with the professor and disrupting her moment didn’t sit well. Now, the normal procedures which set the tone for the rest of the day would be off-kilter. God, I hate this!
The professor was adamant about sticking with his habits and daily routine, and if he drifted from them, Esmé’s life became a miserable eight hours. She had to make him happy to keep her life orderly. This stranger messed up everything. He needed to go and fast. Baby blues and a nice ass, or not, I’m not working overtime again tonight because he messes up the schedule!
Caught up in her own world of how to get Jake out of the office, Esmé didn’t listen to the details of the conversation between the two men. She wanted to get on with the morning’s normal business. Although, after looking him over more closely as he moved more to the side, she discerned his profile. Fine features, well-cared for in a rugged kind of way and a rather good-looking man overall. He had those arresting eyes, which she was always a sucker for. They were like the Caribbean Sea, clear and turquoise, favoring the blue not green side. One could see through them, clear and glistening. His short cropped hair was the darkest brown, almost black, like Earl Grey Tea and striking against his tanned skin. The man was definitely easy on the eyes. At least six feet two inches of steely muscle, she imagined him to be as perfect a specimen of gorgeous manliness she’d ever had the pleasure to formally meet. Deciding he definitely worked out to keep that nicely cut physique in shape, she figured he didn’t seem the weightlifting gym jock, but probably a long distance runner.
Esmé’s contemplations shifted, wondering if he had a girlfriend. Then with a sinking feeling she thought, could he be married? That would be my luck! All the good-looking guys seem to be taken these days. She cocked her head to spy his left hand, but he’d pushed his hand into his jeans pocket. What am I doing? He’s taking up valuable time with the professor. I need to talk about the trip before I lose my nerve.
The relentless tapping of her foot became the dominate sound in the room shoving aside the conversation between the two men. A nervous habit she sometimes forgot she had. Finally Jake turned and glared at her. “Okay, little one. If you need something to do because our conversation is boring you, how about getting the professor and me some coffee? I like mine black. How do you take yours, professor?”
“Oh, I don’t drink coffee, but I’ll take some herbal tea. Esmé, would you mind?”
“For you, Professor, yes. You, Mr. Bomani, can get your own coffee, I don’t work for you.”
“Esmé! Please, where are your manners?” Professor Petersen chided mildly. “Mr. Bomani is our guest. He has agreed to assist us on our excavation trip, and his corporation is funding the project as well. Please show him some courtesy, my dear.”
For Esmé that revelation made all the difference, sort of. “Oh, my apologies. You take your coffee how again?” The sarcastic tone in her voice didn’t go unnoticed by the tall, dark, handsome newcomer. He quirked an eyebrow up on one side.
Wait. Did the professor say we? Does that mean—?
“Black,” came the terse reply, ripping her from the excited thoughts.
Esmé left to get the coffee and tea. She wondered again who Jake Bomani was. She had been in the research business a long time and thought she knew most of the important benefactors involved with the museum’s acquisitions. Bomani’s name never came up. Did he represent a new foundation? Whatever his agenda, she would find out. The ulterior motive was no good, she felt positive about that assumption. The way he spoke and carried himself gave her a funny feeling inside. It wasn’t his sex appeal. That was a given, but there was something else there she couldn’t put her finger on. Her intuition screamed to her—do not trust him, no matter how much money he put up for the project.
When Esmé returned to the professor’s office, he was on the phone conversing in French. Esmé could tell the professor was in a deep, heated discussion. From the few words she understood, the person on the other end was his contact in Paris for the Egypt expedition. She placed the tea in front of him. He acknowledged her presence with a smile and continued speaking without missing a syllable.
Esmé turned and handed Bomani a mug of black coffee.
“Thank you.” He inspected the contents of the cup as if he were a food taster in the court of the Borgia’s. Apparently satisfied she didn’t slip in any arsenic, he peered over the rim of the cup. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”
“No. So tell me, what interested you enough to fund our project?” Without another thought, she had presumptively inserted herself into the Egypt expedition.
“I’m not personally funding the expedition, but the organization I represent has an interest in preserving ancient artifacts and ensuring that any discoveries don’t fall into the wrong hands.”
