Part 10 (1/2)
”That's all.”
”The entire Bannister collection to choose from, and you pick this?”
”Is it a problem?”
Amused, she shook her head. ”No, it isn't a problem. I don't usually get hired to penetrate layers of sophisticated security for something like this, but what the h.e.l.l. You want, I deliver. That's the deal. Provided you agree to the price, of course.”
”The price is fine. Half now and half on delivery is also fine. Your reputation precedes you; my research indicates you're trustworthy and that you can be counted on to have complete loyalty to your employer. For the duration, and for a price.”
Unoffended, she smiled. ”That's right.”
”I'll expect to hear from you as soon as possible.”
”You will. I'd just as soon do what I came here to do and get out of this city. There are far too many thieves skulking around for my taste.”
”The pot calling the kettle black.”
She laughed. ”I'm no thief. I'm an artist.”
”As far as I'm concerned, that remains to be seen.”
”You'll see,” she said. ”Everyone will see.”
Morgan quite deliberately stayed away from the museum on Sunday, then came to work on Monday morning as usual. She chided herself for it later, but the truth was that she looked for Quinn at the museum for most of the day. It wasn't easy, considering the crush of people eager to view the Mysteries Past Mysteries Past exhibit, which to no one's surprise was proving to be very popular and highly profitable for the museum, but she looked for him nevertheless. exhibit, which to no one's surprise was proving to be very popular and highly profitable for the museum, but she looked for him nevertheless.
And never mind that she was being an idiot.
She wanted to believe in him, that was the problem. Maybe as a salve to her conscience, or maybe just because she needed to believe she saw something in him that most others would have found surprising if not impossible.
Something good.
If he'd been dark, Morgan thought vaguely, brooding or sardonic, it might have been easier to believe the worst of him. But he was fair and handsome, even his voice was beautiful, and how was a woman supposed to know know?
All she had were her instincts, and they told her there was much more to Quinn than met the eye.
So she looked for him and didn't pretend to herself that she wasn't eager to see him again. She had even dressed with more care than usual, choosing a slim, calf-length black skirt that she wore with a full-sleeved white blouse and a really beautiful, hand-beaded vest done in opulent gold, black, and hints of rust. The outfit was completed with black pumps, and she wore her long black hair swept up in an elegant French twist.
Morgan had told herself that she had dressed so carefully only because, now that Mysteries Past Mysteries Past was open, the director of the exhibit had a responsibility to look her best-but she didn't believe herself. She had dressed with Quinn in mind, and she knew it. was open, the director of the exhibit had a responsibility to look her best-but she didn't believe herself. She had dressed with Quinn in mind, and she knew it.
She wanted to look . . . sophisticated and cultured. And tall.
And if it occurred to her that s.e.xy s.e.xy might have been added to a description of the appearance she was trying to achieve, she ignored the realization. She looked for Quinn all day, searching the crowd of faces for the one imprinted in her mind. She thought she was being subtle about it, a happy delusion shattered when Storm emerged from the computer room somewhere around three in the afternoon. might have been added to a description of the appearance she was trying to achieve, she ignored the realization. She looked for Quinn all day, searching the crowd of faces for the one imprinted in her mind. She thought she was being subtle about it, a happy delusion shattered when Storm emerged from the computer room somewhere around three in the afternoon.
”You know, I really wouldn't expect to see him here for at least another hour or so,” the pet.i.te blonde drawled as she joined Morgan near the guards' desk in the museum's lobby. Her little blond cat, Bear, rode her shoulder as usual, so exact a feline replica of Storm that he seemed an eerie familiar.
”See who?” Morgan hugged her clipboard and tried to look innocent. It wasn't her best expression.
Storm pursed her lips slightly, and her green eyes danced. ”Alex Brandon.”
”Dammit, was I that obvious?”
”Afraid so. The way you keep staring at tall blond men is a little hard to miss. I picked it up on my monitor, as a matter of fact.”
Morgan sighed and said dammit dammit again without heat and without self-consciousness. ”Well, in that case-why wouldn't you expect to see him for at least another hour?” again without heat and without self-consciousness. ”Well, in that case-why wouldn't you expect to see him for at least another hour?”
Storm glanced casually around to make certain they couldn't be overheard before she replied. ”He has to sleep sometime, doesn't he? I imagine he's on watch or on the move most of the night, and since the collection is safest during the day with the museum filled with people, that'd be a good time to sleep.”
”I knew that.” Morgan frowned at herself.
Storm chuckled. ”He probably wasn't in bed before seven or eight this morning, so he likely hasn't been up more than an hour, if that long. I'd give him time for a shave and shower, as well as breakfast, if I were you.”
”You've made your point.” Morgan sighed. ”If this keeps up, I'm never going to see him in the daylight. I mean, he was at my apartment for a couple of days when he was healing, but we didn't go outside, so I haven't actually seen seen him in the suns.h.i.+ne.” him in the suns.h.i.+ne.”
”One of your ambitions?”
”Don't laugh, but yes.”
”Why on earth would I laugh? It seems a reasonable enough aim to me. Especially if you've the suspicion he's a vampire.”
Morgan looked at her friend seriously. ”No, because I've seen his reflection in a mirror.”
”Oh. Well, that does seem to prove he isn't a creature of the night. Not that kind of creature, anyway. I don't suppose he could be another kind?”
”Only vampires are famous for their seductive but deadly charm,” Morgan reminded her, still solemn.
Storm nodded gravely. ”That's what I thought. You could wear a cross, I guess, and find out for sure.”
Silently, Morgan hooked a finger inside the open collar of her blouse and held out a fine golden chain from which dangled a polished gold cross. Storm studied the cross seriously, then met Morgan's earnest gaze. Then they both burst out laughing.
A bit unsteadily, Storm said, ”Lord, this man must have quite an effect on you if he's got you half-seriously contemplating the undead.”
”Let's put it this way. I wouldn't be surprised to find he's three parts sorcerer at the very least.” Morgan got hold of herself. She looked at her clipboard and tried to remember that she was being paid to do a job. ”Umm . . . I have to go do another walk-through of the exhibit and make sure everything's going all right. If anyone should ask-”
”I'll tell him right where you are,” Storm a.s.sured her.
”If you were a true friend, you'd lash me to the nearest mast before I make an utter fool of myself,” Morgan said somewhat mournfully. ”All that crafty devil has to do is smile and say something-anything-and I forget all my good intentions.”
With a faint smile, Storm said, ”I'd be glad to lash you to a mast if if I thought that was what you really wanted.” I thought that was what you really wanted.”
”I'm not fooling anybody today, am I?”
”No. But don't let that worry you. We're all ent.i.tled to at least one bit of reckless folly in our lives, Morgan. My daddy taught me that. It's something to remember.”
”Have you had yours?” Morgan asked curiously.