Page 17 of Afraid to Hope

Natasha and Bane listened intently.

“Anna Guilford, the Rabat Museum’s head curator, is expecting you tomorrow morning. Theriadis clean. Simon has your key, Doctor. He has also been briefed about your cover since he is part of the team. Get your travel shopping done. It might go more quickly with Simon’s help. Itemize any expenses and give them to him.”

Simon knocked and stuck his head in. “Ready?”

“Well, let’s go, wife. You have things to do, and I need time to pack and move in.”

“Quit calling me that,” she said under her breath.

“Nat.”

“And that,” she snapped at him. “It’s Natasha.”

Bane threw up his hands as if to ward her off. “Simon, can you drop me off before you take her shopping, then swing back and get me a few hours later?”

“Sure, Bane.”

“Good luck, and—” Emmet lowered his brows and scrutinized both of them. “Please continue working out your differences. Did you cement a story of your romance and wedding?”

“We did,” Natasha said.

Emmet looked from Natasha to Bane. “I don’t feel that you made much headway in the ‘let’s be cordial’ department. You are professionals and colleagues. Try to adopt a mode of civility. You were very impressive in front of Rafiq, so I know you are capable. We’ll be in communication.”

“Yes, sir,” Natasha said, shaking his hand before exiting the room stiffly.

Bane extended his hand, preparing to walk out behind Simon and Natasha. “Emmet.”

The director motioned him back in and closed the door slightly, dropping his voice. “Be safe. Take care of her, Bane. She has the highest recommendations, very respected. Give her some room to adjust to”—he squeezed Bane’s forearm with his other hand—“the manner in which you conduct yourself. You must have each other’s backs if what we’ve heard about the American is true.”

“You’re late,” Natasha grumbled, arms crossed over her breasts and glaring as she let a damp-looking Bane in. The furrow between her eyes deepened as she caught sight of numerous duffels and luggage behind him and the others that Simon held. Remembering her manners, she greeted Simon.

“Good evening to you too, wife.” Bane winked at her and flashed his hand. “I’m becoming accustomed to it.” His eyes rested on her breasts pushing up from her crossed arms. “Hmm. I think you’ve missed me. I thought I’d clean up before I got”—putting extra emphasis on the next word—“home.I spent some extra time in thehammam.”

“How lovely for you.”

“I’m feeling particularly invigorated after a good cleanse, scrub, and massage.” He leaned down, his scent of soft sandalwood, spice, and male befuddling her brain. “Have a kiss for me?”

She dropped her arms, anger propelling her away from him. Natasha stomped around the wall dividing thesetwanfrom the atrium and pointed into the darkened hallway on the other side of the arched columns. “Your room is past the lastbâyt.On the right,” she said when his eyebrows rose in question. “All the way in the back.”

“Our room?”

“Your room,” she said icily. “I sleep elsewhere.”

Bane slipped off his shoes. “Then you’d better show me around so I don’t get lost. You know, end up somewhere else unintentionally.”

Simon remained silent, watching the back-and-forth, amusement evident on his face.

“Please leave his stuff here in thesetwan,Simon. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“As you wish. Tomorrow then. Good night.”

“Night, and thanks.” Bane locked the door behind Simon, then turned. He held up his hand to her. “Easy. I’m totally safe, that is unless you want to tangle.”

“What the hell? Everything with you is innuendo,” she said, furious.

“It wasn’t innuendo, sweetheart. You’re struggling with your overactive imagination. Cool exterior, but you run a little hot under the hood, don’t you? Have trouble containing it. Is that it?” He chuckled softly. “That’s understandable. I know you like what you see.”

Natasha’s temper launched, raw and angry. “You arrogant ass.” She seethed. “All that crap in the director’s office.”

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