Hmm. “What is the name of this organization, Mr. Bomani?”
“Call me, Jake, please.” He took a sip of the coffee.
“Jake, the name of this organization?”
“The organization is private and wishes to remain anonymous for security reasons. With the controversy surrounding some of the projects they fund, you can understand their position, I’m sure.”
“An interesting and convenient concept for you and this organization and I think keeping the general public in the dark about the identity of the contributors is acceptable. Keeping the benefactors providing the funding secret from those of us who are actually working in the field, digging and taking the field risks, is not necessary for security reasons. Don’t you think we have the right to know who foots the bill for the equipment and expenses? Why all the secrecy, Jake?”
Jake acted like he would answer Esmé’s question, but the banter between them came to an abrupt halt. Professor Petersen finished the telephone conversation and couldn’t contain his excitement.
“It’s a go and we leave on Friday.” The professor walked around the desk and shook Jake’s hand. He turned his attention to Esmé. “Oh, my dear, this is so exciting, but that leaves us only two days to get everything coordinated and prepared. Oh my dear, can you make sure my schedule for the next sixty days is clear? You know what to do.”
“Yes, professor, I’ll take care of everything.” She rearranged his calendar on short notice many times before. This time, however, she hoped to perform similar surgery on hers as well. Determined not to miss out on this trip had been her primary goal today, and nothing or no one would stop that from happening. She’d paid her dues through all the faithful years spent working at the museum and deserved to go. Talking to the professor about the matter in front of Jake wasn’t in her plans, but he didn’t appear to be leaving any time soon. Dammit, he’s messed up everything this morning.
Taking a deep breath, she asked in a confident tone, keeping the question nonchalant, “Professor, should I clear my calendar as well?”
Professor Petersen glanced up from the papers on his desk and said, “Of course, Esmé. You are coming too. As a matter of fact, Jake insisted. We will need someone to handle the cataloguing.”
Speechless, Esmé stood facing the professor. She felt the weight of Jake’s unwavering stare on her back. He insisted? ‘We will need someone to handle the cataloguing.’ Excuse me? I’m a glorified gopher?
With a quick pivot around to face Jake, her narrowed eyes met his, but then widened as he smiled. She couldn’t help but return his smile and forgot the simmering anger. I’m going! Ohmigod! I’m going!
“Thank you,” she said softly. “If you will excuse me, I have schedules to rearrange and luggage to pack. Professor, I will see you later. Mr. Bomani, pleasure meeting you.”
“Jake.”
“Of course…Jake.” Esmé smiled, then turned and stepped outside the professor’s office. She paused in the hallway for a moment to catch her breath as she closed the door behind her. What happened? I’m going.
The objective this morning had materialized and she didn’t have to give a long list of reasons she’d prepared. With a quick pace and heels clicking against the marble floor, she returned to her office. So much to do and so little time to prepare for the trip—her first archaeological dig. How many times could she say the words before she finally believed? Did it matter that the professor forgot his promise to her and said Jake insisted that she go? Now, none of that should matter because she’d be part of the team. Except it did matter. Jake was the catalyst for her joining the expedition, and why he was the one and not the professor bothered her.
The unknown man’s mouth curled upward and then he extended a hand. She finally proffered hers as his blue eyes traced the contours of her face, as if memorizing every feature. The act raised goose bumps. The charming man took her hand in his formidable mitt, but his gentle grip surprised her. Gentle, but all too brief. She liked his touch.
“Hello, I’m Jake Bomani, and you are?” A tone of self-assurance and an accent spoke to something in the back of her subconscious and left her with the persistent feeling of having met him before.
“Oh, Jake, I’m sorry, this is my research assistant, Esmé McKenna,” Professor Petersen interjected, and then looked at Esmé. “Esmé, why are you here so early?”
As she took a step forward and extended a small tan hand, she answered the professor. “Couldn’t sleep.” She smiled at the tall, delicious man. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bomani.”
