Page 1 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars

Chapter One

Friday, January 26th

Elora

“Love Under the Southern Stars.” My older brother, Fraser, swipes his hand from left to right in front of him to illustrate how the title would form a banner. “What do you think?”

Zoe, sitting next to me, blows a raspberry. “Boring! Let’s do an exhibition called Murder Under the Southern Stars. That would be much more interesting.”

“But less suitable for Valentine’s Day,” Fraser points out.

“Not where my exes are concerned,” Zoe mumbles, and I giggle.

“It sounds great,” I tell him. “I’m sure it’ll be really popular.”

The National Museum of New Zealand in Wellington isn’t the country’s biggest museum, but since Fraser became director, it’s grown in both size and prestige due mainly to his vision and hard work. I joined him after graduating from university and have worked here for a couple of years now. I adore the historic building that sits right on the Wellington waterfront, with its elegant entrance framed by marble pillars and its curved staircase, and I especially love the conservation room, where we X-ray, clean, and treat archaeological artifacts. If I had more bookshelves and an endless supply of coffee and Jaffa Cakes, I could live here.

“Hallie,” Fraser says as another young woman enters the room, “come and join us. I was just telling the others about my idea for a new exhibition.”

“Oh, cool.” She draws up a stool at the table and sits beside me.

Hallie, Zoe, and I are part of the museum archaeology team. The three of us couldn’t be more different in both looks and personality, but we’ve formed a firm friendship, and work together well. Hallie is in her late twenties, sophisticated and calm, with long brown hair and gentle brown eyes. Zoe is the same age as me, twenty-four, with black hair cut in a quirky bob and flashing green eyes, and she’s outspoken and feisty, but she has a heart of gold.

I’m blonde, blue-eyed, and quiet, and can usually be found with my nose stuck in a book. That’s about it, really.

“Love Under the Southern Stars,” Fraser repeats for Hallie’s benefit.

“Do the thing,” Zoe tells him. “With the banner.”

He says the words more dramatically, this time sweeping his hand across in front of him with a theatrical gesture.

“Sounds amazing,” Hallie says.

“I thought the centerpiece could be the Hatfield Love Letter,” he announces, naming a document the museum acquired recently, written by a captain who won the Victoria Cross in the New Zealand wars of the nineteenth century. “And then I’d like each of you to find me a new artifact for the exhibition.”

“What?” I stare at him.

“Yes, Elora, which means actually leaving the museum and going out to talk to real, live people.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Even so. I’m sure the three of you will come up with some amazing pieces if you put your minds to it. You haven’t got long, so you’d better get a move on.”

“And they’ve got to be romance-related,” Hallie confirms.

“For this exhibition, yes. Either newly excavated artifacts, or you can apply to get something on loan from another museum.”

“So you mean, like, Rasputin’s knob or something,” Zoe suggests, opening a pack of Maltesers.

He gives her a patient look. “Zoe…”

“It’s floating in a pickle jar somewhere in St. Petersburg,” she insists, offering him the pack.

He takes one. “As much as I’d be interested in seeing the preserved appendage of Russia’s greatest love machine, I was hoping for something a little more… romantic.”

“I’m sure Queen Victoria’s vibrator is in the British Museum,” Hallie teases, also taking one. “I think it’s steam powered.”

He rolls his eyes as we all start laughing. “I should’ve known better than to bring up a topic like this.”

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