Finished with amenities, he turned back to the professor and continued their conversation as if she were no longer in the room. Stepping around him, she backed against the bookcase to listen, never taking her eyes from this Jake Bomani. Who does he think he is? Ignoring me? How rude. But, dang, he’s a fine piece of man.
Jake Bomani may have a nice ass, but he wasn’t on the schedule for this morning. As a matter of fact, who was he? He didn’t even say why he was here and what was so special about his visit? The professor always kept her in the loop with appointments.
Because Bomani had this air of assurance and well-spoken demeanor, hijacking the morning routine with the professor and disrupting her moment didn’t sit well. Now, the normal procedures which set the tone for the rest of the day would be off-kilter. God, I hate this!
The professor was adamant about sticking with his habits and daily routine, and if he drifted from them, Esmé’s life became a miserable eight hours. She had to make him happy to keep her life orderly. This stranger messed up everything. He needed to go and fast. Baby blues and a nice ass, or not, I’m not working overtime again tonight because he messes up the schedule!
Caught up in her own world of how to get Jake out of the office, Esmé didn’t listen to the details of the conversation between the two men. She wanted to get on with the morning’s normal business. Although, after looking him over more closely as he moved more to the side, she discerned his profile. Fine features, well-cared for in a rugged kind of way and a rather good-looking man overall. He had those arresting eyes, which she was always a sucker for. They were like the Caribbean Sea, clear and turquoise, favoring the blue not green side. One could see through them, clear and glistening. His short cropped hair was the darkest brown, almost black, like Earl Grey Tea and striking against his tanned skin. The man was definitely easy on the eyes. At least six feet two inches of steely muscle, she imagined him to be as perfect a specimen of gorgeous manliness she’d ever had the pleasure to formally meet. Deciding he definitely worked out to keep that nicely cut physique in shape, she figured he didn’t seem the weightlifting gym jock, but probably a long distance runner.
Esmé’s contemplations shifted, wondering if he had a girlfriend. Then with a sinking feeling she thought, could he be married? That would be my luck! All the good-looking guys seem to be taken these days. She cocked her head to spy his left hand, but he’d pushed his hand into his jeans pocket. What am I doing? He’s taking up valuable time with the professor. I need to talk about the trip before I lose my nerve.
The relentless tapping of her foot became the dominate sound in the room shoving aside the conversation between the two men. A nervous habit she sometimes forgot she had. Finally Jake turned and glared at her. “Okay, little one. If you need something to do because our conversation is boring you, how about getting the professor and me some coffee? I like mine black. How do you take yours, professor?”
“Oh, I don’t drink coffee, but I’ll take some herbal tea. Esmé, would you mind?”
“For you, Professor, yes. You, Mr. Bomani, can get your own coffee, I don’t work for you.”
“Esmé! Please, where are your manners?” Professor Petersen chided mildly. “Mr. Bomani is our guest. He has agreed to assist us on our excavation trip, and his corporation is funding the project as well. Please show him some courtesy, my dear.”
For Esmé that revelation made all the difference, sort of. “Oh, my apologies. You take your coffee how again?” The sarcastic tone in her voice didn’t go unnoticed by the tall, dark, handsome newcomer. He quirked an eyebrow up on one side.
Wait. Did the professor say we? Does that mean—?
“Black,” came the terse reply, ripping her from the excited thoughts.
Esmé left to get the coffee and tea. She wondered again who Jake Bomani was. She had been in the research business a long time and thought she knew most of the important benefactors involved with the museum’s acquisitions. Bomani’s name never came up. Did he represent a new foundation? Whatever his agenda, she would find out. The ulterior motive was no good, she felt positive about that assumption. The way he spoke and carried himself gave her a funny feeling inside. It wasn’t his sex appeal. That was a given, but there was something else there she couldn’t put her finger on. Her intuition screamed to her—do not trust him, no matter how much money he put up for the project.
When Esmé returned to the professor’s office, he was on the phone conversing in French. Esmé could tell the professor was in a deep, heated discussion. From the few words she understood, the person on the other end was his contact in Paris for the Egypt expedition. She placed the tea in front of him. He acknowledged her presence with a smile and continued speaking without missing a syllable.
Esmé turned and handed Bomani a mug of black coffee.
“Thank you.” He inspected the contents of the cup as if he were a food taster in the court of the Borgia’s. Apparently satisfied she didn’t slip in any arsenic, he peered over the rim of the cup. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”
“No. So tell me, what interested you enough to fund our project?” Without another thought, she had presumptively inserted herself into the Egypt expedition.
“I’m not personally funding the expedition, but the organization I represent has an interest in preserving ancient artifacts and ensuring that any discoveries don’t fall into the wrong hands.”
Hmm. “What is the name of this organization, Mr. Bomani?”
“Call me, Jake, please.” He took a sip of the coffee.
“Jake, the name of this organization?”
“The organization is private and wishes to remain anonymous for security reasons. With the controversy surrounding some of the projects they fund, you can understand their position, I’m sure.”
“An interesting and convenient concept for you and this organization and I think keeping the general public in the dark about the identity of the contributors is acceptable. Keeping the benefactors providing the funding secret from those of us who are actually working in the field, digging and taking the field risks, is not necessary for security reasons. Don’t you think we have the right to know who foots the bill for the equipment and expenses? Why all the secrecy, Jake?”
Jake acted like he would answer Esmé’s question, but the banter between them came to an abrupt halt. Professor Petersen finished the telephone conversation and couldn’t contain his excitement.
“It’s a go and we leave on Friday.” The professor walked around the desk and shook Jake’s hand. He turned his attention to Esmé. “Oh, my dear, this is so exciting, but that leaves us only two days to get everything coordinated and prepared. Oh my dear, can you make sure my schedule for the next sixty days is clear? You know what to do.”
“Yes, professor, I’ll take care of everything.” She rearranged his calendar on short notice many times before. This time, however, she hoped to perform similar surgery on hers as well. Determined not to miss out on this trip had been her primary goal today, and nothing or no one would stop that from happening. She’d paid her dues through all the faithful years spent working at the museum and deserved to go. Talking to the professor about the matter in front of Jake wasn’t in her plans, but he didn’t appear to be leaving any time soon. Dammit, he’s messed up everything this morning.
Taking a deep breath, she asked in a confident tone, keeping the question nonchalant, “Professor, should I clear my calendar as well?”
Professor Petersen glanced up from the papers on his desk and said, “Of course, Esmé. You are coming too. As a matter of fact, Jake insisted. We will need someone to handle the cataloguing.”
Speechless, Esmé stood facing the professor. She felt the weight of Jake’s unwavering stare on her back. He insisted? ‘We will need someone to handle the cataloguing.’ Excuse me? I’m a glorified gopher?
With a quick pivot around to face Jake, her narrowed eyes met his, but then widened as he smiled. She couldn’t help but return his smile and forgot the simmering anger. I’m going! Ohmigod! I’m going!
“Thank you,” she said softly. “If you will excuse me, I have schedules to rearrange and luggage to pack. Professor, I will see you later. Mr. Bomani, pleasure meeting you.”
“Jake.”
“Of course…Jake.” Esmé smiled, then turned and stepped outside the professor’s office. She paused in the hallway for a moment to catch her breath as she closed the door behind her. What happened? I’m going.
The objective this morning had materialized and she didn’t have to give a long list of reasons she’d prepared. With a quick pace and heels clicking against the marble floor, she returned to her office. So much to do and so little time to prepare for the trip—her first archaeological dig. How many times could she say the words before she finally believed? Did it matter that the professor forgot his promise to her and said Jake insisted that she go? Now, none of that should matter because she’d be part of the team. Except it did matter. Jake was the catalyst for her joining the expedition, and why he was the one and not the professor bothered her.
© 2014-2021. All rights reserved and no exceptions. All personal works on this site are the exclusive property of I Heart Book Publishing, LLC. Work may not be transmitted via the internet, nor reproduced in any other way, without prior written consent.
© 2014-2021. All rights reserved and no exceptions. All personal works on this site are the exclusive property of I Heart Book Publishing, LLC. Work may not be transmitted via the internet, nor reproduced in any other way, without prior written consent.
